Testimony

Suad Obeid Abdul Rahim

My brother, Muhammad Obeid Abdul Rahim, was born in 1988 and was the breadwinner of a large family. He worked as a carpenter, making furniture. His wages were average, but he was able to cover the family’s needs. After our parents split, he took care of his siblings and daughter.

 

We first heard about ISIS from other people. Initially, we thought that it was just another militia, similar to those that had come before. This changed when they entered our town and started arresting and killing people. A month after taking control, their members began preventing women from going to work or leaving the house without a mahram (male guardian). They also imposed fines and taxes on us, making it unbearable for the residents. The young men of the town rose up against them in the summer of 2014.

 

My brother was one of the people employed by ISIS to guard the oil wells. He was unaware of the developments in the area when residents first expelled ISIS from the town. Later, ISIS returned, and clansmen killed some of them. In response, ISIS arrested employees at the oilfield, including Muhammad.

 

We didn’t know anything about my brother or the other detainees in the desert. We waited for them for three days, but ISIS prevented us from leaving our homes to inquire about them. They amassed troops from various nationalities and besieged us for several days, cutting off water and electricity. The fighting continued for 12 days, with constant gunfire. After that, people were given three days to leave Abu Hamam.

 

We had to leave like the rest of the residents. Later, we saw footage of my brother and the other detainees on the internet. It was very difficult for his mother and wife. We clung to hope and waited for his safe return. We, the women, went to ask about him since it wasn’t safe for the men to leave the house.

 

When we left, we left all our belongings behind. We stayed for one night in Gharanij, but the owners of the house we were sheltering in informed us that ISIS raids had reached their town. Then we left for the town of Bahra, where we stayed in a house under construction with no electricity, water, or sanitation. During that time, we kept asking about my brother.

 

That period of displacement was the hardest time of our lives, especially since my brother was our only breadwinner. People suffered in poverty. When they tried to return to their homes to retrieve some supplies or food, ISIS prevented them, and told them that everything in the houses had become ISIS’s property.

 

After a while, clan elders began negotiations with ISIS to allow people to return to their homes. ISIS imposed a condition that each family must hand over a rifle in order to return. The residents of Gharanij returned first, followed by the residents of Kishkiyya – we returned with them. We stayed there for six months and continued to search for my brother. Despite our hope of finding him alive, we also searched for him among the bodies of the victims.

 

Later, people were allowed to return to Abu Hamam. Upon our return, we found that ISIS had looted everything in the houses. They even took windows and doors. There was no water or electricity. If they could, they would have cut off the air too. If a woman dared to go out without covering her face, or without a mahram, they flogged her. How could we find a mahram when they had arrested and killed all the men?

 

All that time, we didn’t know anything about what had happened to my brother. Many others were in similar situations, searching for their loved ones. We kept looking for six years until the Shaitat Victims’ Families Association found the mass grave in which he was buried. We watched video footage confirming that he was there, and then we reburied his remains.

 

Later we learned that a man had found them after they were killed and had buried them in the village of Jamma in the town of Darnaj. This man became wanted by ISIS and fled to the United Arab Emirates. He returned after ISIS left the area, and showed the video to the Shaitat Victims’ Families Association, which then contacted the victims’ families to identify the bodies.

 

My brother went missing on August 1, 2014, but we do not know the exact date of his death. After six years, we were finally able to bury his remains and hold a condolence ceremony for him.

 

Muhammad was more than a brother  to me. He was like a father. He was the family’s breadwinner. He supported me financially and took me to the doctor when I got sick. He used to tell me, “I would give my right arm for you, if you ever needed anything.” His daughter now asks me about him, like any daughter who misses her father. His wife tries to provide their daughter with the love of both a mother and father.