| The Collateral Repair Project in affiliation with the International Humanities Center Amman Reports # 2 CRP North American team members, Sasha and Mary, report on the Iraqi refugee crisis from Amman, Jordan (click on thumbnails of photos for larger view) |
Um Zahraa and her 4 children live in a two room apartment that is sparsely furnished but clean and
bright, with freshly painted walls. Her children range in age from 9 to 17 years. They have been in
Jordan for only six months and lived previously in Sudan for 7 years. Um Zahraa and children
emigrated from Sudan because of the poor living conditions there – they lived in a cave at one point –
and because the education was inadequate. The father is still in Sudan, unable to gain entry to Jordan.
The children all have good English, and seem very cheerful when conversing directly with us, but when
watching their faces as the adults discuss their situation, the cheer seems to melt away and their
sadness is clearly visible. “Everywhere we go there is something that hurts us” Zahraa, the eldest
daughter tells us.
The family originally left Iraq due to the difficulty in finding work during the sanctions. Um Zahraa says
that her salary during the sanctions dropped to $2 a month. She was a teacher in an Industrial School
of Engineering. Both parents are engineers.
Zahraa, the 17 year old daughter is in first year of University studying pharmacy. The other daughter,
Amna, age 10, wants to be a teacher. The two boys are Mohammed, age 15 and Amin, age 9. They
pay 150 Dinars a month rent and, because there is only one bedroom, they all must share the sleeping
quarters. When asked how they get along in Jordanian schools they all said that the other children are
fine but that the teachers discriminate and treat them poorly. We hear this story again and again, in
house and after house.
bright, with freshly painted walls. Her children range in age from 9 to 17 years. They have been in
Jordan for only six months and lived previously in Sudan for 7 years. Um Zahraa and children
emigrated from Sudan because of the poor living conditions there – they lived in a cave at one point –
and because the education was inadequate. The father is still in Sudan, unable to gain entry to Jordan.
The children all have good English, and seem very cheerful when conversing directly with us, but when
watching their faces as the adults discuss their situation, the cheer seems to melt away and their
sadness is clearly visible. “Everywhere we go there is something that hurts us” Zahraa, the eldest
daughter tells us.
The family originally left Iraq due to the difficulty in finding work during the sanctions. Um Zahraa says
that her salary during the sanctions dropped to $2 a month. She was a teacher in an Industrial School
of Engineering. Both parents are engineers.
Zahraa, the 17 year old daughter is in first year of University studying pharmacy. The other daughter,
Amna, age 10, wants to be a teacher. The two boys are Mohammed, age 15 and Amin, age 9. They
pay 150 Dinars a month rent and, because there is only one bedroom, they all must share the sleeping
quarters. When asked how they get along in Jordanian schools they all said that the other children are
fine but that the teachers discriminate and treat them poorly. We hear this story again and again, in
house and after house.
Um Zahraa took us next door to introduce us to her neighbors, also Iraqi refugees in need of help.
She and her husband live in a duplicate of Um Zahraa’s apartment. They have no children. Until 1988 her husband was working with the Baath party
in Baghdad, which made him a vulnerable target after the invasion. Several members of their family have been assassinated, including a 67 yr old
brother, his daughter and 2 nephews, ages 28 and 33, both engineers. The killings each came 20 days apart.
The precipitating event that led them to flee to Amman was when the wife, an assistant to the head of a technical school, found an envelope on her
desk one morning with a bullet in it. They left with only $3,500 in cash and the wife’s gold, all of which is now spent. They are receiving no help from
any agency or NGO group and survive through the help of neighbors.
When we discussed the idea of starting a community library with CRP funds, and perhaps expanding that idea to include a community centre, you
could see their faces brighten. Here was an idea that could provide a purpose to their days as well as a small income. The three of them were asked
to put together a “proposal” of items needed and the costs, including rent, utilities and furniture and equipment and operating expenses. Our part will
be to explore the funding sources that will sustain such a project on a long term basis.
She and her husband live in a duplicate of Um Zahraa’s apartment. They have no children. Until 1988 her husband was working with the Baath party
in Baghdad, which made him a vulnerable target after the invasion. Several members of their family have been assassinated, including a 67 yr old
brother, his daughter and 2 nephews, ages 28 and 33, both engineers. The killings each came 20 days apart.
The precipitating event that led them to flee to Amman was when the wife, an assistant to the head of a technical school, found an envelope on her
desk one morning with a bullet in it. They left with only $3,500 in cash and the wife’s gold, all of which is now spent. They are receiving no help from
any agency or NGO group and survive through the help of neighbors.
When we discussed the idea of starting a community library with CRP funds, and perhaps expanding that idea to include a community centre, you
could see their faces brighten. Here was an idea that could provide a purpose to their days as well as a small income. The three of them were asked
to put together a “proposal” of items needed and the costs, including rent, utilities and furniture and equipment and operating expenses. Our part will
be to explore the funding sources that will sustain such a project on a long term basis.
We went next to the home of Enas, her husband and two children. CRP helped fund her with
equipment for her beauty shop which she now operates out of her home.
She has 2 children, a daughter Reem, who is 5 yrs, 7 months and a small boy, Qaiser, 1 yr, 2
months. Her husband was a mural painter in Iraq, now does day labor as a house painter. He
came to Amman in 2002 and his wife and daughter came in 2004.
Enas was in the midst of doing a hair style for a customer at the time of our visit, so we didn’t
have opportunity to delve further into their history, but it is clear that Enas is somewhat
successful in her micro-project, though their living conditions seen very bleak. We can also
extrapolate what it must be like for the husbands and fathers to be unable to provide for their
families and/or to be reliant on exploitive employers, who may or may not pay for their work at
day’s end. And each day job brings with it the risk of arrest and deportation.
equipment for her beauty shop which she now operates out of her home.
She has 2 children, a daughter Reem, who is 5 yrs, 7 months and a small boy, Qaiser, 1 yr, 2
months. Her husband was a mural painter in Iraq, now does day labor as a house painter. He
came to Amman in 2002 and his wife and daughter came in 2004.
Enas was in the midst of doing a hair style for a customer at the time of our visit, so we didn’t
have opportunity to delve further into their history, but it is clear that Enas is somewhat
successful in her micro-project, though their living conditions seen very bleak. We can also
extrapolate what it must be like for the husbands and fathers to be unable to provide for their
families and/or to be reliant on exploitive employers, who may or may not pay for their work at
day’s end. And each day job brings with it the risk of arrest and deportation.
After visiting Enas we went to the home of Um Mahmoud, who lives with her husband and four
children in a spacious, clean apartment. The children are Rafal, 16; Mahmoud, 14; Noor, 12 and
Danya, 10. They left Baghdad in May of 2005 after receiving a death threat. The father had been
an army pilot and now works intermittently on commission as a salesman in a duty free shop. He
describes the fear of being stopped by police as he drives to and from work daily and the
humiliation of being vulnerable to the exploitation by the employer who may not pay or, at best, will
pay substandard wages, knowing the employee has no recourse to justice.
They describe the terrifying circumstances for leaving Iraq. Because the husband was in the Army
he was a target in a campaign against former Army personnel. One day he found a note in their
garden with a list of names, including his, saying they were coming to kill him. That was a
Wednesday night. They fled on Thursday with just their clothes. Two of the children had to stay
behind with the grandparents for 1 year but all are in Amman now. The grandparents are still in
Baghdad. The girls describe the terror of the bombings when the war began -- windows shattering
and the house shaking from the foundation to ceiling. For a long time the youngest child would
scream at the sound of an airplane or helicopter approaching from a distance. It is common for the
families all to gather in one room when they hear the air-raid sirens, even knowing the risk of the
whole family dieing, saying it is better they all die than some survive and not the others. Everywhere
we have visited, in every family, the family ties and affections are very apparent and very strong.
When we begin to discuss the situation for the children in Jordanian schools, the father becomes
clearly agitated. Again, we hear that the other children are accepting and friendly, but there is clear
discrimination on the part of the teachers. Highest grades are consistently handed out to Jordanian
students over the Iraqi’s. He gave an example of his daughter’s grade being lowered several points
so that a Jordanian student would be highest in the class. The eldest daughter is in her last year of
high school and wants to go to University next year to be a doctor. Noor wants to be a pharmacist
and Danya a teacher. All have very good marks despite the discrimination and the hardship of
having endured long periods of no school or intermittent school during the bombings and after. But
it is extremely sad to think that despite their bright potential they may be deprived of opportunity to
fulfill their dreams. It is just one more example of U.S. imposed “Collateral Damage” that is
consistently ignored or denied.
children in a spacious, clean apartment. The children are Rafal, 16; Mahmoud, 14; Noor, 12 and
Danya, 10. They left Baghdad in May of 2005 after receiving a death threat. The father had been
an army pilot and now works intermittently on commission as a salesman in a duty free shop. He
describes the fear of being stopped by police as he drives to and from work daily and the
humiliation of being vulnerable to the exploitation by the employer who may not pay or, at best, will
pay substandard wages, knowing the employee has no recourse to justice.
They describe the terrifying circumstances for leaving Iraq. Because the husband was in the Army
he was a target in a campaign against former Army personnel. One day he found a note in their
garden with a list of names, including his, saying they were coming to kill him. That was a
Wednesday night. They fled on Thursday with just their clothes. Two of the children had to stay
behind with the grandparents for 1 year but all are in Amman now. The grandparents are still in
Baghdad. The girls describe the terror of the bombings when the war began -- windows shattering
and the house shaking from the foundation to ceiling. For a long time the youngest child would
scream at the sound of an airplane or helicopter approaching from a distance. It is common for the
families all to gather in one room when they hear the air-raid sirens, even knowing the risk of the
whole family dieing, saying it is better they all die than some survive and not the others. Everywhere
we have visited, in every family, the family ties and affections are very apparent and very strong.
When we begin to discuss the situation for the children in Jordanian schools, the father becomes
clearly agitated. Again, we hear that the other children are accepting and friendly, but there is clear
discrimination on the part of the teachers. Highest grades are consistently handed out to Jordanian
students over the Iraqi’s. He gave an example of his daughter’s grade being lowered several points
so that a Jordanian student would be highest in the class. The eldest daughter is in her last year of
high school and wants to go to University next year to be a doctor. Noor wants to be a pharmacist
and Danya a teacher. All have very good marks despite the discrimination and the hardship of
having endured long periods of no school or intermittent school during the bombings and after. But
it is extremely sad to think that despite their bright potential they may be deprived of opportunity to
fulfill their dreams. It is just one more example of U.S. imposed “Collateral Damage” that is
consistently ignored or denied.
Um Mahmoud's three daughters with bracelets
they make for the Craft Co-op
they make for the Craft Co-op
Um Laith lives with her 4 children in a very poor neighborhood. One reaches her apartment by way of a narrow passageway off the street. Her
children are Meha, 14; Laith, 9; Cebrark, 11; and Kawcher, 7. They pay 70 JD for the apartment, which includes 2 bedrooms, sitting room, kitchen and
bath. The furniture is old and tattered, the lighting poor. Um Laith appears older than her years and her face looks tired. There is a deep and weary
sadness in her eyes. She barely smiled during our visit.
In Iraq she was an agricultural engineer, her husband a taxi driver. For a time when first coming to Amman he had a booth in the market but was
threatened by the police and had to stop. Now he is taking computer training 3 days a week. The rest of the time he spends watching TV. at home,
unable to work and at risk of arrest if he goes outside the home. Um Laith supports the household making and selling pickles and baskets which she
weaves at home.
When the bombing started in Baghdad, Um Laith’s daughters recall being packed into one room for safety -- maybe 100 persons. They remember
windows shattering. They left Iraq after a child in the neighborhood was kidnapped and an exorbitant ransom was demanded. Knowing they would
never be able to pay such an amount if one of their own children was kidnapped, they decided they had to leave before that happened. At the time,
things were starting to go very bad in Iraq—little fuel or electricity, no water and general chaos. They waited out the end of the school term and then
they fled.
In Jordan, school for these children is the same as the other children have reported: the Jordanian students are companionable, but the teachers
insult them and treat them badly.
Meha, the 14 year old daughter, acted as a kind of spokesperson for the other children. Even though she was speaking Arabic and Faiza was
translating, we could sense from her manner that she has a very mature and articulate manner of expression. When asked what she liked about her
life in Amman, she said “Nothing. I want only to go home.” Asked what she would like to say to American children, she said she would ask them to “Ask
America to leave her country so she can go home.” She says she wants to tell the world about Islam and about Peace. Again, we are astounded by
the clarity of vision these young children have; how they maintain a spirit of generosity and even hope through their dismal experiences.
children are Meha, 14; Laith, 9; Cebrark, 11; and Kawcher, 7. They pay 70 JD for the apartment, which includes 2 bedrooms, sitting room, kitchen and
bath. The furniture is old and tattered, the lighting poor. Um Laith appears older than her years and her face looks tired. There is a deep and weary
sadness in her eyes. She barely smiled during our visit.
In Iraq she was an agricultural engineer, her husband a taxi driver. For a time when first coming to Amman he had a booth in the market but was
threatened by the police and had to stop. Now he is taking computer training 3 days a week. The rest of the time he spends watching TV. at home,
unable to work and at risk of arrest if he goes outside the home. Um Laith supports the household making and selling pickles and baskets which she
weaves at home.
When the bombing started in Baghdad, Um Laith’s daughters recall being packed into one room for safety -- maybe 100 persons. They remember
windows shattering. They left Iraq after a child in the neighborhood was kidnapped and an exorbitant ransom was demanded. Knowing they would
never be able to pay such an amount if one of their own children was kidnapped, they decided they had to leave before that happened. At the time,
things were starting to go very bad in Iraq—little fuel or electricity, no water and general chaos. They waited out the end of the school term and then
they fled.
In Jordan, school for these children is the same as the other children have reported: the Jordanian students are companionable, but the teachers
insult them and treat them badly.
Meha, the 14 year old daughter, acted as a kind of spokesperson for the other children. Even though she was speaking Arabic and Faiza was
translating, we could sense from her manner that she has a very mature and articulate manner of expression. When asked what she liked about her
life in Amman, she said “Nothing. I want only to go home.” Asked what she would like to say to American children, she said she would ask them to “Ask
America to leave her country so she can go home.” She says she wants to tell the world about Islam and about Peace. Again, we are astounded by
the clarity of vision these young children have; how they maintain a spirit of generosity and even hope through their dismal experiences.
The last visit of the day is with Sheik Suhail, the 68 year blind man we met at the coffee shop on our first meeting with Faiza. Tonight we visit him
at his apartment in a very poor district of the city. His apartment is spacious and immaculate. The scent of fine incense hangs in the air. We can’t
help but marvel at his housekeeping, which he apparently takes care of by himself.
There are two meanings to the term “Sheik”. One is the leader of the tribe or village or township. The other is applied to holy men. Sheik Suhail is
the latter.
Sheik Suhail was blinded as young man in his twenties, when he was in the Army when the radiator of the truck he was driving overheated and the
boiling water erupted, flying into his eyes, totally blinding him.
We have tea at his kitchen table and he tells us something of his circumstances, but Faiza warns us about a tragedy we should not touch upon or
he will cry. One of his daughters, age 19, had been shot and killed in Baghdad, which was the precipitating factor in the family fleeing to Amman.
The Sheik was a reader of the Koran in his mosque in Baghdad, doing the Calls to Prayer. He was approached by the local opposition and asked
why he didn’t read the Sunni version of the Call to Prayer. He answered that they are all Muslims so it shouldn’t make a difference. They
threatened him and subsequently murdered his eldest daughter. At that point he and his wife and two surviving daughters fled to Amman. After
being in Amman for six months, the wife and daughters returned to Baghdad to visit family, thinking there would be no problem returning. But
when they reached the Jordanian border they found it closed and they were sent back to Baghdad, where they remain. This was eight months
ago. In the meantime his 16 year old daughter was married in Baghdad and now lives with her husband’s family.
Many pleas have been made on his behalf to the Jordanian government to allow his wife and other daughter back into the country on a hardship
basis, but to no avail. He is left stranded – alone, elderly and blind. A Canadian family has pledged to pay his rent each month. Otherwise he is
reliant on neighbors, who are also very poor, but who help where they can. He is amazingly self-reliant but it is understandably very difficult for
him, financially, physically and, perhaps just as critically, emotionally. Fortunately, he is able to be in daily contact with his wife via cell phone,
which helps keep the worry and loneliness at bay.
at his apartment in a very poor district of the city. His apartment is spacious and immaculate. The scent of fine incense hangs in the air. We can’t
help but marvel at his housekeeping, which he apparently takes care of by himself.
There are two meanings to the term “Sheik”. One is the leader of the tribe or village or township. The other is applied to holy men. Sheik Suhail is
the latter.
Sheik Suhail was blinded as young man in his twenties, when he was in the Army when the radiator of the truck he was driving overheated and the
boiling water erupted, flying into his eyes, totally blinding him.
We have tea at his kitchen table and he tells us something of his circumstances, but Faiza warns us about a tragedy we should not touch upon or
he will cry. One of his daughters, age 19, had been shot and killed in Baghdad, which was the precipitating factor in the family fleeing to Amman.
The Sheik was a reader of the Koran in his mosque in Baghdad, doing the Calls to Prayer. He was approached by the local opposition and asked
why he didn’t read the Sunni version of the Call to Prayer. He answered that they are all Muslims so it shouldn’t make a difference. They
threatened him and subsequently murdered his eldest daughter. At that point he and his wife and two surviving daughters fled to Amman. After
being in Amman for six months, the wife and daughters returned to Baghdad to visit family, thinking there would be no problem returning. But
when they reached the Jordanian border they found it closed and they were sent back to Baghdad, where they remain. This was eight months
ago. In the meantime his 16 year old daughter was married in Baghdad and now lives with her husband’s family.
Many pleas have been made on his behalf to the Jordanian government to allow his wife and other daughter back into the country on a hardship
basis, but to no avail. He is left stranded – alone, elderly and blind. A Canadian family has pledged to pay his rent each month. Otherwise he is
reliant on neighbors, who are also very poor, but who help where they can. He is amazingly self-reliant but it is understandably very difficult for
him, financially, physically and, perhaps just as critically, emotionally. Fortunately, he is able to be in daily contact with his wife via cell phone,
which helps keep the worry and loneliness at bay.
The Sheik talking to his wife in Baghdad. She
had just arrived home following gall bladder
surgery
had just arrived home following gall bladder
surgery
Sheik's family - the daughter on the bottom left
was murdered in Iraq
was murdered in Iraq
Lovely women - a photo in the Sheik's family
album
album
November 12, 2007
Today we go to Faiza’s office at 10:30 but she hasn’t arrived yet. In the meantime, Bedha, the Iraqi woman
artist who taught the younger children’s art class at CARE, arrives with her young son who is about 6 yrs old;
and soon Rula, a Jordanian human rights activist arrives. She has volunteered to serve as translator when
Faiza is not available.
Both Bedha and her husband work for CARE during the summer holiday teaching arts. Her husband teaches
drama and writes/directs plays. Under the aegis of CARE he will have a play produced at the end of
November. He previously taught drama in an arts college in Mosul, Iraq.
The family left Iraq in 2005, following death threats. He had written and produced a play on the human rights
violations in Abu Graib prison during Hussein’s regime. Because of this, two of the actors were murdered and
they could surmise that he was also a target so Bedha and children went to live with her family in Ramadi. But
things became difficult there also.
Today we go to Faiza’s office at 10:30 but she hasn’t arrived yet. In the meantime, Bedha, the Iraqi woman
artist who taught the younger children’s art class at CARE, arrives with her young son who is about 6 yrs old;
and soon Rula, a Jordanian human rights activist arrives. She has volunteered to serve as translator when
Faiza is not available.
Both Bedha and her husband work for CARE during the summer holiday teaching arts. Her husband teaches
drama and writes/directs plays. Under the aegis of CARE he will have a play produced at the end of
November. He previously taught drama in an arts college in Mosul, Iraq.
The family left Iraq in 2005, following death threats. He had written and produced a play on the human rights
violations in Abu Graib prison during Hussein’s regime. Because of this, two of the actors were murdered and
they could surmise that he was also a target so Bedha and children went to live with her family in Ramadi. But
things became difficult there also.
She described US soldiers raiding her family’s house on two occasions. On one occasion her brothers were beaten badly when the soldiers found a
c.d. the children had found and brought home, depicting footage taken by the resistance. On another occasion they broke all the furniture and
destroyed the brother’s electronic equipment that he had brought home from work to repair. They also took $1,100 belonging to the brother’s shop.
Bedha told us that the children witnessed the beatings and the raids, and eventually could not sleep at night, because that’s when the soldiers would
come. They slept only in the day. The women slept in their clothes, fearing arrest in the middle of the night, not wanting to be taken away in night
clothes. She says there were two infamous brigades that would raid the houses. One was known as the called the “smashing brigade” because they
would smash all the furniture in the houses they raided. The other brigade was famous for making arrests. At times helicopters would land on the
houses’ roofs and often during the night they would listen to soldiers running from house to house across the rooftops. Sometimes soldiers would
break into the houses from the door leading down from the roof. The people soon learned never to lock their doors because if they did the soldiers
would likely blow them up to gain access.
Asked what he wants to be when he grows up, the boy answers “an archictural engineer.” The clear vision these children have for their futures is
incredibly amazing, even at such a young age and after having been through so much that has the potential to destroy or warp all their hopes and
dreams.
c.d. the children had found and brought home, depicting footage taken by the resistance. On another occasion they broke all the furniture and
destroyed the brother’s electronic equipment that he had brought home from work to repair. They also took $1,100 belonging to the brother’s shop.
Bedha told us that the children witnessed the beatings and the raids, and eventually could not sleep at night, because that’s when the soldiers would
come. They slept only in the day. The women slept in their clothes, fearing arrest in the middle of the night, not wanting to be taken away in night
clothes. She says there were two infamous brigades that would raid the houses. One was known as the called the “smashing brigade” because they
would smash all the furniture in the houses they raided. The other brigade was famous for making arrests. At times helicopters would land on the
houses’ roofs and often during the night they would listen to soldiers running from house to house across the rooftops. Sometimes soldiers would
break into the houses from the door leading down from the roof. The people soon learned never to lock their doors because if they did the soldiers
would likely blow them up to gain access.
Asked what he wants to be when he grows up, the boy answers “an archictural engineer.” The clear vision these children have for their futures is
incredibly amazing, even at such a young age and after having been through so much that has the potential to destroy or warp all their hopes and
dreams.
In the evening we go to visit Um Sara, whom we had met while staying at our first hotel before Faiza has returned. The hotel
owner had told us of an Iraqi refugee woman who sometimes seeks day jobs cleaning at his hotel and who is living in very
bad circumstances. At our request he calls her and arranges for her to come to the hotel for an initial interview. As a result,
we arrange to contact her at her home upon Faiza’s return from Italy.
Our taxi driver lets us off in front of a school where Um Sara’s daughters will meet us and bring us to her house. Um Sara is a
widow, has 4 daughters ages 7 to 15. She says she was an accountant or book keeper at a school in Iraq and now she is
cleaning rooms, but there is little work.
owner had told us of an Iraqi refugee woman who sometimes seeks day jobs cleaning at his hotel and who is living in very
bad circumstances. At our request he calls her and arranges for her to come to the hotel for an initial interview. As a result,
we arrange to contact her at her home upon Faiza’s return from Italy.
Our taxi driver lets us off in front of a school where Um Sara’s daughters will meet us and bring us to her house. Um Sara is a
widow, has 4 daughters ages 7 to 15. She says she was an accountant or book keeper at a school in Iraq and now she is
cleaning rooms, but there is little work.
When two of her daughters and a cousin arrive, the school is letting out and the street fills with pre-teenage boys who are asking us for money.
Faiza scolds them and they disperse. The teenage girls who are our guides are dressed in western garb – tight jeans and sweaters and heavy make-
up. This is unusual even among the more secular females in Amman. They are not wearing the hijab, or head dress.
The apartment has three rooms and we are told the rent is 130 JD a month. There is another woman present, identified as a relative, possibly an
aunt of Um Sara. She is older, and is the grandmother of one of the three girls who came to meet us. The granddaughter appears to be about 15 yrs
old, the same age as Um Zarah’s eldest daughter who, we are told, works “serving” at parties. The youngest of Um Sara’s daughters, age 7, is
napping when we arrive.
Once we are seated on the floor cushions, Faiza delivers a lecture to the girls about the risk they are taking by drawing attention to the family
because of their “provocative” dress, and that they also risk “being attacked”. Should that happen and they file a police report, the whole family
would be deported. This lecture has about the same effect on the girls as one would expect from an American teen-ager. They shrug it off. Their
mother doesn’t seem interested either, listens impassively and makes no comment.
Um Sara is a widow of 7 years. Her husband died of natural causes. She tells that the family fled Baghdad in Dec 2006, after being threatened by a
militia. She had been previously employed by a woman’s union and, as such, was a member of the Baath party. They are now seeking asylum in the
U.S. The daughters are not doing well in school because they miss a lot of classes. Um Zara says she has been working cleaning houses when she
can but she is too tired now and would like to have a sewing machine so she can earn money at home. The older woman, who came to Jordan during
the sanctions in 1966, tells of having a daughter in the US who is working as a hair dresser and earning $2,000 a month.
This doesn’t appear to be a likely prospect for a micro-project. The household doesn’t seem interested in working and Um Sara has no sewing
experience that would allow her to know how to use a machine or make clothing. Her daughters are rarely attending school but not contributing to the
household. Iraqis, and particularly refugees, have been through unimaginably difficult circumstances, and it is clear that there will be those who are
broken and have opted to try to cash in on easy assistance. There will always be stories that appear compelling at first but which, in final analysis,
don’t have the potential to bring a difference in the lives of the people. Sadly, we feel that this family is one of those and is not truly motivated to help
themselves. Since CRP has many compelling families, and very limited resources, we learn today that we must at times make a judgment call that is
difficult.
Faiza scolds them and they disperse. The teenage girls who are our guides are dressed in western garb – tight jeans and sweaters and heavy make-
up. This is unusual even among the more secular females in Amman. They are not wearing the hijab, or head dress.
The apartment has three rooms and we are told the rent is 130 JD a month. There is another woman present, identified as a relative, possibly an
aunt of Um Sara. She is older, and is the grandmother of one of the three girls who came to meet us. The granddaughter appears to be about 15 yrs
old, the same age as Um Zarah’s eldest daughter who, we are told, works “serving” at parties. The youngest of Um Sara’s daughters, age 7, is
napping when we arrive.
Once we are seated on the floor cushions, Faiza delivers a lecture to the girls about the risk they are taking by drawing attention to the family
because of their “provocative” dress, and that they also risk “being attacked”. Should that happen and they file a police report, the whole family
would be deported. This lecture has about the same effect on the girls as one would expect from an American teen-ager. They shrug it off. Their
mother doesn’t seem interested either, listens impassively and makes no comment.
Um Sara is a widow of 7 years. Her husband died of natural causes. She tells that the family fled Baghdad in Dec 2006, after being threatened by a
militia. She had been previously employed by a woman’s union and, as such, was a member of the Baath party. They are now seeking asylum in the
U.S. The daughters are not doing well in school because they miss a lot of classes. Um Zara says she has been working cleaning houses when she
can but she is too tired now and would like to have a sewing machine so she can earn money at home. The older woman, who came to Jordan during
the sanctions in 1966, tells of having a daughter in the US who is working as a hair dresser and earning $2,000 a month.
This doesn’t appear to be a likely prospect for a micro-project. The household doesn’t seem interested in working and Um Sara has no sewing
experience that would allow her to know how to use a machine or make clothing. Her daughters are rarely attending school but not contributing to the
household. Iraqis, and particularly refugees, have been through unimaginably difficult circumstances, and it is clear that there will be those who are
broken and have opted to try to cash in on easy assistance. There will always be stories that appear compelling at first but which, in final analysis,
don’t have the potential to bring a difference in the lives of the people. Sadly, we feel that this family is one of those and is not truly motivated to help
themselves. Since CRP has many compelling families, and very limited resources, we learn today that we must at times make a judgment call that is
difficult.
November 13, 2007
We begin the day late, visiting the first family after dusk has settled. A thin crescent moon hangs on the horizon and the weather has turned chilly. A
breeze kicks empty black plastic bags along the narrow street.
Our first visit is with Um Riahm and her 3 daughters. When we enter the home, we find a very modern, well appointed kitchen. From here we are led
through a formal dining room with heavy, carved mahogany table and chairs. The living room is very large, divided into two sitting areas, and
furnished with richly upholstered sofas and chairs, along with large book cases and many family portraits decorating the walls. Clearly, we’re stunned
until we learn that this family is house-sitting for wealthy Kuwaitis, who allow them to live in the main house while they are away. When the owners
return, the family lives in one room off the main house. Apparently the owner of the house knew Um Riahm’s husband in Basra, when he worked for
the Oil Ministry. By chance they met again after the family moved to Amman and he made the offer of house-sitting.
The family immigrated to Jordan in 5 years ago, but before the invasion. The father had been in the Iraqi reserve army and kept getting called back
into service. He finally decided he’d had enough and the family moved from Basra to Baghdad so he could obtain steady employment and not be
called up again. In Basra he had worked for the Oil Ministry but was retired. When they arrived in Baghdad they learned that a law had just been
enacted disallowing people from moving from one province to another and they were faced with having to return to Basra. Had he done that, he
would be arrested for desertion. So they opted to come to Jordan. In 2003 he thought the threat was over so he returned to Baghdad and now he is
unable to return to Jordan. He lives with relatives and sends money when he can. Um Riahm worked in a hotel washing dishes when they first arrived
in Amman, before they connected with the Kuwaiti family.
The youngest is daughter is Reneen, age 14. The other two are Aliaa, age 22 and Rhiahm, 23. The eldest has just landed a job in a book store. She
hasn’t received her first paycheck yet but it is due this week. She is being paid 80 JDs a month while her Jordanian counterparts are earning 120
JDs. Aliaa has been taking an online course for college credits and has finished the first year. But now she cannot afford to finish the final 2
semesters--the cost is 500 JD per semester.
Reneen, is currently in private school, after a problem in public school. As we have been hearing, Jordanian teachers often discriminate against Iraqi
students. Raneen’s teacher was going to hold her back from graduating because she scored low in her English class. When her mother protested,
the teacher gave them two options: either repeat the entire grade or she would give her the passing certificate if she left the school. They took the
second option and with help of a friend were able to borrow the money to enroll her in a private school. Apparently she is doing very well now, says
she loves school and, for the first time, has made many good Iraqi friends. She is a bright young woman with a great sense of humor, joking that the
teacher didn’t like her because the teacher had recently broken up with her fiancée, who is Iraqi. She wants to be a poet and a television
newscaster. Her sparkling personality will lend itself well to television. She read a poem she had written, with Faiza translating and it was mature
beyond her years. The subject was the devastation that has been done to her country. When asked what she would do if she could make the world
better she answered “let everyone go back to their own land and let everyone be safe in their own homes and not be told to leave.”
Rhian’s fiancé was working as a contractor for Americans when he was kidnapped and $60,000 ransom was demanded. Apparently the Americans
paid the ransom and he is now in Jordan seeking asylum in America.
Um Rhian has multiple medical problems, including high blood pressure. She brought out the prescriptions she is currently taking, 5 or 6 of them.
Faiza advised her to apply to CARITAS for assistance with the costs.
When asked what she would perceive as a micro project for herself she mentioned there were two: the first was for pickle making supplies so she
could sell to neighbors and local shops. The second project suggested was for a computer and small printer. Aliaa could then type and print school
and college papers for students, which there is apparently a need for. This would serve as both income for the household and a way to earn tuition
to finish her courses. Um Rhian will scout out prospects for selling her pickles and we will investigate the potential cost of a used computer. It is likely
that the computer option is too costly for our project at this time but this needs to be further investigated.
We begin the day late, visiting the first family after dusk has settled. A thin crescent moon hangs on the horizon and the weather has turned chilly. A
breeze kicks empty black plastic bags along the narrow street.
Our first visit is with Um Riahm and her 3 daughters. When we enter the home, we find a very modern, well appointed kitchen. From here we are led
through a formal dining room with heavy, carved mahogany table and chairs. The living room is very large, divided into two sitting areas, and
furnished with richly upholstered sofas and chairs, along with large book cases and many family portraits decorating the walls. Clearly, we’re stunned
until we learn that this family is house-sitting for wealthy Kuwaitis, who allow them to live in the main house while they are away. When the owners
return, the family lives in one room off the main house. Apparently the owner of the house knew Um Riahm’s husband in Basra, when he worked for
the Oil Ministry. By chance they met again after the family moved to Amman and he made the offer of house-sitting.
The family immigrated to Jordan in 5 years ago, but before the invasion. The father had been in the Iraqi reserve army and kept getting called back
into service. He finally decided he’d had enough and the family moved from Basra to Baghdad so he could obtain steady employment and not be
called up again. In Basra he had worked for the Oil Ministry but was retired. When they arrived in Baghdad they learned that a law had just been
enacted disallowing people from moving from one province to another and they were faced with having to return to Basra. Had he done that, he
would be arrested for desertion. So they opted to come to Jordan. In 2003 he thought the threat was over so he returned to Baghdad and now he is
unable to return to Jordan. He lives with relatives and sends money when he can. Um Riahm worked in a hotel washing dishes when they first arrived
in Amman, before they connected with the Kuwaiti family.
The youngest is daughter is Reneen, age 14. The other two are Aliaa, age 22 and Rhiahm, 23. The eldest has just landed a job in a book store. She
hasn’t received her first paycheck yet but it is due this week. She is being paid 80 JDs a month while her Jordanian counterparts are earning 120
JDs. Aliaa has been taking an online course for college credits and has finished the first year. But now she cannot afford to finish the final 2
semesters--the cost is 500 JD per semester.
Reneen, is currently in private school, after a problem in public school. As we have been hearing, Jordanian teachers often discriminate against Iraqi
students. Raneen’s teacher was going to hold her back from graduating because she scored low in her English class. When her mother protested,
the teacher gave them two options: either repeat the entire grade or she would give her the passing certificate if she left the school. They took the
second option and with help of a friend were able to borrow the money to enroll her in a private school. Apparently she is doing very well now, says
she loves school and, for the first time, has made many good Iraqi friends. She is a bright young woman with a great sense of humor, joking that the
teacher didn’t like her because the teacher had recently broken up with her fiancée, who is Iraqi. She wants to be a poet and a television
newscaster. Her sparkling personality will lend itself well to television. She read a poem she had written, with Faiza translating and it was mature
beyond her years. The subject was the devastation that has been done to her country. When asked what she would do if she could make the world
better she answered “let everyone go back to their own land and let everyone be safe in their own homes and not be told to leave.”
Rhian’s fiancé was working as a contractor for Americans when he was kidnapped and $60,000 ransom was demanded. Apparently the Americans
paid the ransom and he is now in Jordan seeking asylum in America.
Um Rhian has multiple medical problems, including high blood pressure. She brought out the prescriptions she is currently taking, 5 or 6 of them.
Faiza advised her to apply to CARITAS for assistance with the costs.
When asked what she would perceive as a micro project for herself she mentioned there were two: the first was for pickle making supplies so she
could sell to neighbors and local shops. The second project suggested was for a computer and small printer. Aliaa could then type and print school
and college papers for students, which there is apparently a need for. This would serve as both income for the household and a way to earn tuition
to finish her courses. Um Rhian will scout out prospects for selling her pickles and we will investigate the potential cost of a used computer. It is likely
that the computer option is too costly for our project at this time but this needs to be further investigated.
From Um Rhiam’s house we drive a short distance to the home of Um Saif and her 19 year old daughter Hiba. There are two other children, sons,
ages 19 and 20. One is in Egypt, unable to immigrate to Jordan. The other son is in Amman and moves from job to job, working where and when
possible due to lack of legal residency.
Hiba has finished high school but there is no money for her to continue her education. When asked what she would like to do with her life she replied
that she would like to start an organization working with children. She feels the children of the USA have nothing in common with Iraqi children.
“Americans are raised with peace and security while Iraqis are raised only with war” We asked what she would do to make the world a better place.
“Serve Peace and Love and remove all the hate from the hearts of the people.” She had only one word when asked why she felt the U.S. invaded her
country. “Greed” she said. “Greed”.
Um Saif’s husband worked for the Foreign Embassy of Iraq before the war. He lost his position during Bremmer’s “de-Baathification” process. The
family was then targeted by a sectarian militia that was killing former Baath party members. A group of armed men entered their house to deliver a
threat by way of shooting at their son’s feet.
The family fled to Amman in July 2003. The husband returned to Baghdad in 2004 to finish up personal affairs, returning safely after 1 month, only to
suffer a heart attack. He returned to Baghdad in 2006 for medical treatment for his heart, accompanied by the eldest son. They moved from relative
to relative for protection and for the protection of their relatives. But the father was eventually kidnapped. The family was contacted by phone, a
voice informing them he would be found at the morgue. In fact, they found his body in the street near the morgue, a bullet hole in the head. After a
hastily arranged burial the son was unable to return to Jordan as the borders had closed, so he immigrated to Egypt, where he remains. Um Saif
tearful tells of his letters expressing his loneliness and depression at being separated from the family and his community of friends. He has no Iraqi
friends in Cairo with whom he can share his feelings and experiences.
When asked what kind of project she felt she would like to have funded, she answered that all she wants is to have her family together again. This is
but another unseen, unreported consequence of collateral damage – the splitting asunder of families -- families who have already endured
unspeakable tragedy and hardship.
ages 19 and 20. One is in Egypt, unable to immigrate to Jordan. The other son is in Amman and moves from job to job, working where and when
possible due to lack of legal residency.
Hiba has finished high school but there is no money for her to continue her education. When asked what she would like to do with her life she replied
that she would like to start an organization working with children. She feels the children of the USA have nothing in common with Iraqi children.
“Americans are raised with peace and security while Iraqis are raised only with war” We asked what she would do to make the world a better place.
“Serve Peace and Love and remove all the hate from the hearts of the people.” She had only one word when asked why she felt the U.S. invaded her
country. “Greed” she said. “Greed”.
Um Saif’s husband worked for the Foreign Embassy of Iraq before the war. He lost his position during Bremmer’s “de-Baathification” process. The
family was then targeted by a sectarian militia that was killing former Baath party members. A group of armed men entered their house to deliver a
threat by way of shooting at their son’s feet.
The family fled to Amman in July 2003. The husband returned to Baghdad in 2004 to finish up personal affairs, returning safely after 1 month, only to
suffer a heart attack. He returned to Baghdad in 2006 for medical treatment for his heart, accompanied by the eldest son. They moved from relative
to relative for protection and for the protection of their relatives. But the father was eventually kidnapped. The family was contacted by phone, a
voice informing them he would be found at the morgue. In fact, they found his body in the street near the morgue, a bullet hole in the head. After a
hastily arranged burial the son was unable to return to Jordan as the borders had closed, so he immigrated to Egypt, where he remains. Um Saif
tearful tells of his letters expressing his loneliness and depression at being separated from the family and his community of friends. He has no Iraqi
friends in Cairo with whom he can share his feelings and experiences.
When asked what kind of project she felt she would like to have funded, she answered that all she wants is to have her family together again. This is
but another unseen, unreported consequence of collateral damage – the splitting asunder of families -- families who have already endured
unspeakable tragedy and hardship.