Days in these mine-infested fields begin like any other, whether they will irreversibly alter someone’s life or not.
The pain of war is difficult to heal and the wounds it leaves are almost impossible to fully mend. But providing dignity in the face of injury is so important. Because then, one can begin to hope again, in spite of everything.
‘It was a working day like any other. I was serving chai at my café when a car bomb went off nearby. All my customers were killed and a few passers-by were wounded. I lost my left arm in the explosion.
‘My life was a disaster from that moment on. I couldn’t work. No one wanted me. How can you be a waiter with a hand missing? I could never have done it without my children. I might not even be here now if it wasn’t for them. My oldest was living in Berlin at the time. He came back after the accident to be with me. He gave up studying for me and now he works here as a gardener.
‘It’s my first time in Sulaymaniyah,’ continues Emad, who is from Mosul. ‘I had another prosthesis before, but it didn’t fit very well. This one I can really move. It feels like part of my body. This is really a hand worthy of the name. A hand that fits my body.’
At our Centre, no two prostheses are the same. Every part is reconstructed and adapted to every single patient’s body, taking into account everything from their skin colour to the shape of their fingers, and designed to be comfortable and painless.
Leaving for Mosul, Emad waves us goodbye with his new hand. That simple gesture fills us with pride.