Iraq Through a Different Lens

February 2024

 

While sipping sweet chai inside a church building in Qaraqosh, a Christian town near Mosul in northern Iraq, a priest once shared a metaphor for war in his country. “War in Iraq,” he said, “is like a box of tissues. Every time you pull one out, another is already waiting.”

The story of war in Iraq is, tragically, a familiar one. Scarred by decades of conflict, the country has become almost synonymous with violence and instability, its image shaped by ethnic, religious, and political tensions, often compounded by foreign interests. But that, of course, is not the full story of the country that became my home away from home.

Over time, I fell in love with Iraq. A country layered with rich cultural and religious heritage, striking natural beauty, and a population whose warmth, humour, and resilience left a lasting impression on me. It’s also where, by complete chance, I met the love of my life at a “beach party” inside the Australian Embassy in Baghdad’s Green Zone. But that’s another story.

In December 2016, I travelled to northern Iraq during the military operation to retake Mosul and surrounding areas from the so-called Islamic State. I arrived in Erbil, the capital of the Kurdistan Region and one of the main gateways to the frontlines. What was meant to be a two-week photojournalism project turned into nearly three years of living and working in northern Iraq, documenting the battle against ISIS and the country’s long road to recovery.

From late 2016 until mid-2019, I lived with five housemates from Europe, the United States, and Indonesia in Ankawa, a predominantly Christian neighbourhood on the outskirts of Erbil. Our shared home, affectionately known as “The Castle,” became a lively gathering place for both locals and expats, with many evenings spent around a rooftop campfire. It was during this time that I came to know the Iraqi and Kurdish people more closely, and to witness the generosity, humour, and determination with which so many people were rebuilding their lives after years of violence and uncertainty.

After ISIS was defeated in Mosul in July 2017, much of the international media attention quickly shifted elsewhere. Many journalists left the country. I chose to stay. The post-conflict chapter, shaped by grief, resilience, rebuilding, and the quiet return of everyday life, felt just as important to document as the war itself.

Beyond the frontlines, I had the privilege of photographing stories that revealed a different side of Iraq, one of culture, community, humour, faith, and ordinary moments often overlooked by international headlines.

Below is a selection of personal anecdotes and stories from my time living in Iraq, snapshots of everyday life, unexpected encounters, and moments of humanity that shaped my understanding of the country far beyond the war itself.

An Iraqi man serves tea inside a traditional tea house inside the main bazaar at the Erbil Citadel.

The Ancient City of Erbil

Travelling to Iraq for the first time in December 2016, I arrived in Erbil carrying many of the same misconceptions shaped by years of headlines and images of conflict. Instead, I found a city where I felt unexpectedly at ease.

With a 30-day visa issued on arrival at Erbil airport, valid only within the semi-autonomous Kurdistan Region of Iraq, the city felt worlds away from the brutal battle unfolding little more than an hour away in eastern Mosul.

A short drive from my new home in the Christian neighbourhood of Ankawa lay the historic heart of Erbil, where bustling bazaars and traditional tea houses sit beneath the walls of the ancient Citadel, believed to be one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in the world. Although many of the tea houses cater primarily to Kurdish men, I always felt welcomed there as both a woman and a foreigner, and was never refused a hot glass of sweet chai.

Inside the bazaar at the Erbil Citadel, or Qelat, the historic city center of Erbil, the capital of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, February 2024.

For nearly three years, I was proud to call Erbil home. Despite its proximity to the front lines of the war with ISIS, the city remained a relatively safe and stable place to live. After the fall of Mosul in July 2017, Erbil—and much of the broader Kurdistan Region—enjoyed an elevated level of security, with low crime rates and a calm, welcoming atmosphere. Visitors could explore the region’s natural beauty and cultural heritage with relative ease.

A Kurdish man sells spices, dates and other food products at a stall inside the Erbil bazaar.
A view from a tea shop in the Erbil Citadel.
A young man works inside a gun repair shop owned by his father at the Erbil bazaar.

Motorbikes and Horses

During my time living in Erbil, I decided to learn how to ride a motorcycle—something I’d wanted to do for years. With the help of my friend and fixer, Makeen Mustafa, I bought my first motorbike from Erbil’s main bazaar in June 2018.

One of my main motivations was practical: I needed a faster and more flexible way to reach the Erbil International Equestrian Club, a luxurious riding facility about 30 minutes from my home in Ankawa. I spent many weekends there, photographing the club’s regular horse races and glamorous showjumping competitions—an unexpected but welcome contrast to the stories of conflict that had originally brought me to Iraq.

Horse racing at the Erbil International Equestrian Club in Erbil, the capital of Iraq's Kurdistan region.

The Erbil International Equestrian Club, established in December 2014 as the first of its kind in Iraqi Kurdistan, began hosting horse races on its international-standard racetrack in March 2017. In the early days, spectators could place bets to win prizes like mobile phones or refrigerators. But on December 1, 2017, the club held its first professional racing event where cash prizes were awarded—marking a significant step toward formalizing the sport in the region.

Spectators enjoy an afternoon of horse racing at the Erbil International Equestrian Club in Erbil, Iraqi Kurdistan.

“This is the first race on a professional track with cash betting,” explained Godar Ibrahim, the Club’s former Finance Manager. “Races have been held in the countryside before, but not officially. It gives us pride for Kurdistan to have such a professional place. The club doesn’t have a lot of income, so we want to make some money—and many people here love horses and want to get some profit from them.”

The single largest bet placed at the December 1st event was $100. “He didn’t win in the betting,” Ibrahim added with a smile, “but he won a heater in the lottery.”

To find out more about this story click here.

A Kurdish woman competes in a showjumping competition at the Erbil International Equestrian Club in Erbil, the capital city of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

Aside from photographing the events, I also seized the unexpected opportunity to compete in showjumping at the club—something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager.

Dukan Lake, the largest lake in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

A Scenic Gem

Less than a three-hour drive from Erbil lies Lake Dukan, a serene reservoir on the Little Zab River, formed by the Dukan Dam built between 1954 and 1959.

Beloved by Kurdish families, the lake is a popular weekend escape—especially for relaxed picnics along its peaceful shores.

Iraq is a country of immense—and often overlooked—natural beauty and ecological diversity. From hiking and horseback riding to river tubing and even snowboarding, it offers a surprising wealth of outdoor adventures for nature lovers and thrill-seekers alike.

A Kurdish man walks along a trail through the Rawanduz Gorge in the Kurdish region of Iraq.
Rawanduz Canyon in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.
A view of Chavi Land amusement park and the surrounding mountains from a cable car in the city of Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.
The mountainous town of Akre in northern Iraqi Kurdistan.
Director of the Horses for Hope program, Daoud, stands with a stallion named Taj at the Horses for Hope stables located near Shariya village in the Duhok Governorate of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

A Horse Named Taj

No matter where I go in the world, I seem to be a magnet for horses, or vice versa…

In June 2023, I came across an initiative called ‘Horses for Hope’ that’s offering equine-assisted learning and psychological therapy to survivors of ISIS captivity and genocide, as well as orphans, less abled people and anyone affected by war and displacement.

Part of the Springs of Hope Foundation, the equine project is run by two young Yazidi men who were themselves captured by ISIS and forced to join the terror group’s ranks as child soldiers.

When I first visited the stables, located in the picturesque countryside near the Yazidi village of Shariya in the Duhok Governorate of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, I was immediately mesmerized by the unexpected sight of a beautiful grey stallion named Taj.

Twenty-four-year-old Daoud rides a horse named Taj near the village of Shariya in the Duhok Governorate of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. A member of Iraq's Yazidi ethno-religious community and originally from Sinjar in north-western Iraq, Daoud was captured by ISIS militants when they invaded Sinjar in August 2014 and was subsequently forced to join the terror group's ranks as a child soldier. After escaping, he fled to a Yazidi displacement camp in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. In 2022, Daoud began working as the Director of the Horses for Hope part, part of the Springs of Hope Foundation, providing equine therapy to survivors of ISIS captivity and genocide, and vulnerable people affected by conflict.

To find out more about this extraordinary initiative and how it’s helping Yazidi survivors, click here.

Senior Trainer at Horses for Hope, Barzan, holds foal Sapphire while Yazidi survivor Hadia gently pets him.

Baghdad: A Historic City with a Bustling Book Street 

With brightly painted mosque domes, bustling streets and bazaars, and an iconic historic center, Baghdad is a fascinating and engaging city. Attracting visitors both Iraq and international, one of its highlights is the intellectual and literary hub of Al-Mutanabbi street. Named after the 10th century classical poet Al-Muntanabbi, the famous street is lined with book shops and outdoor book stalls, interspersed with cozy cafes where some of the great thinkers of the past would gather to share and develop ideas.

Inside a cafe on Al-Mutanabbi Street in the old quarter of Baghdad.
Two men chat on Al-Mutanabbi Street in the old quarter of Baghdad. The street, named after the 10th century classical Iraqi poet Al-Mutanabbi, is famous for its bookselling and is lined with bookshops and outdoor bookstalls.
People walk along Mutanabbi Street in the old quarter of Baghdad, Iraq.
A brightly painted mosque on Al-Rasheed street in downtown Baghdad, Iraq.

Underground Night Life

In February 2019, I was assigned to photograph a party at a nightclub in Baghdad on behalf of the Sunday Times. For the culturally conservative society, night life – particularly where alcohol is served – has been largely absent or hidden until recent years, and remains part of the underground rather than mainstream society. It was great to see young Iraqis enjoying a night of dancing at a packed club along the Tigris River.

Young Iraqis enjoy a party in a nightclub on the Tigris River in Baghdad.
Young people enjoy a party in a nightclub on the Tigris River in Baghdad.

Glitz and Glamour: Kurdistan Fashion Week and a Booming Beauty Industry

Fashion and beauty are big business in Iraq. In September 2018, the city of Erbil hosted the first international standard fashion week to take place in the country.

Kurdistan Fashion Week 2018 kicked off with musical performances by well-known local artists while models glided along the catwalk displaying a range of clothes designed by local talent, from traditional to casual wear. Seventy models took part in the well-attended event – fifty women and twenty men, including Iraqis and internationals who travelled to the Kurdish city from Ukraine, Turkey and Iran.

Click here to see more photos from Kurdistan Fashion Week 2018.

Women prepare for the catwalk at the 2018 Kurdistan Fashion Week in the city of Erbil, the capital of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

Beauty treatment is a fast-growing industry in Iraq, with cosmetic centers across the country opening their doors to men and women exercising a renewed sense of freedom and empowerment post-conflict. From lip fillers and Botox to breast implants and liposuction, cosmetic treatment is becoming increasingly popular and accessible, attracting many young Iraqis to go under the knife to alter or enhance their appearance.

Amid the devastation of the city of Mosul, where wearing make up was once a punishable offense, several beauty centers have appeared in the aftermath of the bloody battle against the Islamic State, which controlled the city from June 2014 until their defeat in July 2017. Home to a culturally and religiously conservative society, such centers are a relatively recent feature of the city’s war-torn streets. “Now it’s become a trend for young women,” says Bashar Alani, Manager of the Shahrazad Beauty Center in East Mosul, which opened in June 2018. “Having beauty treatment is not just acceptable in society now, it’s becoming a trend.”

Thirty-one-year-old Saja receives Plasma Skin Tightening treatment at the Shahrazad Beauty Center in East Mosul, which opened in June 2018.

Click here to read more about Iraq’s burgeoning beauty industry.

Spectators enjoy a fireworks display in Erbil ahead of the Kurdish independence referendum in September 2017.
A Kurdish man sells carpets from a stall at the Erbil Citadel in the capital of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

The Referendum for Kurdish Independence

On 25 September 2017, Kurds across northern Iraq cast their votes in a historic and highly contested referendum on independence for the Kurdistan Region.

In the weeks leading up to the vote, cities and mountain towns across Kurdistan were alive with rallies, as hundreds of thousands gathered beneath Kurdish flags, expressing hopes for a sovereign state after decades of struggle.

For many Kurds, the referendum represented a long-held aspiration for self-determination. But the move was fiercely opposed by Baghdad, which declared the vote unconstitutional. In response, the Iraqi central government imposed punitive measures against the Kurdistan Regional Government, including economic sanctions and the suspension of international flights to Erbil and Sulaymaniyah.

On September 22, 2017, an estimated 100,000 people gathered in Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, for a massive pro-independence rally just days before the historic referendum on Kurdish independence.
A Kurdish woman in Peshmerga uniform joins a pro-independence rally in Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, in the days leading up to the September 25, 2017 referendum on independence.
Masoud Barzani, then President of the Kurdistan Regional Government, casts his vote at the Presidential Palace near Erbil, the capital of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, during the historic and controversial independence referendum on September 25, 2017. The vote sparked a brief but decisive military confrontation with Baghdad, in which Kurdish forces lost roughly 40 percent of their territory, including the oil-rich province of Kirkuk — the region’s main source of revenue. In the aftermath, Barzani stepped down from the presidency, and the referendum was effectively abandoned.
Traditional Kurdish scarves on sale at the main bazaar at the Erbil Citadel.
Children are delighted by the arrival of a group of clowns visiting a camp for internally displaced people in northern Iraq.

Clowning Around: Bringing Joy to Displaced Children

In the tense months surrounding the Kurdish independence referendum, political uncertainty weighed heavily across northern Iraq. For the thousands of families still living in displacement camps after years of conflict with ISIS, daily life was marked by hardship and instability. Yet even in such difficult circumstances, small moments of laughter and joy broke through.

When a group of brightly dressed clowns appeared at one such camp between Erbil and Mosul in September 2017, children rushed forward in delight. Some squealed with excitement, others hung back with cautious curiosity, but soon the air was filled with laughter as the visitors performed.

The entertainers — volunteers from Denmark and Sweden who make up the humanitarian collective Clowns 4 Care — travel to crisis zones around the world with a simple mission: to create moments of happiness for children living through war and displacement. For the young residents of the camp, their visit offered not just entertainment, but a brief and precious escape from the difficult reality of exile.

A member of Clowns 4 Care draws face paints onto children inside a displacement camp near the city of Erbil.

Mosul: A Troubled but Resilient City

Rewinding to the summer of 2017, as the battle for Mosul raged and Iraqi forces closed in on the last ISIS strongholds in the city’s west, a very different scene was unfolding just a few streets away. In June, during the Eid al-Fitr holiday, children in brightly coloured dresses and ribbons poured into the streets, celebrating amid the lingering sounds of airstrikes and gunfire.

Though still on the edge of danger, these districts had already been retaken by the Iraqi Army. What struck me most was how quickly daily life began to return — shopkeepers reopening their stalls, families gathering, children laughing in the streets. Even in the shadow of devastation, Mosul’s residents showed a fierce determination to reclaim a sense of normality after years of ISIS occupation.

Children visit a makeshift playground to celebrate Eid al-Fitr in West Mosul as the battle to oust the Islamic State group rages just a few streets away.
A little girl eats an ice cream in a recently liberated neighborhood of West Mosul during Eid al-Fitr as the intense battle against ISIS rages a few blocks away.
Children play on a trampoline set up outside abandoned stores amongst the ruins of Mosul's historic centre, which was devastated during the war against the so-called Islamic State, June 2018.

One year after ISIS was defeated in northern Iraq, I returned to Mosul during Eid al-Fitr. With much of the city still in ruins, children played in makeshift playgrounds and rode horses into the Tigris River as part of the holiday celebrations.

Young Iraqis ride horses and swim in the Tigris river in Mosul on the first day of Eid al-Fitr in June 2018 almost a year since the city was liberated from ISIS control.
Mosul resident Mohammed, 18, keeps pigeons on the roof of his mother's house in West Mosul. "He works sometimes but he spends half of the money on pigeons," explains his mother Mariam. "Even though he doesn’t have nice clothes to wear, he prefers to look after the pigeons more than himself."
Inside a new cafe in the Hammam Al Mangusha Quarter of West Mosul.

On my recent visit to Iraq in February 2024, I returned to Mosul to see how things have changed. Where gun fights and explosions were once commonplace, there are now museums, visitor centers, markets and cafes.

A lively fish bazaar in the Old City of Mosul, February 2024.

Yazidi Culture and People

With cone-shaped roofs and bright-colored pieces of silk tied around pillars, no trip to northern Iraq would be complete without a visit to Lalish, the holiest temple of the Yazidi faith and the location of the tomb of Sheikh Adi ibn Musafir, a central figure in Yazidism.

An ethnoreligious group indigenous to the historical region of Upper Mesopotamia, the majority of Yazidis now reside in northern Iraq. Throughout their history, the Yazidi people have been the victims of multiple genocides, surviving several attempts of cultural and religious eradication. When ISIS militants seized control of most of northern Iraq in 2014, Iraq’s Yazidi population once again became the target of persecution, genocide, and the enslavement of their women and girls.

A Yazidi man visits the Holy Temple in Lalish in the Duhok Governorate of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.
A cone-shaped roof in Lalish, the holiest temple of the Yazidi faith, located near the city of Duhok in Iraqi Kurdistan.
Inside the Holy Temple in Lalish, the holiest temple in the Yazidi faith.
Yazidis visit the Holy Temple of Lalish, the holiest temple of the Yazidi faith, located approximately sixty kilometers north of the city of Mosul in northern Iraq.
Young Yazidi women take part in a boxing session at Rwanga camp for internally displaced people near the town of Duhok in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. The sessions are carried out by boxing coaches Cathy Brown and Greg Williams, who are training three of the women to become boxing coaches themselves so the sessions can continue.
Yazidis gather outside the Holy Temple in Lalish in northern Iraq to celebrate the first Yazidi New Year since victory was declared over ISIS in Iraq.

For centuries, Yazidis have gathered each April to celebrate the Yazidi New Year, or Sere Sal as it’s called in the Kurmanji language, at the Holy Temple of Lalish. Those celebrations came to an abrupt and brutal halt when Islamic State militants captured the Yazidi heartland of Sinjar in August 2014.

In April 2018, a few months after Iraq’s Prime Minister declared victory over ISIS following the recapture of areas that remained under the militant group’s control, Iraq’s Yazidis returned to Lalish to celebrate their new year together.

Women and children get ready inside a cave to celebrate the Yazidi New Year in Lalish in April 2018.
Yazidis gather outside the Holy Temple in Lalish to celebrate the first Yazidi New Year since victory over ISIS was declared in Iraq, April 2018.

Click here to see more photos of the Yazidi New Year celebrations in Lalish.

The green terraces of Sinjar Mountain in the Nineveh Governorate of north-western Iraq. Sinjar is the traditional homeland of the Yazidi people who suffered a genocide at the hands of ISIS militants when the terror group seized control of Sinjar in August 2014.
Yazidi women hold hands while performing a traditional dance outside the Holy Temple of Lalish.
A Yazidi man known as a "servant of the house" burns white string inside the Holy Temple of Lalish in exchange for donations. It is believed that burning the string helps cure the sick, bless the dead and bring good luck to the living.

Saving Panda: From the Streets of Iraq to the USA

One of my fondest memories from Iraq is of a scruffy little pup with striking black-ringed eyes, whom I named Panda.

I first met her in May 2019 while walking home from the supermarket in Ankawa, the neighborhood where I lived. She was just a few months old, thin and limping from what seemed to be a car accident, scavenging through rubbish bins for scraps. The moment she spotted me, she bounded over, rolled onto her back, and begged for a belly rub. From the start, Panda was impossibly affectionate — too gentle, I thought, for the unforgiving life of a street dog in Iraq.

She followed me home that day, and it quickly became clear she was staying. Panda captured my heart, and I knew I had to find her a safe, permanent home. With my own departure from Iraq only months away, the search for someone to take her in felt urgent. Despite vet visits, vaccinations, and endless asking around, no local solution could be found.

That’s when a small miracle happened. Thanks to War Paws , a charity dedicated to rescuing animals from conflict zones, and the incredible generosity of my friend Lyndsey, Panda’s story took a turn I hadn’t dared hope for. Not long after, she boarded a plane bound for the United States — where she was welcomed into Lyndsey’s home and into a new life filled with safety, comfort, and love.

Tea is served on the roadside in the Kurdish countryside in the Erbil Governorate.
Me riding my Honda CB400 in Erbil.