August 2014. Exactly 10 years ago.
That was the summer that “Daesh” (ISIS) had suddenly taken over parts of Iraq and Syria. I was in Jordan at the time, so right in the neighborhood. Yet Jordan had been so still and peaceful that the clamor from next-door had felt far away.
But then, things started feeling a lot more serious in early August. It was then Daesh that took over big cities in Iraq, like Mosul, and was waging battles at the major dams, and horrible stories of atrocities towards minorities were trickling out, and everyone was holding their breath, worried what city in Iraq might fall next.
With all that chaos happening, my summer in Jordan ended, and I was at the Queen Alia airport, getting ready to fly back home. As I waited by my gate, firmly and irrevocably labeled with the name of my safe, secure destination, I noticed the gate across the way was starting to board for Erbil.
Erbil was one of the cities in northern Iraq that was super close to where Daesh was parading about. See, a mere one-hour car-ride from Mosul:
And there was a whole line of people standing there, waiting to board the plane! I thought, no, they can’t possibly go. I thought, do they really have no other place to go? Can they really, truly not board any other plane? Must they go to Erbil? Can it really be that there’s no other place for them to go?
For some reason … these days, when I’m sitting in the airport gate, waiting to board the plane to Loserville (Los Angeles), somehow, that memory seems to come back to me extra strongly!
Except this time, I’m the one standing in line.
mejshasan.com 