As the year comes to an end and the Yazidis try to celebrate their holy feast amid the situation in northeast Syria (Rojava), I feel compelled to share a story that has occupied my thoughts for the past decade - a story that has stayed in my heart, recounting the unimaginable horrors endured by countless individuals in Iraq and Syria.
These horrors were made even worse by the cruelty of individuals filled with hatred. Yet, at the same time, this true story has deeply moved me and continues to inspire hope. Despite everything!
When the terror of Islamic State (ISIS) swept across large parts of Iraq and Syria, thousands lost their lives, and countless young girls and women were enslaved and sold like objects. During this dark period, I was tasked by the German government to conduct psychological evaluations of women who had managed to escape, often just a short distance from the fighting. Alongside a dedicated team, we identified those most severely traumatized and brought them to Germany for medical and psychotherapeutic treatment.
On a scorching afternoon in Duhok city, Kurdistan Region, I sat in a makeshift office, having already listened to the harrowing accounts of ten women who spoke of mass executions, torture, and rape - events almost impossible to comprehend. Then, two women entered the room with a small child. As they cautiously took their seats, I could feel the weight of fear surrounding them. A little boy, about five years old, sat on one woman’s lap. His name was Jameel. When I asked about the two women, he shyly pointed and said, “That’s my mother,” indicating the woman holding him, “and that’s my mother too.”
How could this child have two mothers?
In a single, terrifying moment, chaos engulfed Jameel’s village of Hirdan, near Shingal (Sinjar). As ISIS fighters stormed in, gunfire erupted, and in the confusion, Jameel felt his mother’s hand slip away. He watched in terror as she was dragged off, screaming, into the dust and smoke. Lost and bewildered, Jameel was herded onto a bus with a group of women and children, his fate uncertain.
On that same bus sat Sara, a 17-year-old who had dreamed of studying law. But her ambitions dissolved under the weight of immediate terror - she knew what ISIS did to unmarried women. When she saw Jameel, their eyes met, and without hesitation, she approached him. As he tearfully explained that his mother was gone, Sara’s heart broke for him. She wrapped him in her arms, instinctively becoming his protector. From that moment, Jameel declared Sara as his mother, and Sara, though she had never had a child, became one in spirit and action. This spontaneous connection of survival and humanity forged an unbreakable bond between them.
Their bond only deepened through shared suffering. From overcrowded shelters with other displaced Yazidis to the horrors of captivity, Sara shielded Jameel as best as she could. She sang Kurdish lullabies to calm him, drowning out the nightmarish screams that filled the air.
Their love and mutual support became a glimmer of light in the darkest of times.
They endured unspeakable trials. Sold multiple times, Sara and Jameel faced unimaginable abuse from men who treated them as property. Despite her suffering, Sara remained a source of tenderness and protection for Jameel. On the nights when despair threatened to consume them, she would hold him close and whisper songs to soothe his fears. Their love became a quiet act of defiance against the horrors surrounding them.
Months felt like years as the weight of their ordeal pressed on. Even as Sara endured the unimaginable and contemplated ending her pain, her thoughts remained anchored to Jameel, the boy who depended on her. "I can’t leave him," she resolved. Singing softly to him, she clung to hope.
Eventually, a glimmer of freedom appeared. An uncle - a beacon of hope in the darkness - arranged their escape. In Gaziantep, Turkey, they were reunited. When the uncle saw Jameel, he embraced the boy who had endured so much. As tears flowed, Sara proudly declared, “He is my son.” This simple statement encapsulated their journey: a love that had grown stronger through unimaginable adversity. Together, they returned to Iraq, embarking on a new chapter filled with the hope of healing and rebuilding their lives.
This story is not just one of loss and sorrow. It is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. In the darkest of times, a spark of hope can shine, and the unbreakable bonds of love can triumph over even the deepest shadows. My thoughts are with Rojava today, in the hope that peace will prevail in these dark and fearful times.
Prof. Dr. Dr. Jan Ilhan Kizilhan is a psychologist, author and publisher, expert in psychotraumatology, trauma, terror and war, transcultural psychiatry, psychotherapy and migration.
The views expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rudaw.
