Those left behind

Ali, 22, woke up early on October 26, 2008. It was a long day for his big family in the Sukariyya village in the town of Abou Kamal, near the Syrian-Iraqi border. His family included, in addition to his father, a total of 12 brothers and sisters. The day ended leaving Ali with only seven. The rest were killed by a US air raid on Abu Kamal. On the day of the funeral—one day after the attack—Ali seemed a broken man, grieved by the loss of his father and brothers.He watched the coffins collectively passing by, with undescribable sorrow and pain in his eyes. On the second day, however, he seemed stronger, surrounded by family and friends, who all grieved for his loss. He still could not speak about what happened, however, and his uncle Utawi Abdullah, offered to speak to us instead.

On the day of the raid, Dawoud, 50, woke up early to go to work with his sons Faisal, 34, Ibrahim, 24, Olayan, 18, and Suleiman, 16. Ibrahim had one child—with another on the way—while Faisal had eight, making Dawoud a proud grandfather many times over.
All of them left home with Dawoud, in the company of a family neighbor named Ahmad Khalifeh (20) at 7 am, driving a small truck for their routine job as construction workers. That was the only profession any of them ever had.

At the construction site on the Euphrates River, there was much work to be done. Construction for the home they were building—with two rooms—had only began three days earlier. Four US choppers came in shortly after the family had finished work in the early evening, flying on low elevation over the Euphrates. They opened fire on the construction site, and two planes landed, killing the entire family. US soldiers disembarked and walked through the pile of dead bodies, shooting them at close range with guns, to make double-sure that everybody was dead. Utawi recalled no less than 10 bullets were found in each corpse, after the Americans left the scene.

When asked if any member of his family was a member of al-Qaeda, as the Americans implied, or outlaws, as the Iraqi government said, Utawi shook his head angrily, saying, “All of them were illterate. The only one among them who had received any kind of schooling had not reached past 4th grade! They worked in construction and none of them had ever left Syria with the exception of Dawoud, who had tried working in Kuwait 10-years ago, with no luck. He returned to his job as a construction worker in Syria.” He further explained, “We are laborers; we know nothing of al-Qaeda. The house they were building was intended to be a small residence, not a military site to threaten the security of the United States!” A man listening to Utawi at the condolence service where we were interviewing him added, “If there was terrorism in our area it would have surfaced a long time ago. The Americans get frightened from any kind of construction activity in our district. Frightened people do stupid things.”

Dawoud left behind young children—orphans—and the widows of his sons, adding up to 20 people. His eldest grandson—the son of Faisal—is only 12. He is blind and so is his sister. Ibrahim’s wife is preganent with a child who will never see his father or grandfather. Overnight the survivor Ali has become the oldest in the family; the bread winner for all the 20 women and children, thanks to the United States.

This article was brought in collaboration with Syria News