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.

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 !