Let’s talk about Iraq shall we? That little chestnut. I can
see by some of the comments and private messages I’ve received that some of you
are wondering why on earth a mother with two young children at home would
choose to go to a place like Iraq.
So I’d love to tell you why I went, what it
was like and what I was doing there. (All photos from my iphone5 - 'real' ones to come end of May once campaign is live).
Why I went?
Because I believe in a God whose heartbeat is for the hurt, the lonely, the
hidden places and the forgotten millions. And I want to spend my life doing
whatever I can to shed light on these people and their stories by coming
alongside the incredible organisations working beside them. But the other
reason is for my daughters. I want to raise brave, compassionate, kind
girls. I want them to know that the
world does not and will not revolve around them. I hope in some small way, the
choices I make in this realm encourage them in their journeys. I’m not going to lie, I was quite scared -
and at one point even shaking on my trip. Deciding to go was a complex decision
for us to make but ultimately we believe one Tim and I took an educated risk
on.
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| A gorge on the way to Soran, Kurdistan |
What’s Iraq like?
Since I was a little girl I remember hearing about a country
called Iraq. It was a place of war, danger, uncertainty, crimes against
humanity and a bad guy called Saddam Hussein. As I grew up this view was
re-enforced by countless news stories that flash before my eyes even now.
Suicide bombers, shootings, people setting other people on fire, air strikes.
And for sure, that’s a deeply sad part of this country’s history. But it’s only
that - a part. And I was embarrassingly shocked
to discover that other parts exist. For starters, Kurdistan in Northern Iraq is
outrageously gorgeous. It’s rolling green hills, rocky mountainsides and humble
houses nestled in the foothills are beautiful to behold. If you can imagine a
childhood Bible with pictures of Jesus on the mountains giving a sermon – it
looks like that! A local theory is that this is where the Garden of Eden used
to be and as I drove past some of the most beautiful waterfalls and gorges and
the Tigress River, I could see why. Though apparently it snows in winter and
gets up to 52 celcius (125 Farenheit) in the summer!
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| A Shepard watches over his sheep in Duhok, Kurdistan |
Kurdistan, Iraq is a land where families picnic by the river
throwing stones to see how many hops they can make on the surface, a land where
they sit close on the couch watching movies together till late at night. A land
where the whole family, sometimes up to 100 of them will feast together and
dance till they can dance no more. A land where the grandmas hold more respect
and influence than you could imagine and the men care deeply for their
children. And the women, oh the women. They are strong, hard working, kind,
brave generous and most of all, resilient.
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| Sunset Soccer in a refugee camp in Iraq |
They have malls, KFC and Hardees (yes, I indulged in my
first burger in Lord knows how long). They have theme parks and I drove past at
least four ferris wheels. Both adults and children go to bed late and sleep in
(11pm-10am ish). They love to eat out at restaurants and the hummus, shwarma and kebabs they make are both cheap and delicious. If you find a Western style
bathroom you have to put all your toilet paper in the trash can beside it and
not down the toilet. You must have your elbows and ankles covered at all times,
and don’t even think about showing the bottoms of your feet in public.
What was I doing
there?
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| One of 27 camps in Iraq |
I was in Iraq with
Tutapona (trauma rehabilitation for
victims of war and refugees) for seven days to help them tell the story of the
people they serve and how they come alongside them. We were making a video with
the amazingly talented and generous team at Exposure as well as capturing
stories and images we can use for this years Summer Appeal. Tutapona has their work cut out for them. In
Iraq alone there are over 1 million IDP’s and refugees. These people are usually fleeing ISIS in the
Mosul/Sinjar area or are Syrian refugees. They come to one of the 27 refugee
settlements in Iraq and it is here Tutapona comes alongside to provide trauma
rehabilitation services through their 11 staff members. They start by providing
a two week group trauma counselling program and then proceed to one on one
counselling as needed. Tutapona is grateful to work alongside their partners,
Samaritans Purse,
The Refuge Initiative,
World Orphans Project and
The A21Campaign. I also spent one day with
Tearfund New Zealand’s partner,
MedAir who
are providing non-food items, basic supplies, shelter, household items and
medical services.
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| The main street of Sinjar Town |
But it was the trip to Sinjar that really hit home for me. I’ve
never seen anything like it in my life (video is at the bottom of this blog). On August 3, 2014 ISIS invaded a
beautiful town and all the towns surrounding it on the Syrian border called Sinjar.
They came at night, destroyed everything in sight and then divided the
remaining men, women and children into sections. 6,000 died in a day. The lucky
ones escaped to the mountains behind them only to find themselves trapped with
no water or food and surrounded on either side.
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The moment that had me undone.
A burnt out car and the clothes beside it |
As we drove up the mountain
burnt out cars lined the road. But beside them was what had me undone. The
clothes. The shoes. The medicine. All left untouched for the last two and half
years. Apparently ISIS would pull everyone out of the vehicle as they tried to
go up the mountain, make them all take off their clothes, kill them and then
torch the car. I found a mother’s dress,
a little girl’s dress and a shoe in one spot and it was all I could do to pull
myself together. The horror had hit
home. They died on this mountain. As for those back in the village, the men
were either murdered on the spot or forced to fight for ISIS. The women were
taken as sex slaves into Syria or Mosul and married off to ISIS men. Their
children were taught to become fighters often asked to cut off their Barbies
heads, a chickens head and at ten years old, an “infidels” head. Any females
over the age of 8 were fair game for rape.
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| The main street of Sinjar town |
I interviewed many women who had only recently escaped, been
rescued or bought back from captivity. I was a stranger to these people but on
the strength of the Tutapona staff’s deep companionship with them I was greeted
with trusting kindness and gentle smiles. Their stories are horrific and I will
be able to share parts of them in due time after our appeal goes public. Stories
about how their seven year olds were given grenades as birthday gifts, their
fifteen year olds forced to put on a suicide vests, get in a car and then blow
themselves up. Perhaps worst of all is knowing how many of their family are
still in captivity. One mother wept as she told me of her 13 year old daughter
being ripped out of her arms by her hair and taken by ISIS. Another mother has
a little girl who is four, all alone and still in captivity with ISIS. She
doesn’t know if they’ll ever be reunited. Most have lost their husbands, unsure
if they’re alive or dead. Their homes
are rubble, their lives as they know it – over. Their trauma was deep and
palatable. Their tears flowing from a place I’ve never known. And the children we spoke to…. don’t even get
me started. The need for Tutapona to expand their reach is critical. The
suicide rates in the camp are at an all-time high and depression, anxiety and
conversion disorder is the norm. Although food, water and shelter are being
addressed – it’s the deepest parts, the unseen grief that is killing them
slowly.
Final thoughts
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| A classroom in Sinjar town |
Over the years I’ve sat with many poor mothers and fathers
as they’ve shared their stories of surviving war, humiliating rape, torture,
slavery, abuse and the murder of loved ones. The pain they describe is
unfathomable and horrific. Before I started doing humanitarian photography/storytelling,
my honest mental temptation was to imagine that people who endured such things
‘on the news’ are somehow fundamentally different to me. Maybe, somehow, they
just don’t feel things like I do. They’re “used to it”. Maybe they expect less,
care less, hope for less, want less or need less. But painfully, over time, I have seen that
they are exactly like me. And what
they endured on a mattress or what they endured as they fled for their lives up
a mountain is in no way easier for
them because they are poor. This Summer, Tutapona is giving us an opportunity
to come alongside, to show that someone, somewhere hears them, cares and is
going to do something to help. I’ll be
getting behind that.
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| Video of the main street of Sinjar Town |
Let’s talk about Iraq shall we? That little chestnut. I can
see by some of the comments and private messages I’ve received that some of you
are wondering why on earth a mother with two young children at home would choose to go to a place like Iraq. So I’d love to tell you why I went, what it
was like and what I was doing there. (All photos from my iphone5 - 'real' ones to come end of May once campaign is live).
This week I traveled up to a small dusty,
hot town in Northern Uganda called Adjumani with Helen and our girls. Both of
us had work we needed to do up there, but not enough time to take separate
trips, hence the decision to take Hope and Eva. It was a decision that I quickly
regretted. Eva winged through the short flight and the moment we landed we all
began to sweat profusely. The temperature was somewhere in the late thirties
and our hotel turned off the generator at midnight, so off also went the fan.
The girls simply couldn’t sleep, not having been in heat like this before, so
of course Helen and I didn’t sleep either. I lay there feeling frustrated about
all manner of things until morning. Then I had to go to work. Interestingly, by
the end of the week I was glad we’d taken our girls with us. I think in a very
small way it helped me to relate to what we saw.
