Iraqi refugee hid in cartel boats, hiked through Amazon to reach safety in SLO County
Ali Al-Shammari was terrified, afraid he would die at any moment.
A fellow refugee was on the ground nearby in the dangerous Darien Gap jungle, dead from two gunshots because he wouldn’t give his phone, money and clothes to a robber.
Al-Shammari fell to his knees in front of the man with the gun.
“I see this (man) die, really, I’m very stressed, I’m very scared,” he said of the moment.
That rugged trail between Colombia and Panama would not be the last time a gun was pulled on him during his long journey to safety and freedom — a 20,000-mile trip that ultimately culminated in the Iraqi barber arriving in San Luis Obispo County.
Despite the obstacles he faced, the 30-year-old refugee would finally reach safety in October thanks to a combination of true grit, determination and the unshakable backing of his friend in Cambria.
What was he fleeing?
Al-Shammari was a licensed barber and esthetician who owned a six-seat barbershop and a salon in Erbil.
Erbil, also spelled Arbil, is the capital and most populated city in the Kurdistan region of Iraq.
Al-Shammari said he had to leave his businesses and future there in order to survive.
He was being hunted and run out of town, he said, because his profession required him to cut women’s hair and worked on women’s faces. Al-Shammari said this was thought of as taboo, and he was called “gay boy” and persecuted for years because of it.
Even male members of his own family were after Al-Shammari, and as the attacks got worse, he feared for his own life, as he had for the safety of his mother and two sisters six years ago.
Then, he’d gotten the women to safety in Kastamonu, Turkey, but stuck it out himself in Erbil so he’d have funds to send to them.
“The treatment by the family was not good,” Cambria engineer Michael Reeves told The Tribune. Reeves was a former customer of Al-Shammari’s and longtime friend and mentor.
“His sisters and mothers protected Ali,” Reeves said.
By this April, as the attacks worsened, Al-Shammari felt he had no choice. He had to leave — and soon.
Refugee’s perilous journey took him from Turkey to the Amazon
That month, Al-Shammari left his shop in Erbil and his family home in Baghdad for the last time, without even telling his employees or other family members that he was going and wouldn’t be back.
He flew to neighboring Turkey, staying briefly with his sisters, Remis and Ahin, and their mom, Satin.
Then, when he was finally able to get a visa to go to Brazil, he flew 11,577 miles to get to Sao Paulo.
Thus began Al-Shammari’s long process of seeking amnesty admission to the United States on the basis of persecution and fear for his life.
He spent the next 90 days or so hiking quickly and occasionally hiding among the contraband cocaine on small airboats as he made his way closer to the United States, he said.
Al-Shammari spent most of that painful three months and nearly 8,000 miles dashing through the often-hostile terrain of the jungles and deserts, he said, dodging cartels and worse.
He made most of the trek rapidly on foot, evading dangers and battling the region’s array of venomous snakes, spiders and worse, he said.
“I was on the jet boat for a little part, but was too much walking through the Amazon,” Al-Shammari said.
He said throughout it, he didn’t know if he’d be killed by the drug smugglers or left to die alone in the Amazon.
Then there was the dreaded Darien Gap.
He’d researched the risks online through Google and YouTube, coming up against the stark reality of the dangers there in the remote jungle. He’d be facing dangerous jaguars, snakes, bandits and a lack of food and water.
“One day I cry,” he said. But a little later he told himself, “I need to do this. I need freedom. I need life.”
Success and even survival were far from guaranteed.
For a time, he linked up with six other refugees. Two of them died before ever reaching their destination.
One was bitten by something in the jungle and didn’t survive, he said. The other was the man Al-Shammari saw shot and killed by pirates after he had refused to relinquish his clothes, phone and cash.
The killing was brutal and quick. Afterward, Al-Shammari knelt on the ground in front of the robber with the gun.
When recounting his tale to The Tribune, he knelt to demonstrate what he did next.
“I stay down, (telling them) ‘I give you this my phone, my money, my ID Iraqi and all my — all — money.’”
“’Shoot me here,’” he told the robber, pointing to the back of his own head.
Instead, the robber slapped Al-Shammari’s head twice and pointed, telling him to not speak, but to run and not look back. The man then shot into the sky four times.
Al-Shammari did as he was told.
“I go far!” he said.
In another confrontation, this one in Tijuana, robbers slapped around the exhausted Al-Shammari before taking nearly everything he owned, including his shoes, clothes, phone and money.
But after seeing what had happened to his friend, he willingly gave the group his immediate possessions, knowing he had more money secreted in two other phones he’d hidden elsewhere, he said.
Man had Cambria couple to help secure safety in United States
Al-Shammari arrived as a refugee at Otay Mesa Detention Center near San Diego on July 10, about 90 days after the start of his long dash to freedom.
He’d been hiding and waiting for a week for the gate to open, so he could get across, he said.
He told border officials in English that he’d already applied for amnesty in the United States and handed them the paperwork he’d secretly completed before leaving Kurdistan.
After about 50 days in San Diego, Al-Shammari and his case were transferred to Mississippi for 20 days, then to Denver, Colorado, where he stayed until his hearing Oct. 8.
That’s when officials and a judge considered his case and his bond, which was $10,000.
It was more far money than he had, but Al-Shammari had a secret weapon in his corner: Reeves and his wife Linda Giordano, his mentors from Cambria, were well versed in helping rescue U.S. collaborators and others, and they were doggedly determined to help get their friend to safety.
They knew how, too. They’ve brought other amnesty seekers to the small coastal town in Central California.
Reeves and Giordano had worked tirelessly for more than two years to help get a U.S. collaborator engineer, his wife and two children out of Afghanistan, then finally out of Pakistan to Cambria about a year ago.
The Barakazi family had been hiding out, literally running for their lives, for two years.
They now live near Sacramento, with a new family member, young Eusaf, who was born in San Luis Obispo last October. The family moved to the Sacramento area in February for job opportunities and to be closer to family members there.
Meanwhile, back in Colorado on Oct. 8, Reeves and Giordano posted the funds to secure Al-Shammari’s bond, which was substantially lower than some.
Those can range up to $100,000, Giordano said.
Fortunately, Reeves and Giordano already had signed on as eager sponsors and mentors, as they had for Kawa Barakazi and his family.
The judge quizzed Al-Shammari briefly, also asking who Reeves and Giordano were, what their ties to the young man were and why these U.S. citizens were willing to share their home and lives with him and help secure his future and freedom.
The couple promised the judge that Al-Shammari could live with them in Cambria, and they’d help him work through the rest of the amnesty hearing process.
They and their friend were terrified that he was going to be transferred again or sent back to Brazil or Iraq because he could only be held for 60 days.
The couple’s answers must have been sufficient and acceptable, however.
With the help of Reeves and a pro-bono attorney, the judge quickly approved transferring Al-Shammari’s case to California, allowing the young man to go to Cambria and continue his six-month legal journey there.
“It never happens that fast,” an amazed Giordano told The Tribune.
‘I’m home.’ Man who fled Iraq finds friends, hope in SLO County
After Al-Shammari’s torturous journey, and a cliffhanger over getting the tickets and his new clothes in time for the direct flight to San Luis Obispo County Regional Airport, the young barber arrived on the Central Coast late on Oct. 8, the same day as his hearing.
Al-Shammari described it as “flying on wings of angels.”
And according to Giordano, “He hasn’t stopped smiling since.”
That was especially true earlier this month, when Reeves took the young man to a special section of Moonstone Beach.
“When we turned the corner onto Moonstone Beach Drive, Ali’s smile was incredible,” Reeves said. The still astonished young man shouted, “This is the beach! I’m here. I can’t believe it!”
It was like a homecoming for Al-Shammari, who had said he had almost given up numerous times during his long ordeal, but one thing in particular had helped him through.
Knowing that his friend’s determination was flagging, every morning, his cheerleader and coach Reeves would reach him via Facetime from the Moonstone Beach shoreline, urging him on, telling him to keep going.
“You will walk on this beach, bro,” the Cambria man would say. “I promise.”
The current plan is for Al-Shammari to give his shop in Iraq to his employees, send whatever funds he can muster to support his mother and sisters in Turkey and rebuild his own life in his new home.
“We’re still getting clothes and things for him,” Reeves said. “Ali arrived here with only his two remaining phones and the one set of clothes and shoes they gave him in Colorado when he was released from the detention center.”
Al-Shammari speaks English fairly well but is studying to be able to use and comprehend the language more fully, he said.
He plans to attend barber school for six months while he completes his amnesty process and get his visa, all while living with Reeves and Giordano.
“Then he’ll be able to get his license and do what he loves to do, working on hair and faces,” Giordano said as Al-Shammari showed off dozens of cell phone photos of his work and the shop he’d abandoned. “He’s a remarkable young man. No wonder Mike wanted to help him and keep him safe.”
Eventually, Al-Shammari hopes to bring his mother and sisters to Cambria, where they can join him in his new life, he said.
At his first big family dinner in his new home, with a big smile on his face and tears in his eyes, Al-Shammari just kept repeating one thing: “I can’t believe I’m here. I’m home.”
