Things came to a head in 625 when the Meccans, who were increasingly losing prestige and support as Muhammad’s following continued to grow, launched an attack on Medina and defeated the Muslims.
I didn’t have a plan, exactly, so I started walking through the long lines of tents, noting that the 118°F (48°C) temperature I had been suffering through all week must be almost lethal here, where the only escape was in a tent.
Iraq has been a scary place for a while now, for a number of reasons, but it’s currently in italics because of the terrorist group we’ve all gotten to know about in the past three months—ISIS.
So, the cab driver, myself, and our two constricted assholes headed west towards Khazir.
There was electricity enough for a TV and a fan, and most of the mattresses were stacked on the side.
He told me that 12 people to a tent was common at the camp, and mentioned that his tent was actually about to move to 13, gesturing toward one of the women living there who was thoroughly pregnant. Mosul is Iraq’s second largest city, only 30 miles west of the camp—and as of June 9th, an ISIS stronghold.