Iraq-born doctor staunch advocate for peace in Middle East 

Words Jill Nicholas

Pictures, video Stephen Parker

With conflict continuing at flash point in the Middle East there could be no more fitting time than now to meet Sosek Simonian.

If anyone can identify with the ravages of war in this perpetually unstable region it's Iraq-born Sosek.

Hers is a homeland locked in an ongoing state of unrest. That included the tumultuous Iran-Iraq war of 1980-1988 when Saddam Hussein held sway. 

Sosek was at high school in Basra when Iran attacked the sea port.

Hostilities were still at full throttle when she graduated from the University of Basrah's medical faculty.

Today she's a GP based at Rotorua’s kaupapa Maori health care provider, Korowai Aroha.

 She and her husband Dr Mazen Shasha, a specialist in emergency medicine at Te Whatu Ora - Rotorua Hospital, have lived in New Zealand since 1996.  

 Their son Rafy was 18 months old when they arrived in Rotorua the following yesr. Their daughter Rita was born here. 

Life in a war-torn city 

 Sosek's opinion of the latest hostilities is that they are "quite dreadful." 

Beyond that she refuses to be drawn.

She quickly shuts down our line of questioning that sought her views on America's June attack on Iran's nuclear facilities.

It's met with a firm "I'm not a politician."  

What she willingly admits to is being a staunch advocate for peace.

As she talks it's easy to understand why.

"In the Middle East you will never really learn what the problem is.

"You keep your head low otherwise it becomes too messy. "

She is acutely aware that war brings no winners.

"Sometimes I lose faith in humanity which is sad."

Bombs,  'shiss, shiss, shiss'

Talking of her earlier life in a country where conflict is commonplace, Sosek paints a vivid word picture.

Iran's first aerial attack on Basra came as families readied their homes for Easter.

 "I'm an Armenian Christian. As Christians we celebrate Easter. It's a tradition to clean your family home before the festivities begin. 

"My sister and I had spent hours cleaning our house when the bombing started.

"Each blast shattered windows, doors were blown out. A bomb fell on the fence between us and our neighbours.

"Everything was chaotic, the house was in a terrible mess, glass was everywhere."   

Daily life went on regardless of the mayhem the city laboured under.

"You carried on. There was no leeway because of bombs. 

The city was still under attack throughout the years she spent at medical school.

Caught in the midst of warfare was no excuse for skipping exams. 

"It was your duty to sit your exams, you could not fail.

"When my final gynaecology exam was coming up there was no guarantee I'd get to the hospital in time to sit it."

She vividly recalls standing with her father in the middle of the road looking for a bus, a taxi  -  transport of any kind - as they ducked and dived to dodge the bombs falling around them.

"You could hear them coming - 'shiss, shiss, shiss'.

"You didn't know where they were going to fall - next to you or some kilometres away."

Sosek made it to the hospital the night before she was to sit her exam there. Sleep was impossible. Bombs and missiles were detonating non-stop. 

City on its knees

Sosek is often asked if she kept a journal of those fraught days.

"I say 'no, there was too much going on'.

"We slept under the stairs because it was the safest place. 

"You didn't know when you were going to get food. There was no running water, electricity or telecommunications.

"Our city was on its knees."

Despite the chaos Sosek flew through her finals, beginning her medical career in various hospitals in Iraq's capital, Baghdad.

There she reconnected with Mazen Shasha. They'd met at med school.

"He was a few years ahead of me. In Iraq all the men do compulsory military service. When his finished he came to Baghdad. We got married there. "

Fear of border turnback

 With the war intensifying, Baghdad was under attack too. Older relatives urged them to leave the country. 

"We were always on edge, wondering where the next bomb was going to fall. 

"Our decision to leave was made very suddenly. 

"I couldn’t send a message to my parents to say I was leaving. In the middle of the night we went to my Dad's best friend and asked him to pass the message on.

"Two days later we left for the Iraq-Jordan border on a bus. We were heading for Amman. 

"There were no planes flying. There was no basic infrastructure. Everywhere was dark."

The couple carried only the barest of essentials.   

"There was never any hope of us going back to Iraq."

Exiting it was fraught with fear that they'd be turned back at the border.   

"Ours was a very authoritarian country. Doctors were forbidden to leave."

Border interrogation

To obtain a passport Sosek described herself as a housewife. 

"The guards at the border didn't believe that I was a housewife. I was scrutinised very closely, interrogated. In the end we were let through."

Within a week of arriving in Jordan's capital Sosek had a job at a private hospital, Mazen in a laboratory.  

Life was far more peaceful in Amman. Their son was born there.  

They'd been in Jordan four-and-a-half years when Mazen's brother suggested they join him and his family in Sydney.

They loved their adopted country and its people but with so many refugees seeking shelter there it was becoming overcrowded.

"We applied to go to Australia but we were turned down because it already had too many immigrant doctors."

Sosek's cousin, a surgeon in London, recommended they take a punt on New Zealand.

"He said it's beautiful, lush, the people are lovely."  

Green light given 

They took him at his word.

"We knew nothing about it other than it had green pastures and lots of sheep. Iraq imports a lot of New Zealand meat.

"We used to have New Zealand lamb roasts every Sunday." 

Their visa applications were made through this country's immigration centre in India.

They were given the green light. 

"We arrived in Auckland feeling apprehensive. 

"It was a big city. We were asking ourselves 'how are we going to make our way here?'. 

"The unknown makes you anxious but when we were going over the harbour bridge that first day we said 'Wow, what a beautiful country'." 

Mazen's uncle introduced them to his landlord and landlady.

"They were lovely, kind, helpful Christian people with connections to St Vincent de Paul. It had a big hostel in Auckland run by the Sisters of Charity.

"It was communal living. That was fantastic. 

"We met all kinds of people we'd not met before; Cook Islanders, Tongans, Samoans.

"The sisters helped us apply for emergency housing. Within six weeks we had a place in Glenfield." 

Mazen immediately started to prepare for the New Zealand Medical Council's exams which would qualify him to practise here.

Sosek 's study began after she and their son had settled in.

She'd passed a compulsory English exam within three months of arriving in Auckland.

"It helped that in Iraq we studied the UK medical system in English. 

Education attitudes differ 

"Back home our culture is all about education, education, education.

"Even the people who are poor push their kids to learn so they can make a good living and prosper.

"Here the attitude to education is very mediocre. It's like 'who cares if they don't do so well?' To me that’s distressing."

This ardent proponent of academic excellence was devastated when she failed one of her finals papers.

It meant she was unable to become a registered doctor.

"I missed out by only one mark. It was morally devastaing.

"I was always front ranking, the first female in my class."

Emergency benefit, unfit housing

Without an income while they studied, the family eked out an existence on the unemployment benefit. 

The ever-stoic Sosek says they simply made it work.

"Each week after paying rent and putting money aside for electricity and petrol we had $60 for milk, groceries, nappies and clothes for a growing child.

"Yes, it is hard to live on the benefit. You need a lot of budgeting skills." 

They were also paying back a loan from Mazen's brother in Sydney. 

"Although he had a family of his own to support he helped us buy a small car and pay for Mazen's exams. Each exam cost around $2,500 to $3000." 

Mazen's first appointment after becoming New Zealand registered was at Rotorua's Queen Elizabeth Hospital. A house went with the job.

Sosek still gags at the memory of it.

From her description it's best described as derelict. She bluntly says it was unfit for human habitation.

"It was behind the workshops and literally falling apart. The wind whistled though. Water was running down the walls. There was mould everywhere.   

"I sprayed Janola on the walls day after day but the mould remained.

"I said 'for the sake of our kid we can't stay here'." 

A QE volunteer who took the family under her wing helped Sosek find a place to rent.

"There was a flower garden in the front and a vegetable garden out the back. 

"It was beautiful, the landlady was beautiful."

Farmers, anaesthetic technician

Sosek enrolled Rafy in a daycare centre where a number of children had disabilities.

"Some people criticised me for it, I said he had to learn not everyone is born with equal opportunities, and that he should value everyone and be grateful for what he has got."

She went to work at Farmers. 

"It was when it was still in Hinemoa Street.

"It was the best decision of my life.

"I was selling in every department. I worked with the most brilliant bunch of good ladies who had a great time together.

"Getting the till balance to zero every day was a confidence boost."

She'd been there 18 months when it was suggested she might like to work in QE's operating theatre. 

Sosek jumped at the chance.

"It was an opportunity for me to get a foot in the health system."

She studied by correspondence and completed block courses at AUT to qualify as an anaesthetic technician. 

I was top of the class. That really got my confidence back."

Sosek was working in the theatre when she became pregnant with her daughter. 

"She's a Kiwi born and bred."   

While she was at QE her parents came to New Zealand.

Her brother, a fully qualified architectural engineer, had settled in Wellington with his family.

We emphasise the "fully qualified" because again Sosek points to the difference between how Iraqis and a lot of Kiwis view education.

"When my brother arrived he was unable to get a job because he was considered overqualified.

"He worked in a supermarket."

Father's sudden death

Their parents were visiting him when the unimaginable happened.

Sosek's father died suddenly on his way to catch a bus.

"That was a big shock to the system. He was only 67.

"My mother came to live with us here in Rotorua."

When the government of the day moved to get more migrant doctors New Zealand qualified, Sosek applied to join the year-long course.

It was in Auckland.

"A lot of doctors from other counties were working as cleaners, carrying out surveys, stacking supermarket shelves, delivering pizzas.

"My mother and Mazen looked after our children. I would come home one weekend a fortnight, then the family would come up the next fortnight."

House surgeon,  GP

This time round Sosek aced her qualification exams. She became a house surgeon at Rotorua Hospital.

She was subsequently offered training as a specialist physician but turned it down.

"That would have meant moving to other hospitals around the country. 

"I said 'I can't do that, I have two little kids'. I went and worked at Lakes Prime Care."

She's also spent time at John Paul College,

"Helping rangatahi access help and as a way of giving back to the community." 

There were a further three years of study to become a fellow of the Royal New Zealand College of General Practitioners.

In 2010 she went into general practice at Korowai Aroha. She loves it, her colleagues and her patients.

"I acknowledge every single one of them.

 "It is a pleasure to treat them and make a tangible difference to their health."

Reflections, hope

Encouraging Sosek who's seen so much bloodshed and international strife to reflect on her life brings a response that's typical of this gentle, giving woman.

It's that she considers herself blessed.

"Everything I went through in the past has made me a better person.

"I think of the many millions around the world who are so much worse off than I ever was.

"I light candles for them. If only I could do more."

Her final words are ones of hope that people the world over become more tolerant of each other.

"They need to turn away from greed, power, killing each other. Instead they should turn to prayer and peace making. "