This is the story of a 14-year-old girl named Narin, which was made a Commander gift Islamic State. They killed his brother and tried to make concubine, but she fled.
As the sun rose on my dusty village on August 3, my neighbor woke up with a terrible call: State Islamic jihadists were coming towards us. I expected it was a day like any other, filled with chores in Tel Uzer, a hideaway in the western areas of Iraq Nineveh, where the family lived. But instead, we had to walk from the village mbathnim, with clothes and some valuable things.
After about an hour moved northwards, stopped to drank some water from a well in the heart of the desert. I planned to go to Mount Sinxhar refugees, like thousands of others as we Yazeed because we heard so many stories about atrocities and it IS what they did to those who were not Muslims.
But in the twinkling of an eye, we found ourselves surrounded by militants cars Islamic State uniforms. Some of our village ulërinë terrified. There was never felt so weak in 14 years of life. They had us blocked the road and we can not do anything.
Militants separated us by gender and age: a group for young and strong, one for girls and a third group of older men and women. The latter, jihadists and money were stolen and left in Bizhuta oasis.Then put them in a truck and us girls put the weapon on the head. Later we learned that young boys were killed, including my 19-year-old brother, who was married six months ago.
That afternoon, we drove to an empty school in Baaj, a small town west of Mosul near the Syrian border. There we met many other girls Yazid, who were taken hostage by the Islamic state. Fathers, brothers, and their husbands were killed, as well as ours. Afterwards soldiers entered IS. One of them recited verses “I bear witness that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is his prophet”, and forced us to repeating after him. We were not convinced. They were angry. Mocked and cursed us our confidence.
A few days later, we joined several dozen other girls in Mosul, where he had IS-center in Iraq. Some of the fighters were as I age. They told us that we were pagan, so we left on the floor of the building for 20 days, and only fed us a meal.
Occasionally one of them came and told us to convert to Islam, but we refused. As faithful Yazid, we do not abandon our faith. We cried a lot and vajtonim for those we lost from our community. One day, guards separated the girls from single married.
My childhood friend, flay and I, we give them a gift two members of the IS’s south, near Baghdad.They wanted to make us their wives or concubines. Flay was donated Abu Hussein, a cleric. I gave a healthy 50-year-old black beard that looked ranking. He had the nickname Abu Ahmad. They took me to his house in Fallujah.
Abu Ahmad, Abu Hussein and a maid living in a house in Fallujah which seemed like a palace. Abu Ahmed konvertohesha asking me, but I do not accept. He tried several times to rape me, but I did not agree to the touch. For this reason, he cursed and beat me every day with punches and kicks. To eat, just give me once a day. Flay and I started to discuss suicide.
They gave us phones and instructed us to telefononim family. Their journey had been as difficult as ours. They arrived in Mount Sinxhar, were surrounded by the IS-that was trying to die of hunger. After five days under siege, Kurdish forces were evacuated to Syria, and then brought them back to northern Iraq. If they came in Mosul and return to Islam, we instructed our captors say they will release us. As you imagine, our family did not believe it IS, and no journey carries.
In our sixth day in Fallujah, Abu Ahmed and the maid left for work in Mosul. Abu Hussein, the mortgagee of Shajmas stood. At sunset the next day, he went to the mosque to pray and left us alone in the house. Using phones, contacted Mahmud, a Sunni friend Shajmës cousin, who lived in Fallujah, for help. It was too dangerous for him to save us from home, to flay and I used the kitchen knives and meat axes to break the locks closed bore us.
Wearing traditional long dresses found at home, we walked for 15 minutes in the quiet town of evening prayers. Then Mahmud came and got us and took us on the road to his house.
The next day, he paid a taxi driver to take us to Baghdad, which is two hours away by car. The driver said he feared it IS, but agreed to help us for the sake of God. It was clothed as domestic and hid their faces, leaving only their eyes visible. Mahmud gave us false identity cards, if they stop to check.
There was never felt so anxious. At each checkpoint, I was sure he would discover us. In one, I do not remember whether it was the IS or Iraqi forces – Mahmud gave bribe guards to let us go. Yazid had contact with friends and family Kurdish help us in Baghdad. I can not describe, how liberated I felt when I arrived at their house.
In Baghdad, family friends gave us false identity cards that flew to Irbil, the capital of Kurdistan in the north. I do not believe yet that we were free, until the aircraft touched down. Once we stayed that night in the house of a deputy, drove straight to the residence Shekhanit Sheikh Baba, the spiritual leader of Yazeed.
After so many days of horror, embracing my father was the most beautiful moment of my life. In the evening we met the mother of three and wept quietly. But the bad news was not over. Then we learned that the IS-had killed my brother to oasis. Sister in law, a very pretty girl, still held hostage in Mosul. Now, I’m trying to pass what happened. I have been walking in the countryside, although it is exempt from the IS-.
I still have nightmares about what could have happened to us if I did not mbathnim and flay. I want to go to a place where we can start afresh.
* Taken from the Washington Post