Outside, sleigh bells jingle on horses drawing carriages, and the twinkling lights lining the Country Club Plaza encourage shoppers to linger longer, buy more.
Rakia Hasoon’s sparse apartment overlooks it all, a scene so different from the orange sand and low-slung mud buildings of her native Iraq.
She scratches the ears of her dog as she talks. Her long brown hair glistens, unencumbered by any scarf, and she wears a crisp white blouse tucked into form-fitting jeans. She looks more like an American college student than an Iraqi interpreter who says she has escaped a death sentence from Arab extremists.
As she speaks, her brown eyes look beyond the little scene below her window. She tells about the place thousands of miles away where she grew up learning about Americans through movies like “Gone With the Wind” on her family’s television. Where the sound of English words tickled her tongue as she tried to soften her vowels.
She’d dreamed of seeing Christmas in the United States, and of watching the crowds count down to the new year.
But what she craved most of all was peace.
“Ever since I opened my eyes, I grew up from war to war,” says Hasoon, 28.
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