16 September 2014
Ankawa, Erbil
St. Joseph’s Church, prominent on the Ankawa skyline, is currently home to at least 1500 displaced Iraqi Christians, mainly from Qaraqosh. The churchyard is filled with tents, each of which house up to 15 family members. They have been living here for 68 days since they fled the advances of Da’ash (the local vernacular for the Islamic State). There are small hedges that once lined the paths of the churchyard, many of which are draped in laundry today. The makeshift camp is busy as people do their daily chores, cleaning dishes from the few large tanks of water, or making food over gas stoves. Wherever you look there are children. I lingered outside for a moment but was immediately invited in to chat with the people who live there and given a tour of the small space. The following photos are of the various people I met, from the old couple at the church gate who waved me in as soon as they saw my camera, to the many, many faces of children. None of them are sure when they will be able to go home, or whether that will even be possible. When I tell them I’m from Canada, one jovial man suggests I take him, his wife, and his grandchildren on a plane with me. Of all of them, only two will be able to leave soon. A sixteen-year-old girl who speaks shy English tells me that she and her mother will be joining her two brothers and their families in Amman, Jordan, in two weeks. But they are the only two that can foresee their future. When I finally say thanks and leave, I ask one of the men who has kindly shown me around, 26-year-old Michael, what he will do for the rest of the day. He shrugs as I walk through the gate, “I don’t know,” he waves at the tents and people and behind him. “You know, this.” 
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