I left Iraq in 1981, at the age of 9. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. My mother, sister and I left together, while my father stayed behind for a few weeks to finish dismantling a lifetime in a country he loved.
At the time of our departure, Iraq was waking up to the suffocating power of Saddam Hussein. For those intuitive enough, it was the ideal time to leave. To my great sorrow, I have never been back. To my even greater sorrow, my children will never experience the Iraq that I loved. That Iraq is now only a memory, replaced by a dark and hopeless country that I no longer recognize.
Whenever someone discovers that I'm from Iraq, it inevitably leads to being asked about my religious affiliation. 
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All About Iraq • Syria • Immigration
