HABIBI
October 5th, 2021 - From the Field
“What’s the name of your organization?” the government official asks in Kurdish.
“Habibi International,” I reply.
“Habibi?” his stoic face breaks into a smile, and then a chuckle.
I’ve encountered this dozens of times now.
“Hello Habibi!”, “Thank you, Habibi!”, “Let’s go, Habibi!” — you’ll hear this everywhere in this part of the world: on the street, amongst family and friends, and in more recent times, as we introduce ourselves as an organization.
“Habibi” is a common Arabic term of endearment that means “my beloved” or “my dear one”. So it catches people off guard that an international NGO would take on such a name. In fact, in telling them our name, people sometimes think we are addressing them as “habibi”.
I used to wonder if this was a problem.
“It is an unusual name,” some have mused. “But you’ll never forget it!”
“Don’t change it,” another of our local friends assured me. “It’s good. What we need here are more habibi and hugs!”
Indeed, in a region ravaged by seemingly endless war and conflict, a weariness seems to pervade the atmosphere. In the Kurdistan Region of Iraq in particular, almost everyone has suffered some form of violence or persecution. The older generation of Kurds still remember vividly the horrors of the Anfal genocide waged against them in the 1980s. The ethnic Christian population in Iraq has dwindled from 1.5 million to 200,000 within a generation, with a majority of those remaining finding refuge in Kurdistan. And most recently, in August 2014, the Yazidis suffered a brutal genocide at the hands of ISIS, causing a majority to also either flee into Kurdistan or, if possible, out of the country.
“What future is there for us here?” many here lament.
Many more contemplate leaving, even if it entails putting themselves at risk. Most recently, over the past month, several Iraqis have died in their attempt to enter the European Union (EU). Smugglers had obtained tourist visas for them into Belarus — advertised by Belarus itself, and whose own officials then allegedly aided the Iraqis in crossing illegally into Lithuania and Poland. The smugglers were then supposed to lead the migrants through a further maze of countries until they reached Western European destinations like Germany — all for a hefty starting price of US$10,000 per person. But few have made it all the way through; thousands have been deported or left stranded in makeshift camps in Eastern Europe.
Sadly, this is also part of yet another geopolitical tussle Iraq has found itself caught in. Lithuanian authorities claim that the Belarusian government has in fact been weaponizing migration as retaliation against the sanctions the EU had earlier placed on it for an “escalation of serious human rights violations”.
“We have no friends but the mountains,” a Kurdish proverb sums up the collective sense of abandonment the people feel.
“We’re all trying to get out,” an Iraqi friend who had resettled (through legal means) in another country told me. “Why would you want to go in?”
—
Why do we want to be here?
The apostle John writes, “Beloved (Habibi), if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another.” (1 John 4:11)
To be loved and then to love — it seems like a fluffy concept. But if you have experienced even some of the depth of being unconditionally loved, you realize you could have done nothing to truly deserve it, and that the only thing you can — and want to — do, is to see others experience some measure of love too.
And while everyone is deserving of love, we believe that the unseen, vulnerable and disenfranchised have a special place in God’s heart. He cares deeply for the poor, the widow, the orphan and the sojourner (Zechariah 7:10). And we must do likewise.
That’s the heart behind why we do what we do.
—
These days, when I respond with “Habibi”, I no longer flinch or even think of it as just a name anymore.
It has become a reminder of how people and relationships are at the core of everything we do, and that love should drive our actions — but also of how those we walk with are beloved.
In a way, as an organization, we’re also saying: You do have friends besides the mountains. You are valuable and worthy, even if many in the world may tell you otherwise.
Habibi - yes, Iraq, you too are beloved.
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Heidi is the Operations Director of Habibi International in Iraq, where she is based.
This is the first of more blog posts to come -- a space for us to share news, stories and reflections on realities on the ground, but also of the hope and resilience that we continue to see in this beautiful region and its people. Follow us today to stay connected.