Image by Cathy Breen
I've written often about my Iraqi friend and his oldest son from Baghdad. I will call them Mohammed and Ahmed. In 2015, they made a torturous flight from Baghdad to Kurdistan and then across Turkey. They were on three Greek islands before permission was granted to them to continue their trip. They passed through several countries just as borders were being closed. They arrived finally at their destination—Finland—in late September.
Mohammed told me the story of their desperate journey. He and Ahmed went to Finland hoping that, with fewer refugees traveling so far, they would get asylum quicker and be reunited with their family, Mohammed's wife and the other six children in Iraq. I lived with this family in Baghdad. I have photos of them before me.
This past January, I visited Mohammed and Ahmed in Finland. For a few days, they were able to leave the camp where they are interned and travel to Helsinki, where they were warmly received by many Finnish people involved in the peace movement.
In late June, Mohammed wrote us about the depression and frustration among refugees in their camp. Many of them were being rejected for asylum—even Iraqi refugees from Fallujah, Ramadi, and Mosel. “I don't know what I will do if I get a bad answer,” he related. “For the last three weeks only bad answers are coming.” Then in late July came the crushing news that his own case had been denied.
"Today, I got the immigration decision that my case was rejected,” he wrote. “Me and Ahmed are not welcomed to Finland. Thanks for everything you did."
The next day he wrote again. "Today is one of the heaviest days of my life. Everybody, my son, my cousin, and myself . . . we just kept silent. We are shocked from the decision. Losing my brother, jailed for two years, kidnapped, tortured, losing my house, parents, father-in-law, [surviving a] death threat letter and assassination attempt. Over fifty relatives killed. What more must I give them for them to believe me? Only one thing I forgot, to submit my death certificate. I feel I am being slaughtered. I don't know what to tell my wife and children."
We have since learned that Finland is granting residency to only 10 percent of asylum seekers. Mohammed is appealing his rejection, and several others have written letters on his behalf. It is by no means clear that he will prevail.
In the meantime, the situation in Iraq and in Baghdad continues to worsen. There are daily explosions, suicide bombings, assassinations, and kidnappings. There is ISIS, police, army, and militia activity. His wife lives in a particularly open and vulnerable rural area. His brother, who used to live a stone’s throw away, had to flee with his family several months ago due to death threats.
This has left Mohammed's wife and children without protection. During Ramadan, Mohammed wrote: “The situation is really terrible during these days. My wife was planning to take the kids to her mother’s village but she cancelled this idea.” On another occasion, he wrote, “My wife is very worried about our second oldest son, afraid he will be kidnapped. She is thinking of moving from the village. Today, we argued very hard as she blames me, telling me that I said we would be reunited within six months."
On two recent occasions, armed uniformed men came to Mohammed's house seeking information about him and Ahmed. Mohammed wrote: “Yesterday at 5 a.m. the house was raided by armed official military guys in uniforms. Maybe the police? Maybe the militia or ISIS?”
It is hard to imagine the fright of Mohammed's defenseless wife and the children, the youngest of whom is only three years old. It is hard to imagine Mohammed and Ahmed’s fright being so far away. At times, Mohammed's wife has hidden the oldest boy in the reeds by their house, afraid he will be recruited by ISIS or the militia. She has also been afraid to send the children to school because it is so dangerous. She is angry at Mohammed, scared and not understanding why they have not been reunited after a year's time.
Recently, Mohammed emailed: “Honestly, Cathy, every night I am thinking of returning home and ending these arguments. Living away from your beloved kids is really hard. If I get killed alongside of my family, then everyone will understand why we had to leave and the arguments will finish. Even the Finnish immigration will understand that what I told them was true. But the next morning I changed my mind and decided to await the court’s final decision.”
“Every night, I am afraid from the next morning’s news from my family. My daughter asked me by phone last week, ‘Dad, when can we live together again. I am now fourteen years and you have been away so long.’ She broke my heart.”
I often ask myself how Mohammed gets up in the morning. How are he and his wife able to face the day? Their courage, their faith, and their resilience inspires me, challenges me, and pushes me to do all I can.
Cathy Breen (newsfromcathy@gmail.com) lives and works at Maryhouse Catholic Worker in New York City. She is also co-coordinates Voices for Creative Nonviolence.