Yazidi Family Abandons EU Dream, Reluctantly Returns to Iraq

Zena Kalo, 30, speaks to The Associated Press, with her family including her mother-in-law Kauri Kalo, at the tent that her family shares with her sister in law in Kabarto camp in northern Iraq’s Dohuk province on Saturday November 19, 2021.(AP Photo/Rashid Yahya)
Zena Kalo, 30, speaks to The Associated Press, with her family including her mother-in-law Kauri Kalo, at the tent that her family shares with her sister in law in Kabarto camp in northern Iraq’s Dohuk province on Saturday November 19, 2021.(AP Photo/Rashid Yahya)
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Yazidi Family Abandons EU Dream, Reluctantly Returns to Iraq

Zena Kalo, 30, speaks to The Associated Press, with her family including her mother-in-law Kauri Kalo, at the tent that her family shares with her sister in law in Kabarto camp in northern Iraq’s Dohuk province on Saturday November 19, 2021.(AP Photo/Rashid Yahya)
Zena Kalo, 30, speaks to The Associated Press, with her family including her mother-in-law Kauri Kalo, at the tent that her family shares with her sister in law in Kabarto camp in northern Iraq’s Dohuk province on Saturday November 19, 2021.(AP Photo/Rashid Yahya)

Khari Hasan Kalo peered out of the window of the repatriation flight as it touched down in northern Iraq. It’s a place he and his family had hoped never to see again after they left for Belarus two months ago, driven by dreams of a new life in Europe.

Kalo, 35, had begged for loans and spent his savings on the ill-fated journey to the Belarusian capital of Minsk, the first stop on a journey to the West.

His wife, 30-year-old Zena, had sold her few belongings on the gamble that left the family of six stranded for days in a cold forest on the border of Belarus and Poland. In the end, they returned home, fearing they were endangering the life of Kalo’s ailing 80-year-old mother, The Associated Press reported.

Yet they say they would do it all again to escape their hopeless life, spent in a camp for displaced persons for the past seven years. The Kalos are Yazidis, a religious minority that was brutalized by ISIS militants when they overran northern Iraq in 2014.

At the time, ISIS extremists rampaged through the Yazidi town of Sinjar and surrounding villages and destroyed religious sites. They kidnapped and enslaved thousands of women and children. Years after their lives were torn apart, Yazidis are still unable to return home or locate hundreds of women and children who had been snatched by the extremists. The Kalos’ home lies in ruins.

“If it wasn’t for my children and my mother, I would never have returned, I would have stayed in that forest at all costs rather than return to this tent,” Kalo said Friday, speaking to The AP from the Karbato camp in Dohuk province in the autonomous Iraqi Kurdish region. His mother, looking frail, slept throughout the interview.

The Kalos, including three children ages 5, 7, and 9, had returned from Belarus a day earlier.

“It’s not even our tent; it’s his sister’s,” his wife interjected. “It’s no place to raise children, have a life.”

The region is considered the most stable part of conflict-scarred Iraq, yet Iraqi Kurds made up a large group among thousands of migrants from the Middle East who had flown to Belarus since the summer. Even in Iraq’s more prosperous north, growing unemployment and corruption is fueling migration, and the Yazidi community has endured particular hardship.

On Thursday, hundreds of Iraqis returned home from Belarus after abandoning their hopes of reaching the European Union. The repatriation came after thousands of migrants became stuck at the Poland-Belarus border amid rising tensions between the two countries.

Kalo’s family was among 430 people who flew from Minsk back to Iraq, where 390 got off at Irbil International Airport before the flight continued to Baghdad.

The West has accused Belarus President Alexander Lukashenko of using the migrants as pawns to destabilize the EU in retaliation for its sanctions imposed on his authoritarian regime following a harsh crackdown on internal dissent. Belarus denies engineering the crisis, which has seen migrants entering the country since summer, lured by easy tourist visas, and then trying to cross into Poland, Lithuania and Latvia, all EU members.

Kalo didn’t mind if a geopolitical game was being played at his expense if it got his family out of Iraq.

“So what if I was a pawn in someone’s hands if it gets me to Germany?” he said.

Since being displaced, the family had gotten increasingly desperate. Their tent burned down in an accidental fire in June that ravaged the Sharia camp, also in Dohuk. They tried to return to their original home in Sinjar but found their house uninhabitable.

Tensions also were simmering in the area between a patchwork of rival militia groups, Iraqi forces, and members of the Kurdistan Worker’s Party, or PKK, an insurgent group outlawed by Turkey. Turkish jets still targeted PKK members in northern Iraq.

Then he heard from friends about Kurds finding their way to Germany after Belarus eased visa requirements last spring. He begged his brother in Australia to wire him $9,000 to pay the smugglers’ asking price for his wife, three young children and mother.

He also had saved money from his time as a policeman — cash that was hard-won because he endured discrimination as a Yazidi. Colleagues refused to eat or share a room with him, he said. He asked for a reassignment, but his superior said this would only be possible if he gave him half his income.

“What good is a job if its still not enough to feed your family?” he said of his decision to quit.

The Kalos took the land route to Istanbul in September, and boarded flights to Minsk the following month. There, they headed straight to the Polish border. With two other Iraqi families, the Kalos dug under the border fence, reaching the other side in darkness.

They walked for four days in search of a GPS point where they were promised a car would meet them and take them straight to Germany.

But that never happened..

Instead, on the fourth day, Kalo’s family ran out of food as temperatures dropped in the dense and soggy forest.

Polish authorities found them and sent them back across the border. They were greeted by an encampment of hundreds of migrants. Belarusian authorities were handing out wire cutters and pushing the migrants back through the razor wire.

Polish authorities used water cannons to repel them. But this did not deter Belarusian authorities, who beat and threatened them, Kalo said. He said they shouted: “Go (to) Poland!”

Still, husband and wife fought to stay, agreeing that anything was better than their life in a tent.

But with his mother struggling to survive as conditions grew increasingly squalid, Kalo sought the pity of the Belarusian authorities. They allowed them to return to Minsk to seek medical help.

Kalo heard the Iraqi government had agreed to repatriate citizens free of charge. He turned to his wife and they considered their choices: Return to their desperate lives in Iraq, or bear the responsibility if his mother died.

Reluctantly, they put their names on the list.

But their hope is not lost, Kalo said, as his 5-year old daughter, Katarin, dug her face into his chest at the Karbato camp.

“I have two priorities now,” he said. “The first (is) to get a tent of our own. The second, to get back on my feet and leave this country. I will make it this time.”

He added: “If it was my last day on this Earth, I will spend it trying to leave.”



Syrians in Libya Struggle to Escape ‘Exile in Limbo’

A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum
A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum
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Syrians in Libya Struggle to Escape ‘Exile in Limbo’

A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum
A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum

About seven months ago, a group of 25 Syrian youths, including minors, set off from Libya on an irregular migration journey toward Europe. Only four made it back alive. The rest drowned in the Mediterranean.

The tragedy, which left a deep mark on Syrian communities both in Libya and abroad, has drawn renewed attention to the large and diverse Syrian population now living in the North African country, some fleeing the war in Syria under former President Bashar al-Assad, others settled there long before.

Syria’s presence in Libya is far from monolithic. It spans businessmen, migrant laborers, families who settled during the rule of Muammar Gaddafi, and former fighters now working as mercenaries. Many also see Libya as a temporary stop on the perilous path to Europe.

For most, Libya is not the destination but a gateway. The recent drowning of 21 Syrians in the Mediterranean was not an isolated tragedy, but part of a pattern of loss that has haunted the community for years.

Reports from local and international migration watchdogs have documented repeated drownings and arrests of Syrians at sea, with many captured by Libya’s coastguard and detained in overcrowded jails.

Despite the risks, many Syrians have managed to adapt to life in Libya, integrating into local communities and participating in its economy.

Yet numerous challenges persist, particularly for undocumented workers and those living without valid residency papers. Many report facing discrimination, abuse, and difficult working conditions.

As thousands of Syrian refugees across the Middle East prepare to return home amid improving conditions and relaxed restrictions, Syrians in Libya remain stuck, unable to stay, and unable to leave.

“We’re caught in the middle,” said one Syrian resident in Tripoli. “We can’t endure much longer, but we also can’t afford to go back.”

Many Syrians in Libya say they are increasingly vulnerable to exploitation, including passport confiscation and harassment by armed groups and criminal gangs operating with impunity.

Several Syrian residents told Asharq Al-Awsat they are facing rising unemployment, frequent kidnappings, and demands for ransom by militias. For those who now wish to return to Syria, doing so has become financially prohibitive due to hefty fines for visa violations.

Steep Penalties for Overstaying

Under a revised Libyan immigration law enacted on March 14, 2024, foreigners who overstay their visas or residency permits are charged 500 Libyan dinars - around $90 - per month. The regulation adds a significant burden for many Syrians whose legal documents have expired and who lack the resources to renew them or pay the fines required to exit the country legally.

Due to the political division in Libya since 2014, no official statistics exist on the number of foreign residents. However, the UN refugee agency (UNHCR) reported in 2020 that approximately 14,500 Syrian refugees and asylum seekers were living in Libya.

Ten years after arriving in Libya, Ahmed Kamal Al-Fakhouri says he is now trapped, unable to afford life in the country or the high costs of leaving it.

“They’ve imposed fines on us that are beyond reason - nearly $1,500 per person,” said Fakhouri, a restaurant worker in Tripoli, echoing a growing outcry among Syrians in Libya burdened by mounting penalties and legal uncertainties. “Sometimes, I can’t even afford a day’s meal.”

Fakhouri fled Derna after the deadly floods of August 2023 and resettled in Tripoli.

“I saw death with my own eyes,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat, describing the trauma of losing his home. “Now we’re living in misery. We want the world to hear our voice - we want to go back to our country.”

Libya hosts thousands of Syrians, including doctors, engineers, university students, and day laborers who fill the country’s markets in search of work to support their families.

Yet many say they now find themselves stuck, facing visa penalties they can’t afford and no clear path home - even as the fall of Assad’s regime renews hopes for return.

“Exit Tax” Burdens Families

While Libya’s labor ministries have issued no formal statement on the matter, members of the Syrian community say they are being charged an "exit tax" calculated based on their overstay period. No official decree has been published, but testimonies suggest the fees are acting as a de facto barrier to departure.

Following Assad’s ouster, many Syrians are reconsidering return, describing exile as a “prison,” but are deterred by the financial burden of settling overstays.

Asharq Al-Awsat reached out to both of Libya’s rival labor ministries to clarify policies affecting Syrians and the reported fines for expired documents, but received no response.

Zekeriya Saadi, another Syrian living in Tripoli, has publicly called on authorities in both eastern and western Libya to cancel the exit tax and allow those wishing to return to Syria to do so.

“In these unbearable conditions, it’s unreasonable to ask refugees to pay such high fees just to leave the country,” he said. “This tax is a major obstacle, it exceeds our capacity, especially given our financial hardships.”

Saadi said most Syrians in Libya are low-income families without stable jobs. “Many are at risk of eviction, kidnapping, or exploitation. Leaving has become a matter of survival,” he said. “How can a displaced person be treated like a tourist or a wealthy expat?”

He urged Syria’s Foreign Ministry to take a clear stance and negotiate with Libyan authorities for fee exemptions and coordinated return efforts, while also working to protect Syrians who remain in the country.

Passport Problems Bar Education

Beyond financial barriers, expired passports are also stranding Syrians in legal limbo. Many have lost access to services, and the issue is now affecting the next generation.

According to Syrian media reports, education officials in Misrata barred at least 100 Syrian children from enrolling in public schools because their parents’ passports had expired, highlighting how bureaucratic obstacles are deepening the crisis for displaced families.