SINJAR, Iraq: Fahad Qassim was just 11 years old when Daesh militants invaded his Yazidi community in northern Iraq's Sinjar region in August 2014, taking him prisoner.
The attack was the beginning of what became the systematic slaughter, enslavement and rape of thousands of Yazidis, shocking the world and displacing most of the 550,000 ancient religious minority. Thousands of people were rounded up and killed during the initial attack, which began in the early hours of August 3.
Many others are believed to have died in captivity. Survivors fled to the slopes of Mount Sinjar, where some were trapped for many weeks by a Daesh siege.
The attack on the Yazidis – an ancient religious minority in eastern Syria and northwestern Iraq that draws on Zoroastrian, Christian, Manichean, Jewish and Muslim faiths – was part of the Daesh militant's drive to establish a caliphate.
At one point, the group held a third of Iraq and neighboring Syria before being pushed back by US-backed forces and Iranian-backed militias and collapsing in 2019.
Now 21, Qassim lives in a small apartment on the edge of a refugee camp in Iraq's Kurdistan region, far from his hometown.
He was trained as a child soldier and fought in pitched battles before being released when Daesh collapsed in Syria's Baghhuz in 2019, but only after losing half of his lower leg in an airstrike by US-led forces.
“I don't plan any future in Iraq,” he said, awaiting word on his visa application for a Western country.
“Those returning say they fear the same thing that happened in 2014 will happen again.”
Qassim's reluctance to return is shared by many. A decade after what was recognized as genocide by many governments and UN agencies, Sinjar district remains largely destroyed.
The old city of Sinjar is a confused pile of gray and brown stone, while villages like Kojo, where hundreds were killed, are crumbling ghost towns.
Limited services, poor electricity and water supplies and what locals say is inadequate government compensation for reconstruction have made resettlement difficult.
STRUGGLE FOR POWER
The security situation further complicates matters. A patchwork of armed groups that fought to liberate Sinjar remain in this strategic corner of Iraq, holding de facto power on the ground.
This is despite the 2020 Sinjar Accord that called for such groups to leave and for the appointment of a mayor with a police force made up of locals.
And from the skies above, frequent Turkish drone strikes target fighters aligned with the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK), which is outlawed by Turkiye. Civilians are among those killed in these attacks, adding to the sense of insecurity.
Akhtin Intiqam, a 25-year-old commander in the PKK-aligned Sinjar Protection Units (YBS), one of the armed factions in the area, defends their continued presence:
“We are in control of this area and are responsible for protecting Sinjar from all external attacks,” she said.
Speaking in a room adorned with pictures of his fallen comrades, numbering more than 150, Intiqam regards the Sinjar Accord with suspicion.
“We will fight with all our might against anyone who tries to implement this plan. He will never make it,” she said.
GOVERNMENTAL EFFORTS
As the stalemate continues, Sinjar remains underdeveloped. Returning families receive a one-time payment of about $3,000 from the government.
Meanwhile, more than 200,000 Yazidis remain in Kurdistan, many living in shabby tent settlements. The Iraqi government is pushing to break up these camps, insisting it's time for people to go home.
“You can't blame people for losing hope. The scale of the damage and displacement is very high and for many years very little has been done to address it,” said Khalaf Sinjari, the Iraqi Prime Minister's adviser on Yazidi affairs.
This government, he said, takes Sinjar seriously.
It plans to spend hundreds of millions of dollars – including all previously unspent budgets since 2014 – on development and infrastructure, including paying compensation, building two new hospitals and a university, and connecting Sinjar to the country's water network for the first time. “There is hope to bring life back,” said Sinjari, himself a member of the Yazidi community.
However, the presence of around 50,000 Daesh fighters and their families across the border from Syria in detention centers and camps raises fears that history will repeat itself.
Efforts by some Iraqi lawmakers to pass a blanket amnesty law that could lead to the release of many Daesh prisoners from Iraqi prisons only add to these concerns. And the Yazidis' fight for justice is stalled, with the government this year shutting down a UN mission that tried to help prosecute Daesh fighters for international crimes, citing a lack of cooperation between it and the mission.
Despite the challenges, some Yazidis are choosing to return. Farhad Barakat Ali, a Yazidi activist and journalist who was displaced by Daesh, made the decision to return several years ago.
“I'm not encouraging everyone to return to Sinjar, but I'm not encouraging them to stay in the IDP camps either,” he said from his home in Sinjar town, in the sweltering heat of a blackout.
“Having a hometown — living in your hometown — is something people can be proud of.”
