Khader Qassim, 22
l ife was beautiful in Sinjar. My large extended family lived close to one another, in 25 houses clustered together. We would go to each other’s homes all the time to eat meals, dance, play soccer and talk.
Initially, when ISIS arrived, they said they wouldn’t hurt us. But then they separated men from women and took my sister, Khalida, and my older brother, Khalid. My parents and I left our home before sunrise and walked into the mountains. Five hours later, we arrived in Syria and were taken to a refugee camp in Kurdistan, where we met my younger brother, Ali, and my grandfather.
Conditions were poor. Often there wasn’t enough food, and our bellies swelled from malnutrition. In winter, our toes froze, and in summer, our skin blistered. We tried to distract ourselves from thinking about Khalid and Khalida, but there was often nothing to do other than sit and worry.
In the spring of 2015, we received a phone call from Khalid. He was in an Iraqi village with other Yazidi men, and one of them had somehow accessed a phone. ISIS was forcing Khalid to work on a farm, harvesting vegetables and tending to animals, while armed soldiers watched. He said he was scared. He didn’t know what would happen to him. We haven’t heard from him since.
Later, someone sent us a link to a Facebook page set up by ISIS that showed Khalida holding her three-year-old son. Thankfully, officials from Kurdistan helped us pay the $30,000 (U.S.) ransom. We were soon reunited at the camp.
We now live in a bungalow in Richmond Hill. We feel safe for the first time in nearly five years, yet it is hard to be happy. We worry about Khalid.
My little brother, Ali, is now 18. He goes to high school and speaks the best English in the family. He posts his own music online to inspire Yazidis to stay strong. He has 68,000 Instagram followers and has become famous among our people.
My sister and I are now taking ESL courses, and I just passed the first level. I’ve also begun making films—producing and acting in funny skits to entertain Yazidis. There is so much sadness in the world already; I want to make my people smile, if only for a bit.