EMILY WHANG / NEXTGENRADIO
What is the meaning of
home?
Natalie Dunlap speaks with Hazim Mohamed about the fear he felt as a civil war broke out in Sudan while his children were visiting family. A self-described “family man,” Mohamed describes his children’s escape and the moment they reunited with him.
Father strives to build a home for kids fleeing the Sudanese civil war
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My name is Hazim Mohamed. I work as a medical lab technician at University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics.
It feels like I have three different nationalities or three different places that I was, actually it meant a lot to me. So my parents originally from Sudan. And all my life almost in Saudi Arabia. Then I moved here, and I got very good life here. I couldn’t ask for a better life. My first impression was awesome. Like, when I walk in the street people like smiling. I said, Well, do they smile for everyone? Or do they know me? Am I famous?
My kids, they’re all US citizens. What happened is, during the pandemic, they decided to have school online. We thought, how about take it online, but in Sudan with the family? I cannot go because I have worked here. I have my kids taking classes online with their families. So when this war started, we thought it’s gonna be a lot, you know, two, three days, and everything will be back. The army will take over, you know, and it’s done. But what we were seeing that there actually is growing worse and worse. Here we start getting worried. I said, ‘Okay, I talked to their grandpa. And I said, What do you think he said, ‘You know what? We need to get out of the capital city of Sudan,’ which is Khartoum. ‘Probably we need to evacuate.’
I met them in Chicago. They were like, exhausted. Tired. Oh, my God, I never forget that day. To be honest with you. I was worried about my six years old. He told me, ‘There’s boom, boom, over there? Is there going to be any bomb bomb here?’ I said, ‘No, no, it’s not. You will be okay. You will be safe.’ For really, for some time, I thought, I’m never gonna see my kids again, because it’s been lots of killing there. And they don’t differentiate between kids or women. They’re just bombs and shooting everywhere. So I hugged my son and I was just sitting down on the floor. And then I hugged my other two daughters for probably five minutes, and I just was in tears. Everyone was in tears. I said, You know what, first thing, let’s get you McDonald. Because they love the Happy Meal. We ate. They love the french fries and chicken nuggets, of course. And he just was asking for the toy that comes with the Happy Meals and I was like ‘We’re going to get you two of them.
Absolutely, they feel this is their home. This is where they belong to. Now I say, ‘If you want to live here all your life, that’s fine. But remember that you have extended family, they like to know you and meet you and family ties for us, it’s very, very important. Yes, you belong to here, you’re Iowans and everything, but you have a big family. They are there. Not all of them can move over here.So it’s very sad. It’s very unfortunate, but we just pray to God. We are hoping this thing ends soon. And you know, get peace back to Sudan. I feel like I’m losing one of my homes, actually.
My son still gets some nightmares. So when he feels like you know, fireworks, the Fourth of July, he will say okay, ‘Dad what is that?’ ‘Well, you know, just for fun, we’re celebrating Independence Day. It’s fine. Don’t worry, we’ll be okay.’ So I was hugging him all the time watching the fireworks, but it the actual end up he liked it.
So my 6-year-old still, you know, I feel sometimes it’s like, wake up at night, you know, he’s like crying and say, ‘Are we gonna go back again?’ And I say, ‘No, no, no, we here, safe.’ He said, ‘Okay, Dad, where are we now?’ I said, ‘We’re in Iowa.’
As colorful fireworks burst overhead on Independence Day, Hazim Mohamed’s 6-year-old son was reminded of the frightening explosions and violence he escaped just a few weeks earlier. He looked to his father with concern to ask what was going on.
“I was hugging him all the time, watching the fireworks, but it actually ended up, he liked it,” Mohamed said. “And I say, ‘See. Everything is safe here and all of us are around you, so don’t worry, you will be okay.’”
Since violence erupted in Sudan in April, 2.2 million people have been displaced from their homes, according to the United Nations. Among them were Mohamed’s three children. Back in Iowa — 7,115 miles away — Mohamed worked relentlessly, communicating with the United States embassy in Sudan to ensure they returned to Iowa safely.
Hazim Mohamed poses in Penn Meadows Park, near his North Liberty home. His daughter once had a birthday party in the park. All his children were born in the United States. He says they feel at home here, but he also wants them to feel connected to their family in Sudan. July 9, 2023.
NATALIE DUNLAP / NEXTGENRADIO
His son, 15-year-old daughter and 12-year-old daughter were born in the U.S., but moved to live with family in Sudan when the pandemic moved schools online. Eventually they enrolled in an English-speaking school in Sudan and spent the summers with their father in Iowa. Mohamed would visit his kids in Sudan twice a year.
Hazim said he was happy his kids were socializing with other students from around the world and that the kids felt safe and secure. However, when the war started, Hazim became concerned for his children’s safety.
“We thought, it’s gonna be like, two or three days and everything will be back, the army will take over, you know, and it’s done,” Mohamed said. “But what we were seeing is that it’s actually getting worse and worse, and here we start getting worried.”
The kids went on a harrowing journey through the region to finally be reunited with their dad.
The children traveled from Sudan’s capital, Khartoum, to Rufaa. From the U.S., Mohamed watched as more cities fell to the rebel army. The U.S. embassy alerted him about plans to evacuate U.S. citizens, like his children. A convoy would meet them just outside the war zone in Khartoum. It took 18 hours and several rebel-controlled checkpoints: a bus to Port Sudan, a boat to Saudi Arabia, and at last, a plane ticket to the Chicago O’Hare Airport. Mohamed said he’ll never forget the day he was reunited with his children.
“Really, for some time, I thought I was never gonna see my kids again,” Mohamed said.
Mohamed has already lost loved ones in Sudan. One of his cousins, Bushra Sulieman, was killed in Sudan in April. Sulieman was a doctor who came to Iowa every year for three months to work as a gastroenterologist at Mercy Hospital. He also had two uncles with diabetes die due to issues finding insulin in Sudan. While safe in Iowa, he is keeping his Sudanese family in mind.
“It’s very unfortunate, as I said, but we just pray to God. And we are hoping this thing ends soon and you know, get peace back to Sudan.”
Hazim Mohamed voted in his first U.S. election in 2010. Mohamed became a U.S. citizen in 2006. He’s lived in Iowa since 2000, except for three months in New York. “I came first to Iowa, people smiling. People open the door for you. People welcoming you,” Mohamed said. “I said, ‘Wow, that’s what I need, actually.’ So I just said New York, not for me, and I am back to Iowa.”
COURTESY/HAZIM MOHAMED
There is a large Sudanese community in Johnson County that Mohamed’s family is involved in. They observe Ramadan with Eid celebrations among other members of the Muslim community. Though his family is from Sudan, he was born and raised in Saudi Arabia. Mohamed came to the U.S. in 2000. He said he feels connected to all three countries.
“Now I feel like I’m losing one of my homes, actually. I don’t know how long this war is gonna go on.”
Mohamed says his kids absolutely feel they are at home here, but at the same time, they are thinking of their family across the ocean.
“So we try to have them have this in their mind, that yes, you belong to here, you are Iowans and everything, but you have a big family, they are there,” Mohamed said. “Not all of them can make it over here.”
“So we try to have them have this in their mind, that yes, you belong to here, you are Iowans and everything, but you have a big family, they are there. Not all of them can make it over here.”
Hazim Mohamed currently works as a medical laboratory technologist for University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics. When he worked at Mercy Hospital in Cedar Rapids his colleagues knick-named him “sharp shooter” because of his expert phlebotomy skills. July 9, 2023.
NATALIE DUNLAP / NEXTGENRADIO
Mohamed has enrolled his kids back in Iowa City schools. The children now have the security to enjoy typical childhood activities. His oldest daughter is preparing for driving lessons to earn her license. He bought his younger daughter a sewing machine, which she uses when she’s not practicing her trumpet. His son just started Taekwondo lessons.
“We are planning to go to Adventureland actually, which is not my favorite place, because I get dizzy in these places,” Mohamed said. “But for my kids, I’ll do everything and anything for them.”