Islamic State: Diary of life in Mosul

The northern Iraqi city of Mosul fell to Islamic State (IS) in June, bringing the population under the harsh rule of the jihadists. The militants swiftly introduced a regime in accordance with their radical version of Islam, including brutal punishments, strict rules for women and intolerance of any dissent.

In an exclusive series of diary instalments, residents describe what life is like in Mosul since IS took over. The diarists' names have been changed to protect their identities.

21 November 2014

Once upon a time in our land, which is rich with water and oil, we used to have a big supply of water and electricity. However, now in the time of the IS caliphate, we lead the most difficult life imaginable.

We don't have water because the supply station does not work most of the time due to a power shortage.

We collect rainwater in the garden, and my mum tries to save the rain falling on the roof through the gutter in order to use it for the laundry and cleaning.

Winter came early, and the cold is really harsh. Hot water is one of the most basic requirements of winter in Iraq, but how can we have hot water? We haven't had any electricity supply from our national provider for a month or more!

We totally rely on private generators. Life would have been impossible in my beloved city without them.

My neighbours tried to find a solution to the water shortage, so we dug a well to find enough water for our needs during the continuous shortage of water supply.

Digging water wells became very prevalent in Mosul, and everybody is digging for water in my country that boasts two major rivers.

We now try to save kerosene for heating, although it's very scarce and expensive. The price of a barrel is about $250, although its price on the international markets is no more than $100.

But this is not surprising because we live in Iraq, the land of miracles.

Faisal

14 November 2014

From Mays

School began in Nineveh [Mosul's province], but this year is not like any other year.

IS has issued very strict instructions to the students and the school administrations.

Dulqarnain is a name new to the people of my city. It's the name of the IS person in charge of education in Nineveh. His name, as the highest authority for education, is signed on our books.

He is Egyptian, and his main focus was separating girls from boys in primary schools. According to his instructions, girls go to one building and boys to another. He gave his instructions that girls who look a bit mature for their age should wear loose-fitting garments and a face veil.

Male teachers are not allowed to teach girls and women teachers are not allowed to teach boys. This decision is very difficult to be implemented by public schools and more so for the private ones.

Public schools are funded by the education authority and the ministry of education, and they have a large supply of teachers - male and female - and a lot of buildings.

Private schools, on the other hand, are educational and commercial projects owned by private individuals who do not have the resources to supply the teachers and the buildings.

This means that the demand for private schools will decrease in a time when job opportunities are very scarce and money is hard to come by.

'They cancelled art'

School syllabuses have been changes by IS. There are no physical education classes anymore. Instead there is "jihadi education", which is a subject in which students are taught to love jihad [an Islamic concept meaning "struggle"] and how to do so.

IS cancelled both geography and history lessons, but then they changed their mind. They cancelled art classes, and instead teach Arabic calligraphy. They completely banned the use of colours and coloured pens in schools.

All these matter make the running of schools very difficult, even impossible, especially banning students from activities, such as sports and painting, that mean the world to them.

Mays

5 November 2014

From Nizar

[Editor's note: Before Islamic State overran Mosul, the city was home to one of the oldest Christian communities in the world. Most fled with the arrival of IS, who ordered the city's remaining Christians to convert to Islam, pay a religious tax, or face being killed.]

Not one house owned by a Christian in Mosul was not taken over and looted by IS members, and all their belongings stolen, down to the last broomstick.

Some IS fighters have even moved into the Christians' homes themselves, using everything in those houses as if they were their own.

They've inhabited all the areas and consider them as spoils of war, as if the Christians and the Yazidis [minority religious group] were the enemy, and by doing so, the IS has become a burden on our areas.

We feel ashamed to call our Christian and Yazidi friends, and I feel I cannot even phone them any more, as if it was me or one of my family or friends that committed those heinous crimes against them.

I decided not to talk or salute any IS member who occupies a Christian house near me, and I cannot bear to look at their evil faces.

Fleeing air strikes

I've taken notice of their behaviour during coalition air strikes. They immediately switch off the lights in the homes they occupy, and some drive off in their stolen cars in some unknown direction.

Then they return as soon as the air strikes cease. A friend of mine had the nerve to ask one of them: "Why do you run away during the air strikes?"

The IS member answered that they fear the strikes will target the houses of Christians that they've occupied because the Christians would have told the coalition their location.

Another friend of mine tried to get close to a house occupied by an IS member and his family to see what was happening there, but he was unable to as they never leave the door open, and don't even talk in the garden.

My friends and I vowed that once this is over, and our city is cleared of the dirt and nastiness, that we would rehabilitate a Christian house to show the world, or at least our Christian friends, that those who did this to them abide by no religion at all.

24 October 2014

From Faisal

Four months have passed since Islamic State took over, and a friend of mine is still in hiding here.

He worked as a bodyguard for some judges in Mosul, but after the city fell all the judges left and my friend went into hiding. He moved home so no-one would know where to find him.

My friend doesn't move around in the streets much, because IS fighters are almost everywhere in the city.

Sometimes they set up impromptu checkpoints and go through people's IDs, looking for people wanted by IS: former security personnel or judiciary, or anyone suspected of arresting IS members before IS captured the city, or anyone who worked for the governorate or in politics.

Most of them have left, fearing execution by IS. These kinds of actions have pushed people away from supporting IS. Their criminal acts have terrorised peaceful citizens.

IS members can be seen executing activists in front of everyone in the streets. They wear black fighter outfits, have let their hair and beards grow - some look as if they haven't seen a shower in ages!

Every day they increase in number, hold new positions and consolidate their presence, undeterred by the air strikes from coalition forces which do nothing to change things on the ground. It it is actually our reality which has changed and become even more horrific.

From Mays

I teach at a school in my beloved city, Mosul. Like other Iraqi mothers I work to provide some sort of financial assistance to my husband, albeit negligible, to help fend off the hardships of life through such hard times and in such an expensive country.

This year, when the summer holidays began, I decided to go to Baghdad to visit some family and relatives there and attend a family ceremony.

After the party, when we were all still full of excitement and surrounded by our loved ones, I received news of a curfew back home, and the start of the fighting between government forces and Islamic State rebels.

From that moment I spoke to my husband in Mosul every day to find out the latest news.

'Horror and panic'

I spent the worst days of my life in Baghdad, the city of my childhood innocence, and where I lived my dreams as a woman in my 20s. I had always been thrilled to live in Baghdad until I got married and moved to Mosul.

And yet, for five days of fighting which followed in Mosul, I lived in horror, fear and pure panic, worrying about my husband. I was constantly wondering what was happening and whether I would ever be with him again.

After the arrival of the Sunni rebels and IS fighters in Mosul, my husband and I started plotting my return to the city, but all roads were still blocked because of the fighting taking place between Baghdad and Mosul.

Cities were falling in hours - not even days - after governmental forces fled or retreated, which left everybody puzzled.

After several attempts by my husband and thanks to some of his connections, we managed to book flights from Baghdad to the north.

But then another obstacle faced us - I had not brought my children's documentation as I was travelling by land. Yet as we were now flying, it was a must, or we wouldn't be able to leave.

Armed groups

Thanks to good thinking and God's will we received the documents via a friend who was leaving Mosul by car and who later flew to Baghdad and brought us the papers.

I finally got home to my family in Mosul, shortly after midnight on 20 June. I was shocked and frightened by what I saw in the streets, where armed groups were roaming around. I prayed and fasted for three days.

I stayed at home for a while, until I got used to the situation we are now living under, but those were moments I will never forget.

Mosul profile

·         Iraq's second biggest city

·         Overrun by Islamic State in June 2014

·         Home to about 1.8 million people before IS takeover, when some 500,000 fled

·         Majority Sunni Arab population, with Kurdish, Turkmen and Christian minorities