Children Of War Part 1

CHILDREN OF WAR.

VOICES OF IRAQI REFUGEES.

DEBORAH ELLIS.

To all the families who shared their stories with me.

A refugee's life is never an easy one, but it's especially tough on young people who are robbed of what should be the most formative, promising, and exciting years of their lives. At a time when they should be full of hopes and dreams for the future, they are instead faced with the harsh reality of displacement and privation...

a" United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.

As of the end of October, 2008, between 88,373 and 96,466 civilians in Iraq had died violently as a result of the 2003 invasion.*

* Source: www.Iraqbodycount.org. This is a conservative figure. Other estimates are much higher, e.g., www.justforeignpolicy.com estimates the deaths at 1.2 million.

Introduction.

Iraq is a relatively new country, only gaining its independence in 1932. But it is also the site of one of the oldest civilizations in the world. Near Baghdad, the capital, lie the ruins of Babylon, whose hanging gardens were once one of the seven wonders of the world. The oldest written stories in the world, the Gilgamesh cycle, also come from there.

Today Iraq, which is one of the world's important sources of oil, is a war zone. Between 1979 and 2003 the country was ruled by a brutal dictator, Saddam Hussein, who kept its many and various peoples a" including Sunni and Shia Muslims, Kurds, Jews, Christians and others a" under control by force. He threw his opponents in prison. The Kurds, whose guerrillas wanted independence from Iraq, were bombed with chemical weapons. The majority Shia were attacked, killed and starved by the Sunni-led regime.

Despite the brutality of Saddam's regime, there were positive elements to life in Iraq. Women had equal rights with men and were able to work at any job they were qualified for. There were many great writers, universities and a vibrant intellectual life, though not one that allowed open criticism of the dictator. There was free education for all boys and girls and excellent health care. So at the same time that opponents of the regime were tortured and killed, in general, people who went along with the government led a fairly decent life.

In 1980, Iraq bombed Iran, launching an eight-year war in which more than a million people died. Saddam invaded neighboring Kuwait in 1990, leading to the First Gulf War, in which a coalition led by the United States and sanctioned by the UN drove him back into Iraq.

Saddam used chemical weapons against his enemies and even against his own people, the Kurds. And at one time it appeared that he was trying to develop atomic weapons and other weapons of ma.s.s destruction. After the First Gulf War, the United Nations a" as part of the peace agreement a" was allowed to send in weapons inspectors to search for and destroy these weapons of ma.s.s destruction. Saddam did not cooperate with these inspections and made life very difficult for the inspectors, but in the end there was general agreement that the great majority of the weapons, labs and other materials needed to build such weapons had been found, removed and destroyed.

Then came the attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. Although none of the organizers or attackers were from Iraq, the government of George W. Bush was convinced that Iraq was still harboring weapons of ma.s.s destruction. They also made the claim, for which no proof has ever been provided, that Saddam Hussein had links to the September 11 attacks. In addition, the Bush government claimed that a war to eliminate Saddam would bring democracy to the Middle East.

Despite world-wide opposition from countries normally allied with the United States, and despite not being able to win support from the United Nations, the United States, Great Britain, Australia and some smaller countries formed what was called the Coalition of the Willing and invaded Iraq in March 2003, bombing Baghdad and launching the Second Gulf War. They did this against the principles embodied in the United Nations Charter. It was, in effect, an illegal war. Saddam Hussein was overthrown quite quickly after ma.s.sive bombing raids on cities where millions of people lived, and the country was occupied. No weapons of ma.s.s destruction were ever found.

The fall of Saddam resulted in new waves of sectarian violence, as various groups inside the country continued to fight for power. At the time of this writing, there were still foreign troops a" mainly American forces a" in Iraq, and the country had fallen into what some are calling a civil war.

The children in this book are mostly refugees who fled Iraq because of the war and were living in Jordan in the fall of 2007. They represent only a tiny number of those whose lives have been deeply impacted, now and forever, by the American decision to invade their country. Almost 5 million refugees have been displaced by the war. About 3 million are internal refugees a" Iraqis who were forced to flee their homes but were unable to cross the border. Many of them are now stuck in remote tent camps with-out access to schools, health care, electricity, or even food and clean water. Most of the others have fled to nearby countries such as Jordan and Syria, where they face uncertain futures. Others have stayed in Iraq and are trying to rebuild their lives in the towns and cities there. Only a relative handful of Iraqi refugees, even those who worked for the invading army, have been allowed into the countries of the Coalition of the Willing and their NATO allies.

I chose to go to Jordan to collect the interviews for this book simply because the entry process was easier than for Syria. Because English is my only language, most of the interviews were conducted through two interpreters a" one a.s.sociated with the Mandaean community (an ancient religious sect) and one with a group called the Collateral Repair Project, a gra.s.sroots organization that provides relief, training, medical care and education to Iraqi refugees.

Time pa.s.ses quickly. It has been more than seven years since the planes. .h.i.t the World Trade Center in 2001. It has been nearly six years since the overthrow of Saddam Hussein. Although politicans continue to debate what to do, the war is slipping from the headlines. Yet the children in this book continue to be shaped by these events.

I believe that we can create a world without war. One of the steps we can take is to fully understand the impact of our decisions on the world's most vulnerable a" our children.

Deborah Ellis.

November, 2008.

Hibba, 16.

The Christian religion is divided into different groups a" Catholic, Protestant and many others. Islam is also divided into different groups, including Sunni and Shia.

Saddam Hussein was a Sunni Muslim. When he was in power, the Sunnis in Iraq had more privileges, though more because of tribal allegiances than religious ones. Much of the repression that took place was against the Shia population, although no one was safe.

The Shia groups saw the fall of Saddam Hussein as their chance for revenge. Because there was no fair, workable government in control, many religious and militia groups began to try to take power for themselves. Even nonviolent people who had a long history of brotherhood and sisterhood with Muslims and other religions found themselves swept up in the anger of others.

At the same time that there were religious divisions in Iraq, there were also political divisions. Saddam Hussein was the head of the Ba'ath Party, so many citizens who wanted to advance in industry, government or the academic world joined the party, whether or not they were fans of Saddam.

Hibba's father worked for the Ba'ath government when Saddam was in charge. Like many, he lost his job when the Americans invaded and Paul Bremer, who was in charge of reconstructing Iraq, fired most of the civil service.

Hibba's mother is Sunni. Her father is Shia. Her family has applied to live in the United States.

My mother is Sunni. My father was Shia. This is the way it used to be, before we became divided. Sunni, Shia, no difference, no enemies.

We left Iraq in July of 2003, just a few months after the invasion.

Our father was working with the foreign ministry at the time, so he was part of the government of Saddam Hussein. At the time of all the bombing, he was stationed in Djbouti, at the Iraqi emba.s.sy there. We were living with just our mother. I have two older brothers, Saed and Akmed, who are now twenty and nineteen.

The bombing was a terrible time. How would you feel? We were all crowded together in one room. If anything hit our house, we wanted to know where everyone was. We wanted to be able to get to each other. We huddled together and waited to die. Overhead we heard the aircraft, felt the ground shake, heard the world around us exploding.

People watch war in the movies and they think they know what it's like. They don't know. If they knew, they wouldn't allow it to happen. Only very sick, bad people would want to make war.

Paul Bremer came to Iraq and said, "We will make deBa'athification." So everyone who ran the country before the Americans came was fired. The Americans didn't understand that people didn't have a lot of choice about joining the Ba'ath Party. You joined if you wanted to get a job in your profession. A lot of good people joined, like my parents.

We managed to stay a few more months in Baghdad until people started making death threats against us. We heard rumors at first, then a group of men in masks came to our house. They told us to get out or we would die.

Even then, we didn't want to leave. Iraq is our home. Why should we leave our home? Then the men came again to our house, and yelled and shot guns at our feet a" not to shoot our feet but to scare us, to give us one final message to get out.

This time we left. We joined our father in Amman.

I didn't like leaving Iraq, but at this time I was happy to be in Amman because my father was with us. He was away from us so much with his work that I didn't often get to see him, so to be able to spend so much time with him, even though we were in exile, was wonderful. I was very close to my father. As the youngest of his children I was special in his heart.

In 2006, my father went alone back to Baghdad, leaving us behind in Jordan. Time had pa.s.sed, and he thought it would be safe. We were running out of money where we were, and he went back to deal with some of our property so that we could pay our bills and keep on eating. He also needed medical treatment, which was too expensive in Jordan. He kept in touch with us by telephone as he moved from one relative's house to another. He thought it was safe, but he wasn't taking any chances.

My oldest brother went back to Baghdad to be with our father, to look out for him and help him.

It was not enough. Our father was kidnapped in May of 2006.

For a while we heard nothing. Then the kidnappers called our relatives and said, "You will find him in the morgue."

My brother went to look, but our father wasn't inside the morgue. He was outside of it, lying on the ground on a rubbish heap on the street. He had a bullet hole in his head.

My brother tried to get back into Jordan, but he wasn't allowed. They said, "You have no legal residency here. You have no papers allowing you to enter." Even if he had papers, they probably still would have said no. Jordan doesn't like to let in young Iraqi men in case they turn out to be terrorists.

Now my brother is in Egypt. We can't go there to visit him because we will not be allowed back into Jordan. And he cannot come here and visit us, so we are separate, and my mother wears widow's black.

My other brother earns a bit of money for the family by jumping from job to job, helping people in the market, cleaning, hauling things, jobs like that. He never works at one place for very long because he's afraid the immigration police will catch him and deport him back to Iraq.

I'd like to be able to finish my schooling and do something about my life, but I don't know how it will be possible to do that the way we live now. The important thing is to try to get the family united again. That won't happen in Jordan.

One of my dreams is to become very educated and very capable and to some day establish some sort of organization to take care of children who have suffered in war. Many have suffered much more than I have, but I have some understanding of what they go through, how they feel their world is taken from them.

We have applied for asylum to the United States. They have accepted us, at least to this stage, so now we have to just wait. It's possible that we may soon be living in America. My mother hopes that my brother can join us there. She says, "If my son is there and we are there and we are all together, that's all we need to be happy," but I don't know.

I don't know how I will feel about living in America, seeing the American flag every day. These are the people who destroyed my country, and they are over there across the ocean living a good life. They destroy things, then they forget about it and have a good supper and watch television. And I will be among them, and will have to get along with them for the good of my family. I don't know if I can do it.

I have nothing in common with American children. How could I? They are raised up with peace and fun and security. They have nothing to worry about. We are raised up with war and fear. It's a big difference. They won't know how to talk to me, and I will have nothing to say to them. Except, maybe, that they should keep their soldiers at home.

But I'll have to find some way to make it work, for the sake of my family. To be together is the important thing, and if we can have that, the rest we will figure out. I imagine we will feel very much like strangers, with a different language, different religion. American soldiers have died in my country, and maybe the Americans we meet will blame my family for those deaths. They won't see us as people. I don't think they will like us, and I don't think we will like them. But at least my family will be together.

To tell you the truth, I try not to think about it. Thinking about it makes me anxious. The Americans cut down trees in my country, and we will be looking at trees still standing in America. The Americans bombed our bridges, and we will be walking across bridges still standing in America. They killed children in my country, and we will be going to school with children who have never known troubles. I don't like to think about it.

Some people think that if you are Iraqi and you are still alive, that your troubles are over. They don't see the other kind of damage. For example, this whole building is full of Iraqis, but we don't talk to each other. There is no trust. The war destroyed that, too.

If I had the power to make the world better, first, there should be peace. To make peace, I would not let anybody make money from selling tanks and guns. If no one could make money that way, they'd have to find some other way to make money. Next, I'd remove all the evil and hatred from the hearts of people, so no one would want to hurt anyone else.

That's what I would do. If I had the power.

R., 18.

The area known as Kurdistan has corners in four different countries: Turkey, Iran, Iraq and Syria. It was carved up into today's boundaries by the European powers after World War I. There is oil under the ground in Kurdistan, which was known at the time, although it didn't start flowing until later. The benefits of the oil have not yet managed to trickle down to the Kurdish people.

The Kurds are a separate people from the Arabs or the Turks or the Persians. They have their own language and customs. Traditionally nomadic and tribal, they have had their ident.i.ty, language and dress forbidden, and they have been forcibly removed from their tribal lands.

Kurdish rebellions have provoked military responses from all four countries. In Iraq, governments before and including that of Saddam Hussein have waged war against Kurdish nationalist groups, a.s.sa.s.sinating their leaders, destroying hundreds of Iraqi Kurdish villages and herding Kurds into "strategic hamlets," where the Iraqi army could watch over them and control them more easily. Huge numbers of Kurds have been killed with conventional weapons and then, in the late l980s, with poison gas.

R. is an Iraqi Kurdish teenager now living in Canada.

I am from Kurdistan, in northern Iraq. Terrible things have happened there. I was young when I left, but I still remember, and what I don't remember, my brothers and sisters do.

I'm the youngest in my family. We lived in a village. It was all little villages up there in the mountains. Kurds are not rich people. Most have a few goats or sheep, and they get by. My family lived in that same area for generations, going way, way back.

My father was a soldier in the Iraqi army. He didn't want to be, because he was a Kurd, and his loyalties were with the Kurds, but Iraq was in a war with Iran, and they needed people to fight. The soldiers came in the night and they grabbed my father and other men and said, "Now you are in the army." He didn't have a choice.

I was small, but I remember. We were all crying. I remember that they let him say goodbye to us. He hugged me and said, "I'll come back. I promise."

We didn't see him again for six years. They kept him in the army all that time. No furloughs. He was a prisoner. They don't give furloughs to prisoners!

Things got really bad after he left. Things were bad before, the Iraqi army shooting at us when they weren't shooting at the Iranians, and there were Kurdish militias who were fighting the Iraqis. So that was a regular part of my life.

But it got worse when Saddam stepped up his campaign against my people. People would come flooding through our village on their way out of Iraq, and they would tell stories of gas and of terrible gun battles and dead bodies. I didn't hear those stories myself a" or if I did, I didn't understand them a" but my older brothers and sister remember, and I know there were a lot of people walking along the road, loaded down with bundles and things.

Pretty soon we joined that long line for the walk to Iran.

I still remember being carried by my mother, being in her arms, and seeing nothing but a long line of people ahead of us with their bundles, and a long line of people behind us. I remember how tired my mother was, and how she sweated from the burden of carrying me. Sometimes I walked beside her, holding her hand, but my legs were short and couldn't go very fast. Plus I think she was really scared that she would lose me, you know, let go of my hand and I'd fall behind in that sea of moving people, and she'd never find me again. So she usually carried me.

I don't know how long we walked. Days, probably, but I don't remember. We crossed over into Iran and ended up in a refugee camp inside the Iranian border.

There were people we knew there, like our neighbors from our home village. We all slept in one tent. It was crowded at the camp, and noisy, and everyone getting into everyone's business because there was no privacy.

My sister was the one who mostly looked after me in the camp because my mother and older brothers were busy trying to find some way to bring in money or food, or were just wandering around looking for things we could use, like wood or sc.r.a.ps to burn. Everyone was cold, everyone was hungry. My mother sold her wedding ring, her extra clothes, anything she could to get food for us.

I think I spent most of my time there trying to escape from my bossy sister! She kept a tight rein on me, because it's dangerous for little kids to wander around refugee camps on their own. They could get hurt, they could get used by a bad crowd, they could pick up bad habits. My sister had a heavy burden. She was only a few years older than me, but she worried about all of us and took care of us. Mom's health was not good. Well, you can imagine.

We were in the refugee camp for four years. That was my life a" the tents and the dirt and all the people around. I remember being scared every night, afraid of dying every single night, either from a violent death or from being hungry or cold.

I didn't go to school in the camp. There was no school. My brothers had gone to school when we lived in Iraq, and they have terrible memories of being treated badly there because they were Kurds. They were not allowed to speak Kurdish, only Arabic, and the teachers would beat them when they made mistakes. I don't think they were unhappy at all about missing school while we were in Iran, because school for them was always a violent place.

Finally we came to Canada. We were accepted here as refugees. It was easier for me than the others, because I was still young and had a young brain, so the new language flowed into it quite fast. The others had to struggle harder to learn English, but they had to struggle harder with everything. They are all doing well now, out working in good jobs or in college. But it was rough for a while. My mother still cries about the family she had to leave behind.

We came first. Then my father joined us. He was arrested when he first got here because the government was worried that he might be a terrorist, but they let him go and now he's with us. We've moved around a lot here, trying to find the right place to live where we can be happy.

I was in school the day the planes crashed in New York, on September 11. Kids knew I was from Iraq, and they'd say things, insulting things. I still get called a terrorist. Kids will say, "Don't get him mad or he'll blow up your house."

I keep it together by reminding myself that my mother brought us all here to give us a better life. She would rather have stayed in Kurdistan. Of course, that's her home, that was her parents' home and their parents' home, and back and back. But she brought us here, and I have to prove to her that it was worth it.

I hope I can go back to Kurdistan one day without getting killed. One reason Bush gave for invading Iraq was to stop the killing of the Kurdish people, but Kurds are still being killed. The Americans want oil, and Kurdistan is where the oil is.

If I could talk to American kids, I'd tell them to ask their parents if they believe the war is good, if what they are doing is right. It's one thing if they really believe it, but most people just go along with things without thinking.

When Canadian kids a" the ones who have always been here and have had a good life a" start complaining to me about the little things that bother them, I just think, "You have no idea."

Michael, 12.

The Christian community in Iraq is two thousand years old, and it was about one million strong at the start of the current war.

The chaos that took the place of government after the fall of Saddam brought forward leaders who equated attacks on Christians with attacks on the foreign occupiers, forcing many Christians to flee to Jordan, Syria or wherever they could. Churches have been burned, and Christians have been kidnapped as part of a larger struggle to control areas of the country.

Michael's family belongs to one of the ancient Christian sects of Iraq. They were forced to flee their home and now live in Zarqa, a city northeast of Amman. Rents are reportedly cheaper in Zarqa than in much of Amman, which is why many Iraqis without means have chosen to settle there. With a population of 700,000, it's the second-largest city in Jordan, and home to a large Palestinian refugee camp.