Um Khalid

Um Khalid has an ideal situation for an Iraqi refugee. She’s an engineer working in the private sector who’s married to a Jordanian Sunni. She had a satisfying life living in Amman, Jordan that was quite balanced between caring for her kids and working in their family “water purification device” business. However, as prices got higher in Jordan following “The Kuwait War” and her longing for her homeland got more intense, her family moved to Baghdad. Even during the sanctions, they did well economically since they had their own company. Those who were working for the government at that time had their salaries reduced to a pittance, which of course led to widespread corruption.

Life was reasonably good there until her son, Khalid, a university student who sported a shaved head and a long unkempt beard, was kidnapped. Under Saddam, her son’s beard, which to some indicated sympathy to the Wahabbis (or Salafis) of Saudi Arabia wasn’t a problem because Saddam had an intelligence system that enabled him to know about each and every family in every district. These folks knew that Khalid had no such allegiance nor fanatical intentions. After the fall of Saddam, that intelligence apparatus fell apart, and after several warnings to cut his beard “like a proper Shia” the militia took him off to prison. He remained there for 14 days until his family could locate him and pay the ransom. The night he was released, they moved back to Jordan.

Life for Um Khalid changed. Before, she was friendly with her Jordanian neighbors, enjoying pleasant light conversation over cups of coffee. After this experience, she became passionate about helping less fortunate Iraqi refugee families and the former small talk became unpalatable. Because of her legitimate residency status she’s a lot freer to speak out and stand up for herself when taxi drivers try to drive her “the long way” to her destination or shopkeepers overcharge her once they hear her Iraqi accent.

 

Um Khalid, a Shia, told me that while she believes Malaki (and his executive branch) to be “worse than useless”, she thinks the parliament is filled with reasonable people who, given the chance and support, can rule Iraq constructively. These are people, she says, who are willing to compromise and that once the Americans leave they will be able to make the concessions necessary to create a functioning government that represents all of the people. Some Sunnis and Christians I talked with think the Parliament is against them.

The sectarian violence going on now does not stem from an age-old religious schism, but rather intentional favoritism towards Sunnis, Palestinians and Christians as well as persecution of the Shia and Kurdish communities under Saddam. The continuing violence since his fall exacerbates this. Now the Shia are taking their comeuppance. Once the violence subsides, if there is justice in the new leadership of the Iraqi government, there is a chance that the population, hungry for peace and security, will join in the rebuilding of their country. The sooner that the violence subsides, the more likely this is to come about.

 

Again, I’d like to invite those of you who live in Austin, TX to A Gathering Under the Oaks, a backyard event as a benefit for Austin Center for Peace and Justice. I will be the featured guest along with Oliver Rajamani. It will be held at the home of Steve and Rene Morris Larson (2703 Bridle Path, Austin, TX) on June 14^th from 6:30-9:00 pm. The event is a fundraiser for ACPJ with a suggested donation of $25/student $20. For more information, call 799-5117. I will give a short presentation followed by an informal discussion. I hope you can come.

This is the last entry for the section of my blog on Iraqi women refugees. Postings after this one will come as I feel inspired to write.

Thanks for joining me on this journey. Peggy

Rawa

Rawa is Um Rami’s oldest daughter. Her older brother is 19, she is 16 and her other brothers and sisters are eight and eleven. I met her while at Zahra’s house one day when she and her mother dropped by. While Um Rami and Zahra were working out some plans, Rawa began plying me with questions about English. Her English and my Arabic were at about the same level, so we had a great time trying to understand each other and exchanging vocabulary.

I saw her again a few weeks later when I interviewed her.

In Baghdad, where she lived up to the age of 13, she had a relatively carefree life until the war began. Her family lived in a nice house, she was doing well in school and she had girlfriends to hang out with in her free time. With the war came the bombing which was very frightening for her. Lying in bed at night listening to explosions and wondering if she knew anyone who was being hit wracked her nerves. She and her family moved around to different areas of Baghdad when her father’s store got blown up and he started getting death threats. That’s when she lost contact with most of her girlfriends. Her family finally came to Jordan in 2005, via a scary ride in a taxi to the Jordanian border. They saw some people being pulled over ahead of them so they took off across the desert and circumvented the danger. Being Sabean, a religion that predates Judaism, they likely might only have been robbed….

Rawa’s biggest concern right now is for the well being of her father. He had gotten a phone call about 3 weeks before informing him that his cousin had been killed. He flew into a rage and stormed about for several days before one day taking his passport and leaving. The family hadn’t heard from him since. Rami misses him a lot.

She also misses school. Besides her father’s safe return, she wants to go to school more than anything. Her mother had wanted to be a teacher but her father wouldn’t allow it since it would involve working with men. She has her chance now and is one of the few women I met who makes a special effort to teach her children academic subjects. Rawa has a special drive to learn English, perhaps from seeing Zahra and her work with foreigners.

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One of the sad things about Iraqis having the status of “guest” in Jordan rather than refugee status is that the children aren’t allowed to go to school. Jordanian schools are mostly already full, but even schools created by Iraqis for Iraqi children, are not allowed. This doesn’t make sense when you look down the road and realize that these Iraqi kids will likely be in Jordan for a long time and will grow into uneducated adults which will create another kind of social problem. The fear on the part of the Jordanian government is, however, that Iraqi-only schools may become like some of the madrassas in Pakistan, that is, become schools of terrorism or at least sectarian propaganda. Nevertheless, some Iraqi children are able to attend Jordanian schools. From what I could gather, it depends mostly on the headmaster of the school and whether there is any space.

There are also efforts to start some “informal” schools. These would exist under the radar of the Jordanian government and wouldn’t award grades or diplomas, but would give the kids a chance to socialize, have some regularity in their lives and keep their minds active until they can attend a regular school. A priest at one of the Catholic churches has started an art-based school that meets several afternoons a week. It’s open to any children and encourages their parents to participate as well. One of the best things about this school is that by being open to everyone, the Iraqi kids have the opportunity to mix with Jordanians and Palestinians in a supportive, fun atmosphere.

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Before I left, I found out that Rawa’s father is alive and well and living with relatives in Southern Iraq. He won’t be allowed to return to Jordan and rejoin his family there, however.

Waves

Yesterday, I visited with Jamila, the 61 year-old mother of Ali*, an ex-translator for the US military. Jamila is very unique, both in her creative personality as well as the fact that both of her parents and also her grandfather (born in 1900) were well educated.  She was at a clinic when she met the sister of her future husband. The sister reported back that she had found a suitable marriage candidate. His family further investigated her family and decided that they were suitable, so he paid her a visit to ask for her hand. Everyone agreed because he was also educated and seemed kindly. Over the course of the next 3 years, they got to know each other better when he would pay visits to them. They never did go out together until after they were married. Unlike in Afghanistan, it would have been fine for her to change her mind at this late date and back out of the marriage. She told me that in the Koran it says that the woman must also agree to the marriage.

 Their engagement lasted so long because her parents wanted her to finish her education first. She taught for 7 years  until taking care of her 4 (at that time) kids got to be too much in addition to her school duties. After she quit, she kept herself busy developing her cooking skills, sewing, and gardening. 

 Life continued like that with her children growing, and marrying until Ali began to get death threats for being a “collaborator”. They tried every avenue to get him a visa for the US, but after a number of denials, (Very very few Iraqis, no matter how pro-American they are, no matter how loyally they have worked to help American soldiers, are allowed into the States.) they couldn’t wait any longer and so came to Jordan. Currently, they are living in a 5th floor walk-up that has a great view of the city, but is difficult for Jamila to navigate.

*not his real name

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An Iraqi who works for an NGO coordinating agency filled us in on the big picture of the refugees.  He talked in terms of the different waves of refugees as they came over a period from the early ‘90’s until now. Jordan has a history of welcoming refugees from as far back as the first wave of Palestinians in ’48 and then again in ‘67. At this point, Palestinians are estimated to comprise 50% of the population. The exact percentage is a sensitive political issue. They initially continued this generosity toward the Iraqis. At the beginning–after the first Gulf war–Iraqis were welcomed and given visas and work permits. In 2003, a large wave affiliated with Saddam came, and later investors and after that professionals. When the waves of sectarian people came, the host countries, including Syria, felt themselves overloaded, especially since with each wave, the people coming were poorer. The welcome mat was rolled up after the bombings of three international tourist hotels by Iraqi terrorists in 2005. As a result, the new refugees aren’t given anything beyond a 3-month tourist visa and of course no work permits. Jordan officially views them as “guests” rather than refugees, which means that the UNHCR can’t do their thing of providing shelter, education and other things that help people rebuild their lives. Anything that smacks of the aid being institutionalized is forbidden. (Handouts of food and medical care are welcome.)  From the point of view of the refugees themselves, this  lies at the heart of the deepening humanitarian crisis.  With  their dwindling  financial resources, lack of ability to support themselves, a real fear of deportation to face likely (and in some cases certain) death, and few countries being willing to offer them residency and no end to the war in sight, added to rampant PTSD, it is little wonder that they are discouraged and hopeless.  For me, the hardest part of listening to their stories is the hopelessness that I feel for them as well.

In addition to these refugees, there are also 2 million IDPs (internally displaced people) inside Iraq who are receiving neither help nor attention.

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Neither Ali nor his mother, however,  are hopeless. They still have an idea that maybe someday they can come to the US. Soldiers he has worked with have written glowing recommendations.  Meanwhile, it has been arranged that a Canadian man will send some money so that Ali can set up a small school to teach Iraqi kids. This would be illegal of course, but perhaps if it’s small enough and discrete enough,  it can go undetected.