Separated Iraqis look forward to reunions
The fighting to free west Mosul from ISIL is enabling many people to see their displaced relatives again after a long time
HAMAM AL ALIL, IRAQ // Surrounded by displaced Iraqis, Ahmad strides up and down a muddy stretch of land near Mosul, mobile phone in hand, desperately looking for his aunt and uncle.
The 27-year-old hopes to see his relatives for the first time in six months after they fled west Mosul, where Iraqi forces are battling ISIL fighters.
“I can’t describe how it feels to be seeing my family again, especially after everything reported in the media – the fighting, the hunger, the humiliation,” says Ahmad, a labourer who lives in government-held east Mosul.
Iraqi forces launched the offensive to recapture the city on October 17 last year, with the support of the US- led coalition that has been carrying out strikes against ISIL in Iraq and Syria since 2014.
After seizing Mosul’s eastern districts in January, the Iraqi forces began the operation to retake west Mosul from the extremists on February 19, forcing tens of thousands of civilians to flee.
Families living on either side of the River Tigris, which divides the city in two, have been unable to see one another since its five bridges were destroyed in the fighting. They make only rare phone calls to their loved ones, always at night and whispering to avoid being caught by the militants.
“We could ring them only once a week. They said they were fine. But turning on their phone was enough to put their lives in danger,” Ahmad says.
Having waited for his aunt and uncle for more than two hours near the camp at Hamam Al Alil, 15 kilometres from Mosul, Ahmad says: “I can’t wait. We’re going to bring them home.” Around him, hundreds of civilians sit on the ground, their clothes coated in sludge, surrounded by their meagre belongings and children in clothes that are unable to keep out the rain and the cold.
A lorry pulls up to deliver food aid. A crowd surges forward, a flurry of arms stretching skywards for a box thrown by one of the volunteers. A soldier fires his rifle in the air in a futile attempt to calm the crowd. More than 180,000 people have fled west Mosul, the Iraqi government says. About 111,000 have sought shelter in 17 camps and reception centres near by, while many have stayed with relatives. Mohamed Badr Abed is in Hamam Al Alil to pick up his sister’s family and bring them back to his village about 30km from Mosul. He went without news of his sister for what seemed an eternity, until a phone call earlier that day. “She called me at 7am and asked me to come and get her,” says the electricity company employee. “I hadn’t heard her voice for six months. I had no idea what had become of them,” he says as he breaks into a huge smile. “I was so happy. I couldn’t believe it.”
His sister is already en route to this village, but his brother-inlaw and four nephews are still undergoing security checks by Iraqi authorities.
The fear that ISIL fighters may sneak out among the civilians is ever-present. Abu Omar, who is using a pseudonym, fled west Mosul with his wife and five children, and is waiting for his son-in-law who lives in east Mosul with one of his daughters. He has not seen them in a year. “No other people have been through what we have,” says Abu Omar, who is in his 50s.
“All this could inspire a television soap opera, a film, a novel,” he says, breaking off the interview as his son-in-law arrives.
They embrace briefly, solemnly, and immediately depart.