Dust-stained tents swelter in the 50-degree heat as shallow canals of open sewage and wastewater snake through the internally displaced persons (IDPs) camp, filling the air with the smell of decay. There is no escape from the dust and heat. Residents of the camp wrap their faces in cloth and scarves to protect themselves from the dust and sand that swirls through the dry, arid air.
Khazir Camp houses over 5,000 people and straddles the border between Iraqi Kurdistan and Iraq. Camp residents hail mainly from Mosul, 50 kilometres to the east, the second largest city in Iraq. The city was besieged in early June and has become the stronghold of the Islamic State (IS), the former Al-Qaeda militant group which controls swathes of west Iraq, after a quick and decisive victory over US-trained Iraqi forces.
The Islamic State, a radical Sunni Muslim group, hopes to eradicate religious freedoms from the region and turn the Levant into a caliphate, an ancient form of government ruled by a supreme religious leader.
Faris Nijim, a Sunni Muslim, fled Mosul and arrived at the camp a week ago with his family after four members of his family were killed by IS.
“The Islamic State killed my two brothers and two uncles in Mosul, all of us are Sunni,” Nijim told Middle East Monitor. “The problem is not a problem with Shia, Sunni, Christian or Kurd. The problem is whether you agree with Islamic State’s beliefs or not; if you don’t believe in them then they have a problem with you. When the Iraqi army ran away from the Islamic State, my two brothers stayed and fought them; they managed to kill five of them but they ran out of bullets and they were then captured and executed. They were shot once in the head each. This is not a Shia, Sunni, Christian problem, these people they just kill whoever they want.”
Mosul has now become a city full of fear, with summary executions, kidnappings and new draconian rules put in place by IS militants, leaving many residents looking for a way to safety.
However, the residents in Mosul now have a new dread. After IS besieged the city, the Iraqi government, while trying to eradicate IS, began a campaign of airstrikes that have added to the panic and destruction.
For some, these airstrikes, which are being described as indiscriminate, have been the main threat in Mosul. Many in Khazir IDP Camp reported that it was the airstrikes that pushed them to seek refuge in the camp, rather than IS.
“In the end we are scared of both sides,” said Yousra Mokhlif, a refugee from Mosul. “The Islamic State did nothing to us but who knows what they would do if we stayed? But also the government airstrikes were killing many people. During the night we couldn’t sleep in the house as we were unsure what would happen next.”
Iraqi government airstrikes ordered by Prime Minister Nouri Al-Maliki continue to hit the city from the air, while IS militants enforce their own rule of law, complete with summary executions for those who disobey, on the ground. As such Khazir Camp has already reached bursting point. According to Mohammed Bahaldeen of the Barzani Foundation, the Kurdish NGO which helped set up and run it, the camp is already over capacity at 5,000 residents. Its resources, as well as the Barzani Foundations, are overstretched.
Despite this, families keep arriving from Mosul every day hoping to seek some refuge from the relentless life under IS and airstrikes that have become the norm in what used to be their home.
“We can’t fit any more people in the camp, but more keep trying to come,” Bahaldeen said. “Every day there is more than 20 families who try to come here from Mosul, but we have no room and we have to turn them back and say, no the camp is too full. The situation is bad, people have died in Mosul, lost their homes, their life, and we have to make sure we are looking after them in all the ways we can.”
According to Bahaldeen, talks of building a new camp have been rejected because the Kurdish autonomous region already sustains eight other camps from this conflict as well as the Syrian civil war.
While some families have been turned away, others have found ways to stay at the camp. Without a tent to house them, new arrivals will often look around the camp in the hope of finding another family who may share their space and shelter with them, or set up a temporary spot under tarpaulins along the side of the camp roadways.
The increasing number of residents has also had an adverse effect on other aspects of the camp. Food is scarce, and water is running low in the 50 degree heat, while some tents have had parts stolen, leaving the inside during the height of the day ten degrees hotter than the outside. Temporary shared toilet facilities situated outside are linked together with shallow ditches that run through the camp for wastewater to flow through, leaving open sewage to linger in the camp.
As the days go by, more and more camp residents are beginning to report health problems, yet the camp lacks basic health facilities for the thousands who are now stuck there.
“We don’t know how long we will stay in the camp and where we will go after,” Yousra Mokhlif told MEMO. “I don’t know how we can live here though, we don’t have electricity, doctors, the people are sick and we don’t have enough food.”
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.