BANAZ

We were a happy family and everyone was jealous of our good fortune. But, this happiness ended quickly. Our wonderful life together turned to misery because of Saddam. I was married in 1983 to a man named Karim. He was my cousin and was quiet, calm, and kind. He was from a rural village and I was from the city of Kirkuk. He was a farmer and I was well educated.

We moved to the village and had two daughters and a son. In 1988, the government informed us that we had to appear before the authorities within twenty-four hours. We all went to the main road. There were a lot of Iraqi soldiers there as well as Kurdish militia who worked for the government.

We waited for hours in the rain and cold. Our bodies were covered with mud.

 Then, they put us in military vehicles.

The regime’s agents told us, “The government has made a nice, new town for you. We are going to take you there. You will be much happier there than in your current village.”

As the military vehicles were driving away, we realized the government agents had lied to us. They took us to the military base in Chamchamal and put us in a prison. There were people from other villages there as well. Then, they brought vehicles to take us to a big building in Tobzawa. Each family was taken to a table with a number of chairs. Iraqi officers were there with Kurdish translators asking everyone questions.

“Why did you flee?”

“How come you’re not Ba’athists?”

“Will you work with the government?”

We told them, “We just want to live in peace.”

They refused to accept our answers. An officer stood up and hit me and my husband. Our children started crying.

After the questioning, they took us outside.

 My husband and I loved each other with all our hearts. We held hands. We loved our children. I hugged my son and held onto my baby daughter. My older daughter had one hand on her father’s pants and the other on my dress.

The security agents pulled my husband to one side and me to the other side. We didn’t want to be separated from each other. We tried to hold on to each other. They beat us and we fell to the ground.

I was screaming, “Why do you treat us like this? We are ready to be shot here together, to be burned together! Please don’t pull us apart!”

 I went down on my knees to kiss the feet of the government agent. At the time, I believed that my husband and I would always be together. The officer kicked me with his boot. I collapsed and fell unconscious. I had no idea it would be the last time we’d ever see each other.

When I gained consciousness, I found myself in a room. I saw women hitting themselves. I saw my cousin crying. I heard the women talking about how they were separated from their children. Then, I realized I couldn’t find my own children, except for my baby who was only eight months old. I started crying and beating myself.

Late that night, they cut the electricity off and the room became very dark. Then, they opened the door and brought some children inside. We were all looking for our children, feeling around for them like animals, touching their hair and bodies. All the women grabbed onto the children they touched. We were kissing them and gently holding them.

After around half an hour, they turned the electricity on. We saw all the mothers embracing different children. With the lights on, each mother found her own children.

There were so many people in the room that no one could sit or rest. We spent the evening standing.

In the morning, they opened the door. They gave us only a few small loaves of hard bread. We divided the bread among ourselves and fed our children.

Once a day, they let us go to the bathroom. But, it was also a sort of punishment because they forced us to walk past a room where the men were held. We looked at them through the window. Many were tied down. Others were being beaten with wire cables.

Later, they brought some of the men, blindfolded and handcuffed, to the room where we were held. They forced them to walk through the room. If one fell, the security agents would beat him.

On the third day, they brought us out into a hall. We saw the shoes and clothes of the men on the floor. We felt hopeless.

Then, they took us in buses to an Arab village in a different district. We were all crying. The Arab women and children received us by laughing, clapping, dancing, and throwing stones.

They took us to a camp. They forced us to get out of the vehicles and moved us through a narrow passage with barbed wire on both sides. The guards said, “Hurry up. Move along!” It was very dark. We could see a dim light from the camp. Everyone held on to the person in front of them. We walked forward to the sound of crying children, screaming women, and the wind.

As we entered the camp building, they turned off the electricity. We were very scared. I felt something thick and unpleasant against my feet. I had no idea what it was because it was so dark. We stayed in the darkness until around midnight when they turned on all the lights.

Then, we saw the bones of dead people.

There was blood on the walls and there were pieces of bloody cloth that no one dared touch.

I stayed awake all night. Many of the women and girls were sick with fear. For breakfast, they gave us several loaves of bread. We cut them into pieces and put them in water and gave this to our children.

Each day, my baby grew weaker. Since I hadn’t eaten food, I had no milk. During the first two weeks, I fed my baby with sugar that I begged from some of the women who brought things from their homes. By the time we arrived at the camp, all the food was gone.

I asked the guards to bring a doctor to treat my baby. Instead, they came and took my baby from me. I tried to follow the guards. The other women pleaded with them to give me back my child. I fell on my knees and kissed their boots. They kicked me. They took my baby out of the room. I never saw him again.

After that, there was a fatal disease that afflicted many of us. People started vomiting. Four or five children died every day. Some days, old people died as well. Every day more people died.

Because so many people had died, they started giving us better food. They brought us eggs, cheese, jam, rice, and soup.

There was one intelligence agent who was very cruel. He assaulted women and forced them to have sex with them. He beat me in a very brutal way and raped me.

 Some of us pretended to be sick, and with the help of the medical committee, we were transferred to the hospital. Then, we informed our relatives to come to the hospital so they could see us. We saw each other but didn’t speak. Sometimes, I would write letters which I would pass to my relatives hidden inside different things.

 There were two Arab guards who helped me pass information from the prison to our friends and family outside. I did a lot of things through those two guards, but our work together didn’t last long. An intelligence agent learned that I sent letters to my relatives and one day, he found one of the guards with a letter I’d written.

He read the letter and sent it to Security Directorate in Kirkuk. They brought an armored car to take me away. They charged me with helping the Peshmurga. I denied the accusation.

They beat me. They tortured me. They wanted me to confess. They locked me in a room which was shut with a big padlock. Inside, I saw shoes, a dress, a jamana, and some bones. I stayed there for three days. They beat me every day with a wire cable and a pipe. I was afraid that I would be killed.

After around six months, an agent named Ali started firing into the air. He told us to stand up and start dancing. He told us that the President had granted a general amnesty.

“The men have already been released and you will be released tomorrow.” In the morning they put us in a vehicle that took us to Tobzawa, Kirkuk, and then Chamchamal.

I went to my brother-in-law’s home. He took in my daughters, but rejected me.

My family said that I dishonored them in prison. Some said I collaborated with the regime. Others said I failed to wear black clothes as a symbol of mourning for my husband and had broken Kurdish tradition. They hit me and insulted me. They took my children and forced me out of their home.

I went to the house of some other relatives. They begged my brother-in-law to let me be with my children, but he refused saying. “They’re not her children. I don’t care where she goes. If she returns I’ll kill her.”

Eventually I found a man who took me to my father’s new home. He was very kind to me. I spent six months there, far from my children. I was like a mad woman. I fainted many times each day. I saw my children in my dreams.

Later, we sent several respected, elderly men to my brother-in-law’s home to convince him to let me see my children. It was useless.

I began to suffer from a psychological illness. My life was full of misery and suffering.

After the liberation of Iraq, I went back to Kirkuk. Now, I work for an organization that helps women who were victims of the Anfal campaign. I am committed to working with these women and to trying to improve their lives.

I will never forget what happened to me. I think constantly about the brutality I suffered and remember how I was beaten. I often think of my baby who was taken out of my arms by security agents and who died alone, without me.