No mountain high enough
“Do you want to hear how we came here? Would that be of interest to you?”
I’m sitting on the floor of Elias’s house at the top of a hill on the outskirts of the town of Zakho which sits next to the Syrian/Turkish/Iraqi border.
The only light is the sunlight filtering through cracks in the wall and ceiling. It’s dark and very quiet, filled only with Elias’s voice, and the rustles and murmurs of his wife, fifteen children, ten grandchildren and assorted in-laws.
“We’re from Wardiya. It’s by Sinjar mountain. We’re Yazidi. Have you heard of Yazidis?”
The Yazidi religious minority came to global attention three years ago when the so-called Islamic State came across the Syrian border and took over parts of northern Iraq. The battle for Sinjar mountain, where many Yazidis lived and took refuge, underlined the vulnerabilities of Iraqi minorities.
The Yazidis suffered mass killing, kidnapping and sexual violence. Yazidi women and girls were kidnapped and turned into slaves.
“We never had problems with our neighbors before. We ate the same food. We shared the area. But when ISIL came and said Kurdish speakers (like us) were infidels, they turned on us.”
“Then, when we heard ISIL was getting close, we left our homes in Wardiya and fled toward the mountain. All the other roads were blocked. We stayed the night in a valley and then left on foot towards Sinjar again the next morning. The whole family was captured and brought back to the valley.
“ISIL left to go take Sinjar. There were the bombardments — we could hear them going ‘boom, boom, boom.’”
He pauses for effect between each ‘boom’.
“So we were able to escape. As we were running, ISIL came and tried to capture us again. They took four of my nephews and two of my wives. We still don’t know what happened to them.”
At this point, Elias’s story-teller hands go still and his voice silent. His one remaining wife, Miriam, picks up the tale.
“I was seven months pregnant at the time and we were running for our lives through the night. As if pregnancy wasn’t hard enough. We lost two of the children when we were fleeing. An 8 year old boy and a 4 year old girl. They got separated from us while we were running.”
She shows us her daughter and son’s identity cards, and two innocent faces look up at me. For this family, these small cards are the tangible reminder they have of their children.
15 year old Adnan, one of Elias’s sons, continues in broken English. “I was only 12 then. But I had one child on my back, and was holding two more by the hand — one on each side. It was very hard.”
Miriam continues. “Four days after we escaped the second time, we looped back around to find our lost children. We found their bodies on the side of the road. That’s when we knew we had to leave altogether.”
The family made its way to Zakho, where Elias’s two oldest sons work as day laborers. They are making a home here for the whole family, perched on top of a hill. Several of the children are attending school.
Elias has his hopes pinned on the opportunities education will bring to the younger children. The family has two children who have been able to go to school because of an educational grant from UNICEF, funded by the German government.
With so many children in the house, Elias needs a helping hand to get them all in school. “I know your capacity is limited, but it would be great if you could cover more than two children, if possible.”
Despite the area of northern Iraq where Yazidis have resided in the past being retaken, tensions in the area remain high and humanitarian access is limited. UNICEF is working in Yazidi areas to provide education and recreational activities to adolescents.
The recent past and relative geographic isolation of Yazidis means child protection concerns remain paramount for children inside the Yazidi community and for those who continue to be held by ISIL.
Though Wardiya has been retaken, Elias is not optimistic about returning.
“I don’t think people my age will be able to live peacefully with our neighbors again in the same way. We know what each person has done to us. We knew them our whole lives! But the young kids who don’t remember might be able to overcome the past.”
Jennifer Sparks is a communications consultant with UNICEF Iraq.
