Wednesday, July 19, 2017

It's matter if you are Iraqi,


with this all bad calamities that hit my life during the last 15 years especially the last three one, All things are losing their glowing meaning of happiness.

I mean, Eid is not Eid without a family!
Full time electricity is not the exact truth meaning of comfort ( as I thought during my whole life in Iraq)
Being a free as a person out of Iraq, doesn't mean the full freedom. within countries; you will find different restrictions that draw different borders for your dreams.

within times, I find no place for happiness in my heart, the happiness is only temporal come and go within minutes. Yes I feel joy and happy when the weekend come and I go for a journey with my husband and daughter but this happiness fade away once i come back home!

I don't know how, all things are meaningless for me and in the same time even the small tiny things are sometimes matter.
- chronic hair fall really matter for me, being a hairy refugee is better than being a bald one!
 - potty training"  my daughter really matter for me;
I know you may find me crazy that I add more stress to my mental problems by thinking that potty training my daughter is a big deal.
But believe me, it is a really big deal since my daughter is an Iraqi child. And regardless her age; she will end up one day thinking that she have no choices and no control over anything happened around her, and no control over anything in her life except her bladder!! 😫🚽


#Iraqi_free
#Happiness
#refugee
#dream
#potty_training

Saturday, July 01, 2017

Phantom pain



Is a perception sensation that an individual experience related to a limb or organ that is not part of the body.
This is not a medical lecture, this is my internal emotional sensation.
Nabi Yunis mosque (Tomb of Jonah) was bombed 3 years ago and I still can see it from the guest room window of my parents house !
I can still feel the standing potency of the hunchback mosque that the ISIS blew a week ago !
And I can still hear the sound of my passed nephew Anas!
I can’t help myself to believe that all of that are things from the past that will never ever return!
I can’t help because I am from Mosul, and Mosul is running in my blood and in my heart.
And if a right finger’s ring is that which connect between our Souls ( my country and me) then imputed the finger by fleeing the country doesn’t mean that our spiritual consensus is over ! NO, I am still wearing the same ring but in another hand ( country), and whenever someone mention the name of “Mosul”, “home”; I am still painfully checking my right hand finger although my right hand finger is imputed and Mosul is Erased from the plan.

I can’t add more words, but if you understand my point; you will understand why after all; there is no Joy accompany the liberation process as Mosul is losing the base from where all this culture and historical civilization shine !













#mosul_is_burning
#الموصل_مدينة_منكوبة
#phantom_sensation
#mosul
#hunchback_mosque
#منارة_الحدباء

Thursday, June 22, 2017

beyond average talk

Day by day, the life is getting harder, I am over exhausted from hanging to patience and waiting for the unknown. Every normal day is a grueling day that make you feel tired out at the end but you feel happy that another day has finished. The only thing that make me forget the time in those gloomy days is nurturing my little daughter. She is now a cute 2 and nearly a half years old “refugee”. Caring, Feeding, and playing with her make me able to cope with my days and my time and help me to forget the fact that I’m living such hard days.
She was born in 21st of January 2015, after 7 months from fleeing Mosul and being refugees in Jordan. Having a baby was a big change in my life although I had a worrying feeling about living without basic rights and I know I have to make a commitment to do my best in order to give her an easy living.
Luckily, it was easy to get a birth certificate here even if you are a refugee and not residing in the country as I was afraid that I won’t be able to register her here if I have the status of refugee or an asylum seeker. Good news to hear that we were able to vaccinate her using her birth certificate. We had to register her with us in UNHCR in order to be legally protected, but we postponed it to the next summer as she was too young and the weather was extremely cold.
I remember that day when we took her to the UNHCR office, I was carrying her through that long road that reaches the main gate. Lots of thoughts came to my mind at that moment, I had a feeling of oppression with every step, although the road was crowded with all those refugees waiting for their turns, I was not hearing anything but a voice in my head “what an unfair world, I am taking my little angel to give her a label of being a refugee, O God help us!”. I felt helpless and I knew that I had no other choice to protect her. I convinced myself “this too shall pass!”. The positive thing is that she was too young to realize what was going on around her, she was staring at the people around us with curious looks, and trying to understand the world around her. Thankfully, she wouldn’t see the sadness on the faces around us, or the worries frazzling that old man that was sitting nearby us. She was flinching every time an officer calls the numbers of the people in the queue, she was clinching to me and watching carefully anyone who would go to the counter. When the officer called our number, he led us toward other room when other female officer took her information, “Congratulations, she is now a refugee”.
Although we are living a hard life and we are deprived from many of our basic needs, we still blessed to have the chance to flee the disaster in Mosul. People there have no chance to survive, building and houses are crumbling over their heads, and the people who are besieged by ISIS terrorists have nothing to eat. Witnesses, who could flee from there, said that people started to eat grass and even tissues(Kleenex) as they are unable to go out of their houses’ basements because of the fighting and bombing in the vicinity. There is no chance for those people to be evacuated, ISIS snipers would kill anyone who doesn’t belong to them, they are unmercifully shooting women and children who are trying to flee toward the Iraqi forces, and the streets of the old city in the right coast of Mosul now are completely destroyed and heaped with dead bodies of innocent people who were murdered by ISIS monsters.
The battle now has reached the last episode, it is in the old city of Mosul. I don’t know how this will end as the building there are about 200 years old and they hardly withstand the wind. the historical identity to Mosul will be smashed and more innocent people will die and we have no power to do anything but to wish that the war should end as soon as .
                   
#mosul
#refugee
#lost

 

   

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Home sickness; Not really

home sickness ! No No No; Maybe in the first hundred days after leaving mosul; maybe in the first few months when i was still holding hope that sun will shine tomorrow. maybe when i had house and family still living in Mosul . Now; after this terrible; difficult unbearable 3 years. after I lost what I lost. I can say; I have no cells on me crave to go back even after the *distructive liberation* is nearly over. I crave only for my Family; friends and schools. I crave most of the time to the food !! I crave to my old me. I am no longer that same Hadia. calling back memories refund blood supplies to my brain; I feel weird seeing the pictures of Mosul streets. I was discussing this with my husband last night. we both feel something that is hard to discribe as we both were part of this place three years ago.In the same time we used a contraversy word to describe the feeling; I wad telling my husband; seeing the pictures of this places gave me "gauzy" feeling ! While; he said in the same moment "yeah, grimy" ! we fell into laughing as we were thinking; after 5 year of marriage; we became thinking mostly the same ! * wrong* I feel that there is kind of external hard disk where those memoried are save; kind of hard to recall them but in the same time it's details are etched. It's kind of feeling that they are not belonging to me ! or it belong to me in another life! or it just memories that happened thousands of months ago ! I don't know! those are only pictures in my head !

Thursday, April 20, 2017

What life looks like as a refugee

It is almost three years away from home , almost 1000 days passed and I’m waiting for a guardian angel to wake me up from my dismal nightmare and tell me that it’s over ! 
I’m waiting for a liberator to extricate me from this exile. To make me free; free from hurts, free from pain of "loss "and the pain of " lost"
I’m waiting for that day when I’ll live a normal life, have normal and bearable worries just like other people in the world. I don’t know for how long we have to pay the tax of being born in the land of war,Iraq. How long this will be considered as a stigma that make every country put us on their black lists.
From 2003 ,every day I was having the hope that tomorrow will be better, and I’m still waiting for that tomorrow to come, it must come soon as I’m tired ticking the calendar! I had a narrow escape from Mosul three years ago to find myself here ,in Jordan, as a refugee leaving almost everything behind me to chase it again ; the better tomorrow.

Living as a refugee looks like as your ship has drowned and you clutch to shipwreck to survive and waiting for somebody or something to help you, but you don’t know when it will comes ! It is really a life with endless uphill journey. You have to keep holding hope inside that you will be picked up (saved) in the time you are actually half wet ( dead !)

If I would describe my life as a refugee, I would rather choose “life of prohibition” as it’s title. It resembles a big jail that you put yourself in for no guilt but losing your homeland. It makes you feel that you came from another planet with extra powers that can make you bear this tough life with no rights.I really take pity on myself  when I walk down the streets watching all these busy people working, driving, and see the dissatisfaction on their face, I sometimes want to stop one of them and tell him that he must show appreciation for his life as it is so merciful to him that it doesn’t make him a refugee who would be punished if he works or drives!

This life taught me to accept it’s unfairness with patience, it has the ability to do you out of power and be submissive with no objections and all you can do is to wait! It taught me that when it wants to punish you, it makes you waiting for the unknown, and you keep counting the days with that bipolar feeling of time passing slowly and quickly at the same time. Waiting is the hardest lesson that the refugee learn and the only thing that you have the right to do.
I am astonished by the fact that I could cope this period of my life with all that complications I forced to pass through from the day I fled Mosul to the moment. I realized that we are experiencing “ struggling for existence” literally.




What life looks like as a refugee

It is almost three years away from home , almost 1000 days passed and I’m waiting for a guardian angel to wake me up from my dismal nightmare and tell me that it’s over ! 
I’m waiting for a liberator to extricate me from this exile. To make me free; free from hurts, free from pain of "loss "and the pain of " lost"
I’m waiting for that day when I’ll live a normal life, have normal and bearable worries just like other people in the world. I don’t know for how long we have to pay the tax of being born in the land of war,Iraq. How long this will be considered as a stigma that make every country put us on their black lists.
From 2003 ,every day I was having the hope that tomorrow will be better, and I’m still waiting for that tomorrow to come, it must come soon as I’m tired ticking the calendar! I had a narrow escape from Mosul three years ago to find myself here ,in Jordan, as a refugee leaving almost everything behind me to chase it again ; the better tomorrow.

Living as a refugee looks like as your ship has drowned and you clutch to shipwreck to survive and waiting for somebody or something to help you, but you don’t know when it will comes ! It is really a life with endless uphill journey. You have to keep holding hope inside that you will be picked up (saved) in the time you are actually half wet ( dead !)

If I would describe my life as a refugee, I would rather choose “life of prohibition” as it’s title. It resembles a big jail that you put yourself in for no guilt but losing your homeland. It makes you feel that you came from another planet with extra powers that can make you bear this tough life with no rights.I really take pity on myself  when I walk down the streets watching all these busy people working, driving, and see the dissatisfaction on their face, I sometimes want to stop one of them and tell him that he must show appreciation for his life as it is so merciful to him that it doesn’t make him a refugee who would be punished if he works or drives!

This life taught me to accept it’s unfairness with patience, it has the ability to do you out of power and be submissive with no objections and all you can do is to wait! It taught me that when it wants to punish you, it makes you waiting for the unknown, and you keep counting the days with that bipolar feeling of time passing slowly and quickly at the same time. Waiting is the hardest lesson that the refugee learn and the only thing that you have the right to do.
I am astonished by the fact that I could cope this period of my life with all that complications I forced to pass through from the day I fled Mosul to the moment. I realized that we are experiencing “ struggling for existence” literally.


Friday, April 14, 2017

A little bit of talk..



it have been a while since I found myself writing  here.
I am not ok; it seems to me that i am waking up from the shock that followed the tragedy.
Some times I keep asking my self why to be sad. it's true that Three months passed since my brother and nephew were buried, but We in the other hand are just like dead bodies waiting our turn to buried ! the only difference is with the hideousness of being died.
some died after an explosive rocket,
some hang up on the streets Columns
some are hunted by sleeper cell
Some died gradually, cell by cell and nerve by nerve as he sees his dearest place and dearest person gradually pull out from his life, pull out wholly and pull out forever.

the liberation process on the right side of Mosul is going with thousands of blood  being shed with extortion. hundreds of children are on a date to play with my nephew "Anas" in the garden of heaven where peace is doubtless and Justice stand above all.

my other nephew and nieces are almost completely recovered from their physical injuries. but inner injuries are those that can't be seen, can't be healed and painfully last forever. they began to attend school in Erbil after they lost two studying years while Mosul was under the control of ISIS. 

the problem with having all their passports lost in the attack is blocking the chance for me to see them again, to have them between my arms! is one of my dearest dreams. my love and worries about them duplicate after all what they have been going through.
On the other hand; beside needing them because I love them, I need them because I  Am feel so lonely here; I need friends, Jobs and joy to occupy my time, to keep me busy from calling on memories that I don't need to remember. to keep my inner thought calm before it will fire and burn every single hope inside.
I would rather start to talk about my life as a refugee in Jordan in the next posts rather than the suffer of people inside Mosul. I should accept the fact that I have nothing left there except my root that I will certainly love and proud of for the rest of my life.

talk to you later and untill that time;

Pray for Mosul 
Pray for Moslawies
Pray for refugees 
and
Pray for Iraq !


Tuesday, January 31, 2017

RIP part two

the military pilot get bored, he choose the prettiest house to hit with rockets

It was not clear why did the air coalition force hit the house with rockets ! why this house?why my family house?

we are living in the twenty-first century. the percentage of getting an error in hitting a target must not exceed a 1%.

Many explanations  followed the cascades; the one that I was really believe in is the one that one military officer from Mosul said; the air force intentionally harm the houses (either directly or indirectly) of well known doctors and scientist of Mosul. But looking to the other side; many houses of poor people are being hit with rockets and many bloods are shed without the presence of someone who could carry the appeals on behalf of the victims !
we are living in the world where if you want to take your right; you have to make some noise. we only hear about the victims from doctors because this is who we are and those are who we know !

Few days ago the anti-terrorism device investigate the place where the two rockets fell. they found two corpses of RUSSIAN ISIS under the wreckage of the clinics building !!!!!

So, it seems that ISIS broke the door of the clinical's building that belong also to my family and hide inside without permission but under the eyes of air force ! 

The cause of my nephew and my brother death is the one percentage possibility of error in hitting the target or it might be the unclear image from the above that make two building houses looked like a one !! I don't know if that's possible ! 
I am trying to find an answer. but whether I found it or not. this won't change the fact that two souls belong to my family are being shed unjustly.

the science said that the pain of labor is the second most painful hurt after the pain of being burned alive.but eventually the mother could forget this hurt and pain once she carried her baby !
I wonder what could ever make this mother forget and skip the hurts and pains of losing her child who was burned alive!? - Brain injury maybe !

Beyond losing the husband and son, the house, money and all their identification papers. my sister had two injured children waiting a chance to be treated and more over a broken skull ! how strong should she become to carry out all of this. 


without interring the details; my sister with her children could reach the camp after three days. the medical staff of the camp gave them the right to moved to the medical hospitals in Erbil but yet this is Kurdistan and whether you have something left in Mosul to return back to or not; you have to leave Erbil once you are treated. With this difficulties ; Mam and Dad are trying their best to find a way to get residency permission for their widow daughter and their orphans grandchildren ! 

the previous two week was hard for all of us as a family; beyond all the lost. my old nephew had to do three surgery and yet not able to use his injured leg. My sister is under medical weekly review to exclude the need of brain surgery.

My old niece "Aya" had only minor injuries, she is the only one who didn't need to stay in hospital. My parents were surprised of the way she was acting; she never asked about her brother,sister and her mother while they were in hospital. never talked about what she passed through at that night unlike her brother and sister.
I know Aya very much, I know how much she love her brothers and sister, she is more like their mother despite the fact that there is narrow age difference between them, Mam said that Aya seemed very happy to meet us after all this year and not thinking about anything else!
OR
she might be Escaping the reality, she had enough hurts and fears. she lost her father and her very deer brother and she can't accept the idea of losing anything more! after two weeks of neglecting and acting perfectly normal; she burst into crying.

cry baby cry!
maybe your tears could wash your heart from what drape on it from fears and worries
maybe your tears could irrigate your thirsty soul to meet your loved father and brother.
maybe your tears could return your stolen childhood.
maybe your tears could tell what is hidden inside your heart, your fears that you can't talk about. and your memory that you can't get over .
maybe your tears could strengthen your weakness and give you the power to live, love and smile again!
Cry because you are human;
 because you have a heart
because your emotions should not be hidden and your liberty should not be forbidden.


To be continue






  

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

RIP my nephew

For the souls of those kids whose life was not as much fair as will be their death

 I am sharing this story of my youngest nephew " Anas " _8 years old.

this is a part of the story that I will write in two parts. this is only part of what my nieces and nephews passed through. one story of many other happened every day in Mosul !

old pictures of all the kids of my sister showing Anas on the left side.



It was the 7th of January:

the Iraqi army began their plan to liberate the neighborhood where was my family house, the house that my parents built in 1982 and where I grow up together with my two sister.

 After my parents fled Mosul in 2014; my big sister with her family ( her husband and four children stayed in that house) the house was adjoining the medical clinics of my father and my brother in law.

the house is located in the main street in front of one of the most important bridge in Mosul. liberating this area was considered as a very good progress and advantageous for Iraqi Army in their war against ISIS.


the coalition air-force was participating in this process, and let us be honest, the neighborhood was liberated faster than anyone could expect. but this victory claimed on the life of many innocent peoples in Mosul/

It was nearby afternoon when all the family of my sister were in the house while the battle was taking place out; I don't know who to blame but the air force was making quick stupid decision in hitting houses just to cause the kill of two ISIS man fighting in the street ahead.

firstly the clinics were hit by rocket and before anyone could take the next breath; another rocket followed hitting the house from the back.
the house fell apart causing a huge destructive in the building of the house. parts of wreckage cause the immediate death of my brother in law,

My sister body was hidden under wreckage and she fainted out after parts of wreckage cause her a skull injury.

My old niece had only small injury as she found herself under the sofa ! that cover her body and save her. my old nephew had very bad injury in the right arm and left leg.


As they all acted non consciously in some part of the story, it was really unclear till now what is the cascades of the events but at some point my old nephew ran despite his injury and saved his little sister who was screaming while burning, in the other hand; the sound of my  little nephew "Anas" was not heard, No one could see him as the fire was extended and the dust and smoke were filling the place. My little niece insisted on seeing him burning in the room where the rocket fell and this later was found true.

Three kids were trapped in the wreckage without any adult with them, the god put power and gave the old boy the strength after he saved his young sister, he walked and searched and found away to escape. he returned back to his sisters and told them that "Mam and Dad died, we must go out before the fire expand to the whole place". in the middle of their cries and conversation, my sister returned back to her conscious, she yelled and moved her hand, the kids saw her and tried to get the wreckage from above her body but they couldn't. The two girls followed their brother and claimed the stairs and when they were in the second floor, they found what they describe as " Skis", part of the second floor was totaly destructive and bend to the floor. the kids found their way out and yelled till the neighbors hurried to them, my nephew led the neighbor to the place of his mother while my two niece were suppose to ran to the neighbor's house; in their way out; a group of ISIS ran towards them taking the little girl and ran to hide somewhere using the girl as human shield, as the neighbor followed my nephew; they could get my sister from the wreckage, and found the body of Anas and hide it from the eyes of my sister..
they went out to see my big niece yelling for her sister and again they challenge the death to survive this family. our neighbor went to where the ISIS hide with my little niece and took her back to her mother !

later; they were all led to our neighbor house. the Army sent ambulance to move them to the hospital but my sister refused as she couldn't accept the idea of leaving the corpses of her son and her husband under the wreckage but the health of all of them were not good. my sister had bloody vomit and my old nephew was screaming from hurt. we could hardly later sent them a car to moved them to a camp and later to a hospital in Erbil where my nephew had three surgery and my niece had one.

The corpses of my nephew, Anas and my brother in law was buried 5 days later as the street was a defensive line between ISIS and the Iraqi army and no one could ever reached the house.