Iraqi Christians flee homes amid militant push: In this Sunday, June 15, 2014 photo, an Iraqi works on a temporary mosaic of Christian symbols made from the area's produce, including wheat, beans and lentils to commemorate an upcoming harvest feast, at the Chaldean Church of the Virgin Mary of the Harvest, in Alqosh, a village of some 6,000 inhabitants about 50 kilometers (31 miles) north of Mosul, northern Iraq. Dozens of Christian families that fled to this ancient Iraqi village have taken a much-traversed route -- many from their minority community have escaped to Alqosh before, in fear for their lives. This time, few say they want to go back to their homes, seeking safety under the Kurdish forces known as the peshmerga. (AP Photo) |
ALQOSH, Iraq (AP) — Over the past decade, Iraqi Christians have fled repeatedly to this ancient mountainside village, seeking refuge from violence, then returning home when the danger eased. Now they are doing it again as Islamic militants rampage across northern Iraq, but this time few say they ever want to go back to their homes.
The flight is a new blow to
Iraq's dwindling Christian community, which is almost as old as the
religion itself but which has already been devastated since the 2003
U.S.-led invasion. During the past 11 years, at least half of the
country's Christian population has fled the country, according to some
estimates, to escape frequent attacks by Sunni Muslim militants
targeting them and their churches.
Now
many of those who held out and remained may be giving up completely
after fighters belonging to the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant
swept over the city of Mosul and a broad swath of the country the past
week.
"I'm not going back,"
said Lina, who fled Mosul with her family as the militants swept in and
came to Alqosh, about 50 kilometers (31 miles) to the north.
"Each
day we went to bed in fear," the 57-year-old woman said, sitting in a
house for displaced people. "In our own houses we knew no rest." Like
other Christians who fled here, she spoke on condition she be identified
only by her first name for fear for her safety.
In
leaving, the Christians are emptying out communities that date back to
the first centuries of the religion, including Chaldean, Assyrian and
Armenian churches. The past week, some 160 Christian families — mosly
from Mosul — have fled to Alqosh, mayor Sabri Boutani told The
Associated Press, consulting first on the number with his wife by
speaking in Chaldean, the ancient language spoken by many residents.
Alqosh,
dating back at least to the 1st century BC, is a jumble of
pastel-painted homes nestled at the base of a high craggy hill among
rolling plains of wheat fields. The village's population of 6,000 is
about half Christian and half ethnic Kurds. Located just outside the
autonomous Kurdish zone of northern Iraq, Kurdish fighters known as
peshmerga have moved into the town to protect it.
Many Christians are deciding that the comparatively liberal and prosperous Kurdish regions are their safest bet.
"It's a shame because Mosul is the most important city in Iraq for Christians," he added. Mosul is said to be the site of the burial of Jonah, the prophet who tradition says was swallowed by a whale.
Iraq was estimated to have more than 1 million Christians before the 2003 invasion and topping of Saddam Hussein. Now church officials estimate only 450,000 remain within Iraq borders. Militants have targeted Christians in repeated waves in Baghdad and the north. The Chaldean Catholic cardinal was kidnapped in 2008 by extremists and killed. Churches around the country have been bombed repeatedly.
The
exodus from Mosul — a Sunni-majority city that during the American
presence in Iraq was an al-Qaida stronghold — has been even more
dramatic. From a pre-2003 population of around 130,000 Christians, there
were only about 10,000 left before the Islamic State fighters overran
the city a week ago.
Abu Zeid estimated that now only 2,000 Christians remain in the city.
"They
see no future there," said George Demacopoulos, the director of the
Orthodox Christian Studies Center at the Jesuit-run Fordham University
in New York.
"There is no
short-term solution," he said in a phone interview. "I think the only
prescription for a long-term solution is a kind of political
stabilization of the region that is enabled without military force."
Christians
who have not left Iraq completely often flee their homes to other parts
of Iraq when the danger is highest in hopes of returning later.
Boutani,
the mayor, said this was the sixth time in 11 years that Christians
from other areas have flocked to Alqosh for refuge. He himself fled here
from Baghdad in 2009 after a church bombing in the capital.
This
is the third time that Adnan, a 60-year-old Mosul shoe shop owner, has
sought shelter in Alqosh. He came in 2008 after a priest in Mosul was
killed, then again in 2010 after rumors spread of an imminent attack on
Christians. Each time, he and his family returned after Iraqi security
officials guaranteed Christians' safety.
"They said, we will protect you," he recalled. "But now — where's the government?"
During his recent trip to Jordan, Pope Francis met with Iraqi and Syrian Christians and denounced the wars, weapons and conflicts that have forced them from their homes.
"All
of us want peace!" Francis told a gathering of refugees near the River
Jordan. "I ask myself: who is selling arms to these people to make war?"
In
Alqosh, the newcomers and the residents united in prayer at Sunday Mass
in the Chaldean Church of the Virgin Mary of the Harvest, held by Friar
Gabriel Tooma.
On the church
floor was spread a mosaic made of beans, lentils, wheat and other
produce from the area, assembled to commemorate the upcoming harvest.
Before the service, volunteers hurried to finish the images of Jesus and
Mary, and were filling out the details of Pope Francis' face, sketched
out with white beans.
"People
are afraid of what's coming next," Tooma said. "I fear there will be a
day when people will say: 'There were once Christians in Iraq.'"
As
he walked with his wife and daughter in the 7th century St Hormoz
monastery, built into the hill overlooking Alqosh, Abu Zeid said he went
back to Mosul on Friday to see if his house was still standing.
Some of the militants in control of the city tried to show that Christians were welcome.
Gunmen
stopped him and asked if he was a Christian, Abu Zeid said. When he
nodded back, a gunman told him: "Welcome to your home."
The
Chaldean church in Mosul was looted, he said, and he saw gunmen drag
the accused thieves to the church and order them to return stolen
property.
He and other
displaced Christians highly doubt the shows of goodwill. Still, some
said they have no choice but to eventually return.
"I'm 60 years old," said Adnan, the shoe salesman. "It would be hard to start over again."
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