Remembering Shaheen: A Yazidi Who Gave His Life Rescuing Arab Muslims in Mosul

By Matthew Travis Barber

A few days ago was the third anniversary of the death of Shaheen Khalaf, a Yazidi who gave his life rescuing Arab Muslim civilians being indiscriminately massacred by IS snipers while trying to flee Mosul.

When I saw the number of photos and messages about Shaheen that people were sharing online, I felt inspired to share my own memories of Shaheen’s moving story, and some of the many photos that I have never posted from the days when Shaheen and I frequently worked together in Iraq. (Click the photos to see full-sized versions.)

In the summer of 2015, I organized an aid convoy to Sinjar Mountain. Shaheen was part of our team, delivering food to displaced Yazidis living in tents on top of the mountain.

A little girl near the road waves to our team while shepherding both her family’s goats and her younger siblings.

That humanitarian mission was significant for Shaheen because it was the first time he had been back to Sinjar since the Genocide began. He knew that it would not be an emotionally easy trip to make, but he came to me beforehand and said that he was serious about participating because he wanted to help his people.

At night after our first day of working on the mountain, Shaheen and I stood at Çil Mîre—the highest point on Sinjar Mountain—and looked down far below at his home town of Tal Banat, where we could see the lights of IS bases in some of the Yazidi houses and the headlights of IS vehicles moving about.

Çil Mîre shrine at dusk, the first night of our aid mission

Seeing his town in the distance was a difficult moment for Shaheen. With tears in his eyes, he told me that he wondered if it would ever be free of the jihadists and if he would ever be able to return. I told him that I hoped he would.

Shaheen working in our aid delivery line in Serdeshte, Sinjar – Photo: Qawwal Murad Elias
Shaheen loved his people and worked tirelessly to serve, never complaining – Photo: Qawwal Murad Elias
Children in the area where our team was working – Photo: Qawwal Murad Elias
Boys transport water on Sinjar as our aid convoy passes

After fleeing Sinjar when the Genocide began, Shaheen’s displaced family took up residence in a mud house in the Yazidi village of Khanke in the governorate of Dohuk.

At a time when the vast majority of Sinjari Yazidis were speaking of leaving the country to never return, Shaheen’s father told me, “Iraq is my home and I will never leave it.”

So committed was Shaheen’s father to preserving his existence that when thousands of families were scrambling and scattering amid the madness of August 3, 2014, he kept his head clear during the trauma and herded his entire flock of sheep from Tal Banat to the mountain, and later brought them all the way to the Kurdistan Region.

Shaheen’s father with his sheep near Khanke

“I love my sheep and I love my homeland. I’d let Da’esh cut off my head before abandoning my sheep,” he told me.

Shaheen’s father, Jameel Chomer, myself, Shaheen – Sept. 20, 2015

In autumn of 2015 Shaheen began helping coordinate Yazda’s aid to IDPs in different areas. In those early days we were under-equipped, underfunded, and could not perform food deliveries very often. Outside of Khanke was an “unofficial camp” where a large number of IDP families had settled and not been incorporated into Khanke’s “official” camp. If families did not receive the aid they desperately needed frequently enough, they would sometimes take out their frustration on local coordinators like Shaheen.

Shaheen was broken from trauma, anger, hurt. Losing his home, his town, his friends and relatives was a wound whose size made a word like “recovery” seem trite. He gave himself daily to serving his people, with no benefit to himself, but the constant contact with those crushed by grief and destitution only made the sorrow of the Genocide more acute.

One day our team came to the unofficial camp at Khanke to deliver food and supplies to families who were hosting orphans whose parents had been killed by IS. As Shaheen led our staff from tent to tent, some people became angry that we had not been able to bring more. One man held the bags of food we had handed him and said, “This is all you brought?” Others whose trauma left them seriously mentally ill came and stood outside and shouted at Shaheen. A woman followed us up and down the rows of tents as we tried to work, screaming at Shaheen, demanding that he do more for her, though she did not even know what she was asking for. Shaheen finally lost his temper and swore at her. As we worked, the rain pounded us from a dark sky, drenching us to the bone. It was difficult to walk, because our feet would sink ankle-deep into the mud with each step. Each IDP tent was a tiny island in a sea of mud. As he saw the complete and utter indignity to which his people were being subjected, the rage began to build inside him. Finally he lost control and began shouting at me.

Afterwards, one of my Yazidi staff members said to me, “let’s not work with Shaheen anymore.” But I discussed with our team the ways that trauma produces volatility—volatility that at times none of us were immune to. “Shaheen is part of our team, our family. We must always be patient with him and remember the times that pressure overwhelms us all.”

A portion of the Yazda team in Dugure, April 2016 during a visit of Murad Ismael to our projects in Sinjar; Shaheen in front row, right of center

One day, Shaheen came to me and said, “Matthew our community is struggling and we need to provide some positive messaging to help direct them in the right way.”
“What are you referring to?” I asked him.
“There is a risk that as Yazidis return to Sinjar, they will kill Arabs in revenge for their participation in the genocide against us.”
“And you want to protect the innocent by encouraging Yazidis not to kill them—that is so good of you, Shaheen.”
“Not really. I hate them too and wish they would all just die. But I am concerned that killing them will cause more problems for our community. They can kill thousands of us, but in this country if Yazidis kill just one Arab, they will portray us like we are the killers, aggressors, enemies of Islam, and then they will justify more violence against us. We must not kill them because it will cause us big political problems and make it even more difficult for our community to recover from the genocide.”

In addition to revenge killings, another concern was the looting or burning of Arab (and Kurdish Muslim) homes in liberated areas. The Yazidis’ Arab neighbors, along with IS, had pillaged and plundered tens of thousands of Yazidi homes, as well as looting their businesses, vehicles, livestock, and farm equipment. Even worse, IS then systematically demolished thousands of Yazidi houses. The Genocide represented the loss of generations of material wealth that the Yazidis—a marginalized and deprived community—had slowly built up over the decades. With all of that in view, the looting of a relatively smaller number of Arab homes in liberated areas seemed to many Yazidis an insignificant thing, or even a minor expression of justice.

After this conversation, I told Shaheen to draft me an example of the kind of messaging he had in mind. He produced this text and brought it to me (translation below):

بنافي خودي وطاؤوس ملك

نصائح موجهة لأبناء أيزيدخان في كل جبهات القتال, الذين تحملوا شتى الظروف والمصاعب التي عجزت الاخرين من ان يتحملوها في كل اجزاء المناطق التي احتلت وعانت واغتصبت بفعل داعش المجرم, الى الذين ضربوا اروع الملاحم التي ستخلد في ذاكرى الاجيال والتي ستكون نقطة مشرقة في مستقبل الاجيال وفي التاريخ المعاصر!

كلكم تدرون ما اصبنا به بفعل الابادة الاخيرة من قتل واغتصاب وسبي وهتك اعراض الاف من النساء والبنات والاطفال والرجال من ابناء أيزيدخان , وتلك الهجمة لاتزال مستمرة لطالما هناك جزء كبير من ابناء ايزيدخان بيد داعش !

فعليكم توخي الحذر من بعض الامور التي هي ليست من مبادئنا وشيم امة ايزيدخان وايضا ستكون عائقا امام اي تقدم او اي خطوى نتقدم بها في ملف جينوسايد و سمعتكم خالية من كل شواءب ومن كل رذائل الاخرين !

والامور هي :

  • عندما تتقدمون في اي جزء من تراب سنجار او تحررونها من دنس الارهاب الاسلامي, فعليكم الحفاظ على اعراض الناس وحرمتهم ممن هم لربما ترونهم في القرى العربية, وعدم سفك اي دماء بأستثناء الارهابيين.
  • عدم هدم او حرق اي منزل او ممتلكات في القرى التي تحررونها من داعش وعدم لمسها البتة, فكلكم ترون ان العالم باجمعه سمع بمعاناتكم والتي هي نقطة سوداء في تاريخ الانساني المعاصر, ولا يغركم اي شي لفعل شيء من شأنه ان يكون عبئاً ثقيلاً لا يتحمله ابنائكم الذين يعملون ليل نهار في كل انحاء العالم لأجلكم يا ابناء ايزيدخان.
  • كونوا مثلما كنتم وتحلوا بالصبر فكل شيء او خطأ بسيط منكم ينتظره العدو او العالم لجعله سببا في عدم اعطاء حقوقكم والتي هي: ( الحماية الدولية – او تطبيق لما حصل لكم بأنها أبادة جماعية (جينوسايد).
  • وانتم تعملون جميعا لخدمة ايزيديخان منذ عامين وان اختلفت التسميات والاعلام فالكل يحمل نفس القلب والوجع والمعانات ولا تطيعوا اي امرٍ يدعوا من ان تقاتلوا فيما بينكم, فكونوا ايزيديين قبل اي تسمية او اي علم معين.
  • تأكدوا أن ما انتم عليه من مبادئ رفيعة وقيم انسانية عظيمة بالرغم من الظروف الصعبة فـ كل هذا سيدعوا العالم يوما ان يتعلم منكم تلك الصفات التي هي من لب دينكم العظيم ومن عمق ما تربيتم انتم به.

In the Name of God and Tawusi Melek

Recommendations to the People of Ezidkhan at all fronts of the fight:
Those who have withstood all kinds of circumstances and difficulties that would have been unbearable for other people,
In all the areas that have been invaded by and suffered under the criminal Da’esh [organization],
Those who have performed heroic acts that will remain in the memories of future generations and that will be a bright spot in history!

All of you know what has happened to us as a result of this recent Genocide, which includes killing and rape and enslavement and the violation of females, [and all of these happening to] thousands of women, girls, children, and men of the People of Ezidkhan, and that this attack continues as long as there is a large number of Yazidi people in the hands of Da’esh.

Therefore, you must be cautious about certain matters, which are not in line with our values and the principles of the community of Ezidkhan, and which will also be obstacles in the way of [our] progress or of any steps that we take in order to advance the case of genocide [recognition]; your reputation must be clean from impurities and stains [that can result from accusations levied by] the others.
And those matters are:
• When you advance in or liberate any part of the lands of Sinjar from the desecration of Islamic terrorism [Shaheen’s wording at that time], you must not allow harm to come upon the [female] honor of the people and the females of households of those whom you might encounter in the Arab villages, and you must not spill any blood except for that of the terrorists.
• You must not destroy or burn any houses or property in the villages you liberate from Da’esh and you must not touch them at all. You all see that the entire world has heard about your suffering, which is a black spot in the history of humankind, so you must not be tempted to perform any acts that might come to be heavy burdens upon the shoulders of your sons who are working day and night all around the world on your behalf, o People of Ezidkhan.
• Remain as you were [preserve your values] and have patience because the enemy is waiting for you to make a mistake, in order to use it as an excuse to deny you your rights, which are international protection and the recognition of what happened to you as a genocide.
• You all have been working in the service of Ezidkhan for two years, but under different [party] names and flags. Everyone, with one heart, is carrying the same pain and suffering, so you must not obey any order that commands you to fight each other. Be Yazidis first, before identifying with any other [political] name or flag.
• Despite the difficult circumstances that you are passing through, remain assured that your high principles and noble humane values, which stem from the heart of your great religion and the depth of your upbringing, will be something that the world can learn from.

When I look at this thoughtful document now, I am struck not only by Shaheen’s sensitivity to the situation of his people and his concern that they not inadvertently delegitimize themselves in the eyes of observers, but also by the way that he assigned a preeminent place to his values and allowed them to override his own emotions, while encouraging others to do the same.

Shaheen assisted many NGOs, sometimes working with several simultaneously. He would volunteer for free with local groups that lacked funds for salaries. One foreign NGO with whom Shaheen was to play a major role was the Free Burma Rangers (FBR).

FBR is an organization founded by Dave Eubank to provide hope to those afflicted by civil war in Burma. When the IS organization began its campaign of slaughter and enslavement, FBR came to provide aid in Iraq and Syria, as well. Shaheen began working full time as a translator for FBR.

Shaheen (far left) with part of the FBR team in the Yazda office

FBR did work that no other NGO would perform. During the many battles to liberate Mosul and other areas of the Nineveh Governorate, scores (or maybe hundreds) of thousands of people were displaced, fleeing the fighting, airstrikes, and IS reprisals against those who would “abandon the caliphate.” The big international NGOs were prohibited, by their own protocols and policies, from serving people so close to the front line, so many of them would secretly give large quantities of aid to FBR who would take it to vulnerable people close to where the fighting was taking place.

FBR also had its own medical teams and they treated the wounded—civilian and solider alike—at the battlefront. Because the battles were being fought in residential areas, thousands would stream out of a neighborhood and FBR would be ready with food, water, medicine, blankets, first aid and medical trauma care. It is not an exaggeration to say that FBR saved many thousands of lives.

FBR is a faith-based organization that operates according to a rigorous commitment to serve all people, regardless of background, out of love. This approach was difficult for Shaheen, who hated Arabs when he began working with FBR.

It was easy to work with FBR when they were providing help to Yazidis in Sinjar, but now they were working primarily with Arabs in Mosul—the same community that had produced thousands of IS recruits who willingly participated in the slaughter and sexual enslavement of countless Yazidis.

Shaheen was less than thrilled about this and would frequently trash-talk the Muslims. Dave Eubank would tell Shaheen, “we have to love not only the Arabs we’re helping here, but even the IS jihadists themselves. We have to pray for them that they will be changed by God’s love.”

Irrespective of one’s religious tradition or lack thereof, this ideal of radical kindness for one’s enemy is difficult to fathom or pursue, even for those merely serving as advocates for Yazidis and whose people were not directly targeted with genocide. Telling someone that they should love their enemies is just a matter of throwing out some words; living the principle as a reality, on the other hand, is something that probably only a tiny number of people achieve, even among those who preach it.

FBR personnel carried weapons for protection and even killed IS jihadists when their own lives and the defenseless people whom they were rescuing were endangered. In the absence of immediate threats to their lives, however, the FBR team was ideologically committed to providing the same compassion to IS fighters that they gave to the jihadists’ victims.

Working alongside those committed to this philosophy began to change Shaheen’s attitude toward Arabs over the months. Eventually, he told FBR staff, “I love these people.”

Shaheen’s changing orientation toward Muslims became evident when on Jan. 28, 2017, Iraqi soldiers and FBR discovered a kidnapped Yazidi boy living with a middle-aged Arab couple. While working in one of Mosul’s liberated neighborhoods, some Arabs approached the Iraqi troops and informed them that a Yazidi was living in the area.

The Iraqi soldiers and FBR personnel performed a search and finally found the house where six-year-old Ayman was living.

Six-year-old Ayman sitting in an Iraqi military vehicle with the Arab man who had “adopted” him

Islam does not permit adoption (at least not in the same form that it exists in most non-Muslim societies) but the Arab couple who had taken Ayman in had been unable to have their own children and were now raising him as their own son.

IS enslavement was not a solely female phenomenon; adult men were taken captive and used for manual labor, young boys were taken from their mothers and placed in jihadist training camps, others were used for domestic service. Whether Ayman was “bought” from IS by this couple because they wanted to rescue him from the jihadists (as happened in a number of cases) or whether the couple acquired him out of the more personal motive of wanting a son, we do not know. We also don’t know what this couple’s views were on what IS did to the Yazidis. But we do know that the couple loved Ayman dearly and were overcome with sadness at the fact that he now had to be returned to his family of origin.

In the middle of this situation, Shaheen comforted the grief-stricken man who now had to say goodbye to the boy who had become his son for the past two and a half years.

One aspect of the Genocide that was particularly sensitive for Yazidis was the fact that abducted Yazidis, adult and child alike, were usually force-converted to Islam. Yazidis everywhere knew that children who entered this scenario at a young age would be raised as Muslims with no knowledge of their Yazidi heritage—another aspect of the project to erase Yazidi identity. No doubt, Ayman was likewise being raised as a Muslim.

The fact that Shaheen, who had lost everything in the Genocide, could offer compassion to an Arab Muslim man in this context and who had bought a Yazidi child was something profound.

Ayman reunited with his grandmother who had also been enslaved by IS but previously freed

As the operation to liberate Mosul reached a crescendo, FBR performed a number of high-risk rescues that saved the lives of numerous people being targeted by IS snipers.

IS was not a monolithic organization and its behavior sometimes varied across different cells or units that operated within it. One arena where this became evident was in the behavior of IS toward fleeing civilians. In neighborhoods were certain elements were in charge that were even harder-lined than the base-line extremist character of IS, “abandoning the caliphate” was considered a treasonous crime and IS snipers would shoot fleeing men, women, and children.

CNN reported on this phenomenon in this article, as well as on the efforts of FBR to save civilian lives being targeted by the snipers. I recommend accessing the article to view the embedded video it contains, which shows the rescue of a little girl who had been sitting for three days next to her dead mother’s body, among dozens of civilian bodies shot by IS.

An image from the video at the CNN article linked to above showing a little girl and a man still alive amidst a pile of bodies, during an FBR rescue mission

It was during a rescue such as this (and actually just prior to it) that Shaheen was shot. The FBR team was rescuing a family that had been shot by IS in the road. The mother and father had both been shot and were lying on the ground, and a young girl had been shot in the face. All three were still alive. Shaheen was shot by IS snipers during this operation. It was May 4, 2017.

The rescue operation when Shaheen was shot, image from the FBR film

I was sitting in a symposium at the University of Chicago when I received a text message informing me that Shaheen had been shot. I could no longer concentrate on whatever the professors were saying as they deliberated over nationalist themes in Lebanese poetry—suddenly it all seemed so mundane.

As I walked out of the building, I saw my colleague Kevin Blankinship, a fellow PhD student in my program. “My friend and former staff member has just been shot in Mosul,” I told him. “I don’t know if he is alive or dead.” I was angry and upset. It was three years after the Genocide had begun, but IS was still managing to kill Yazidis. I knew that news of a single murder would reverberate throughout the community and impact thousands emotionally. This was not the news that people needed to hear, people whose desperate hopes for a future hung by a few fragile threads, people who had lost so much to IS and were now being prevented by the KRG from returning home and rebuilding. I don’t remember what Kevin said to me in response, but I just remember his caring expression. Kevin’s smile always beamed with positivity and I felt better just having someone to talk to in that moment.

I went home and immediately called Dave Eubank who told me everything that had happened that day. Dave told me that he had killed some jihadists who had attacked the team, and that Shaheen and Muhammad (another FBR team member) had been shot. It was a lot to process. Dave was still processing it, too. But Shaheen was alive.

Iraqi forces transported Shaheen by military helicopter to a hospital in Baghdad where he was operated upon. He spoke to friends on the phone from his hospital bed and some of his relatives came and stayed with him there.

Some days later I called Shaheen’s brother. Shaheen had a great sense of humor and I thought that perhaps I could joke with him and cheer him up. Shaheen was sleeping at that moment, but I was told that it looked as though he was going to make a full recovery. I was glad to hear this news.

A few days later, Hazim Avdal and I decided to call and speak to Shaheen together. Hazim knew Shaheen well; in Iraq we had often all worked in the same office together, or in the field. It was a very happy week for Hazim: he had arrived in Chicago a few days before, had had an interview at the admissions office of the University of Chicago, and had just been accepted as a student there. He was excited to share this news with Shaheen, also.

Shaheen’s brother answered the phone. “Hi, is Shaheen awake and can we talk with him this time?”
“Shaheen’s dead,” he told us. “He just died now.”

Hazim and I stared at each other in shock, not knowing how to react.

After a few minutes, I called Nizar Khider, a high school friend of Shaheen’s who had been our office manager at Yazda in 2015-2016 and who was now living in Lincoln, Nebraska. “Shaheen just died,” I told him. “What?” he responded. “Yes!” I replied. “We thought he was going to be fine but apparently he got an infection in the hospital!” and then suddenly a strange laugh briefly escaped my throat—it seemed so out-of-place and inappropriate, but perhaps it was the product of my disbelief and bewilderment.

An amazing film has recently been made about the work of the Free Burma Rangers. Over the past nine years I have watched an incredible amount of footage from the wars in Syria and Iraq, but I have never seen anything quite like this film. It provides an intimate window into a highly unusual organization able to perform tasks that would be unimaginable to most people. On one level, FBR provides a home for adrenaline junkies searching for a level of experience uncommon in other venues; on another level, we should respect the fact that it’s often eccentric characters who accomplish feats and make contributions to the world that the average person would never be willing to undertake. The film can be purchased on Vimeo and is also available on Amazon.

The film contains a number of scenes with Shaheen and also presents detailed footage of the rescue operation during which he was shot. It also shows where, in a park near the location where Shaheen was shot, FBR has built a playground for children and dedicated it to Shaheen.

Shaheen in the Free Burma Rangers film speaking at a Yazidi mass grave site in Sinjar
Shaheen translating between FBR and Iraqi forces in Mosul, from the FBR film

Unfortunately, the film does not explore the Yazidi Genocide or explain why Shaheen’s background made his work in Mosul all the more profound. The significance of his sacrifice was not lost on the Yazidi community, however, among whom he is now celebrated as a hero. Whereas IS treated Yazidi girls like property to be used and discarded, Shaheen died saving the life of an Arab Muslim girl, after overcoming his own hostility toward Arabs.

We analysts who survey the mess created by war in the Middle East are always talking about “how to fix things”—how to fix the economy, governance, infrastructure, human rights, and so forth. But for a survivor of genocide to begin to love the community that produced the perpetrators of the violence requires a deep and fundamental personal transformation. In other words, sometimes the only real solutions are spiritual. I don’t believe that spiritual solutions require the adoption of a religious tradition or theological framework, but they do involve seeing life, the world, other people in a new way. Undergoing this kind of uncommon psychological shift often involves the pursuit of a spiritual quest that produces the answers and healing that most of us ordinary people, with our various modes of professional expertise, are unequipped to provide.

What I find most incredible about Shaheen’s death is that the day he died—May 14—was the very same day that the Hashd al-Sha’bi forces surrounded his beloved Tal Banat to begin its liberation from IS. I remember that night on Sinjar Mountain when Shaheen saw his town for the first time after IS had captured it, and all that sorrow that welled up inside him, along with the longing to see his home reclaimed. I wonder if in his final moments he was aware of what was happening at his home; it is quite possible that he was, since the Hashd al-Sha’bi had begun their operation in the southern Sinjar region on the 12th.

As far back as 2015, certain European organizations would visit my office in Dohuk to discuss “the possibility of reconciliation work.” They wanted to begin orchestrating sit-downs between Yazidis and Arab tribes in Sinjar to work on overcoming their differences and work on somehow getting past the violence of the Genocide. While I believe that reconciliation and healing are always possible, even after the worst atrocities (history has many examples of this), I also believe that the effort to produce reconciliation must be conducted at the right time—crucially, after the threat of violence has been eliminated, security has been restored, and people feel stable enough to give attention to the trauma that they have been through and the deep anger about what happened. To my staff and me it always seemed absurd that people wanted to initiate some kind of healing process between Yazidis and Arabs when the Yazidis were still living in tents, unable to return to the very homeland where their future needed to be secured (and where talks with neighboring Arabs would therefore be relevant), still reeling from the immediacy of the violence and sexual enslavement that destroyed thousands of families, still wondering whether the state would apprehend perpetrators and pursue any process of justice, and on top of it all, then being being prevented by the KDP from transporting a single bag of rice to their homes in Sinjar.

Despite several years of concerted effort by the KDP to keep Yazidis bound to the camps and to prevent them from rebuilding, Sinjar has slowly started to recover. If this process can continue, the time will come when reconciliation talks with neighboring Arab communities will be important. And at that time, Shaheen’s example might serve as a model and inspiration for so many who will find the very prospect of reconciliation unpalatable or unthinkable.

Those who knew Shaheen have many memories of him and in this article I have merely added my own to the numerous tributes that others have made. The poems and songs now appearing about Shaheen testify to the inspiration others have found in his death. Here is a song and music video that someone made about Shaheen:

Last year, Yazda made a short documentary-style video with some interviews with Shaheen’s mother, brother, and some others who knew him:

The Ezidi24 media service likewise made a report about Shaheen:

The famous Iraqi YouTube channel Yalla also made a tribute to Shaheen:

Shaheen was known for writing poetry and the day before he died, he posted a short poem on his Facebook page. Nizar Khider later made the following image with the text of that poem:

Translated, the text of the poem is as follows:

I am in Baghdad, O My Mother
The Baghdad of God
God whom they are trying to kill
I am wounded in the battles of Iraq
For the sake of history
For the sake of Mesopotamian civilization
I do not fear death at all, My Mother

Nizar also provided me this photo of him and Shaheen at the Yazidi New Year in Lalish, 2012:

Artwork from Misar Shingali
Bradley Brincka with Shaheen
A photo of Shaheen from journalist Owen Holdaway who frequently worked with him

When I left Iraq in the summer of 2016, I presented Shaheen with a certificate to commemorate his service through Yazda up to that point. I had no idea that it would be the last time I would see him alive:

I will miss Shaheen—as will so many others.

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