Mosul

Mosul grew opposite a much older place. Nineveh, on the east bank, was the capital of the Assyrian empire under Sennacherib and Ashurbanipal until a coalition of Babylonians and Medes destroyed it in 612 BC. A fortified settlement on the west bank, which the Arabs called al-Mawsil, the junction, took over its role after the Muslim conquest of the 7th century, controlling the crossing of the Tigris and the roads between Anatolia, Syria and Baghdad.

It prospered on trade and craft. Fine cotton cloth from the city gave English the word muslin, and its metalworkers produced inlaid brass admired across the Islamic world. Under the Zangids in the twelfth century Nur al-Din built the Great Mosque of al-Nuri, whose leaning minaret became the city's emblem; the Mongols took the city in the thirteenth century, and later the Jalili family governed it for the Ottomans through the eighteenth century, paying for mosques, churches and marble houses. After the First World War the fate of the Mosul province was disputed between Turkey and British-administered Iraq until a League of Nations decision in 1925 attached it to Iraq.

In June 2014 ISIS captured the city and declared its caliphate from the pulpit of the al-Nuri mosque. The recapture, from October 2016 to July 2017, destroyed much of the old city: the mosque and its minaret were blown up in 2017, the museum was looted and damaged, bridges were broken and tens of thousands of houses ruined. Reconstruction has continued since, led in the old city by UNESCO's Revive the Spirit of Mosul programme, which rebuilt the mosque, its minaret and two historic churches; the mosque reopened in 2024 and residents have returned to repaired streets.

Mosul's identity rests on being old, urban and mixed. Its Arabic, Maslawi, is distinct enough to be recognised anywhere in Iraq, with a softer accent and words of Turkish and Syriac origin. The city produced a long line of scholars, poets and musicians, and its craft traditions — carved Mosul marble around doorways and windows, inlaid metal, and the making of stringed instruments — were among the finest in the region.

Christianity has been present since the early centuries. Syriac Orthodox, Syriac Catholic, Chaldean and Assyrian communities lived in the old city and in the towns of the Nineveh plains, where monasteries such as Mar Mattai have stood since late antiquity; Yazidis, Shabaks, Turkmen and Kurds live in the same plains. The displacement of 2014 emptied these communities almost overnight, and their partial return is one of the defining stories of the region.

Manners are formal and hospitable: guests are fed before anything is discussed, invitations are repeated until accepted, and elders are greeted first. Since 2017 the city has put a good deal of energy into music, books and public life as a statement in itself — the annual book fair, restored libraries, concerts in rebuilt courtyards and university festivals — and residents are quick to point out that Mosul is a city with a long past rather than a recent war.

About 1.7 million people live in Mosul, making it Iraq's second city, spread over both banks of the Tigris and linked by a handful of bridges that carry heavy traffic. The east bank, which suffered less damage, holds the university, the main hospitals, the busiest shopping streets and most of the newer housing; the west bank, and above all the old city, is where reconstruction is still visible on every street.

The economy runs on trade, construction, public sector salaries, farming on the surrounding plains and the university, one of the largest in Iraq. Wheat and barley, sheep and dairy come in from the plains, and reconstruction has made building materials and contracting a major business. Unemployment among young people is high, many families are still repaying the losses of the occupation years, and thousands of displaced people have yet to return to ruined homes.

Days start early, with the markets busy before the heat. Offices and schools finish in the early afternoon, shops reopen in the cooler evening, and families come out to the riverside cafés and parks. Power cuts and water shortages are part of the summer, as across Iraq, and the neighbourhood generator is a fixture. Rebuilding, compensation for destroyed property, the security of the plains and jobs for graduates are the questions that dominate conversation.

Mosul's dish is kubbat Mosul: a wide flat disc of bulgur and minced meat dough, stretched thin and stuffed with spiced lamb, onion, almonds and raisins, then fried, baked or dropped into a sour stew. It is larger and flatter than the small torpedo-shaped kubba eaten elsewhere in Iraq, and making it well is a point of household pride.

The northern plains give the city a dairy tradition unusual in Iraq: white braided cheese, thick yoghurt and buttermilk drunk cold, alongside geymar clotted cream eaten at breakfast with honey and kahi, the flaky syrup-soaked pastry. Grills work all evening on kebab, sometimes threaded with quince or tomato, and on lamb chops, served with samoon bread, sumac-dusted onion and pickles. Tashreeb, bread soaked in broth under stewed meat, and pacha, the long-simmered sheep's head and trotters, are cold-weather food.

Wheat, not just rice, is a staple here: bulgur dishes, harissa porridge of pounded wheat and meat, and dolma of vine leaves and stuffed vegetables in a sour tamarind sauce. Sour flavours come from pomegranate molasses and dried black lime. Sweets run to kleicha stuffed with dates or walnuts, baklava and halva, and tea is drunk strong and very sweet from small istikan glasses through the day, with cardamom coffee after a meal.