Wednesday, July 19, 2017

It's matter if you are Iraqi,


with this all bad calamities that hit my life during the last 15 years especially the last three one, All things are losing their glowing meaning of happiness.

I mean, Eid is not Eid without a family!
Full time electricity is not the exact truth meaning of comfort ( as I thought during my whole life in Iraq)
Being a free as a person out of Iraq, doesn't mean the full freedom. within countries; you will find different restrictions that draw different borders for your dreams.

within times, I find no place for happiness in my heart, the happiness is only temporal come and go within minutes. Yes I feel joy and happy when the weekend come and I go for a journey with my husband and daughter but this happiness fade away once i come back home!

I don't know how, all things are meaningless for me and in the same time even the small tiny things are sometimes matter.
- chronic hair fall really matter for me, being a hairy refugee is better than being a bald one!
 - potty training"  my daughter really matter for me;
I know you may find me crazy that I add more stress to my mental problems by thinking that potty training my daughter is a big deal.
But believe me, it is a really big deal since my daughter is an Iraqi child. And regardless her age; she will end up one day thinking that she have no choices and no control over anything happened around her, and no control over anything in her life except her bladder!! 😫🚽


#Iraqi_free
#Happiness
#refugee
#dream
#potty_training

Saturday, July 01, 2017

Phantom pain



Is a perception sensation that an individual experience related to a limb or organ that is not part of the body.
This is not a medical lecture, this is my internal emotional sensation.
Nabi Yunis mosque (Tomb of Jonah) was bombed 3 years ago and I still can see it from the guest room window of my parents house !
I can still feel the standing potency of the hunchback mosque that the ISIS blew a week ago !
And I can still hear the sound of my passed nephew Anas!
I can’t help myself to believe that all of that are things from the past that will never ever return!
I can’t help because I am from Mosul, and Mosul is running in my blood and in my heart.
And if a right finger’s ring is that which connect between our Souls ( my country and me) then imputed the finger by fleeing the country doesn’t mean that our spiritual consensus is over ! NO, I am still wearing the same ring but in another hand ( country), and whenever someone mention the name of “Mosul”, “home”; I am still painfully checking my right hand finger although my right hand finger is imputed and Mosul is Erased from the plan.

I can’t add more words, but if you understand my point; you will understand why after all; there is no Joy accompany the liberation process as Mosul is losing the base from where all this culture and historical civilization shine !













#mosul_is_burning
#الموصل_مدينة_منكوبة
#phantom_sensation
#mosul
#hunchback_mosque
#منارة_الحدباء

Thursday, June 22, 2017

beyond average talk

Day by day, the life is getting harder, I am over exhausted from hanging to patience and waiting for the unknown. Every normal day is a grueling day that make you feel tired out at the end but you feel happy that another day has finished. The only thing that make me forget the time in those gloomy days is nurturing my little daughter. She is now a cute 2 and nearly a half years old “refugee”. Caring, Feeding, and playing with her make me able to cope with my days and my time and help me to forget the fact that I’m living such hard days.
She was born in 21st of January 2015, after 7 months from fleeing Mosul and being refugees in Jordan. Having a baby was a big change in my life although I had a worrying feeling about living without basic rights and I know I have to make a commitment to do my best in order to give her an easy living.
Luckily, it was easy to get a birth certificate here even if you are a refugee and not residing in the country as I was afraid that I won’t be able to register her here if I have the status of refugee or an asylum seeker. Good news to hear that we were able to vaccinate her using her birth certificate. We had to register her with us in UNHCR in order to be legally protected, but we postponed it to the next summer as she was too young and the weather was extremely cold.
I remember that day when we took her to the UNHCR office, I was carrying her through that long road that reaches the main gate. Lots of thoughts came to my mind at that moment, I had a feeling of oppression with every step, although the road was crowded with all those refugees waiting for their turns, I was not hearing anything but a voice in my head “what an unfair world, I am taking my little angel to give her a label of being a refugee, O God help us!”. I felt helpless and I knew that I had no other choice to protect her. I convinced myself “this too shall pass!”. The positive thing is that she was too young to realize what was going on around her, she was staring at the people around us with curious looks, and trying to understand the world around her. Thankfully, she wouldn’t see the sadness on the faces around us, or the worries frazzling that old man that was sitting nearby us. She was flinching every time an officer calls the numbers of the people in the queue, she was clinching to me and watching carefully anyone who would go to the counter. When the officer called our number, he led us toward other room when other female officer took her information, “Congratulations, she is now a refugee”.
Although we are living a hard life and we are deprived from many of our basic needs, we still blessed to have the chance to flee the disaster in Mosul. People there have no chance to survive, building and houses are crumbling over their heads, and the people who are besieged by ISIS terrorists have nothing to eat. Witnesses, who could flee from there, said that people started to eat grass and even tissues(Kleenex) as they are unable to go out of their houses’ basements because of the fighting and bombing in the vicinity. There is no chance for those people to be evacuated, ISIS snipers would kill anyone who doesn’t belong to them, they are unmercifully shooting women and children who are trying to flee toward the Iraqi forces, and the streets of the old city in the right coast of Mosul now are completely destroyed and heaped with dead bodies of innocent people who were murdered by ISIS monsters.
The battle now has reached the last episode, it is in the old city of Mosul. I don’t know how this will end as the building there are about 200 years old and they hardly withstand the wind. the historical identity to Mosul will be smashed and more innocent people will die and we have no power to do anything but to wish that the war should end as soon as .
                   
#mosul
#refugee
#lost

 

   

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Home sickness; Not really

home sickness ! No No No; Maybe in the first hundred days after leaving mosul; maybe in the first few months when i was still holding hope that sun will shine tomorrow. maybe when i had house and family still living in Mosul . Now; after this terrible; difficult unbearable 3 years. after I lost what I lost. I can say; I have no cells on me crave to go back even after the *distructive liberation* is nearly over. I crave only for my Family; friends and schools. I crave most of the time to the food !! I crave to my old me. I am no longer that same Hadia. calling back memories refund blood supplies to my brain; I feel weird seeing the pictures of Mosul streets. I was discussing this with my husband last night. we both feel something that is hard to discribe as we both were part of this place three years ago.In the same time we used a contraversy word to describe the feeling; I wad telling my husband; seeing the pictures of this places gave me "gauzy" feeling ! While; he said in the same moment "yeah, grimy" ! we fell into laughing as we were thinking; after 5 year of marriage; we became thinking mostly the same ! * wrong* I feel that there is kind of external hard disk where those memoried are save; kind of hard to recall them but in the same time it's details are etched. It's kind of feeling that they are not belonging to me ! or it belong to me in another life! or it just memories that happened thousands of months ago ! I don't know! those are only pictures in my head !

Thursday, April 20, 2017

What life looks like as a refugee

It is almost three years away from home , almost 1000 days passed and I’m waiting for a guardian angel to wake me up from my dismal nightmare and tell me that it’s over ! 
I’m waiting for a liberator to extricate me from this exile. To make me free; free from hurts, free from pain of "loss "and the pain of " lost"
I’m waiting for that day when I’ll live a normal life, have normal and bearable worries just like other people in the world. I don’t know for how long we have to pay the tax of being born in the land of war,Iraq. How long this will be considered as a stigma that make every country put us on their black lists.
From 2003 ,every day I was having the hope that tomorrow will be better, and I’m still waiting for that tomorrow to come, it must come soon as I’m tired ticking the calendar! I had a narrow escape from Mosul three years ago to find myself here ,in Jordan, as a refugee leaving almost everything behind me to chase it again ; the better tomorrow.

Living as a refugee looks like as your ship has drowned and you clutch to shipwreck to survive and waiting for somebody or something to help you, but you don’t know when it will comes ! It is really a life with endless uphill journey. You have to keep holding hope inside that you will be picked up (saved) in the time you are actually half wet ( dead !)

If I would describe my life as a refugee, I would rather choose “life of prohibition” as it’s title. It resembles a big jail that you put yourself in for no guilt but losing your homeland. It makes you feel that you came from another planet with extra powers that can make you bear this tough life with no rights.I really take pity on myself  when I walk down the streets watching all these busy people working, driving, and see the dissatisfaction on their face, I sometimes want to stop one of them and tell him that he must show appreciation for his life as it is so merciful to him that it doesn’t make him a refugee who would be punished if he works or drives!

This life taught me to accept it’s unfairness with patience, it has the ability to do you out of power and be submissive with no objections and all you can do is to wait! It taught me that when it wants to punish you, it makes you waiting for the unknown, and you keep counting the days with that bipolar feeling of time passing slowly and quickly at the same time. Waiting is the hardest lesson that the refugee learn and the only thing that you have the right to do.
I am astonished by the fact that I could cope this period of my life with all that complications I forced to pass through from the day I fled Mosul to the moment. I realized that we are experiencing “ struggling for existence” literally.




What life looks like as a refugee

It is almost three years away from home , almost 1000 days passed and I’m waiting for a guardian angel to wake me up from my dismal nightmare and tell me that it’s over ! 
I’m waiting for a liberator to extricate me from this exile. To make me free; free from hurts, free from pain of "loss "and the pain of " lost"
I’m waiting for that day when I’ll live a normal life, have normal and bearable worries just like other people in the world. I don’t know for how long we have to pay the tax of being born in the land of war,Iraq. How long this will be considered as a stigma that make every country put us on their black lists.
From 2003 ,every day I was having the hope that tomorrow will be better, and I’m still waiting for that tomorrow to come, it must come soon as I’m tired ticking the calendar! I had a narrow escape from Mosul three years ago to find myself here ,in Jordan, as a refugee leaving almost everything behind me to chase it again ; the better tomorrow.

Living as a refugee looks like as your ship has drowned and you clutch to shipwreck to survive and waiting for somebody or something to help you, but you don’t know when it will comes ! It is really a life with endless uphill journey. You have to keep holding hope inside that you will be picked up (saved) in the time you are actually half wet ( dead !)

If I would describe my life as a refugee, I would rather choose “life of prohibition” as it’s title. It resembles a big jail that you put yourself in for no guilt but losing your homeland. It makes you feel that you came from another planet with extra powers that can make you bear this tough life with no rights.I really take pity on myself  when I walk down the streets watching all these busy people working, driving, and see the dissatisfaction on their face, I sometimes want to stop one of them and tell him that he must show appreciation for his life as it is so merciful to him that it doesn’t make him a refugee who would be punished if he works or drives!

This life taught me to accept it’s unfairness with patience, it has the ability to do you out of power and be submissive with no objections and all you can do is to wait! It taught me that when it wants to punish you, it makes you waiting for the unknown, and you keep counting the days with that bipolar feeling of time passing slowly and quickly at the same time. Waiting is the hardest lesson that the refugee learn and the only thing that you have the right to do.
I am astonished by the fact that I could cope this period of my life with all that complications I forced to pass through from the day I fled Mosul to the moment. I realized that we are experiencing “ struggling for existence” literally.