Minority IDPs taken refuge in mountain town of Pire Magrun

D. Morrow
24 September 2014
Pira Magrun

The tiny town of Pira Magrun rests under the formidable peak from which it takes its name, about half way between Sulaymaniyah and Dukan. Dusty and quiet on a Thursday at noon, it is almost impossible to tell that the town is home to anywhere from 3,000 to 6,000 displaced people in addition to its own small population.

Many of these people took refuge in the few local schools, but when classes could be delayed no longer they disappeared into the surrounding town. Helmut, a teacher, drove me across town to the main public school. Through a crumbling concrete doorway, a piece of tan canvas is strung, blocking a small, open-air alleyway between the edge of the school and the shops that back it. Six families consisting of twenty-eight people are living in this small space, after fleeing the contested city of Bashiqa to the north, which is currently full of Da’esh militants. 

The people here are from the Shabak Shi’a minority, and they are one of a number of minorities who have taken refuge in Pira Magrun. Shabaks are similar in some ways to Yazidis, as their religion incorporates elements of Christianity and mystical Sufism.

In some ways Pira Magrun probably reminds them of home – Bashiqa is known for the small mountain range that circles it and is home to a number of other minority groups, such as Yazidis and Assyrians. In addition to the Shabaks, Pira Magrun is hosting these other minorities as well, and fleeing Iraqi Sunnis with nowhere else to go. 

Despite the danger they have left behind, the Shabaks here feel very safe – for what is probably the first time in a while. After suffering through the Anfal campaign of the ‘80s and ‘90s, Shabak people have continued to be persecuted, often by Sunni militants in post-2003 Iraq. The Da’esh campaign appears to be only the latest in a history marked too often with tragedy.

Kaydar, one of the Shabak men, tells me they have been here for 50 days. The people in town are friendly and helpful, providing this small family group with the food and supplies they have needed so far. But almost half of the group consists of small children, and none of them have been able to attend school here. All they want is to go home, like so many other displaced families I’ve spoken to in the last couple of weeks. 

“The Da’esh, they take everything,” says Kaydar, as his children run around and between his legs. But for now at least the families here have each other, and the kindness of strangers in the town. I add them to my list though, of people for whom winter will only bring new hardship.