CPTnet
9 April 2009
IRAQ REFLECTION: His name was Mohammed

by Craig Kite

Last week, we traveled to see a mother and father who lost their one-and-a-half-year-old son when a rocket landed on the roof of their home in a village called Razga near the Iranian border in the Suleimaniya governorate. Ali Hamed Ahmed, his mother, and his wife Khoshia Biez told the story.

The radio announced last month that the Kurdish government and Iran had come to an agreement that bombing in their villages would stop and Kurdish villagers could return home. Ali told us, "As soon as we heard, we went back to stay. We were very happy.  Other people were going back too."

They were in their home for one peaceful week before 10 March 2009, when at 9:00 p.m. an Iranian mortar shell fell directly on their house while they were sleeping.  A layer of rebar prevent it from going all the way through the roof, but the downward blast, shrapnel and flame, injured the husband and wife, rendering Ali lame and burned on his back and head. The caved-in roof crushed the head of their only child.  I asked Ali what his name was. "His name was Mohammed," he answered through tears.  Others were injured and had their homes destroyed on that day, as well.

Ali's uncle drove onto the lethal scene to rescue them and take them to a hospital in Qaladze and then to the house of Ali's brother.  They know they cannot stay there forever. "I came to my brother's house with nothing," Ali said.  Regarding the fifty families in Razga, he said, "We're all separated and homeless.  I've sold what animals I had left at a cheap price for quick money. They'll be too expensive to replace again."

Ali's mother, kissing and hiding her face in a pink picture frame containing an image of the Ali, said, " My grandson was more precious to me than even my son.  We're used to losing houses and starting again, but now we've lost life.  Every night I hear my son crying for his child. I wish it was me instead."

Ali said to us, "We are so glad you came. When I saw you coming, I felt for a moment I had my son back. We feel that no one cares about us."

Governments around the world seem unaware or are deliberately ignoring the cost this silent war in northern Iraq is having for innocent people.  Another Kurdish friend of ours, Shadan from Kirkuk, who suffered under Saddam, once told me, "Even worse than war is being made ashamed of who you are, treated as an inferior in your country."

See pictures http://cpt.org/gallery/his-name-was-Mohammed