The Migrant Diaries. Lynne Jones

I can recall is that, when I was eight or nine, the whole family went on a journey to see some place near the village. I was very happy that day. My best times were playing with friends there or walking around with family. It was a beautiful place.

      I started school when I was six years old. I loved school because I wanted to improve and learn many things and not stay as a stupid boy. I liked science, Kurdish and English. I had just finished 6th grade at primary school. We had to leave Iraq. We left five months ago, because there was no more work for my father and because the Islamic state was very close, and we had to run away.

      In our community, there was no fighting, but there was in others— against the Peshmerga. I don’t like ISIS; I am very upset with them because they came to Iraq and Syria and destroyed the country. From the moment we heard of this so-called Islamic state, we knew they were seeking to harm us and destroy the country. Everything about them is about destruction and harming the country. They do nothing good for anyone. No one has been hurt in my family, but one family who lived near us was converted, and we became afraid of how they can manipulate minds. From the moment that family converted and went to join ISIS, no one knows what happened to them. The father was with ISIS from the beginning, but it was secret, then he came and took the whole family. That is how we knew.

      We are Muslim. ISIS are not Muslim, because our Islam is not like that. They are carrying flags and saying Allah is great. They write Islamic verses on walls and then they burn the flags and the walls. This is not Islam. What they do to people—all that destruction—is not good.

      We left Iraq in secrecy, going over the mountains to Turkey. It took twenty-four hours; we were in the mountains a whole day. We had no water, and there was snow up to our knees. We took a car to one point and then it was on foot. We were about twenty families together, and we all suffered together. At one moment, we lost our father. He was very tired and had fallen asleep while walking through some trees. We looked for hours, and we finally found him in the woods. He was exhausted. I was not afraid for myself, but I was worried for my little sisters, and I was worried about another Assyrian family with a little baby in the deep snow. They suffered a lot because, as we walked, they fell down every few steps in the snow.

      We had four smugglers with us on the journey, and when we reached a river, they told us—when you cross the river you are in Turkey. The smugglers gave everyone two sticks to help them wade through the river. It was not difficult for me, but it was for others because the stream was very powerful. No one fell. I helped by carrying their bags from one side to the other.

      After the river, we walked for four hours and reached an area full of soldiers who said—let’s put you all in vehicles and send you back to Iraq, you have no business here. So we all got together and agreed to give the soldiers money and they let us through. Each person paid about fifty dollars. After the soldiers got the money, they gave us bananas and water. They let us rest in one room which they had been using. They allowed the women and girls to rest there for two hours then we had to go on. We walked for another two hours to a small village where there was an explosion. The explosion was in an empty shop, it destroyed the surroundings, but no one was hurt. We were not close, but we could see what was going on. No one could explain why. I was not afraid, but it was very loud.

      Then we got on a bus for twenty-four hours and went to a town near the Sea. We stayed there in a hotel for four days. Every day, the smuggler was telling us—It’s OK. I will take you out of here. Finally, we left the hotel and the smuggler took us to the place where we got the rubber boat. Then it was two and a half hours on the sea. We were all frightened. The rubber boat was tipping and about to sink, when the strong waves came, but God saved us. The driver owned the boat. There were 110 people on it. It was very overcrowded. I could sit down. We bought life jackets for 10 euros each. I don’t know if they were any good, but the smuggler said—no lifebuoy rings—because he wanted space. I have never been to sea. I saw it on TV. I cannot swim. Everyone was afraid and people fell asleep from fear.

      When we reached our destination—the Island of Samos—the rubber boat stopped. Everyone got out, and we looked at the GPS to see where we were. Then, we walked another hour from the coast. We saw no one, no coastguards, no police, nothing. The boat owner had given us a number and told us to walk for an hour and then call that number. We were told to say we were stuck in the mountains and ask them to—Please come and rescue us, as we have a man and a woman in a wheelchair. So, after we called, the police came and took us to another island. We stayed in a place where there was a big camp of Afghan refugees. We stayed there two days and then they put us on a big ship for Athens. When we reached Athens, we rang another number that someone gave us on the boat, and a big bus came and moved us to Eko. We paid for that bus ourselves; it had nothing to do with the Greek government.

      When we got to Eko, our father went to the border and signed a paper with all our names. He was going to come and get us, but at the last moment, the border closed. Father was number thirty on that paper, but, at that time, only sixteen were crossing. Then they closed it.

      We did not leave. We thought we would stay and wait. We thought, OK, sixteen today, but tomorrow it will be our turn. But then we heard on the internet and TV that it was closed. We stayed a few more weeks, and then we came here. There was a protest. It was over four days—we all went in the road and closed it. My father and I participated in the protest. I had a paper in my hands on which I had written: You must open the borders immediately. We closed the road, but then we saw cars going around us, so we closed that road also. But then people felt helpless. It was four days with no food, so they gave up.

      Eko was better than here because at Eko Camp we had toilets with water, and the showers had hot and cold water (although we had to pay). Here, every time I go to the toilet, I suffer a lot because I must take water since the toilets are always dirty. And the food is no good here. We don’t eat it. It’s only edible on one day a week when they give us meat and rice. We buy everything and my mother cooks. We have a small electric oven inside the tent. It’s better than nothing.

      My father told us when we planned to leave Iraq, we were not allowed to tell anyone about our plans or that we were leaving. We planned to go to Germany. My brother is already there. Life here is very boring. I have nothing to do—I go out of the tent, I hang around, and I go back in the tent. There is nothing to do. This little school? (Ahmed makes a rude gesture with his hand.) We do a bit of football. I hope they could fix the ground for us in a field where we can play football, and I would like a school in which we can learn. We have no doctor here after 5pm, so we teach each other first aid. We have two paramedics from the Red Crescent in Syria among the refugees. We call it the ‘open borders group’ because we are stuck here and want the borders to open.

      Would I go back to Iraq? Of course, if I knew my village was safe, I would go back. The Peshmerga are the only ones who can defeat Daesh, and they will finish them.

      Refugees protest the closure of the Greek border with Macedonia, March 2016.