Gimme Shelter: U.S. Military Deserters Once Again Flock to Canada to Avoid Iraq War

“I left that month, too,” Hamib says. “It was horrible. It was hell. Bombings, no electricity, no water, no telephones, no food, no nothing for days. We’d go everywhere in taxis, but it was very dangerous. You didn’t know if the driver was a criminal or a terrorist. And I was a target for many reasons. I’m a professor, an activist, a woman.”

The two women look at each other for a moment in silence. “That’s crazy,” Rivera finally says. “We could have crossed paths there, but we met right here.”

Ian Willms

Ryan Johnson, a deserter from Central California formerly stationed at Fort Irwin, rallies at a War Resisters Support Campaign demonstration at the Rogers Centre in Toronto.

Ian Willms

A handful of American Iraq-war deserters hold signs at a Toronto demonstration, asking that Canada grant them shelter from what they say is an illegal and immoral war.

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More About

• Reyna Rivera
• Kim Rivera
• Dale Landry
• Human Rights
• Political Asylum

The next day, January 23, is cold and overcast, only four days before the Riveras are scheduled to be deported. Manning, their lawyer, hasn’t yet heard from the federal court about a stay of deportation, and all they can do at this point is pray. On this chilly morning, Kim has awoken with a head cold. Christian and Rebecca are chasing each other around the living room of the family’s two-bedroom apartment on the upper floor of a cramped high-rise.

“Stop that,” Kim tells them. “Mommy’s sick.” She shakes her head. “Who knows what’s going to happen to me in the next few days, and I’ll be sick on top of it. Great.”

She rises from the couch to dress and run errands. She’ll strap the baby to her chest and go to the pharmacy to pick up Mario’s medication for high blood pressure. She tries to take good care of her husband. She’s well aware of the fact that they are in this situation because of her decision to enlist, and while she doesn’t regret joining the Army — “I needed the experience to open my eyes,” she says — she feels accountable. Sometimes when she looks at her husband, she is amazed. “I can’t believe I found someone to love me through all of this,” she says. “It’s amazing. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were 17, and he stuck with me through everything. Not even my parents could do that.”

While she cooks eggs in the kitchen, the phone rings. Mario, sitting at the computer, picks it up. His eyes widen as he listens.

“Oh, that’s great,” he says. “Wait until I tell Kimberly.”

He listens and nods, then hangs up. He calls to his wife, who appears, holding a spatula.

“So unfortunately, Alyssa called about the stay ...” he tells her.

Kim’s breath catches. “Uh-huh?”

“We didn’t get it,” he says, trying unsuccessfully to disguise his grin.

“Are you messing with me?” Kim asks.

Her husband laughs. “We got it.”

“For how long?”

“Maybe through June. We don’t know.”

Kim exhales, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “All I can say is, thank God.”

Mario nods. “That buys us a few months,” he says. “But we’re not out of the woods yet.”