Kirkuk, a city that has crucial significance for all groups of Iraq, is plagued with an everlasting conflict.

The two dominant populations here, the Kurds and Turkmens, both claim the city as their own; Turkey and Iraq might soon be involved a row over the fate of the city. Yet the Kurds, Turkmens, Arabs or Assyrians living here do not express any hostility towards one another. Everyone feels they are "people of Kirkuk."

Until the semi-autonomous Kurdish regional administration was established, northern Iraq meant terrorism associated with the separatist Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK). However things have changed. Northern Iraq ceased to be a security problem and became "a foreign threat" with the possibility of a Kurdish state. It wouldn't be wrong to say that these worries lie at the core of the arguments over Kirkuk's status, since the future of Kirkuk means Iraq's future -- specifically whether or nor Iraq will be divided. The northern Iraqi Kurdish leaders are making their plans with regard to Kirkuk's future. They have settled hundreds of thousands of Kurds in Kirkuk in order to obtain the result they desire from the referendum, which must be held by the end of this year according to the Iraqi Constitution. Tens of thousands of Arab families, on the other hand, who had been settled by the Baath Party in Kirkuk, are "voluntarily and willingly" going back to where they came from, according to statements from Kurdish leaders. However, it seems easy to see that what they are saying is not true when one takes a closer look at the newly established Kurdish neighborhoods in Kirkuk.

The status of Kirkuk is of vital importance not only for Turkey, in terms of the fragile ethnic and economic balances in Iraq, but also for the Turkic identity and hundreds of thousands of Turkmens living there. Turkmens, who were in the majority before the migration policy of the Kurdish administration was implemented, are very worried. There are two chief reasons for this concern. The first is that the problem may trigger internal conflicts and remain unresolved for a long time. The second worry is shared by all Turkmens, despite their differences. The Turkmen groups, whom the Kurdish administration wants to subject to its Kurdization policies, don't want to become a minority or assimilated after being the majority for so many years. There is a strong possibility that this will become the case, however, due to the handover of the city to Kurds. Kurds and Turkmens might fight each other in the near future because of the Kurdish administration's "minority policies" and because of various problems that are for the moment suppressed. These policies are opposed not only by the groups following pro-Turkey policies, but also by the Turkmen groups who entered the elections on Kurdish lists and who support Kurdish policies in general. The clouds of tension, although they may not be seen while talking to the current residents of Kirkuk, are felt across the city and the storm may break, letting forth a full-scale conflict after the referendum.

Another rise in tension between northern Iraq and Turkey over Kirkuk seems inevitable before the year ends, even though the explosion in Ankara may have temporarily overshadowed the issue. If the referendum that will determine the final status of Kirkuk is not postponed, Turkey may have to take other measures regarding northern Iraq, since the city is of vital importance for all the groups in Iraq, particularly for Kurds, Turkmens and Sunni Arabs.

Conflicts never completely stop in the city. Bombs explode in different quarters almost every day. But despite all these fears and dangers, we insist on seeing Kirkuk, claimed by Kurds as "our Jerusalem," and by Turkmens as "a Turkish town since pre-history." When a friend of ours says before we set out, "If you saw Kirkuk, you'd cry," we can't fully appreciate his words. However this soon changes when we draw near to the castle that houses the famous Kirkuk dungeons. If only the remedy to the city's problems were to sit by the Hasasu River which runs near the castle, the waterway's flow now shriveled to a trickle, and bitterly weep there. Kirkuk; so sorrowful, so beautiful.

Being sure not to spend too much time lingering in the unsafe parts of the city, we make our way toward a famous quarter by the castle. The long array of street vendors occupying the iron bridge from one end to the other is a must-see. The anxious but reserved and dignified state of the people is at once touching and striking, as if they are saying, "We exist." They occupy the Kirkuk bazaar, which still looks like a simple marketplace in spite of all the deaths, explosions, suicide bombings and ethnic and sectarian conflicts. None of the Kurds, Turkmens, Arabs or Assyrians we speak to in the marketplace says any hostile words against the others. Everybody proclaims, "We are the people of Kirkuk."

God knows for how many years, or centuries, they have lived together. It's as if being a Kirkuk resident has become a totally different identity from those living in the rest of Iraq. Everyone speaks everyone else's language, and everyone knows everyone to be "one of them."

But they still have their worries about their future. Having been subjected to the Arabization policies of the Baath party years ago, the people of Kirkuk are now watching with heightened curiosity as to what sort of outcomes the Kurdization policies will give rise to. We wonder if there will be another migration from Kirkuk.

Suburbs of Kirkuk: prefabricated Kurdish neighborhoods

In complete contrast to the city center, the atmosphere of a colonial administration is prevalent in the city's outskirts. Some say the number of Kurds who have returned to Kirkuk in the last three years is in the "hundreds of thousands." It is certainly possible to see that tens of thousands of families have been settled in these prefabricated neighborhoods.

Among the settlers are those forced to migrate from Kirkuk years ago. They returned because they were promised safety, jobs and houses. The natives of the town, who have been here for as long as they remember, are onlookers to this extremely rapid population growth, concerned as to what will come next. The most famous of the prefabricated neighborhoods is the one founded near the Kirkuk Stadium. We decide to visit the migrant neighborhoods first; the first Kurdish refugee settlement, or rather refugee camp, whose name was changed to "neighborhood" to soften the implications.

An old Kurdish refugee welcomes us at the entrance. We greet and salute each other. His name is Osman Namik Arif and he was born in the village of Leylan in Kirkuk. He was driven out of Kirkuk in 1989. "This is my last coming," he says. "I'm 60 now, and I have nowhere else to go. I was born in Kirkuk and will die in Kirkuk."

I ask him about his new life in Kirkuk. "They haven't provided us with running water, electricity, hospitals, schools