Women are reclaiming their lives by clearing explosives Isis left behind
At least 5,000 Yazidis were murdered by the terror group. Today, three women are working to extinguish its legacy, writes Molly Blackall
I didn’t believe it would go on this long. We didn’t expect so much devastation, kidnapping and killing
Early each morning, a group of women drive from their homes in the Sinjar region of northern Iraq to a minefield 30 miles away. They put on pale brown flak jackets and heavy beige helmets. Armed with only a metal detector and a handful of tools, they walk across land littered with homemade bombs left by the defeated terrorists of Isis.
The women – Fahima Elyas, Berivan Khier and Holya Morad – are Yazidis, a religious minority who were considered infidels and specifically targeted by Isis during their reign of terror in Iraq and Syria a decade ago.
From 2014, approximately 5,000 Yazidis were killed by Isis in bloodshed that the UK Government last year formally acknowledged as an act of genocide. An estimated 7,000 Yazidi women were kidnapped, enslaved and sold for sex by Isis fighters.
Fahima, Berivan and Holya were in their villages in Sinjar as Isis approached; all know women who were kidnapped. Following the liberation of Iraq from Isis in 2017, they decided to train as de-miners to help clear away the legacy of the conflict and enable their community to rebuild their lives.
Ten years after Isis stormed to power in Iraq and Syria and launched a terror campaign across Europe, i travelled to Sinjar and other regions to discover the inside story of their bloody occupation from those who lived through it – and the effects still felt today.
“I do this work to send Isis a message; that they took our girls and I couldn’t hold a gun to protect them, but I can hold a detector and clean the area where they left the remnants of the war,” says Fahima.
She was 18 and a student in a sixth form when the terrorists arrived. Her family woke her up, early in the morning, telling her they had to run.
“In my family, there were three cousins, two married brothers and lots of siblings. I was thinking; how can we all fit in one car? People were saying, you go and I will stay. We knew that those who stay would likely die,” she recalls.
“My older sister was crying, saying she wouldn’t go without my father. He said, ‘I promise I will come, but I want you girls and women to go before us. If one of you is in Daesh’s hands, it’s worse than them killing me.’”
Twelve hours later, with Isis closing in, her brother escaped in the back of a truck. Her father was in the last car to get out of the village. Fahima couldn’t return home until 2018. When she did, she found her house booby-trapped extensively, including an improvised explosive device wired up to a box of chocolates. A large, bloody knife she believes was used for beheadings had been left in her bedroom.
When Isis stormed into Yazidi communities in Sinjar region, they divided men and women. Men and boys over the age of 12 who refused to convert to Islam were executed, as, in some cases, were women over the age of 60. Up to 81 mass graves in Sinjar, in northern Iraq, have been found in the region.
Thousands of Yazidi women were kidnapped and raped, with many sold multiple times and some forced into domestic work. To date, many are still missing, with 2,800 believed to have still been in Isis captivity in 2021.
Returning to her village, and hearing the horror the girls in her community experienced – which made Fahima determined to undo their legacy. She is now a clearance team leader with the Mines Advisory Group (MAG).
“Every girl has a different story about what happened and I never ask,” says Fahima. “But we know they took a lot of girls and sell them to each other. They used them. A lot of the girls killed themselves to protect themselves,” Fahima says.
For Berivan’s family, the
Isis takeover wasn’t their first experience of terror. In 2007, her father was taken hostage by militants who demanded a ransom of cost 55 million Iraqi dinar (£33,000).
The family were forced to sell their home, possessions, and the gunshot wounds he sustained during the kidnapping have left him unable to work ever since.
For 15 days before Isis stormed the village, it moved closer and closer, installing checkpoints that Berivan could see from her home to prevent residents from leaving.
When they launched their attack, the family fled for 24 hours without rest. But many girls did not escape.
“There were a lot of girls that returned who told us they’d been sold 20 times to different men,” she says. “Girls said they sold us for 500 dinar – 30p. They sleep with a girl for one night, or 10 nights. They use girls like a jacket, they wear it for a while until it feels boring.”
Though the bloodshed began 10 years ago, the effects are longlasting. A friend of Berivan’s killed himself just five days before we met, unable to recover from the trauma of watching Isis kill his father in front of him. The three Yazidi women have channelled this horror into their work.
“My house is destroyed I can’t now go home, but I can help other people to go home,” says Holya, who was just 16 when she was packed with eight of her relatives into one car and driven into the mountains, as Isis neared her village.
“I didn’t believe it would go on this long. I thought maybe two or three days. We didn’t expect so much devastation, kidnapping and killing people.
“We don’t know exactly how many of the girls are still with Isis. We found lots of mass graves but we don’t know how many of them died, were killed, or are still with [Isis]. A lot left the country when they returned so we aren’t sure.”
Despite the horrors, Holya – like thousands of others – refuses to leave her home. “Anyone – not only Yazidi girls – can do this if they’re able. Each person can take one step to help their community,” she says. “This experience was the main thing that made me want to do this work. But I really like to work where I live. I will never leave this land, I will clean it.”