Region | Iraq
Fallujah mosque becomes shelter for refugees
Sunni girl lives out the pain of war, hiding in a mosque with nine other families driven out of homes by Shiite threat.
- Los Angeles Times-Washington Post
- Published: 00:03 June 13, 2008
- Shehad Hassan fled Baghdad with her family after they received a death threat. They thought Fallujah, a traditionally Sunni city, would welcome Sunni refugees fleeing Shiite threats, but the city, which has seen more fighting than most, has barely been tolerant. She has left the shelter in a concrete mosque only twice in two years.
- Image Credit: Washington Post
Fallujah: Shehad has left the mosque only twice since her family sought refuge here two years ago. Her skin is pale and young, long hidden from Iraq's sun-stained streets.
The Hassan family thought Fallujah, a traditionally Sunni city, would welcome Sunni refugees fleeing Shiite threats.
But the city, a wounded place that has seen more fighting than most, has barely been tolerant. Neighbours rarely acknowledge their existence or offer help. Access to jobs and schools is limited.
Shehad was 13 when her family woke to gunfire and a handwritten note pinned to the front door of their home in Baghdad. If they didn't leave, it threatened, they would be killed.
When they moved to Fallujah, the seven-story mosque was unfinished and empty. Now, 10 families, all with children, are hiding here.
Body-stiffening cold, concrete floors wake Shehad each morning. "There are not enough blankets in the world to stop that cold," she said. The families in the mosque have learned to live without electricity or running water, carpet or drywall. The mosque is naked concrete.
Lifeline
At daybreak, before the men line the streets to search for day labour, they collect water from the neighbourhood tap or the Euphrates River in jerrycans and two-litre soda bottles.
When the water arrives, Shehad's day begins.
She splashes her face and pairs up with her best friend, Raina, to do the laundry, look after her little brother and wash the dishes from last night's meal. Water is used sparingly - just a corner of a towel is dampened.
Late in the afternoon, the mosque echoes with the squeals of toddlers flicking marbles on the centre, main floor. Filtered, shadowless light from the mosque dome starts to disappear. Life here stops after sunset. Kerosene and expensive batteries are the only source of light.
She has lost neighbours and friends who were killed or had to move because of the violence. She prefers her inside world, she said.
On the floor, near a wall of used bricks, she hurries to finish her chores. Dinner will be served much later, by oil lamp. Tomatoes, beans, rice, potatoes.
Then, from memory, she tells her brother stories in the dark.
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