“I must live this moment and record it,” reads one entry, from August 2014, two months after the fall of the city. “We live like prisoners serving long jail sentences. Some of us will come out having finished reading dozens of books. Others will be devastated and destroyed.”

By the time he stopped writing, he’d filled five volumes. They are the handwritten diaries of a city under occupation, and a chart of how the Islamic State tried to live up to its name – by running a city.

The rise

In the early days of June 2014, the new gunmen were broadly welcomed in Mosul. Unlike the brutal and corrupt Iraqi army, they were polite. They guarded public buildings, prevented looting and dismantled the concrete barricades that choked the city.

A former Iraqi Army member holds the ‘repentance card’ he received from Islamic State after militants took over his home in Eski Mosul, northern Iraq.
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 A former Iraqi Army member holds the ‘repentance card’ he received from Islamic State after militants took over his home in Eski Mosul, northern Iraq. Photograph: Bram Janssen/AP

“There were no more car bombs, no clashes and no IEDs,” the scientist wrote. “Mosul is at peace finally. They control the streets and people are awestruck. They allow people to leave Mosul, and schools are teaching government curriculums.”

There was some confusion regarding their identity. Were they Sunni tribal revolutionaries? Ba’athist officers from Saddam’s old army? Jihadi militants like al-Qaeda? These different groups had been a fact of life ever since the US-led invasion in 2003. For years, the factions had vied for power in Mosul, seeking legitimacy by waging a ruthless urban guerrilla war – first against the American occupiers, then subsequent Iraqi goverments.

 

 

For more read the full of article at The Guardian