Bahê Xan: 100 years of Enduring Arrows and Spears
Bahê Jaff’s story is a testament to resilience, sacrifice, and cultural pride. Born on January 21, 1925, on a small plot of private land in Pris, on the outskirts of Halabja, she was the oldest known living Kurdish woman in London when she passed away on Friday, June 20 2025, at the age of 100. Throughout her century-long life, Bahê bore hardships, family loss, displacement, and social constraints. From breaking barriers as the first girl to attend school in Halabja to navigating decades of family hardship, displacement, and social change, Bahê's story reflects a unique kind of struggle and strength as a prominent figure in the Kurdish community in London.
I travelled to West London to meet Bahê Xan in her humble flat, where her on-site caretaker greeted me. Tea, fruit and sweets were already prepared - genuine Kurdish hospitality, I thought to myself. I was about to interview the oldest Kurdish woman I had ever met (no pressure). Sat on her couch in Kurdish garments and a loose white headscarf was Bahê xan, surrounded by her own framed archives and achievements. I knew from that moment that she would be a living testament to a remarkable life. The following account is drawn directly from an hour-long recorded interview with Bahê Xan, capturing her own words, documents, reflections, and stories.
In a time when girls' education was virtually unheard of in Halabja, Bahê defied social norms by becoming the first girl to attend school in Halabja. Initially, she enrolled in a boys' school, arriving muddy and barefoot - a detail she proudly recalled as proof of her determination. It wasn't until after a royal visit by Queen Consort of Iraq Aliya bint Ali, wife of King Faisal, that a girls' school was established in Halabja, where Bahê became its first registered female student. "Tell anyone who wants to argue with you on this fact to check the school records", she confidently adds. This milestone marked the beginning of female education in a conservative society, and a young Bahê made the most of any opportunity that came her way.
Despite this early step into education, Bahê did not complete her studies. She was, by her own admission, more interested in the traditional "girly" arts of henna, clothes, and jewellery, embracing the social role expected of her. Beneath the surface of conformity lay a strong spirit of independence. Beyond her brief formal schooling, Bahê was a passionate self-learner who spent many hours reading magazines, especially a publication called Galawezh. Through this magazine, she elevated her language skills, using it as a form of home-schooling resource. Galawezh, led by the renowned Kurdish writer Ibrahim Ahmed in the 1940s, captivated readers with a diverse range of subjects, including Kurdish history, culture, and politics. Bahê was about 18 or 19 years old when this self-education became an essential aspect of her life, shaping her worldview and strengthening her cultural identity.
Bahê Xan, photographed in Baghdad in 1950 and 1943.
Bahê was not only once a young pioneer in education but also a devoted caretaker who dedicated a significant portion of her life to her family, making the choice to stay at home rather than return to the classroom. She grew up in a prominent household as one of fourteen siblings—seven brothers and seven sisters. Her social world was a complex intersection of influences. Even when she travelled frequently between Halabja and Baghdad, she maintained a diverse circle of friends from varying political and religious backgrounds, navigating social differences with grace. During times of war and uprising, she mainly remained in Baghdad. Still, she noted that her brothers took up arms as Peshmergas in Halabja, with some even seeking refuge in Iran with prominent Kurdish leaders.
Bahê's father, Osman Pasha Jaff, was a distinguished figure who had three wives, a common practice among elite households at that time. Bahê's mother was one of his three wives, but the families were kept in separate homes. Bahê experienced unkindness from one co-wife in particular and felt the divisions deeply. This pain had scarred her for life. Her full siblings included her sister, Akhtar, and brother, Dr Akram, who studied in America and later became a government minister. Bahê's relationships with her half-siblings were distant and complex due to family dynamics. Although she noted that her father had each wife in a separate home, the children did spend significant time together and cared for each another.
Bahê Xan in Baghdad in 1944 & Halabja in 1943
Most of Bahê's siblings have passed away, leaving only one half-sister, who survives her today,"She was born in 1933, in her prime, she was one of the most beautiful women in Halabja, she resembled Sofia Loren". Bahê emphasised her sister's striking beauty as something notable and special. Bahê herself never married, a fact she humorously and sadly attributed to not being "pretty enough" - a raw insight into the personal hardships masked by her dignified exterior. Her life was shaped by constant caregiving. She watched over her mother during a three-year-long and painful battle with breast cancer, cared for her stepmother during her final years of life, and stayed by her father's side as he lived an extraordinary 102 years. Bahê's devotion to family was unyielding; she helped raise her younger brothers while they studied, embodying the role of protector and nurturer amidst political turmoil and personal loss.
Despite being from an elite family, Bahê's life was marked by emotional isolation. She never married, a fact she attributes to not being beautiful enough to be a chosen bride, never receiving a marriage proposal she was comfortable with, or a proposal the family would accept due to classism. She expressed the loneliness of this reality without bitterness but with a rawness rarely voiced.
After her father’s death, Bahê, with the support of a relative from Hawraman, boldly applied for a visa while in Baghdad. Despite feeling self-conscious and watched during the entire process, which she endured alone, she received approval. She travelled to Italy, where her brother was already living. From Italy, where she spent 20 days, she then moved to London in 1990 to join her siblings. She settled in London among her other siblings for a year before her homesickness for Halabja prompted her return to Kurdistan. Her life took another difficult turn during the Gulf War, which commenced the year she returned, forcing her to flee with the crowds towards Iran for safety. After spending months displaced, she lost vision in one eye due to a retinal detachment, which, because of delayed treatment (four months), became irreversible. This physical loss marked yet another hardship in a life defined by resilience.
Throughout her life, Bahê mentions she was deeply influenced by formidable Kurdish women, some of whom were friends of her family, including Lady Adela Jaff (married to Bahê's great, great-grandfather) known for her power and colourful presence, Hepsa Xanî Naqîb, a champion for women's rights and education in Slemani, Rewshen Bedirxan, a pioneer of Kurdish rights in Rojava, and Munira Kaftan, a prominent figure noted for her military activism among peshmergas. Bahê mentioned her friendship with Sînemxan, daughter of Rêwshen Bedirxan, referred to as 'The last princess of Kurdistan', to which I mentioned I had also interviewed the year prior for The Jiyan Archives and asked if she wanted to reconnect with her childhood friend, to which Bahê replied, "I am very old and tired, and I know she is too; she has also not been shy of hardship. Better not to disturb her." These words conveyed that revisiting the past, beyond what she had already shared, was emotionally overwhelming, despite how sweet such a reunion might have been.
Bahê Xan (Top far right), photographed among women from the Jaff tribe come together in a shared moment, Baghdad, 1958.
Bahê’s political involvement included active participation in the community centres of the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) in London. She took pride in supporting the Kurdish diaspora, proudly standing alongside leaders such as Mam Jalal Talabani in photos and meeting international figures like Tony Blair, whose support of the Kurdish cause she deeply appreciated.
Despite her hardships and the loneliness she often felt, Bahê maintained a sharp wit and humour, frequently joking about her difficulties while carrying a deep well of private sorrow. She would say to me, "I haven't seen happiness for more than 30 minutes in my life," quoting a Kurdish proverb that encapsulated her experience: "Hîç xoshim nadî li rûy zemanê, bûm be nîşana bo tîr û têna (I've never tasted joy on the face of this world; I was made a target for arrows and spears)." This particular proverb was repeated throughout our meeting. Then again, this came from a woman born in 1925 who felt overlooked for most of her life; Bahê quietly bore the pain of being passed over on throughout her life, like when Hepsa Xanî Naqîb, visited their home once and gifted her younger sister (the one who resembled Sophia Loren) a watch, while Bahê, the older sister, went unnoticed. Every encounter of being made to feel ‘not enough’ never went unnoticed. Despite it all, Bahê remained a devoted and caring presence, carrying her burdens with quiet strength and independence.
Having spent more than 35 years living in London, Bahê was a well-known and beloved figure within the Kurdish community and beyond, instantly recognisable for her proud wearing of traditional Kurdish clothing. Whether walking through local shops, bustling markets, or attending community events, she carried herself with dignity and cultural pride, never compromising her identity. Her Kurdish dress and the flag she often held became symbols of her enduring connection to her heritage, inspiring many around her. It was almost as if it was all she felt she had - her identity.
Bahê’s life was a testament to the endurance of Kurdish women, as well as their struggles with family, societal expectations, and displacement while maintaining a steadfast hold on identity, pride, and resilience. Her century-long journey, from the dusty roads of Halabja to the multicultural streets of London, reflects the unconquerable spirit of a woman who lived through hardship without losing her voice. While many with similarly rich and poignant backgrounds might shy away from having their hardship, loneliness, or struggles with self-love recorded, at the age of 100, Bahê sat with me in her whole truth. She showed no interest in sugarcoating her experiences. That afternoon, I sat in awe of her unapologetic honesty and strength.
All the incredible women she met on her path, the rich stories she carried, and the remarkable life she lived -these have now become part of her lasting legacy. Yet, in the final years of her life, the constant refrain she shared with me was a feeling of never being good enough, loved enough, or wanted enough. This is how Bahê remembered her journey. But I want this piece to serve as a reminder - just as she was reminded that day - that she was deeply loved and cherished. Her memory and her story will touch many lives, and she is far greater than she ever believed herself to be.
Rest in peace Bahê Xan. May your soul be at peace, for it takes a heart of steel to weather so many arrows and spears.
