The Girl Who Escaped ISIS

by Farida Khalaf

  “And?” my friend asked.

  “The man says the place you’re in is too dangerous.”

  Their faces darkened. “What does that mean?”

  “It means he can’t go there.”

  The girls silently put their heads in their hands. We’d all heard what he’d said. And we couldn’t believe it.

  “But we need help,” Evin begged. “Please . . .”

  “Where you are, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you. I’m really sorry.”

  Evin didn’t say anything. She was crying softly.

  “I know you’re disappointed. But believe me, I’ve been calling around all day long, trying everything,” her uncle insisted. “You’ve got to escape from the camp. The man says that if you can get to somewhere else, a safer area, he can have you picked up.”

  “But how’s that going to work?”

  “I don’t know. Is there absolutely no possibility of escape?”

  “No. Our container is right in the middle of the camp.”

  Evin’s uncle clearly didn’t know what else to say. “Try,” he encouraged us. “I know you can do it. I’ll give you the number of the man to contact when you’re out. Okay?”

  He read out the number and Evin repeated it obediently. I committed it to memory too.

  “Do you promise me you’ll try?”

  “Yes,” she said sadly. “Thank you, Uncle Khalil.”

  “I’m really very sorry. I’d love to be able to do more for you,” he said. “But it’s not in my power.”

  When Evin had finished her conversation, an awkward silence filled the container. All of us were bitterly disappointed. After banking so firmly on our rescue, we found it very hard to deal with the idea that nobody was going to come to our assistance in a hurry. Some of the girls started to weep silently to themselves. We felt abandoned by the outside world.

  “At least we’ve got the phone number,” I reminded my friends so that they wouldn’t lose hope altogether.

  “Yes, but what good is it?” Sumeya asked. “You know just as well as I do that it’s impossible to get out of here.”

  I mulled this over. Was it really impossible? Wasn’t there any chance of escape? It would be extremely difficult at best. The soldiers always carefully locked the front door of the container and the windows. But still the main problem was that our container was in the middle of the camp, and thus surrounded on all sides by the soldiers’ billets as well as guards. Even if we managed to find a way out of the container I didn’t know how we’d be able to get beyond the security ring.

  “All the same we have to try,” I said. “You heard what Evin’s uncle said. Our only chance is to break out and then call this man.”

  “But it’s much too dangerous,” Sumeya objected. “If we do that they’ll bring our mothers here from Tal Afar!”

  “What?”

  Sumeya bowed her head.

  “That’s what they threatened,” said Reva, who’d made the same mistake as Sumeya by giving away the names of her relatives. Now the ISIS soldiers were using this information to intimidate her. They threatened to fetch both girls’ mothers here as “replacements” if they dared to attempt to flee. “It’s too dangerous,” Reva said as well. “I could never forgive myself for bringing such misery on my mom.”

  “But we don’t even know if your mothers are still in captivity,” Evin protested. “They could be lying to us.”

  “You mustn’t believe them,” I urged Reva and Sumeya. “They’re just trying to make us lose heart.”

  The two girls were not convinced. “But what if they do get our mothers?” Sumeya said. “We can’t take the risk.”

  “Yes, we have to take the risk!” I challenged them. We couldn’t agree. It was obvious to me that ultimately each of us would have to decide for herself what risks she was prepared to take. I, at any rate, was not going to be intimidated by any threats.

  I racked my brains to try to identify a way of escaping, despite our strategically unfavorable situation. I examined the container from top to bottom, concentrating in particular on the windows and doors. We never normally used the door in the back room. When I inspected it, I got a big surprise: the bolt was merely tied up with wire, but not secured in any other way. My heart started to pound with excitement. How come we’d never noticed this before?

  I unwound the wire and found that the bolt could easily be pushed to the side. I pushed the handle carefully and opened the door a crack, then shut it again quickly before anybody outside noticed. This couldn’t be true!

  “Hey, come here,” I called out to my friends, and showed them my discovery. They could barely believe what they saw, either.

  “Has that door basically been unlocked the whole time?” Evin asked, astounded.

  “Yes,” I said. “We just forgot it. Can you see now how fear makes you blind?”

  They nodded.

  “But if we rid ourselves of our fear, we can do it,” I tried to persuade them. From that moment on I became something like the group’s escape officer, and all the girls called me “Barack Obama.”

  THE VERY NEXT day, December 13, 2014, chance came to our aid. The soldiers in our camp were engaged in heavy fighting with other jihadis. They came under such pressure that the chiefs even considered evacuating. To prepare for the move, the order for which could come at any time, the men brought us some abayas, the black full-length cloaks, with matching face veils that only left a slit for the eyes.

  “This is a gift from heaven,” I whispered to Evin. “These robes will make us invisible.”

  All the men were ordered to the battlefront, Azzad included. Through the window I watched the camp slowly emptying. Only a few guards remained behind. “Good riddance, Azzad!” I whispered, feeling happy. Everything was coming together: the unlocked back door, the abayas we needed as a disguise, the empty camp, the phone number of the man we could contact the moment we escaped. This was our chance.

  As soon as peace had descended on the camp I rounded up my friends for a briefing. “Either we take our chances now to escape, or never,” I told them. “This is a unique opportunity. We’ll never have another one like it again!”

  “You’re mad,” Sumeya countered. “Don’t forget they’ve left guards behind.” One of the guards was Sumeya’s “owner,” another Reva’s. They’d definitely be requesting their girls this evening. ISIS men who owned women always took advantage whenever they had a moment of peace. So I thought I knew what they were trying to say.

  “We’ll wait till you’re back, of course,” I said. “We won’t leave you alone.” But I’d misunderstood them.

  “I’m not coming with you,” Sumeya said, looking shamefully at the floor. “Please understand me; it’s just too dangerous.”

  I looked at her aghast. “You’re not serious?”

  “If they did anything to my mom I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

  “Sumeya’s right. I’m not coming either,” Reva announced.

  I nodded slowly. Although I found it hard to comprehend their decision, it was based on moral conviction. If they elected not to escape then I had to accept that. “Is there anyone else who thinks it’s too risky?” I asked the others.

  The girls remained silent.

  “So the rest of you are in, then? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” they murmured, nodding.

  “Good,” I said. “We’ll try tonight.”

  We waited impatiently for evening to come. Reva and Sumeya were indeed summoned by their “owners” shortly after dusk, these men making use of the quiet time in the camp to enjoy their girls. For us it could only be an advantage if these two guards were distracted. All the same I had a bad conscience when my two friends put on their headscarves to leave. “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for you?” I asked again, before they left the container.

  They nodded. “It’s a reckless plan. I’d advise you to abandon it too. They’ve set up guards around the camp. And if they see you they’ll shoot,�
� Sumeya warned.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But it’s a risk we have to accept, or we’ll remain slaves forever.”

  “I’d rather be shot,” little Besma piped up.

  “Best of luck,” Reva whispered, giving me a hug. Sumeya embraced me and the other girls too before going out.

  “Same to you,” I said.

  After the two had left, I explained to the five remaining girls the escape plan I’d worked out in my head. “We have to split up into groups of two,” I said. I’d thought it all through very carefully.

  “Why?”

  “It increases our chances of getting away. If the guards see two of us, they’ll chase after them. Then the others can run away.”

  “So it increases the chances, but only for four of us,” Sila said.

  “That’s right.”

  She sighed. “That’s not great, is it?”

  “It’s much shrewder than all six of us going the same way and all being caught together,” I replied. “At least four will escape.”

  The girls nodded. “Okay, we’ll do it that way. Which route will we take, then, Mr. Obama?”

  I’d already given that consideration. From our cleaning tasks we all knew the camp pretty well, so I was able to give my friends detailed instructions. “We’ll all head northeast,” I said, as I suspected that this would be the quickest way of leaving ISIS-held territory. “But we’ll take different routes. Nase and Pervan will go to the right of the assembly hall, Sila and Besma to the left, while Evin and I will chart a middle route so that we’re as far away from each other as possible if they do nab two of us. But all of us have to give the hall itself a wide berth, because there’s almost always someone sitting on guard there. As soon as we’ve left the camp we must try to find each other again.”

  “Okay,” Evin said calmly. But from the way she was frowning I could tell that she was concerned about whether the plan would work. “When do we get going?”

  I hesitated. I’d originally thought that around midnight would be best. But now that at least two of the men were distracted with our friends, a more opportune moment had perhaps presented itself. It had also just started to rain; the loud drops were hammering on our roof. The noise would afford us additional cover. So there was no time to lose. “It would be best if we left now,” I said. “While it’s still raining and . . .”

  “Yes,” Evin said, before I could say my thoughts out loud. “Reva and Sumeya have given us a gift, so let’s make the most of this valuable time.”

  We put on our abayas and tied the face veils behind our heads so that we looked like black ghosts. At night you were virtually invisible in these robes, which was perfect for us. We didn’t wear anything on our feet because we only had slippers, which were fine for cleaning inside, but totally unsuitable for running. They’d also make a noise with each step we took. To be on the safe side, therefore, we carried them. Under my cloak I’d tied our greatest treasure, the cell phone, tightly to my body. But the others had also learned the crucial number by heart. In case we lost each other in our flight, somehow they still might be able to call our contact for help—at least that was what we reckoned.

  I unwound the wire from the handle again, pushed the bolt to the side, and tentatively pressed down on the handle. A cool, rainy waft of air greeted me from outside; it had turned quite chilly. I opened the door a little further and peered outside. As I’d suspected, the lights were still on in the assembly hall, which was visible from here. Glancing behind me, I saw the wide, anxious eyes of my friends peeping out from their black veils. Each girl was holding the hand of her escape partner.

  “Are you all ready?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” they replied. Evin and I stepped outside first. We were enveloped by cold, damp, and darkness. And yet I felt a huge sense of euphoria. I really thought it would work this time. This escape attempt had been far better planned than anything we’d ventured before. It simply had to succeed.

  We hurried through the camp. Soon Evin and I had lost sight of the other girls. To ensure we stayed together we kept ahold of each other’s hand as we dashed past the containers in which we’d been the victims of so much violence. Now they stood there dark and deserted, and yet they still terrified us, for any moment a solider could step out from behind and stop us, crushing our dream.

  We recoiled in fear when Evin unexpectedly knocked over a metal bucket in the darkness. It rolled along the ground with a loud clunk. Evin stopped and listened. Had anyone heard? “Come on,” I whispered, pulling her away. “Don’t stop now! We’ve got to get out of here as fast as possible.”

  We crouched as we crept past the assembly hall, keeping our distance, and we finally reached the perimeter of the container settlement undetected—a partial victory at least. Beyond lay an expanse in total darkness: the desert. We waited here for the other girls to arrive; this had been our arrangement. And the other four actually made it. We all held hands so nobody got lost in the darkness, with Evin and me going at either end. Then we started to run. We ran blindly in our bare feet, unable to see where we were heading. I didn’t feel the wet and cold on my soles.

  Suddenly I could hear dogs barking somewhere nearby. The ISIS soldiers must have positioned the animals outside the camp as an alarm against intruders. Were they on leashes? Or were they roaming freely? Would they snap at us and tear us to pieces with their teeth? I couldn’t see the dogs anywhere, but they were making a hell of a commotion with their barking. Oh no, I thought. They would wake all the guards in the camp, who would immediately know something was wrong and would start hunting for us. We ran as quickly as we possibly could.

  There was no light anywhere. But we could hear the dogs coming closer. They must be roaming freely. Little Besma stumbled, but I grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly along with me. If we fell behind now we were finished.

  We ran through the rain until we couldn’t run any longer. I don’t know how long we kept it up, but it felt like an eternity. All of us were undernourished and in bad health, and eventually we were forced to slow our pace. We were completely out of breath, coughing and panting, but we couldn’t hear the dogs anymore, thank goodness. The camp was some way behind us.

  We seemed to have nobody on our tail. I hardly dared believe it. Had we really managed to lose the men and the dogs? But now wasn’t the time to ponder this. “Come on, we’ve got to continue,” I urged the girls.

  We trudged through the darkness. The rain grew increasingly heavy. To avoid going in a circle by mistake, we consistently headed in one direction, without knowing where it would take us.

  In the end we came to an asphalt road and decided to follow it. But we walked alongside the road rather than on it, so that if a vehicle came past the driver wouldn’t be able to spot us immediately. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic that night. But whenever we heard the drone of an engine, we’d crouch in the scree by the roadside. Our black robes helped us blend into the nighttime landscape.

  At some point we came across a sign saying “Hasakah.” Now at least we knew we were heading toward the Kurdish city. We used the road to guide us, continuing to tramp beside it in the rain. Soaked to the bone and frozen, we kept going, all through the night.

  When dawn came I sent a quick prayer heavenward. “Lord, You have allowed us to escape. I thank You,” I whispered as I turned to the sun. “Please continue to help us. Do not abandon Adam’s children anymore.”

  Now we started to see the occasional house by the roadside, which was risky for us. We needed a hiding place before anyone saw us. Now that day had broken we couldn’t continue walking.

  We found the shell of a building standing close to another house that was obviously lived in. As soon as we’d crept inside this shell we realized how exhausted we were from our nighttime march. Water dripped from our clothes, but we had nothing to change into. Shivering with cold and our teeth chattering, we hugged each other to share a little warmth. We were in urgent need of refreshment after our exertions, but unfor
tunately had nothing to eat or drink.

  While the other girls rested, I took out our phone. Now was the time to call the number Evin’s uncle had given us. The battery was low and there was hardly any credit left. The phone wouldn’t work for much longer. Hopefully we’d gotten far enough away from the military camp for the man to come and fetch us.

  Evin watched me dial the number with trembling fingers. It was an uplifting moment, as we really believed we’d made it.

  A man called Mustafa Hamu answered. I introduced myself and mentioned Evin’s uncle Khalil, whom he’d spoken to already.

  The man didn’t sound surprised. He was neither friendly nor unfriendly, but very businesslike. “When did you escape?” he asked.

  “Last night.”

  “Where are you now exactly?”

  “I can’t say for sure. In the shell of a building on the road to Hasakah,” I explained.

  “Don’t you know the name of the settlement?”

  “It’s not a settlement, just a few houses dotted around.”

  “That’s too vague. I need a concrete address to find you. You’ve got to ask in one of the houses there, or keep going to Hasakah.”

  My heart sank. “But we’re absolutely exhausted,” I said. “We don’t have any dry clothes or anything to drink.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you. You have to understand, I can’t get drawn into an adventure like that. So come up with an idea and call me back.”

  “Please, we can’t. We’ve barely any credit left on the phone.”

  I couldn’t understand why the man was so uncooperative. My friends and I had risked our lives to escape from the camp. He couldn’t just leave us in the lurch like that. But he refused to change his mind. “You’re in the middle of ISIS territory,” he reminded me before hanging up.

  Evin and I looked at each other in despair. We realized that this man was not at all interested in our plight. He was a businessman, coolly calculating his entrepreneurial risk. After this conversation the two of us felt pretty disillusioned.