Betrayed : escape from Iraq by Latifa Ali
By Latifa Ali
This can be the genuine tale of Latifa Ali, betrayed through her friends and family and saved as a prisoner by means of her father in Iraq. She has no allies, no liberty as a Muslim lady and no entry to the Australian Consulate. because the struggle on terror rages round her, Latifa is at battle together with her tradition and customs. Imprisoned, abused and violated, her efforts to flee Iraq fail and her demise looms nearer. She grew up donning bikinis on an Australian seashore, yet was once pressured into complete Muslim gown. operating as a undercover agent, consorting with the UN and racing for the border, Latifa is aware that the one approach to shop her existence is to maintain her mystery and make an break out. A harrowing tale of independence and perseverance. discover why she nonetheless lives in worry for her lifestyles. the tale: Latifa used to be born in Iraq yet her relatives moved to Australia to flee after the realthreat of being hunted and killed by means of Sadam Husein.
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Extra resources for Betrayed : escape from Iraq
Those on Saddam’s hit list contacted one another and escape routes were planned. It was suggested to my father that we should leave with a group of four other families—my father’s relatives, meanwhile, would leave the family home and stay with cousins in other parts of Kurdistan. But as for travelling with four other families, he was against it. ‘We’ll go on our own,’ he told the others. He refused to listen to warnings that there was safety in numbers. We left under cover of darkness, driven by friends to the foot of the mountains and then I was loaded onto a donkey—I was but only two and have my parents’ recollections of that journey.
They were both going to fall. But he was able to pull out his knife and sever the leash, saving himself but he could not prevent the poor donkey from falling to its death. Years later, Khalid was to tell me that there was no question what he would have done—if it came to it, he would have given his life to save me. —towards Iran. We passed through an area Khalid’s relatives had revealed to us as being safe from border guards and, equally importantly, mines. We were picked up from the outskirts of a frontier village and driven to Tehran.
After all, these were people that, in his role as a militia my father had protected from pockets of marauding Iraqi troops. Sometimes, though, there were no places to stay and we had to rest in a tent and even caves. My father had prepared us well for the journey, but there was no telling how fate would play a part and almost bring about a disaster. We were about half way through the journey when the donkey lost its footing. Luckily, I was strapped on or I would have been thrown into a ravine to my death.