By Kurt Nagl
ERBIL, Kurdistan Region – More than 1.5 million refugees and internally displaced people in the Kurdistan Region have stretched refugee camps beyond capacity and strained already limited resources.
Many in the camps bemoan the living conditions: shortages of food and water, lack of electricity, flooding and frigid temperatures. But finding any sort of shelter and humanitarian aid is often a blessing in itself.
If not for the compassion of their neighbors, Hamza Zaki and his family would likely be homeless and hungry.
Zaki, 40, lives with his family in a battered concrete shelter that stands out in the otherwise normal Mufti neighborhood of Erbil.
The conditions are dire: there is no running water, and a single bulb lights the tiny hut. Life is tough, Zaki confessed, but it beats the constant threat of death he and his family dealt with back home in Syria.
“I had everything before the war,” said Zaki, sitting in a hut with almost nothing. “Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and a big yard” – that’s how he used to live.
On his way home from work in Damascus, Zaki’s brother was shot during a gunfight between Syrian rebels and armed forces. It was then that Zaki decided to flee his home in the Kurdish city Qamishli, with his wife and four young children.
“We knew nothing about Kurdistan,” Zaki said.
The family arrived in the Kurdish capital three years ago with nothing. A cousin put them in touch with a lawyer who offered them a hut on his property for shelter, where they have lived ever since.
They stay there rent free, Zaki said, and the owner often gives them money when he visits. Money, especially as of late, has been hard for Zaki to come by.
“I used to sell tissues at traffic lights,” he explained, “until I broke my leg in a motorcycle accident,” rolling up the left leg of his pants to show the injury, as his daughter Shahnaz fetched the x-ray the hospital gave him.
“I can barely walk now,” he said, smoking a cigarette and tracing the broken bone with his other hand. Tattoos cover his leathery skin -- a dragon on his bicep, an angel on his forearm.
“They have no meaning,” Zaki admitted. “I did these things when I was younger.”
Now with his injury, Zaki is weary of what might happen to his family if he cannot return to work. His wife was forced to get a job cleaning schools in order to feed their children. He held up the x-ray and sighed.
Zaki’s neighbors, however, help the family make ends meet whenever money runs short. Their generosity, Zaki said, has often made the difference between food and hunger for him and his family.
“They bring bread, water and warm clothes to us,” he said. “The neighborhood has really helped us.”
The kindness shown by residents in Kurdistan comes despite their own hardships: a dragging budget and oil row has pushed the Kurdistan region into a financial crisis, whose impact is multiplied by the war with ISIS and influx of so many refugees and internally displaced.
But many in the Kurdistan region are ready to open their hearts because they remember their own recent catastrophes: in the 1990s, escaping Saddam Hussein’s murderous campaigns against them, hundreds of thousands of Iraqi Kurds were forced to flee to neighboring countries, braving winter, hunger and homelessness.
Chenar Darvish, 47, lives in the house behind Zaki’s shelter. She said she helps the refugees because they are respectful and do not make trouble.
“It is our moral duty to help them,” she said. “They are not here by choice. Their home was destroyed.”
Darvish said she gives them food and water, but they never beg.
Across the street from the family, Harez Khalil, 25, had a similar attitude.
“They have no one to help them,” Khalil said. “They need our support.”
She added, “Other refugees used to bother us with yelling and fighting, but we are very happy with this family.”
Zaki said he is strongly opposed to living in refugee camps because of poor conditions, particularly flooding. As a result, his family does not receive official humanitarian aid.
Karim Elkorany, spokesperson for UNICEF Iraq, said the organization aims to reach as many refugees as possible.
“UNICEF works to reach children, women and families wherever they may be,” he said.“In Iraq, where the vast majority of displaced people live outside of camps, this includes critical work we undertake in host communities.”
Despite falling on hard times, Zaki said he has hope for a better future.
“I am just waiting for the war to finish in Syria so I can return home,” he sighed. “Until then I must live here and try to find work.”
Zaki also knows that retuning home might never happen. A couple of weeks ago, he called his sister, who is trapped in Damascus. The capital city has become a battleground for the Islamic State and Syrian fighters.
“She told me they don’t even have bread or water,” he said. “Her kids had not eaten for three days.”
As disturbing as the phone call was, it also reminded Zaki that becoming a refugee was ultimately worth the hardship his family now faces. The decision to flee Syria may have saved their lives.
“I am happy here,” he said. “Everything is fine.”
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