In a quiet coffee shop on a midweek afternoon in Tallaght, Zak Moradi opens the book of his life and leafs through pictures from another world. Here is a photo of him as a child, taken in the refugee camp where he was born. They called him Kofi Annan as a kid, he says. Never liked fighting, then or now.
Here is the uncle who survived the chemical attack by Iraqi forces that massacred over 5,000 Kurds in the city of Halabja in 1988, and went back to the deserted town to retrieve a bag containing $200,000 in cash for a wealthy family. They gave him a couple of thousand dollars to say thanks, Moradi remembers. “Serious money.”
There is his cousins’ mud house, dodgy