Iraq survivor now an “all-American boy”
Beneath the mop of brown curls there is still a hollow where an eye should be and a sunken path where the bullet streaked across his face.
But Muhammed “Hamoody” Hussein’s sinuses now allow air in, making it easier for him to sleep and protecting his brain against damage from lack of oxygen.
With one surgery down and more yet to come, the 5-year-old who came to Seattle from Iraq a year and a half ago for repair of the damage from a gunshot wound is now “the all-American boy,” say his foster parents.
And they’re taking steps to see that he gets to really be one.
As Hamoody continues to heal from a major surgery in July, Randy Smith and Julie Robinett Smith, of Snohomish, are planning to file a petition on his behalf seeking asylum.
U.S. Rep. Rick Larsen, D-Lake Stevens, said he will assist the Smiths in their effort to win asylum for Hamoody, but just how the law applies to his situation isn’t known. Asylum is granted to those already in this country who would face persecution if they returned to their native land.
Blinded by the bullet, Hamoody would not be allowed to attend school in Iraq, would not have the special services available here and would be considered an outcast. But Larsen’s spokeswoman Amanda Mahnke said it’s too soon to tell what would be considered in Hamoody’s case in determining asylum status with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.
Hamoody’s mother and father in Iraq have agreed that he should stay in the U.S., in hopes that he will eventually reconnect with his uncle Adil Joda, who is seeking asylum in Sweden, Julie says.
Hamoody was only 3 when he arrived at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport in May 2006, sporting sunglasses and a pink cap, and not speaking any English.
Sponsored by Healing the Children, an Everett-based nonprofit that matches children needing medical care unavailable where they live with hospitals and doctors willing to donate it, he spent the first year undergoing examinations and tests to determine if his eyesight could be saved - it couldn’t - and how much damage was done to the rest of his body.
Despite blindness, a disfigured face and being unable to breathe through his nose, Hamoody quickly adapted to the customs and language of his foster family. He started attending a special preschool for disabled children, learned to play soccer, visited Disneyland and adjusted to life in Snohomish with a room of his own, toys, birthday parties and friends.
Even though he no longer remembers his native Arabic or his parents in Iraq, Hamoody is still a citizen of Iraq whose visa expires in May 2009 unless his foster parents are able to extend it for medical reasons, which they believe is likely.
If that happens, it would mean more time for the Smiths’ attorney to pursue asylum for the boy. The Smiths are also helping Joda seek refugee status in Sweden, since getting permission to come to the U.S. as a refugee would be difficult. Even if Hamoody’s uncle is in Sweden, the Smiths hope Hamoody will be able to stay with them, rather than be uprooted again in the future.
In May, Dr. Joseph Gruss, pediatric craniofacial surgeon at Children’s Hospital & Regional Medical Center, took bone from one of Hamoody’s ribs and reconstructed an eye socket, the bridge of his nose and created sinuses where there were none. Gruss, as did the hospital, donated his services.
In July, stents put into Hamoody’s sinuses to keep them open as they healed fell out and had to be surgically replaced. The next stents were too long and aggravated Hamoody’s throat. That was corrected a few days later - but only after the boy lost 5 pounds from his tiny frame because he couldn’t swallow.
Last week, new stents were put in, and Gruss said Hamoody was healing well. But he said some swelling needs to go down before Gruss can tell exactly what - and when - the next step will be.
“It usually takes six to eight months for swelling to subside … until then I won’t know,” Gruss said.
It leaves the Smiths where they’ve been since falling in love with the energetic, bright and blind little boy - cherishing every day, praying for more time with him and noting, on the kitchen message board, his funny sayings.
For example, this one: “The wheels are rollin’ baby!” as the church bus started off.
Randy Smith has grown especially close to his “Bubba,” as he calls Hamoody, and proudly talks about his athletic ability - he’s good at soccer, loves to swim - and plans to give him private swimming lessons.
To Hamoody, Randy is “Unclie” and Julie is “Auntie.”
Several days ago, Hamoody was swaggering through the kitchen in a pirate costume, brandishing a popgun. Randy picked him up for a hug.
“You knocked my hat off Capt. Bones,” Hamoody said with a pirate’s growl. “I’ll throw you to the sharks tomorrow … heh-heh-heh. I’ll make you walk the plank.”
The early part of Hamoody’s life, when he lost his sight, slips in and out of memory. He no longer has nightmares and long ago gave up hoarding food. Someday, the gaps in the story of his injury will be filled in.
In May 2005, Hamoody and his family, who are Shiites, were riding in his uncle’s car just outside Baghdad when the car was ambushed by Sunni insurgents. The uncle was killed, Hamoody’s mother seriously injured and Hamoody was shot in the face. Only his sister was unharmed.
Another uncle, Joda, took Hamoody first to the nearby hospital, but when Sunnis refused to allow him to be treated there, he drove him across the border into Iran. Joda called Healing the Children, and a year later Hamoody came to Seattle and a new life - far away from the bomb blasts and poverty in his neighborhood to affluence in Snohomish.
His foster parents talk of his future and all the possibilities for him - even without sight. Hamoody says he wants to be an attorney. In the meantime, he enjoys cruising around the polished oak floors in a toy car, talking about his recent trip to Disneyland and asking how old he has to be to learn how to drive.
“His limitations haven’t sunk in yet,” Julie said.
When they do, the Smiths want to be there.
Nancy Bartley: 206-464-8522 or nbartley@seattletimes.com