Domiz

         There are times in life when you see something powerful enough to leave a lasting impression that any photo would fail to do it justice.  Today was one of those times as I went to the Syrian refugee camp at Domiz.  For anyone who hasn’t followed the headlines of the Middle East, Assad’s regime in Syria is desperately clinging to power by brutally repressing the Syrian people with little regard for civilian casualties.  Thousands have been killed, and many more have been displaced.  Many of those that had to flee their homes have now landed in northern Iraq. 

            The camp at Domiz is only a short 15-20 minute drive outside of Duhok on the way to the Mosul Dam, where I often swam in the summer.  Passing through the city of Domiz you eventually come to a meandering dirt road.  In the distance you can see the tents, a clear sign that you have arrived.  There is no more pavement, only dust that is kicked up with any sign of movement.  Over a month ago the BBC reported that over 8,000 Syrians now occupied the camp; my guide, Sherzad, informed us that there were far more tents than the last time he came.  Evidently, Angelina Jolie and her entourage came to tour this very same area just two weeks ago. 

Refugee camps earn the title “tent cities” for a reason; there are rows and rows of transient homes, side by side, extending into the distance.  There is little to no space between the tents and maybe 20 feet separating each row.  As far as amenities there are none.  The few open tents that I saw contained nothing more than the most basic of goods: some clothes, possibly some cooking utensils, and makeshift chairs.  That is about it.  We were told that the first arrivals had electricity from long cables running throughout the camp, as well as water from tanks scattered about.  Newer arrivals, outside the barbed wire gates with an armed guard, are beginning to fill the surrounding areas.  They are not so lucky. 

Before coming to Domiz the initial questions lingering in my mind were, “Is this a good idea?  Is this safe?”  Standing there outside the vehicle, letting everything sink in, it became clear that I was foolish.  Even if I had been in danger, I needed to see this.  I was ashamed for being so concerned with myself when thousands of people before my very eyes were living a destitute existence.  I had neglected to purchase any goods to bring because I had few Iraqi Dinar left, but I also maintained fear of how this whole process would work.  Again, I felt ashamed.  The only thing I brought was my soccer ball, which I quickly threw to a few kids who were eyeing it.  They seemed surprised, yet happy at this gift, and immediately ran away to start playing.  I should have done more. 

These people have had to travel hundreds of miles from their homes just to find safety.  Upon arrival they are reduced to the most basic existence, scraping by on just enough to survive.  As the trunk opened and the food was brought into the light, the scattered people loitering about began to come over.  Many hands were extended as Sherzad began to hand out boxes of bread, one by one.  The beneficiaries were clearly in need, yet remained polite; there was no mass riot and no more than 10 people around the car at a time.  The security guard remained by us the whole time, and we didn’t stray from the periphery of the camp.  By the time the bread had been distributed the latecomers showed clear signs of dejection, but moved along.  The eyes of those all around shared a similar message: things are tough, but move it along. 

The visceral feeling that arose as I was leaving the camp left me in almost complete silence.  In that short ride I sat immersed in my thoughts.  For weeks I have been concerning myself with job hunting, packing, vacations, student loans, etc. To say that these things are inconsequential in the grand scheme of things is the understatement of the century.  I feel a far deeper appreciation for what I do have now that I have seen those that had no choice but to leave it all behind.  This experience reminded me that all my troubles are washed away not by “solving” them, but by alleviating the troubles of others.  After starting to feel jaded, I needed a fresh spark of idealism, even though it came in the most unlikely of places.  

Picture from online: