Naghia

 

Naghia was eleven and living in Baghdad when the Iran-Iraq war broke out.  Her father owned a restaurant, but lost it when he was drafted to fight. Being Chaldean Christian, they were otherwise left alone by Saddam’s regime. Even so, times got hard economically, and by the time Naghia got  her BA in store management, she had to abandon plans for a Masters degree and work to help support her family. She got a job managing the stores of the Department of Education, earning a decent salary.  In the early 90’s however, during the sanctions, her pay was reduced to the equivalent of $2.00 a month, both because the government couldn’t afford to pay her, coupled with the devaluation of the Iraqi Dinar. So, she quit and began doing volunteer work at the church, helping poor families as a kind of case-worker. In turn they helped her and her family. 

About 11 years ago, her sister had an opportunity to go to the Netherlands and abandoned her son to Naghia’s care. When some of Saddam’s men had begun questioning her father about what he may have overheard as proprietor of his restaurant, and made it clear that they would all suffer if he didn’t cooperate, he decided that he’d rather leave than inform.

The rest of the family went to Turkey, but Naghia and her father went to Jordan because he believed that it was easier for them to get a visa from there. And he got one, she says because he was old and was leaving his daughter behind. Naghia had a chance to get a visa for Canada, but when they refused to accept her nephew, she decided to stay.

When I asked how Naghia deals with her pain and frustration, she says that she visits her friends and listens to their troubles, which are often worse than hers, so it puts it in perspective for her. She feels like she doesn’t have a choice, she has to go on living and hide her frustration or depression so as not to make her nephew feel bad.

**************

PTSD and depression are rampant among the refugees. The worst part is the loss of hope which I often encountered. The most hopeful people seem to be the ones who are busy helping others. Often it means taking care of family members, and other times it takes the form of listening to their friends. A few like Zahra and Naghia become “private” social workers.

Unfortunately, they often don’t have a place to go to unload their problems. If  people like Naghia could have a place to spill their grief and frustration, it would make them better able to keep themselves emotionally afloat and so be in a better position to provide support for those around them.

Isra and life in the “good old days”

Isra was born into an upper middle class family. Her father worked in the oil industry under Saddam. They lived in Basra, in the southern part of Iraq by the Kuwaiti border, until she was 11. She had a nice, carefree life; going to social clubs, swimming, hanging out with her friends and going to school. When the Iran-Iraq war began in 1980, her father was transferred to Baghdad. In some ways the war didn’t affect her external life too much; she still continued with school, she made new friends and lived her teenaged-life. On the other hand, it deeply saddened her since she lost a lot of relatives who were sent off to fight in that war. She’s angry about that war that “was for no reason”.

In 1990, the year of the First Gulf War, her family married her to a man she didn’t much care for. They had two children. Her husband, who works with computers, used to give computer classes in the mosque, but once the sectarian war started after Saddam was toppled, this became very dangerous. Sunni mosques were the target of terrorism, men just going to pray were in danger. Men who did more than pray, such as her husband teaching computer classes, were targeted. He began to receive threatening letters. He moved around to different houses to avoid danger, but one night they came for him and took him away……

She stayed in Baghdad for a few more months making inquiries (which in itself is a dangerous thing to do) and tying up loose ends, and then she and her children escaped to Jordan and moved in with her father. (It is much easier for a woman and kids to get temporary visas than for men.) Her life there isn’t very good. Her father is dictatorial and resents having to support his daughter and grandchildren. She wants to work, but can’t get a job in Jordan. She’s praying for another country (especially the US) to let her start her life over.

**************

I got to hear a lot about the way Iraq used to be “back in the good old days”. For Iraqis, that was in the ‘80’s before the Iran-Iraq war. Iraq was quite prosperous and that prosperity filtered down to the masses. Many things were free: Education, including graduate-level university and medical care. The word Iraqis would use to say “put gas in the car” was “yenar” to fill the tank because it cost less than a dollar to fill even a gas hog. People owned spacious, beautiful houses with gardens in the back and paid just pennies for their utilities. Wages were generally good and there was plenty to eat. They were used to having their own personal space, so it is doubly hard now to live as a whole family in one or two rooms. Especially when people, especially the men, put themselves in danger of deportation by going out.

Sunni women of Isra’s age had it good under Saddam. For one, he promoted education and work opportunities for girls. The more “liberal” families allowed their women to take advantage of it, (often more the education than the work because many times the family didn’t need the extra income.) but that included a lot of people, making Iraqis among the most highly educated of the Arabs. These things applied to all women, but the Shia also had to live with persecution, which I’ll talk about in a future blog.

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!