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Mormon faithful endured hardship and persecution more than 150 years ago, settling in state after state before the long trek toward a permanent home along the Wasatch Front.

Abdulkarim Abed Hasan and his family endured war and hardship in their Baghdad home for three years before moving to Syria. After two years there, the family was admitted to the United States as refugees and into an Avenues apartment in Salt Lake City in June.

If the parallel seems a bit strained, 49-year-old Abdulkarim would be the first to admit it.

"When I came here I saw that Mormons are very good. No drinking. No drugs. Better here than Las Vegas," he said. "But the past [of Utah], I don't know much about."

No matter. The Hasan family embraced its first Pioneer Day. Abdulkarim took his wife and five children to the Steiner Aquatic Center for a swim the day before, a luxury they have long missed since Baghdad's recreational centers were left destroyed or neglected. They gathered on the lawn to watch the evening's fireworks, then ventured downtown the morning after for celebrations. The parade was nice, but the fireworks impressed.

"When I see fire in my country, people die," Abdulkarim said. "This was different."

The family members count themselves among the lucky few who have left the violence and chaos of their home country to make it into the United States. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHRC) estimates the war and its aftermath created more than 4 million Iraqi refugees. Half remain uprooted inside Iraq; the remainder live in Syria or Jordan where they are denied work. UNHRC estimates 16,000 Iraqi refugees were granted entry to the United States last year.

Aden Batar, deputy director of immigration and refugee resettlement in Salt Lake City for Catholic Community Services of Utah, said the number of Iraqi refugees in Utah is small but growing. Six Iraqi refugees came to Utah last year, with 60 this year so far. "There are millions of Iraqis whose lives are in limbo," Batar said.

A veterinarian who worked mostly as a merchant, Abdulkarim welcomed and assisted U.S. forces at first, but the situation became untenable after the U.S. decision to rid the Iraqi army and police of old ranks and replace them with what Abdulkarim said were, "thieves, bad men and the unemployed."

Police bribes and threats for money forced him to hide himself and his family in relatives' homes. U.S. forces, he said, were too busy tracking down insurgents to protect law-abiding Iraqis.

The family is loath to name a sectarian allegiance. "We are Muslims," said 10-year-old son Abdulrahman. "There is no Sunni or Shia."

Not content to sit at home, Abdulkarim said he is searching for work as a translator for construction companies rebuilding Iraq.

"Next year I'd like to see all Iraqis living here go to the [Pioneer Day] celebration together," he said. "Because we live in Utah, and benefit from life here, we must say thank you and celebrate with the community."