One day in early September 1981, I was told to go buy bread. I found the city very empty.
            Before I get to the main street, I saw a tank passing by very fast with the Iraqi flag on it. 
                    I ran back home shouting and screaming, trying to tell to my mama what I had seen.

A minibus, which was rushing out of the town, stopped and took all women and children it could. We were lucky to be among them. Everybody was scared. The children were screaming and women crying. The Iraqis were shooting at the minibus and a piece of one bomb hit the side windows. A lot of broken glasses fell into the bus. We passed the town and came to the next city where a lot of journalists wanted to know what had happened. I heard on the radio that Iraq occupied Qasre Shirin. I never knew that that would be my last view of my several thousand year old town. My life started again as a homeless refugee in the town of Kirmashan.