These may be the last hours of my life. So, I thought I should write down my last thoughts. The battle will start soon, I need to clear my mind.
Today, I walked through a deserted town. Even though I have lived here for eighteen years, I felt disoriented. Sinjar, once a beautiful mountain village, was now almost vacant. My people ran away. They fled their homes and their lands, when they heard the roar of the upcoming monster. Throughout the village, silence reigned. 6000 years of civilization evaporated and rode the wind that carried all this history away. I felt as is if I was an intruder, foolishly violating the sanctity of a long forgotten place.
My people ran away and left the doors of their homes ajar. Inside, lost memories reverberated. I wondered how did they ever manage to detach themselves so easily. The thought of following their tracks never crossed my mind. I am not stupid , I know that danger lies ahead. But I belong here not in some refugee camp. I am a Yazidi woman and this is the place where I was born and this is where I shall die.
As I roamed through the city, I found many reporters. Apparently, the whole world has heard of our crisis. The Yazidis are famous now. For thousands of years, we’ve been unknown to man-kind. That is the way we have have chosen to live: secluded on a mountain top, living peacefully with everyone, never interfering in political issues and never uncovering the secrets of our civilization. We are an introverted community but sadly, our wish to be left alone wasn’t respected.
The neutrality policy failed. We have been dragged into the middle-east conflict. We are now falsely considered devil worshipers and so we need to be exterminated. A stupid group of murderers seems determined to butcher us unless we comply to their demands. We have heard of the atrocities they are doing to my countrymen. It was time we received the same treatment.
Some reporter, in an effort to comfort me, told me: “Don’t worry they won’t kill you, the journalists will make sure the world will see your suffering and they won’t let this massacre happen.” I told him:” Weren’t there any reporters in Baghdad, Mousoul, Arbil…?” He said: ” Of course there were!”. So I said: “Then why didn’t the killing stop? Did the world fall asleep watching the news, or was there a football game on the same night ?”
I wasn’t going to wait for the world to wake up and protect my rights. So I decided to fight alongside one of the few brave men and women who refused to abandon their homes. The Iraqi forces offered to train us. We were all ready to defend our land or die trying. Moments ago, the reporter had received news that the monsters are coming. And so the man whose news report was supposed to save me, hurriedly drove away on a 4×4, after taking this picture. Our enemies are coming soon, strangely I am not scared.
Good bye or Farewell. Whichever it might be, I am ready.