Scottish Catholic Observer

‘This country is drenched with blood… I cannot go on living here,” the man lamented. His son, David, was killed by a bomb when Islamist jihadist group ISIS seized Qaraqosh—the last Christian city in Iraq. Qaraqosh was home to 50,000 people, and for centuries had been one of the country’s predominantly Christian cities.

On August 6, the Kurdish Peshmerga fighters, who were defending the area to the north of Mosul, withdrew. The first bomb fired after the military retreat fell on the house where David and his cousin Mirat were playing in the garden, killing them both and gravely wounding a third child.

The alarm rapidly spread throughout the city: “ISIS is at the gates, the Peshmerga are no longer defending us. Take your families and flee.” David’s parents, like everyone else, left taking what they could. The only ones who remained were the sick and elderly who were unwilling to leave or whom their relatives could not carry. The people of Qaraqosh were joined by those from other smaller towns in the surrounding area, such as Bartella and Karemlesh.

Between June and August, up to 100,000 Christians in the Niniveh region were forced to leave their homes as extremists advanced north towards the Kurdish region of Iraq.

Speaking to David’s parents is an emotional experience. David’s mother—a young woman clothed in mourning—buries her head in her hands, weeping as she remembers her dead son.

The family tell us that they have no papers, no passports, and no way of getting a visa, but they keep repeating over and over again that they want to leave Iraq. They don’t care where they go, so long as it’s out of the country.

Like most of the others who left Qaraqosh they sought refuge in Erbil (above left), the capital of the Kurdish region. At one point the Islamist forces were just 25 miles from the very gates of Erbil, but airstrikes have managed to drive them back and keep the Kurdish region safe for the 70,000 displaced Christians seeking shelter there, at least for the time being.

The first waves of internal refugees sought shelter in church halls, schools, sports centres, half-finished buildings, but these were filled to capacity and later arrivals were forced to sleep rough in parks and the city’s other open spaces.

Displaced Christians are being cared for at 22 reception points scattered around the city. One of the main reception points is the St Joseph Chaldean Catholic Cathedral in Erbil’s Christian quarter. It is estimated that around 670 families have sought refuge here. Many of them are living under makeshift tarpaulin tents, or sheltering in shade of the buildings on mattresses or sleeping mats—seeking any refuge they can to protect themselves against the crushing, implacable heat, which can reach temperatures of 44 degrees Celsius.

There are hundreds of faces, but only one story, one witness, one fate that unites them all: they are refugees, condemned to death for being Christians.

At the reception points food is distributed to the displaced, the aim being to provide them with two meals a day.

From the beginning of the crisis Aid to the Church in Need has been working closely with the Catholic Churches’ relief efforts in the country—the various Eastern Catholic Churches have come together with the Roman Catholics to organise emergency aid—and so far the charity has given £160,000 for the Iraqis forced from their homes by the Islamic State.

The Churches’ emergency relief efforts are headed by Chaldean Catholic Bishop Emil Nona of Mosul, who was himself forced to flee when ISIS took Mosul back in June. Bishop Nona (above right) is one of five bishops who have who have lost their homes. He visits the displaced families, accompanied by a priest, bringing packets of foodstuffs and noting their needs. He counsels and encourages them, sharing in their pain.

This is a time when the suffering Church comes face-to-face with the heroic Church which truly lives the Gospel. It is a Church which needs the support, the prayers and the solidarity of its Christian brothers and sisters throughout the world. The precariousness of the situation cannot be overstressed. Erbil is currently sheltering the largest concentration of the country’s Christians. If the city falls it could signal the end of Christianity in Iraq. Please pray for our suffering sisters and brothers in Iraq.

-  www.acnuk.org

Love and grief

By John Pontifex

HER eyes full of sorrow, a mother reaches into a pocket and pulls out a photograph of her son, Salman.

The 43-year-old had been shot through the head three times in Mosul.

His mother and her other son—standing alongside her—had taken refuge in a nearby village close to the ancient monastery of Mar Matti (St Matthew).

But when the village was overrun by Islamic State forces, they fled a second time to Kurdish northern Iraq where ACN is providing emergency help.

As they grieve a much-loved son and brother, they reflect on reports that for the first time in 1,600 years, there is no Sunday Mass in Mosul. And all because the last remaining Christians were forced out.

One father, Raeed, told how he, his wife and three young children were told they could not leave the city unless they handed over everything—mobile phones, watches, camera, cash.

The gunmen even demanded Raeed hand over the battery of his six-year-old son’s hearing aid.

- To make find out more about ACN’s projects in the region or make a donation please visit: www.acnuk.org