Huffington Post, December 22, 2016: About 30km east of Mosul, the car I’m travelling in pulls up to a stop. “Get down,” my friend and fixer Kosar says to me. “Come, come.” He opens the car door and I hesitantly jump out.
Three Kurdish Peshmerga are standing in front of us, seemingly awaiting our arrival. I’m in the village of Shaquli. Iraq. Although I wouldn’t call it a village. It looks like what used to be one family’s home and piles of rubble. The evidence of coalition airstrikes is immediately apparent. The caved-in structures and a large crater in the ground are a dead giveaway.