Returning home from work after eight hours of news coverage, I was disheartened to see dark clouds gathering in the sky, looming threats of rain. I had been hoping for a drizzle – something I love, as it refreshes me after a tiring day at work.
As I watched the rainwater seep through the streets of my neighborhood, I hoped that my fellow citizens living in less developed parts of the city would remain safe.
Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my wife, who had gone out earlier in the day when the skies were clearer, to attend to something important. Her voice trembled with fear as she called for help.
She was trapped in a dangerous flash flood near the city center.
“Please help me. I am in the middle of a street filled with fast-flowing water. Meters ahead of me is a submerged underpass. What should I do?” she pleaded in a trembling voice.
When she sent me footage of the scene, my heart sank. Not wanting her to panic, I reassured her that everything would be fine and guided her toward a nearby alley where the water was shallower.
Footage filmed by the author's wife shows the flood from her car near the submerged underpass on November 7, 2026.
Following my instructions, she cautiously drove away from the dangerously fast-flowing water and eventually found refuge in spot untouched by the floods.
But she could not have made it without the help of other families who were also struggling to save themselves. They warned her to leave her position in the middle of the flooded street as quickly as possible.
She had no idea how to navigate the narrow alleys, many of which were also submerged, to make her way back home.
The flooding had already claimed at least two lives – a young child and a man who had been trying to rescue others. Hearing about their deaths made me even more anxious. I had already watched enough terrifying footage of the flooding on social media that night to know how dangerous the situation was.
The race against time
After helping my wife reach an area beyond the flood line, my second mission began – reaching her as quickly as possible to bring her safely home.
After driving for about 10 minutes, I found myself stuck in traffic as the flooding had caused severe congestion across the city. It became clear that reaching my wife by car would be impossible that night.
I parked near a shopping outlet on the Erbil-Koya Road and decided to cover the remaining five kilometers on foot. Thankfully, the rain had stopped.
As I alternated between running and walking, exhaustion began to overwhelm me. I tried to hire a motorbike, hoping it would help me bypass the traffic congestion, but the riders did not dare approach the underpass due to the severity of the flooding. I had no choice but to continue on foot.
While I am reasonably fit and walk on a treadmill for at least 25 minutes three or four days a week, the fear that something might happen to my wife, combined with the tragic scenes I witnessed along the way, drained my energy.
I saw cars broken down in flooded streets, families seeking shelter by the roadside after their vehicles became stranded, and drivers damaging their cars as they desperately tried to escape the rising waters by driving over uneven ground.
I also saw dozens of families gathered outside their homes, anxiously monitoring the situation in fear, whose their neighborhoods had previously been overtaken by floodwaters.
I finally arrived near the spot from which my wife had called me for help. Several cars were fully submerged in the underpass, while many others remained stranded or had broken down.
My wife's car could easily have been among them. Thankfully, no deaths were reported in that area.
Footage filmed by the author near the submerged underpass on Erbil-Koya Road while trying to reach his wife on November 7, 2026.
I tried to enter the alley where my wife was waiting, but the entrance was completely blocked by the flooding. Most of the entrances to the Khabat neighborhood from the Erbil-Koya Road were swamped.
After searching for another route, I finally managed to reach her.
Words are inadequate to convey the joy and relief I felt when I saw her safe. But even in that moment of happiness, I could not stop thinking about the families who had lost loved ones that night. I wished they could have experienced the same relief.
During my five-kilometer journey on foot, I had mentally mapped out a route that would allow us to drive my wife's car home without passing through the flooded streets.
We eventually made it home safely. But many other families were not as fortunate and are still reeling from the unimaginable grief and material losses they suffered that night.
A tragedy that must not be repeated
I experienced the fear and helplessness that many families across Erbil faced that night. My wife and I were fortunate enough to be reunited. Others, who lost loved ones, homes or possessions, were not.
Despite various measures taken by the Kurdistan Regional Government to reduce flooding, including the construction of retention ponds and the expansion of drainage systems, the latest tragedy shows that more needs to be done.
Authorities must learn from what happened, identify the areas most vulnerable to flooding and take stronger measures to protect residents before the next heavy rainfall. Flood prevention should not become a priority only after lives have been lost.
While we cannot undo the losses that transpired, we can honor those who suffered by doing everything possible to ensure that the next heavy rainfall does not turn into another deadly tragedy.
Karwan Faidhi Dri is a Senior Editor at Rudaw English.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rudaw.
