Every little girl dreams of that white dress, of her wedding night," says Hanan, her voice starting to waver. "I have been deprived of that."
Hanan says she was forced
to marry an ISIS fighter in exchange for her father's freedom.
Her large, dark brown eyes,
all that is visible under her niqab, well with tears. A sob betrays a depth of
pain that even the suffocating black fabric of her veil cannot mask.
"I am sorry, but when
I remember ... ," she says. Her voice fades as she slightly lifts the veil
to wipe her face.
When ISIS militants swept
through her city in eastern Syria, Hanan says, they indiscriminately detained
anyone suspected of fighting them.
Hanan's brother had been
killed in previous clashes. Her father had kept his son's AK-47 assault rifle
in memory of him.
"When
ISIS came in, someone told them that my father had a weapon, so they detained
him," Hanan says.
"We had
no one. It was just me, my two sisters and my mother left. So we went to the
Sharia police headquarters, where they keep the detainees."
The Sharia
police mercilessly patrol the streets, handing out punishment and detaining
individuals accused of breaking their interpretation of Sharia, or Islamic,
law. Women are not supposed to travel unaccompanied by a male relative.
"When we went, it was
just me and my mother," Hanan recalls. "The Sharia police stopped and
harassed us numerous times, saying, 'Where is your male guardian?' We said we
only have one and we are going to see him at the headquarters."
Hanan and her mother pleaded
for his release.
"After a bit my mother
came and said to me, they will release him if you marry the head of the Sharia
police. His name is Abu Mohammed al-Iraqi. My father's life for his hand in
marriage. We have no one but him; I had to accept."
Abu Mohammed al-Iraqi was
the ISIS fighter's pseudonym. Hanan never even knew his real name.
She describes him as tall,
thin, dark-skinned, with hair grown out to his shoulders and a long beard.
She speaks haltingly of
their first night together when she says he forced himself on her. She
initially tried to struggle, she says, but then submitted to her fate.
"There was no emotion.
I did not feel that he had any emotions. I felt like he just wanted to take
what was his right, like he had to."
Hanan says he locked her
inside in the house and only allowed her to use his phone, in his presence, to
call her parents. He did the shopping. The two barely spoke beyond the
customary greetings.
She was his prisoner, his
maid, and his sex slave. She also says he seemed consumed with paranoia.
"He never felt safe.
He slept with a gun next to his head. If someone knocked on the door, he only
answered with his gun in his hand and his face covered. He didn't trust
anyone."
Al-Iraqi was in charge of
enforcing Sharia law, which also bans smoking. Yet, she says, he kept a stash
of cigarettes in his house.
At times, he would
disappear for days, leaving her trapped. Then, a month after they were married,
he was killed.
Hanan was sent back home to
her parents.
"I felt like a child that returned to her
mother's embrace. But something in me was lost, something I can't get
back," she says softly. "My mother had only tears to express her
emotions. My father the same. Because I sacrificed for him."
But Hanan still was not
safe, nor was she free. She received news that the ISIS emir, or local leader,
wanted to see her.
"I said I can't go, I
can't meet anyone. So they sent me the women," she says.
She describes the female
envoys as non-Syrian.
CNN
Those that are free to do whatever they want are so priviledged
ReplyDeleteSome women go through suffer head no bi small.
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