The Last Front: Baghuz ~ My narration of the events leading up to the fall.

Chapter Nine: Mass Exodus

Chapter Nine: Mass Exodus

Their strategy was working, many could no longer handle the situation on the ground, and people were leaving in significant numbers.

Umm X walked up to me and asked me how I‘d been during these difficult days. I could tell she was going through an internal conflict, and as she stood there, I noticed tears on the tips of her eyes.

She tells me, "my son is starving, and I fear he might die any moment.” Not knowing how to comfort her, I say words of patience and motivation. Many thoughts pass through my mind, is she sinful if she leaves? Would I have left if I was starving or my child was starving?

Many people were judgemental, and so was I, to an extent, until I saw people's reality. We would see how other families were living, some were worse off, and others had better living conditions. Being exposed to such scenes made me more empathetic, and I realized everybody should strive to prioritize what was most important. After that, Allah is their Wakeel, and He knows what is in their hearts.

For me, however, I could not see myself anywhere but here. I could hear the words of a legend in my ears,
"The fragrance of Jannah is here; love and hate for the sake of Allah are here. Here is honour, here is glory, and there is no glory nor honour except for here. Will such people be defeated?"

All these thoughts were racing through my mind while she spoke to me. We end our conversation, and she tells me she is happy to see me and hopes for the best.

Umm I
Umm I was a sweet sister, beloved by many. A sniper shot her as she passed by a point next to the house where my hijrah-buddy was staying—leaving behind three young sons. Everybody heard about it that evening, as it was a sudden death, not an airstrike as usual but just a random sniper bullet in a very crowded place in the middle of a typical day in Baghuz. The next day I was passing by that very same spot and saw her son holding a shovel. I approach him and ask him if he needs anything, and he replies in the negative. I further went on to ask him what he was doing. Is he digging? He tells me he buried his mother and was now leveling the ground. I wish I had never asked him. The brothers kept him and his little brothers' company, so they didn't feel so alone without their parents.

An Opportunity

At this point, I did not judge anyone who left. However, I had my goal: to await victory or die, trying to lift the words of La ilaha ilaa Allah to be the highest. Thinking back, I sometimes laugh at how I could expect nasr there when the State only had a few square kilometers left. But I was at least aiming for my shahadah, refusing to leave the land of Islam.

I was approached and asked, “do you want to leave?”

I say “no” without hesitation.

“Fear is natural, and Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it could bear. You’re a woman, and I do not want to decide for you. Smuggling out is an option, and we could leave, not getting captured by the enemy, and I do not know how that would occur. Also, if captured, we know we will not be harmed.”

I am forced to consider, and I refuse.

At last, I say angrily, “I do not want to leave, and I came to this land to live under the State, and as long as the State is here, so am I.”

I get told I was asked this for confirmation that I was not staying for the sake of anyone. But when I had clarified my goal, I was told that it was joyous and a relief to hear that I did not want to leave.