Iraqi refugees cope with horrors of war in Minn. filmmaker's new project

Zaid Alshammaa still shudders when he thinks of the day seven years ago when, half a world away, the horrors of war forever changed his world.

On what began as a typical day, he went for a haircut at his local barbershop in Baghdad. The place was a blur of scissors and shaving cream, with the constant murmur of Al Jazeera coming from the television.

Given the long line of customers, the manager suggested Alshammaa return in 10 minutes. "So I left and just went to do shopping or something," he said recently through a translator. "I came back and I heard shooting."

The then-15-year-old was almost to the door when he saw armed men head inside. "They went in the barbershop and they killed the barber and they kill everybody there," recalled Alshammaa, who arrived in the United States nearly a year ago as a refugee.

As would-be rescuers rushed to help, he recalled, a bomb exploded.

"People come to save the other people," Alshammaa said, as translator Zamal Ali began to cry. "More killing."

Alshammaa recounted the horrible episode while getting a shave at the Abu Shanab Barber Shop in Columbia Heights. Twin Cities filmmaker Nathan Fisher focused his lens on the straight-edge razor the barber slid skillfully over the young man's cheek.

The scene will show up in Fisher's latest video venture. In collaboration with the Minneapolis-based Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project, the 33-year-old is working with Iraqi refugees to turn their life stories into short films - including one set in this Arab-American barbershop.

For years, Fisher has collected the stories of Iraqi refugees in Syria and Jordan. His 2010 documentary "The Unreturned" won widespread acclaim.

Since then, Fisher has continued to document the lives of those who have fled war-torn Iraq and recently he began reaching out to the growing community of Iraqi refugees in Minnesota.

For those distanced from the death and destruction, the news coming out of Iraq can be numbing, with the same scenarios seemingly showcased again and again.

But for Iraqis like Alshammaa and Ali, each attack is so shocking and traumatic, it's as if it occurred for the first time.

"Things in Iraq are not getting better. It's getting worse," Alshammaa said. "I just want to raise my voice and tell the story about what happens."

As Fisher moves his camera move from one corner of the barbershop to another, he records barbers as they cut and spritz hair and sculpt beards. The plastic combs. The neck dusters. The gumball machine. He could have captured the same scenes in the Baghdad shop before it was shot up and blown apart.

Aiming to enable Alshammaa's artistic vision, Fisher shoots footage that he will eventually pair with the words of the Iraqi refugee and first-time director.

"His story is very personal but it's representative of a lot of Iraqis' experience," Fisher said. "This is happening every day. People's friends and family and just people they see on the street are being killed in front of their eyes in these really horrible and indiscriminate ways. This is the baggage that they're carrying with them."

Even when they are wrapped in warm towels inside a strip mall barbershop in the United States, the refugees cannot forget.

Editing on the short film will begin soon. Fisher plans to finish it in time for a premiere at the Twin Cities Arab Film Fest in November.

Alshammaa would like to say the filmmaking process has been cathartic. But that would be a lie.

"The movie makes me sad, but it's not just the movie. It's every day," he said. "Every day I remember these things so the sadness and anxiety is still inside me."

For him, expressing his experiences in Iraq is an obligation, even if there is little he can do for those left behind. He knows that not every film has a happy ending.

"Just put it this way: there's no life and there's no future," he said. "I still have relatives and friends [in Iraq]. They don't want to stay there. What can you do? I'm just praying for them."