If they can't afford water, how can they pay for prescriptions?

Maha and I will begin distributing food packages to families in February. But today, on the last day of January, we are waiting for a man to call us with price estimates for him to put together ration packages of staple foods at a better price than we can get at the marketplace. So, today, I accompanied Maha to visit Muna who requested assistance in paying for prescription medications for the 9 year old daughter, Noura. Maha, in addition to coordinating CRP projects also collects funds from wealthy Iraqi donors in Amman and uses these funds to pay for medical treatments and prescriptions.

Muna is divorced and of her three children, only Noura lives with her. Her two other children – a son and a daughter – live with her ex-husband in Iraq. Muna also is responsible for three of her nieces and nephews who are orphaned. Muna’s nieces and nephew’s father was a policeman in Iraq and killed by a suicide bombing. The children’s mother was traveling between Najaf and Karballa and disappeared. Nothing has been heard from her since and she is assumed dead One of her nieces is divorced and has two small children. Her husband returned to Iraq six months ago because he wanted to work to support his family and found it impossible in Jordan. There has been no word of him since he left.

Nine year old Noura shows us the scars from her last surgery. Her first surgery was paid for by an large aid organization; the second was partially paid for by another organization but Muna had to spend all of the funds she received from the family’s UNHCR monthly cash grant to pay the remainder of the cost. She has no more money.

Noura has a mass of benign tumors throughout her body. Her liver is also compromised. She retains excess liquid in her abdomen. This much we could discern from her mother’s explanation and from pouring over the pile of lab reports and test results Muna brought to us. Much of it is in “medicaleese” and we shake our heads, trying to make sense of it all. All we know if that if she does not get these medications she is liable to get a post operative infection and one of the medications prescribed will help diffuse the fluid build-up which makes it difficult for Noura to sleep at night when it makes it hard for her to breathe.

The living room area we sit in has foam mats lining the walls for furniture. Muna explains that the only other assistance she has received from any organization are these mats; a neighbor provided them with the carpet. The room is clean and attractive because Muna keeps it orderly. Her niece, Ausus, brings in a tray of tea for us to share.

After our tea, we prepare to leave to go to the pharmacy with Muna to buy the prescriptions. First Muna shows us the rest of their apartment. The rooms are large and the cement walls and floor hold the winter chill. We see the one bedroom that Noura, her three cousins and two second cousins share. Then we take a look at the kitchen. One wall is covered with black mold from the dampness. There is no table, only a rickety counter with a sink and very few dishes. The walls lined with plastic containers of various sizes that hold water. Muna tells us that they only get water one day a week and fill the containers on that day for use for the rest of the week. If they run out, they beg water from neighbors to fill the containers.

Water to homes in Jordan is delivered by tank truck to tanks on the rooftops. The expense of getting a tank filled is more than many families can afford. The 15 Jordan Dinars (approximately $21) it costs to fill the tank is beyond Muna’s budget. Water for bathing is scarce and this is another compelling reason to purchase the antibiotics for Noura.

As we walk the narrow streets to the main road to get to the pharmacy, a horse-drawn wagon filled with fuel oil for space heaters passes us. I pull out my camera and the driver obligingly stops for me to take a few photos.

Amman is a city of contrasts; in many ways it is modern and cosmopolitan; but then, nestled on a vacant lot between modern buildings, it is not uncommon to find a few Bedouin tents and a small flock of sheep and perhaps a donkey or horse, too. In this city of merging populations and rapid modernization, the old exists alongside the new in surprising compatibility. Although Amman does not have the beauty of Damascus or Istanbul, it has its charm. But it is unwelcoming and cold for those forced to live here as non-persons and in deep poverty.

I just want to go home...

Last evening, after spending the afternoon with a large group of Iraqi friends at a picnic, Maha and I accompanied one of the families to look at some empty apartments. I have just rented a flat and had looked at these apartments while on my own quest for a home here.

Right now, this large family - mother, two adult sons, one of the son's wife and their children - two year old twins and a ten month old - are living in a small, two bedroom flat in a slum area of Amman. The married son, his wife and children all sleep, piled on top of one another in one room. As the children are growing, they have outgrown the apartment. They are desperate for a bigger space.

This family is luckier than many others here; two of the adults work as "paid volunteers" for a relief agency so their income, although substandard and insufficient to meet the families needs, is larger than the majority of Iraqis here who must rely on the excruciatingly small income provided by UNHCR's monthly grants. Their current rent is a little over $200 per month and they have determined that they can spend up to $300 for a larger place. They need at least one more bedroom or perhaps two small flats close to each other in the same building.

I stay in the car with the young wife and the sleeping babies while her husband, mother-in-law and brother-in-law go into the building to see the flats. While we wait, we talk in quiet tones so as to not wake the babies.

"Haleema" asks me about the flats: How many rooms? What size? Is there a garden (yard) or balcony so that the children can play outside? All of my answers are negative - the flats I looked at each have one bedroom and the rooms are small. They do not have balconies and there are no gardens. They are better off, for now, in the flat they are in.

Her disappointment is palatable. She is always exhausted from running after the twins, caring for the youngest, cooking and cleaning. These few moments we have to talk with one another are a rarity, only made possible because the children are miraculously all asleep at the same time.

She looks wistful and asks me "You have been to Baghdad?" I nod, "Yes - before the war". Haleema reminds me. "The houses all have gardens - every one! At my parents house, we had a big garden I would play in. When I married and moved in with my husband's family, we shared their big house. My husband and I had the entire upper floor and I could go into the garden any time. Now...", she hesitates, "Now you see how it is. My children have no place to play...I just want to go home." Her voice caught as she finished,"Please God, I just want to go home".

Many, many of the Iraqi refugees in Amman were the former middle class of Iraq. Well educated, with successful professional careers. Although sanctions devastated Iraq's economy and wages were pitifully low compared to pre-sanctions, they lived relatively well. Many had lived fairly opulently before sanctions and they kept their homes and possessions through sanctions. Although times were hard, they were surrounded by the promise of a better future that their past reminded them of.

Now, destitute in Jordan, most having lost their homes and possessions in Iraq when they fled, without the ability to work legally, they do not know how to cope. It is not that they do not try - they do; they have learned to rely on handouts for survival. They live in substandard housing and their diets are limited and marginally nutritious. But they are easily devastated by an unexpected expense - such as a medical crisis or even the high cost of a winter utility bill. In this they are no different than those who have always been impoverished. But there is a difference.

Those who have always lived in poverty have honed skills and relationships that help them to cope and survive. They tend to live in parts of the city that have a high concentration of the chronically poor. They have a strong support base of others and it is common that people of the community share resources. Aid organizations tend to locate in these areas, making access to them easier. News of new assistance projects and relief programs travels quickly through the community grapevine.

But for those unaccustomed to destitution, coping can be more of a challenge. They tend to live in isolation from others in their situation. They are not practiced in seeking out or even knowing what assistance programs exist. They find it hard to ask for charity - especially when many of them had generously given to charities themselves when they were in better circumstances. They have to learn how to shop in areas of the city that they are not familiar with. And sometimes we have heard that families applying for assistance have been denied; they are told they are "dressed too nicely" so they must not be needy when they wear the clothing they brought with them when they fled Iraq. In many ways, the former middle class of Iraq now suffer from their destitution more than the habitually impoverished.

But for all Iraqis, life in Jordan is hard and, in addition to the struggle to put food on the table or to pay rent, there are the other losses:a room big enough for everyone, a garden for the children to play in...a place that is truly "home".

Children Without Much Hope for a Future

We were invited to visit a family of 6 living in Al Joffa neighborhood of Amman – a very impoverished area with many Iraqis. They live in a simple 3 room house – living room, a bedroom shared by the entire family of 6, and a kitchen area. Before they moved in to this home, it was a barn housing livestock. Despite their poverty, they were very generously warm in their hospitality – like all other Iraqis I have met, sharing a lovely meal with us.

This family consists of Nadia, her daughter, Thukra. Thukra’s husband, Ali and their three children: Mustafa (age 15),

Sara (age 10)

and the youngest, Mohammed, age 4.

The eldest two children are from Thukra’s first marriage. The eldest, Mustafa, is a quiet boy, gentle and polite; a sparse, newly acquired mustache adorns his upper lip. Sara has a sweet roundmoon face, framed by thick wavy hair.

Thikra was married in Baghdad to a Palestinian who came to Iraq in 1989 from Egypt. They married in 1992. They divorced but he visited his children often. In 2003, Thukra’s husband disappeared and she worried that he had been executed by militia.
In June 2004, three masked men forced their way into Thukra’s home and threatened Thukra, hitting her, shoving her to the ground, and giving her two days to leave Baghdad or she and her children would be killed. Why? Because the two older children are considered “Palestinian” because of their father’s nationality, even though they were born in Iraq.

Even before the invasion, many Iraqis resented Palestinians because Saddam gave them many benefits that Iraqi citizens were deprived of. After the invasion, Palestinians in Iraq who previously had enjoyed the special protection and privileges under the sovereign government of Iraq, were harassed and persecuted by militias because, when the US invaded and rendered the police and military useless, the rule of law was destroyed. Resentments could be acted on with impunity. Gangs formed with many agendas. Palestinians and their offspring were only some of those targeted. To this day, Palestinians in Iraq are not safe.

After being threatened, Thukra took her family and stayed the night at the home of a neighbor. Early the next morning, she went to her aunt and uncle’s house. Thukra’s mother, Nadia, sent them money so that Thukra’s uncle could bribe an official to get passports quickly. They fled to Jordan within a few days.

On entering Jordan, Thukra was given a 3 month visa while her two children were only given transit visas for 72 hours (a transit visa allows one to enter a country for a short period of time on their way to go to another country) because they only had their documents showing their father was a Palestinian from Egypt. Even though the children had never lived in Egypt, they have a form of residency permit for Egypt because of their father’s status there. The reason they were given a transit visa instead of a temporary one is because Jordan does not make it easy for Palestinians to enter. Since the children have these Egyptian papers, they are expected to reside in Egypt.

Although Palestinians are 80% of the population of Jordan – or perhaps because they are the majority of the population of this resource and water-deprived country are Palestinian refugees – Jordan controls entry to those who may want to settle here and put more strain on its limited resources. Usually, Palestinians in transit are held at the border until they can complete their travels to the third country but, because these are minor children, accompanied by their Iraqi mother, they were allowed to enter with her. Technically, they have been in Jordan illegally beginning three days after their entry here.

Thukra and her family moved in with her mother, Nadia. Nadia – a registered nurse – came to Jordan in the 1990s on a 6 month visa because, at that time, Iraq was under the brutal sanctions that devastated its economy – along with killing over 500,000 of its children. Nadia worked as a private nurse in Jordan on her temporary visa in order to send money t o support her family left behind in Iraq.

Later, in 2006, Thukra found out that her husband had actually fled from the threats in Iraq back to Egypt because he had distant relatives there. It is assumed that he had not gotten in contact with her or the kids because he feared that his life would not be safe in Egypt either. Thukra was informed that he had died of a heart condition a short time after he arrived in Egypt. She then traveled to Egypt to obtain custody papers – granting her custody of her own children! Jordanian authorities insisted that first, before Thukra could have custody, any relative of her former husband should take custody. Luckily for Thukra, Mustafa and Sara, there were no living relatives in her ex-husband’s immediate family remaining in Egypt and she was granted custody.

In 2004, Thukra remarried an Iraqi man, Ali – a friend of her family from Baghdad. Ali received death threats because American service members visited the musical instrument shop he owned. He was also threatened, by sectarian militia, accused of being a “flute for Saddam” because he his father was the only news commentator to accompany Saddam on his trip to Mecca – meaning that Saddam trusted him very much. Also, in the lead-up to the US invasion, his reports had given the government’s slant. When he ignored these threats, he was gunned down one day as he crossed the road in front of his shop. Lucky for Ali, his assailant was a poor shot and he only received a bullet to his leg. He got the message loud and clear though. He rushed from Iraq, leaving the hospital before he’d recovered because it is common for militia to enter hospitals to finish off any botched jobs and assassinate victims helpless to escape while ill or injured.

Thukra and Ali now have a young son together, Mohammed.
life has not been easy for them. Of course, they have over-stayed their visas because they cannot return to the threats that remain in Iraq and because no other country will accept them. This has had even more devastating effect on Mustafa and Sara than on other Iraqi refugee children. Because of their paternal “nationality” they cannot get UNHCR registration for Mustafa and Sara – this prevents them from receiving the small monthly cash grant given by UNHCR for Iraqi refugees. And, even more devastating for this family, these two children are not allowed to attend school.
Thukra approached many schools – both public and private – begging that her children be allowed to attend. She has been denied by all but one private school. The headmaster, for a hefty fee that this family cannot afford, “does them the favor” of allowing the two kids to audit classes. They attend class like all other students, take tests, but are not given any record of their attendance or grades. Thukra scrapes these fees together, the family doing without, because she knows that without an education – even one that is unrecorded – they will have no future.

But, if they stay in Jordan, these two children will have no opportunities and be forced to live in the shadows more so than other Iraqi children. All Iraqi refugees without legal residency status cannot work legally. Those with formal education and skilled professions cannot work here. But, at least now Iraqi children are allowed to attend school and have recorded grades so that they will be prepared to continue their educations and to have careers if they are resettled in a third country or if Iraq becomes safe enough for an eventual return.

Mustafa and Sara’s futures are bleak – as Iraqis, their country will not accept them, as “Palestinians” in Jordan, they are not only non-residents here but they are also” non-persons” for no crime other than having a father of Palestinian descent. Their only hope for any kind of a future is if they are resettled in another country.

Only a very small percentage of Iraqis are selected to immigrate of the two and a half million displaced in Jordan, Syria and internally displaced inside Iraq. This family’s chances of resettlement are very slim.
Mustafa and Sara’s old passports from Iraq now have CANCELED stamped over their photos in it. It is hard for me to look into their bright eyes and to imagine that the light in them may eventually be dimmed as more and more doors slam shut in their faces, their right to full lives canceled at such a young age.

from Japan...........

We thank freelance translator and journalist, Kimberly Hughs - US citizen who lives and works in Japan - for her recent article in Kyoto Journal about Iraqi refugees in Jordan and CRP's efforts. Kim also wrote to tell us that Peace Not War Japan held a benefit concert last week and that CRP was priviledged to be chosen as one of four organizations to receive the proceeds from the concert.

We are very pleased to join together in international cooperation with Japanese activists to bring relief to Iraqi refugees in Jordan!

Thank you Peace Not War -Japan and Kimberly Hughs!

Japanese activist and humanitarian worker Nahoko Takato , who is a strong supporter of CRP as well as providing assistance to Iraqis inside of their country has arrived in Amman. She will be with us for 9 days. CRP is privileged to have her support and, through her, to unify with Japan in efforts to alleviate some of the suffering of Iraqi refugees in Jordan.

Today, Nahoko, Sasha, and Manal will visit some of the families who have received CRP micro-projects.

And then.........

Diana in Seattle hosted a Presidential Debate Night benefit party for CRP last Friday. This small group of compassionate people dug deep and gave big - contributing over $2000 to enable more Iraqi families to be able to provide for their families!

Today Manal and I met Kareema downtown to purchase an industrial sewing machine for her micro-project. She had arrived at the sewing machine shop much earlier than our appointment, eager to begin working. She has contracts with shops in her neighborhood who are waiting for her wares. Despite being old enough to have teenage children, her grin resembled a child's on Christmas when she saw her new sewing machine. PHOTO SOON

I think her words express the gratitude of all of us in the CRP Team as well:

'I thank you from my head, my mouth and from every corner within me!'

--------------------
Then this heartwarming email came in from Karen, a long-time CRP supporter who, with CODEPINK Seattle, organized a benefit for CRP in August. She had also attended Diana's benefit:

After attending Diana's amazing event, I was so moved by the willingness of a small group to do what they could on behalf of the Iraqi people. I gave what I could including the dollars in my wallet.

So when I stopped for coffee this morning---I was counting out my change to see what I could afford, mentioning that I had given my money away at a fundraiser for Iraqi refugees. The man behind me offered to buy my coffee. I told him that's ok, but he insisted.

So I told him more about the project, by way of thanking him and he, without hesitation, handed me $20. The heart of America is with the Iraqi people--when we let them know.

While we continue to do what we can to end the war & occupation. We can on a daily basis do something to help individuals devastated by what is being done in Iraq

Thank you, Seattle, and to all of our other wonderful donors!

Hard Wind in Amman

Nights in Amman are usually still; the heat of day lingering long enough that I use my fan to stir the air. But tonight a forceful wind intermittently moans and then whispers malevolently, rattling the summer parched fronds of the two palms outside of my windows. I slide the windows shut to keep out the inevitable desert dust but I cannot shut them tight enough to block out this distressful dirge. It seems an apt sound-track for my thoughts as I try to put them in order so I can share them with you.

I do not know where to begin - which family's story is the most compelling. Every day that Manal and I go out to visit several families, I come home with a head full of tragic stories and my heart aching. There isn't a home we visit that doesn't have a heap of needs - many of them at crisis point.

Most families that have been receiving a monthly cash grant are reporting that they have not received their grants for the past two months. They have not been told why and, when they ask when they can expect to receive them, they are told to wait, do not call, they will receive a message when their grants are available. These small grants are the only income for most; it pays their rent and puts food on the table. Most do not have savings or other means of taking care of these vital needs. Some are borrowing from friends and neighbors. But loans are piling up quickly and, unless the grants are released soon and include back months, these families will be destitute, with large personal debts that will not be able to repay.

As it is Ramadan, the usual Muslim generosity to those who are in need increases dramatically. Our Amman Team leader, Maha spends her evenings - until late hours, distributing food boxes to hundreds of families from her home. These are made available through donations from the Arab community. For many, this is the only thing that is putting food on Iraqi tables now. I wonder what will happen when Ramadan and Eid (the celebration at the end of Ramadan) ends if the cash grants do not arrive. I know I will find out when people come to us to help.

This week we spent a few hours with a past recipient of a micro-project. I will not share their names with you because of security concerns for this family if they are identified. I will call them "Abu and Um H" and tell you of their current situation because, of all of those we have visited recently, their needs are weighing most heavily on me tonight.

This is a young couple with two small children, the youngest born 3 months premature and with a plethora of physical challenges. She seems to be improving and now, at age 2, she is finally uttering her first words. The parents attribute this to the powered milk containing vitamin supplements she's been drinking for the past few months - in fact, she is refusing all other food and only wants the milk. At the hefty price of 12JD (nearly $20) a bag, they are not sure how they will continue to get it for her.

The couple is expecting another child in February. When I asked if Um H was pregnant, she nodded affirmation then rushed to inform me, "It was an accident!" Their circumstances are precarious. This is no time to welcome another child into their lives when they are worrying about how to care for their others.

This is the first family I have met that followed the Jordanian government's mandate to register and, as incentive, to pay only half of their fines for overstaying their visa. My concerns about the possible repercussions Iraqis who registered might face were validated when they told us of their experience.

(read about this mandate HERE - scroll down to about mid-page )

This mandate was annojunced when they were in better circumstances; Abu H was working under the table at a local shop, being paid substandard wages for long hours but, with their small cash grant, the extra income allowed them to move out of a nearby grim apartment into a larger one on a fenced roof-top where the children could go outside and play. The couple was able to set aside a small savings by being frugal.

Wanting to honor the law and hoping to gain at least temporary legal status, Abu H paid the fine and was given a three month visa. He was told to return at the end of this period to pay any accrued fees and re-register. He did and was then given another visa - this one valid for only two months. When he then returned to renew it, this time he was given a visa valid for only one month - and a printed form that stated at that, at the end of that month, the family must return to Iraq!

This month is well over now and they cannot return to their country. It would be suicide. Now they are in violation of the mandate. If they stopped in a routine check or even injured in an accident and their passports are examined, they will be deported immediately. If Abu H is caught alone, he will be returned to Iraq, leaving his family alone to fend for themselves. Every venture outside of their home is accompanied by ruthless anxiety.

An informant told Jordanian security about his illegal work and his workplace was raided twice in an effort to catch him. He escaped out a side door both times but, because employers caught hiring undocumented workers are heavily fined, he was told not to return after the second raid.

About this time the family's monthly cash grant was reduced significantly (no reason given). And, as with many others, has not arrived at all this month.

Now their landlord has told them that they must move at the beginning of October; a relative is marrying and wants the apartment. Their few belongings are in boxes, lining one wall, ready to be moved. The problem is, they have nowhere to move to. There is no money coming in and what they had is diminishing rapidly by buying food and their daughter's milk.

Abu H scours the rental section of the paper, almost obsessively. His two very young daughters, hearing their father talk about newspaper, brought some to Manal and me and laid them on our laps as if they are precious gifts. The children are too young to understand why but they already understand that these papers somehow hold the key to something vitally important.

Abu H becomes animated, leafing through the pages of the paper, showing us page after page of rentals and the price of even single rooms with no kitchen facilities are beyond their means. He tells us that he found one apartment with low rent but, when he met with the owner to sign the agreement, his distinctive Iraqi accent was the deal-breaker; the rent suddenly shot up astronomically. This is not unusual; unscrupulous landlords have taken advantage of Iraqis desperation and know they will pay whatever they can to gain the security of a place to live. Since the massive influx of Iraqis to Jordan, rental prices overall have shot up dramatically.

So now, with four days until they must vacate their apartment and, as of yet, no place for them to move to, they are frantic. This stress is worsening Abu H's condition. He suffers from acute depression.

He showed us his psychological evaluation. It states, in part: "the patient suffers from low mood...anger for the past six months...excessive nervousness...loss of interest in all life events...insomnia... despair...night terrors...loss of appetite...sad..feelings of worthlessness.."

He is not alone. After enduring the terrors of Iraq, the loss of everything they owned, living in the shadows fearing being sent back, unable to support their families - depression is common in Iraqi men.

CRP provided this family with the equipment to cook kubba so that they could sell it for extra income. The intent of our visit was to check in to assess how well their micro-project was working for them.

As Abu H pulled neatly packaged bags of the frozen product from their freezer to show us, he told us that they have not been able to sell it - local restaurants and shops want inspected goods; the neighbors in their area are not friendly to Iraqis. Now, with the added fear of deportation, they are reluctant to approach anyone in an effort to market it.

We suggest that it might be easier for them to sell their product and that they might also feel more secure if they move into an area of Amman that is heavily populated with other Iraqis. They will blend in better and be in a more supportive community. Several other families who received the same micro-project are doing well, selling to their neighbors and even local shops.

But this advice seems absurd given their situation. If only it was just choosing a better location! If only.

I leave sad and frustrated. This family has approached all of the major NGOs with their story and pleas for help. Several have told them they cannot help. Some others told them that they would "look into it and get back to you." None have. And now we've sat in their living room for hours, played with their children and listened as they opened themselves to us to tell us of their plight, hoping that we might help them - and there is nothing CRP can do either.

With the focus in the US on the elections and the economy, donations to our projects has slowed to a trickle. We are trying to adjust, to compensate by restructuring and downsizing CRP in hope that we can continue to provide assistance to Iraqis here, if in a reduced capacity.

I hand Abu H a ten JD note, telling him it is for "bus money, to look for an apartment." We tell them that they can get a box of food rations through Maha. It is all we can offer. I know it is too little.

So tonight I listen to the storm blowing outside from the security of this room with many windows. The night is a dark curtain behind them but I know the morning will open them with its light and bring renewed calm. There are many others in this city tonight who will waken tomorrow to a day as dark as this night. And we cannot help them.

New Brookings Report on Iraqi Refugees & Internally Displaced

THE LOOMING CRISIS: DISPLACEMENT and SECURITY in IRAQ

'...The emergency is remarkable from a global perspective as well, as it represents one of the world's most urgent crises—albeit one that is frequently overlooked. If a similar percentage of the U.S. population were displaced, this would represent over 50 million Americans—the equivalent in displacement of those uprooted by 50 Hurricane Katrinas. The U.N. Undersecretary for Humanitarian Affairs and Relief Coordinator, John Holmes, noted recently, "What may surprise some of you is that the number of displaced in Darfur is comparable to the number of internally displaced people in Iraq. While many are aware of the suffering of civilians in Darfur, it saddens me to see that the daily threats faced by Iraqis, exacerbated, of course, by the ongoing violence, are still under-reported and under-estimated."¹ A report from Oxfam and NCCI released in July 2007 revealed staggering figures: eight million Iraqis in need of immediate humanitarian assistance including four million food-insecure.²..'

Read the full executive summary (short) HERE

Opportunity, Optimism and a Tortoise Underfoot

Entisar is a woman with a measured but dynamic energy barely contained in her small frame. She is always moving, not with disjointed frenzy, but with deft purpose. She cares for her 3 daughters while keeping her small apartment tidy, stepping over the pet tortoise and busy kitten while, at the same time, making copious amounts of baked goods in the special oven that your donations bought for her micro-project. She bakes an array of sweet and savory items along with two kinds of flat bread.

Read about Entisar and her family HERE (scroll down to about mid-page)

She received her micro-project two months ago and said that the first month was slow as she developed customers in her neighborhood. Now, during Ramadan when each day's fast is broken by a large Iftar meal, she can barely keep up with the many orders. With Eid (the celebration at the end of the month of Ramadan) approaching in two weeks, she anticipates even more business. She admits she cannot predict what sales will be like after the holiday season but, with the large customer-base she's creating now, she's optimistic. Now, in addition to baked goods, Entisar is also making special eggplant pickles that Iraqis are fond of. With her energy, and determination, we share her optimism!


Entisar receiving her micro-project of oven, propane tank and baking provisions.


When I asked how their lives have improved because of the micro-project, she started counting off a list of the things she has been able to buy for her family: a sorely needed gas cylinder for their stove (most stoves and portable heaters use 5 gallon propane tanks here) that she previously could not fathom affording, clothing for her daughters, supplies needed to start up her pickle business, and a good stock of ingredients for her baking business. Her smile filled her face as she said "Ilhamdu lillaah!" (Praise to God) She thanked us over and over for this gift that is making such a difference in their lives and told us to tell all of our donors thank you, too.

Her two school-age daughters are attending school and enjoying it. Both are excellent students. 15 year old Noor has lovely long eyes she gets from her Egyptian father. She admits to not doing well in English but is proud that she does well in Arabic, math and science. When I gave her young siblings their crayons and paints, she shyly admitted she would like paints, too. At first, she seemed to have a teenager's reserve in talking with new adults, but she warmed up quickly and her frequent smile was lovely as it followed the line of her eyes across her face.

Her 9 year old sister, the quietly serious bespectacled Hiba, excels in English and says that she is pretty good in math and science, too. Despite her competancy in English, she didn't join in the conversation much, but sat watching us all intently, taking it all in and digesting it carefully. She resembled a little adult. I have the feeling she will be a very successful woman.

Dua'a had her 4th birthday just the day before. We all sang the Happy Birthday song to her and she accepted the honor like the young queen she is. She chattered to me enthusiastically nonstop in Arabic during our entire visit despite the fact that I didn't understand most of what she said. She seems to have her mom's outlook and energy.

We asked Entisar what other needs they have and she replied that the cost everything is rising rapidly and, even with her success in her micro-project, her husband is still not working. She is their sole support. Her micro-project, occasional help from local donors, and the 50 JD cash grant they receive from CARE organization is what they live on. She said that she had not received her CARE grant this month and, just like Kareema (see her story below), she was told to not inquire to them about it but to wait and they will message her. She told us that they would appreciate receiving food rations.


We ended our visit with laughter and an invitation for me to move in with this bustling household. When we peeked in to the tidy kitchen and the spotless children's room on our way out, I exclaimed that, instead, I wanted Entisar to move in with me and take care of me so well! I congratulated her on her success so far and told her that I am certain it will only increase because of her hard work and great attitude.

Entisar with daughters, oven and pet tortoise

We cannot expect that "success" with the micro-projects will look the same as it might if the recipients were living in their home country or had permission to work legally in Jordan. They cannot hang out a sign, put ads in the paper, or rent a building in a high traffic area to bring in customers here.

Iraqis in Jordan are here as "temporary guests" of this overburdened country and Jordan, home to Palestinian refugees who comprise 33% of it's population, is already strapped for resources - both financial and natural. Jordan has not received adequet compensation from the US or international community to be able to handle the tremendous influx of Iraqis following the US-led invasion of 2003. Although we cannot blame Jordan for it's unwillingness to make life for Iraqis too comfortable here and we must appreciate it's generosity and sacrifice, we wish that they would loosen the restrictions on Iraqi employment as a temporary measure until Iraqis can return to their homeland once it is safe to do so.

The inability of Iraqi refugees here to obtain legal employment and insufficient funds from the international community to provide them with adequet shelter, food, and medical care put them in the position of becoming criminals if they try to support their families.

Frequent raids of businesses that will hire Iraqis under-the-table result in imprisonment and possible forced repatriation back into Iraq (a certain death sentence for most) for those who risk work. Forced repatriation separates fathers from their families and leaves vulnerable women to bear the burden of supporting their famiy alone while being under tremendous stress, worrying about the fate of their husbands. Businesses that violate the law and hire Iraqis can be charged substantial fines for hiring them so few are willing to take the risk. Some that do exploit their vulnerable workers, paying them substandard wages and sometimes not paying them at all at the end of a pay period. When this happens, those victimized have no recourse; reporting the abuse to authorities would only get themselves into trouble.

Our micro-projects, although they cannot provide Iraqis with the same degree of success they might have if they were able to nurture them and expand them as legal residents, when even modestly successful, do increase meager incomes and keep refugees from risking illegal employment.

Another benefit that cannot be measured by our assessments or in dollars (or dinars) is that they give purpose and focus to the days of Iraqis who previously had little to do. Many micro-project recipients have reported to us that, where they once spent their days in grief about the past, worry about their current situation, and hopeless about the future, now they are happier and they feel their time is spent productively. They sometimes say that this has resulted in an improvement in the mental well-being of the entire family - not hard to imagine as children often adapt to and adopt the attitudes of their parents.

We can certainly see how Entisar and her family are benefiting in all of these ways as a result of your generosity.

Please give so that more families can reap these benefits

Gratitude - and Apologies

We want to thank each of you who has contributed to our campaign to create a Family Resource & Community Center in Amman.....

THANK YOU! With your help, we will do this!

We had promised (and still do) to track your state or country's contributions on a dedicated page on our web site. Due to the slow internet connection here in Amman, we have been unable to do this yet. We apologize and will continue trying to get this information posted until we succeed.

Unfortunately, we are still far from having enough money to open the doors of this much needed resource for the community here. If you haven't yet contributed, please consider doing so now.

We are asking that only 300 people in each of the US 50 states each pitch in only $10. Please help make this happen. If you have already contributed, please tell your friends and those on your mailing groups and lists about this opportunity to do something tangible to improve the lives of Iraqi refugees in Jordan.

We only recently received the list of individual donors from our partner in this venture, LIFE for Relief & Development. Mary has returned to the US now because of family illness and you will be receiving a personal thank you as soon as she can find the time during this distressing personal situation. We thank you for your understanding and patience as well as your contributions.

in peace & action,
Sasha, Mary and the Amman Team

Four High Walls

Yesterday we also visited another past recipient of CRP micro-projects; Kareema had received a sewing machine so that she might help her large and struggling family survive. (read her story HERE)

Kareema and her husband, Thigeel, have 6 children. The two oldest no longer live at home; the youngest four, aged 3 to 11, all share a one room home with their parents. I, like you, had only seen photos of this lovely family and their home before I cautiously walked down the steep hill to enter their home that appears more like an underground storage room for the apartments stacked above it.

Photos do not give an accurate picture of how grim their dwelling is; the room is perhaps 20 x 20, with a ceiling nearly as tall, giving the impression that one is in a symmetrical 'box'. Multicolored layers of paint are peeling in long strips off of the walls but Kareema and Thigeel have hung threadbare bits of fabric on them to hide this as much as they can. The room contains only their sleeping mats and blankets, a refrigerator, and an old tv. They showed us their only food - a half gallon jar of flour, a half bottle of oil, and a bag of flat bread.

I saw no evidence of any toys; the children's only visible belongings were the row of school bags hanging on hooks on the wall near the door. A small, one-burner stove sat outside of the door in an area that had no walls, just a cement roof overhead that looks like the roof of an underground parking garage. Blankets hung airing on lines here, moving gently as their cheery colors contrasted with the greys of cement and shade. This area provided a large, safe place for the children to play out of the brutal Amman summer sun. An adjacent toilet-room had no door. Never the less, despite all it lacks, Kareema, keeps her tiny house tidy and their few belongings well-organized.

The sewing machine was neatly covered with a blanket and stacked on top of a box against a wall.

We asked about how she was faring with her sewing. She said that things were not going so well; she had sewn some abayas (long dresses worn by many women here) and was paid 2JD (approx $3) for each. She then said that, frankly, she was too busy worrying about how to feed her children and their other problems.

They had been receiving a monthly grant cash grant of $240 through CARE but, for a reason not explained to them, they have not received it for the past 2 months. When they have asked, they are told that it will come, not to contact CARE, that they will receive a notice when the funds are available. This family receives no other assistance - not even food rations - and have been relying on loans from neighbors to pay the rent, buy food, and pay for Thigeel's medicines for his severe asthma. They are approximately 150 JD in debt at this time. If their cash grant is not reinstated soon, this already-burgeoning debt for them will grow into an insurmountable burden and put them at risk of being even (unimaginably) more unstable, perhaps homeless.

It is easy to understand why Kareema cannot put time into developing a business with her sewing machine at this time - the family's needs are immediate and overwhelming. Kareema complained of weakness and Thigeel's asthma is severe; he has an infection in his lungs now and also fluid build-up. We decided that we will do what we can to meet this family's immediate survival needs and then, when these have been met, we will find ways of supporting Kareema in becoming successful with her sewing project. As it is, any two JD from sewing a dress for a customer that comes in immediately disappears into buying a little food to put on the table.

We gave them money for food and some coloring books, paints and crayons for the children. We have put them on Maha's list to receive food rations and for help in purchasing his medications. We will follow up on whether or not their cash assistance is reinstated soon and, if not, look for other options to help them. We will, when the family is more stable, purchase fabrics for Kareema's sewing project and invite her to join a new support group we are forming for micro-project recipients. This group will give these families an opportunity to meet, help one another improve their strategies for marketing their wares, and provide them with a community of other entrepreneurs who face the same sort of challenges in supporting their families while being unable to be employed. And, of course, CRP, through your contributions, will support them by providing them with supplies that will help give their ventures the boost that they need to succeed. Despite their dire circumstances and the challenges they face, these desperate parents maintain an attitude of hope and an easy sense of humor. The children, clean and dressed in their best, giggled and teased one another good naturedly but were well behaved. They all attend and love school. Thigeel proudly told us that 10 year old Hussein has the 2nd highest marks in his class. It seems that their close-quarters only reinforce the emotional closeness in this family; the love in their home is their palatable and enviable wealth.
I am constantly amazed at the strength and grace of Iraqis who have lost so much and whose future is so uncertain. They cannot go home and they cannot fully and freely live here. They are surrounded by walls that form an unseen but formidable prison and, although they grieve and struggle, they rarely show the kind of despair that we might expect in those facing such insurmountable troubles, on top of the horrors endured in Iraq and all they lost when leaving. It is up to us to do what we can to ease as much of their pain that we can; we can do that. We might not be able to free them completely from these dark walls, but we can make windows to let in some light.

Kareema's micro-project is not yet successful because of her family's extreme circumstances. Please read the update on on Entisar's micro-project (above) - to see of one of the many stories of success of this program.

Please consider making a tax deductible donation today.

Even your small contribution will make a big difference to those who have so little.

Truth - and its consequences

Manal and I went out today to visit 3 families who had been past recipients of micro-projects. We are assessing how well their projects are working for them in generating income while also seeing what other needs they have. We are so blessed with having Maha as our team leader as she not only manages our work here in Amman but, because she works informally with local donors and in cooperation with other NGOs (Non Governmental Organizations) she helps many families get medical treatment, food rations, and medical treatment and prescriptions filled outside of the confines of CRP. Even though Maha already has a list of hundreds of needy families that she coordinates relief for, she is always on the lookout for more that need help. She has a strong commitment to the families CRP has already assisted, not willing to abandon them from our support unless they are genuinely able to provide for their own needs.

We first visited Ruquya, a middle aged widow who lives with her two younger brothers. The brothers had been kidnapped together when they still lived in Iraq. They, along with others who'd been kidnapped (all Sunna) were taken to a local mosque where a "trial" by a Imam was to decide their fate. The two brothers were miraculously able to escape and, as they ran down the road away from the mosque, were rescued by a taxi driver who spirited them to safety. The others were not as lucky. All were "sentenced to death".

I asked Ruqaya what she thought of Bush / Maliki's claims that Iraq was safe to return to now and she became animated. She said that her friend came in from Baghdad yesterday and told her "Baghdad has no security at all! Bombings! Kidnappings! Teen gangs operate "checkpoints", and if you are of the 'wrong sect' or do not have ID, you are killed! No one helps because they are afraid! They stay in their homes, afraid to go out, afraid they will be next, afraid to send their children to school because they do not want them to be kidnapped! Now cholera because they still have no clean water!"

Ruqaya knows about this first-hand. Her face is drawn with worry, her eyes rimmed in redness from constant tears. One of her brothers who still lives in Baghdad has been kidnapped and nothing has been heard from him for several weeks now. He has cancer and was undergoing treatment. She worries that if the kidnappers do not kill him outright, his cancer, without treatment, will. Now she hears that his wife and children are also being threatened. The kidnappers are asking for a ridiculous ransom of $50,000 to return her brother. Of course, the family does not have this amount of money. And sadly, there is no guarantee her brother is still alive. The militias that operate under the support of the Iranian-backed "government" of Iraq are ruthless. She said that many people are now mistakenly supporting the Americans only because the Iranians are worse.

The US-led invasion and occupation swung the doors wide open to Iranian fundamentalists whose intent is to pull Iraq under Persian rule as a Shia state. It is 'peculiar' that the US has allowed this to happen and supports a 'government' in Iraq that consists of so many Iranians and yet, at the same time, postures against Iran. It all seems a clever if brutal ploy to use Iran to divide and weaken Iraq while utilizing the ensuing chaos and violence as an excuse to continue the occupation.


Manal tells us that several Arab news programs this weekend aired video, evidently taken by a militia member's cell phone, that shows what has happened to one of the families who have returned to Iraq recently. As his wife and children watched, the father was bound with his hands behind his back, kicked repeatedly by the militia, and then shot with a machine gun in the head. They then rampaged through the house and set it on fire when they finished.

This is the secure Baghdad that the Surge produced. All of the Iraqis I talk with speculate that this is propaganda meant for American voters, to give them the false impression that the loss of American lives and tax payers' dollars has been 'worth it'. In election-frenzied America, all we hear is that the Surge worked; Iraq is now safe (if imperfectly) for Iraqis to return. The picture given to US voters is tinted in a deeply false rose color so that the sins of the out-going Administration do not tinge the aspirations of the current candidates for office. This cheap campaign trick is costly to Iraqis. They are paying the price in blood and tears.

"...Refugees and IDPs know from their contact with friends and family that it is not safe to go home. Violence is still widespread, and basic services such as access to healthcare, clean water or adequate shelter are unavailable in many parts of the country. As the situation in Iraq evolves, it is essential the US Government, the Government of Iraq and other countries in the region do not encourage returns to Iraq until conditions are met for a voluntary, safe and sustainable return process. A rushed premature return process would have disastrous consequences both for the displaced and for the stability of Iraq..."
excerpt from: NGO Statement: Addressing the Iraqi Humanitarian Challenge - July 31, 2008


As we discussed these horrors that are all too real to the women in the room, we all were wiping tears from our eyes. I told Ruqaya that I was so very and deeply sorry for what my country has done even though I know my apology was inconsequential compared to the size of the pain caused. She said what every other Iraqi has said to me, "I know Americans are good people. It is your government. Americans are kind. They just do not know the truth"

What do you want to know?

We invite you to ask us or the Amman Team members any questions that you have about the general Iraq refugee crisis or about the situation Iraqis in Jordan face. Please submit your questions to info(at)collateralrepairproject.org with "Question" in the subject line.

We will post your questions and the answers here.

Between Then and Now

Dear Supporters

Our apologies for the long lag between our last post and now. CRP co-director, Mary, who was here in Amman with me, had to return to the US suddenly because of illness in her family. We only had a short while to try to accomplish as much as we could while she was still in Amman, waiting for a flight home. We spent our time "doing" rather than writing about it. I'll try to recap our activities for the past couple of weeks.

We began visiting other NGOs (Non Governmental Organizations) that are providing assistance to Iraqis in Jordan. We hope to find out what services and assistance are available to Iraqis here so that we can refer people to them that need the services they offer and we also want to built mutually supportive relationships between CRP and others within the NGO community.
--------------------------------
We traveled to Damascus, Syria, to meet with an international NGO there to discuss whether CRP would invest donor funds in one of their projects that provide relief and assistance to some of the estimated 2 million Iraqis who have fled to this small country. We were impressed with a project that they are developing to create a sewing training center for women. It will provide 3 months of intensive training in a training facility for 25 women per 3 month session. The facility would change locations throughout Damascus to ensure that women in every district would have this opportunity and to avoid them having to pay for transportation to the center, an expense most cannot afford.

During this session, the women would be doing production sewing for a Syrian school uniform company (many public school students in Syria wear uniforms) and paid for their work. As in Jordan, Iraqis without legal residency in Syria cannot be legally employed so, unfortunately, once the training session ends, the women would no longer be able to make an income from sewing uniforms. However, the NGO will have held pack a percentage of their wages to give to the women upon completing their training, enabling them to purchase a home sewing machine if they choose so that they can do an informal business in thier homes (similar to our sewing micro-projects in Amman) to earn a small living sewing for neighbors. They will also be able to sew clothing for their families.

We were able to meet several Iraqi women who came to the offices of this NGO and asked them about their situations and how they felt about this opportunity. Most were very interested and felt it would improve their lives - both by providing training in a skill that they could use to contribute financially toward their family's needs and by filling their time productively. Without work, their days are spent caring for their families and with too much time to spend dwelling on the dangers they survived while in Iraq and their current unstability in their host country.

We feel this is a valuable project and compliments our work in Amman in that it provides income to families who have greater needs than they have resources and we were seriously consider sponsoring part of this project as a means of contributing your donations to expand CRP's work to Syria.
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Then Mary and I went to the area of Damascus near the Sayyida Zeinab Mosque, an impoverished area where the majority of Syria's Iraqi refugees live.
The lovely golden, onion-shaped dome of this famous mosque glistened in the late day sunlight and the souk across the street from it was thronged with pilgrims and shoppers. We wandered into the souk and immediately a young boy of perhaps ten, grabbed onto my hand, making it clear that he wanted money.

I usually do not give money when there are throngs of people begging because when I have, there is never enough for everyone who asks. Also, it is impossible to know if a child begging is actually working under an exploitative adult who confiscates what the child can bring in. He persisted, refusing to let go of my arm, begging me with tears in his eyes, kissing my arm over and over again. I was terribly sad to refuse him.

Later, we stopped at a shwarma kiosk to buy a sandwich. Immediately, two children ran up to us and made it clear that they were not asking for money but wanted food. I ordered two more sandwiches but, by the time I had placed the order, more children arrived. And then more. We had very little money with us and ordered as many sandwiches as we could and still have bus fare back to our hotel across town. It was not enough to feed all of the children who gathered around us. Some were crying when we tried to explain there was no more money. Others just kept asking and pulling on our arms. A merchant from an adjacent shop came out and began beating on the kids with a stick. It seemed he did not like this ragged gathering in front of his shop's doorway, possibly impeding customers from wanting to come near. This didn't phase the kids and they stayed near us, either waiting for their sandwiches, crying because they were left out, or pulling on our arms to convince us to feed them, too.

I have a problem with low blood sugar and had not eaten for several hours and was getting shakey so I kept the last sandwich for myself. I took it and began eating it as we walked away from the kiosk. One little girl about 5 years old kept trying to reach up and take my sandwich from my hand as I ate it. Other than providing the nourishment my body was demanding, the sandwich was giving me no pleasure. How can one eat when a child is so driven by hunger that they will beg like this? I gave her my hald-eaten sandwich and she scampered off.

This scene has stayed with me since. Even in Baghdad under sanctions, before the invasion, the children didn't beg with such determination and urgency. Children should never have to beg to be fed. It is another of the unseen (to most) crimes of this illegal war that these kids are so far from their homes, without the care of parents who have the right to have the ability to work to feed their families.


So, although the sewing training project is admirable and worthy, we think that you'll agree with us that your donations should go first to feed the hungry in Damascus. We are researching to find out if there are already any organizations providing prepared free meals that we can contribute to and, if not, if we can encourage one of the existing NGOs to provide this with some support from CRP. I am returning to Damascus in October and hopefully will be able to report back to you that we have been successful in finding a way to help to feed these children through your help.

Bitter Tea

It astounds me that we've been in Amman for two weeks. Time passes both slowly and quickly here; it's hard to track it. The days are measured in faces and stories, one after the other, all different but too much the same also. Every family we meet tells us of incredible loss and grief; that is consistent. Most fled Iraq under threat of death and many had family members killed to give credibility to the threats and most left suddenly, without the time to pack much or even say goodbye to friends. They brought out only what would fit into a hurriedly packed suitcase.

Now, grateful to be living without the threat of eminent violence, they live under another threat - of complete destitution. A recent report cited that an estimated 80% of Iraqis in Jordan have used up all of their savings. A small percentage of the neediest of the needy receive a small monthly cash grant but it is insufficient against the high cost of living in Jordan and inflation. People are worrying about paying the rent on their shabby and small apartments, buying food for their children and paying their school fees, and those whose family members have chronic or severe medical conditions are frantic to find care and medications for their loved ones. Every home we visit has compelling needs and they beg us to help.

Many want us to help them immigrate out to a third country where they can begin to rebuild their lives. Many of those we talk to had worked for the Occupation forces and contractors or with other US-associated organizations and cannot ever return to Iraq because they are targeted for collaborating with the occupier. One man who had worked as a translator for high ranking US officials when they were in Baghdad said to us "I worked for them for 3 years; I risked and lost everything. Now what do they do for me? I am forgotten." Before the occupation he had a successful career in Iraqi media and a comfortable life. Now he, his wife and their two very small children live in a cramped one-room hovel and rely on charity of neighbors for rent and food. They applied for asylum to the US a year ago but there's been no movement on their case.

Another man - the husband of one of the women your contributions provided with a sewing machine that we delivered this week - had worked as an intelligence officer under the former regime. Since Bremer's "de-Baathification", he and others who worked in any capacity under Saddam face death if they return. He begged us to help him get to the US. It was dificult to have to tell him that he would probably not pass the security scrutiney that US immigration requires, but we could not leave him with false hope. He then begged us for help immigrating to any other country saying, "I am in a cage here, a jail. My life is stopped and has no future." Even though we tell people that we have no influence in these matters, they beg us anyway. As westerners with 'means', we are assumed to have more power and influence than we do. It is heartbreaking to say again and again that we will think of them if we discover any way that we might be able to help. We are sincere but not hopeful that we can ever offer this help.

We have also been visited past recipients of CRP's micro-projects. It is tremendous to finally meet the people whose stories we've put on the web site and whose faces we had only known from their photos until now.

We visited the sisters, Nadia and Badyia, who received a home salon micro-project from us. We were a bit surprised when we entered their home as, compared to many others, it was spacious and comfortable although not afluent. We found out that this was a temporary residence for them. They'd recently moved out from the one room apartment that Badyia shared with Nadia, her husband and their 9 year old son. The couple and their son had slept on the floor in the one room while Badyia had her thin mat on the floor of the hallway. Now they are staying for two months in the home of a relative but they must leave again when he marries soon. They showed us what belonged to them -- four thin foam mats for sleeping, blankets, some clothes and an old tv. When they move again this will be what they are able to take with them. They do not know how they will be able to afford to move into another flat. The sisters have been making some money from the salon as they have recruited some neighbors in the area of their temporary home as customers. They offer reduced rates for their haircuts and make-up over what the local salons offer. Now, when they must move, they will lose this customer base that has been so hard for them to build.

Nadia's son, Sakhar (which means "rock" in Arabic) comes into the room quietly and snuggles up to his mother. She kisses him on the top of his head gently. Sakhar's fingers and toes are blue. He has dark circles under his eyes and he rarely lifts the corners of his mouth in smile.

Nadia tells us that he is her third child, the only surviving one - the last died in-utero, the second died when she was one and a half years old, and Sakhar has the same severe heart condition that the others died from. She shows us a photo-mug with images of her deceased daughter on it. She is a beautiful child with an engaging smile. Nadia would like to have more children but she fears that she will only lose them, too.

She is desperate for medical care for her son; she does not want to lose him. He was examined and had extensive testing a year ago. She was told that there are no surgeons in the Middle East that are capable of performing the surgery her son needs - the only one capable is a surgeon in San Francisco. He might as well be on the moon and, even if she could get a flight there as she has no money to pay for this. She does not know what to do. She does not beg us nor even ask. She just quietly tells us their situation as she cuddles this boy whose life is so fragile. She does not cry but her eyes are bright with unshed tears; she smiles and offers us tea.

We give her the money to get a current examination for Sakhar and we take his medical report of last year with us to give to a friend here who is good pals with an Iraqi cardiologist. They said that they "will see what we can do" but if anything, it will have to be a lesser operation than he needs and paid for by Iraqi and other donors in the region. The Iraqi and Arab communities are quietly doing what they can, contributing for food deliveries and pitching in to pay for what critically needed surgeries that they can. But the need is greater than the resources from those who have given so much already.

Iraq's medical care was the best in the region and on par with the best of Europe's before the deadly US-imposed sanctions and then the final destruction of it with the invasion and violence of the occupation. Medical treatment was free. Now families here watch as their loved ones die from preventible diseases only because of lack of funding and because they are stateless. We feel such responsibility and yet there is so little we can do. We all need to do whatever we possibly can to alleviate some of the suffering that has been caused in our names. We must continue to insist on an end to this occupation so that Iraq can begin to heal and rebuild - Iraqis beg us. This we can do.

Sakhar goes into the kitchen and sits at the table, a mirror propped in front of him and his paint set laid out. He painstakingly paints his own face - first the bottom half to look like an Iraqi flag, then he continues to paint until his face loosely resembles the Spiderman that was on the colouring book that we brought to him.

He paints on a mask of courage and super-human strength but he is just a dear little boy whose body is tired and who will leave his mother's arms empty soon if a solution is not found.
Sometimes we visit Iraqi homes for tea and conversation and leave with life and death in our hands.

A small gift brings disprotionate gratitude

On Thursday we visited the family of Leqa’a and Kadhum and their 3 year old daughter Zaineb. Zaineb is a quiet and shy child with a mop of short-cropped, black curly hair, whose eyes seem to hold --or withhold -- memories she can neither express nor comprehend. She watched us intently throughout our visit.

The family lives in a poor neighborhood of Amman in a small, clean 3 room apartment furnished with 2nd hand furniture. Before leaving Iraq, Kadhum was a car dealer in Baghdad. Leqa’a was a housewife. They described life before the invasion as peaceful and their future secure.

The purpose of our visit was to deliver the sewing machine our donors had provided for her micro-project. When the machine was set out on a small table and the lid removed, Leqa’a sat before it, wordless and with an expression of almost reverence, as though this simple device represented the answer to a prayer and she was afraid even to touch it for fear it would not be true and would evaporate. Putting head in her hands and burst into tears.

The family has been through untold horrors. When Zaineb was just 1 ½ yrs old she was kidnapped by militia. They searched frantically for a week and then received a ransom demand, which they paid. Finally Zaineb was released to them and they discovered she had been badly tortured. They also learned that the kidnapper was Kadhum’s own cousin. Leqa’a’shusband’s leg was badly broken during the rescue of their daughter.

But the horror did not end there. Leqa’a also escaped from a separate kidnapping attempt and received a death threat. At that point they fled to Jordan, leaving everything behind. They have been ekeing out an existence since then on donations from CARE and neighbors.

Understandably, Zaineb suffers from hysteria from the emotional trauma she endured and, at such a young age, was unable to talk about. And now, Leqa’a has been diagnosed with throat cancer, for which she should undergo radiation treatment. She attributes the cancer to what she went through from her daughter’s kidnapping.

At the end of the visit we asked permission to take photos and it was only when we showed Zaineb photos of herself that she finally smiled and seemed to reveal a crack in her reserve.

On each of our visits it is hard not to feel a sense of embarrassment to offer what seems so little in relation to the need. We can only begin to conceive on a small and distant level the losses and terrors inflicted by our government. What we bring in response is paltry by comparison. And yet, it is received with such a gracious and heartfelt response.

These stories do not end. They are everywhere in this huge city. We do not touch the tip of the damages, human and material.

You can read Leqa’as story in her own words on our website HERE:

Sometimes Hope is Not Enough

Roof top view from Fatima's tiny apartment

Yesterday we climbed 54 steep steps to visit Fatima in her small roof-top flat that overlooks a busy shopping street on one of Amman's seven famous hills (jabals). Fatima's face tells two stories; one is that of a young woman in her thirties, the other of heartache that keeps her eyes on the verge of tears even when she smiles.


Fatima's was one of six households we visited in the last two days and, although each family's story was wrenching, each of the others have hope that their circumstances will improve and that a better life will be possible again. We could offer temporary assistance to them with micro-projects; they could look forward to eventually being accepted for immigration to a third country or imagine a future when a truly stable Iraq will welcome them home. Fatima's sorrows will not be that easy to sooth.

Fatima welcomed us into her dreary apartment and then ran downstairs to bring us cans of cold soda with typical Iraqi hospitality. She could not bring them cold from her refridgerator as it does not work and her landlord ignores her pleas to repair it. He knows that, as an Iraqi without legal residency, she cannot complain and has no legal recourse. He charges her an exhorbenant rent and made her pay a year in advance so now she cannot afford to move. The apartment came "furnished" with a few pieces of shabby furniture. Despite its dreariness, Fatima keeps a tidy house.

When she returned, she told us her story:

She has only one child - a daughter, Haneen, who is almost 16. Fatima is married but is assumed to be a widow. In 2006 Fatima's husband went out to get gas for their car and never returned. Fatima searched the hospitals, jails and morgues but it was as if he had disappeared. He was never heard from again and is assumed dead. Soon after her father's disappearance, then 14 year old Haneem began to have fainting spells. Her mother and doctors attributed this to the trauma of losing her father. But when her neck became severely swollen and the fainting spells increased in frequency, Fatima took her to a hospital in Baghdad for tests and had one tumor removed from her neck. Tests on it came back negative. Then the symptoms increased in severity and she had another series of tests at another hospital and was told that there had been an error made with the first tests and that Haneem has cancer. The doctors told Fatima that she must get Haneem out of the country for treatment as Iraq's hospital system is in shambles, incapable of providing adequate care. Terrified for her daughter, Fatima spirited her out of Iraq and within 2 days, they were in Amman.
Haneem was diagnosed in Amman with Hodgekins lymphoma.

Haneem was not there when we visited but she smiled widely from the studio
portrait that sits on top of their old television set.

Mother and daughter photo in happier times

She is recovering from her last 9 week round of chemo-therapy and too weak to climb the stairs to their apartment so she is staying temporarily with relatives in another part of Jordan. Fatima seems lost without her. We wonder if she will ever be able to return home as it is not only weakness that keeps her from reaching their home but her bones, brittle from long-term cordizone treatment and they break under moderate stress. Also one of her knees is swollen to over twice its normal size. We do not ask about this as sometimes there is already so much pain in what is told that it is kinder to leave some things unasked.

Before leaving Iraq, Fatima had collected thousands of dollars from friends and relatives for Haneem's care but the past year of treatments, tests and medications have exhausted these funds; there is nothing left; her former benefactors tell her that they have no more money to give her. There is no free cancer care for non-resident Iraqis in Jordan except for through the King Hussein Cancer Foundation's Iraqi Goodwill Fund. This fund is inadequate to cover but a few patients at a time and according to the information on their web site, there's a waiting list.

It is almost impossible for me to comprehend this -- that children are allowed to die because their parents have no money and they lack a piece of paper. The costs are astronomical - Haneem's past surgeries have left Fatima with a bill of over 30,000 Jordanian dinar ($43,000) She needs a battery of tests in a couple of weeks to assess the effectiveness of this last round of chemotherapy which will cost over 3000 JD; the monthly cost of her medications are over $1000. The chemotherapy alone is over $1000 per 9 week run of treatment.

We have no answers for her.

Haneem is despondant. Fatima said that her daughter has threatened to return to Iraq if they are not granted asylum within 2 months. She told her mother that then she could, at least, die "at home".

We know Fatima had hoped we would be able to offer her a solution. It feels ridiculous to be approached with a life and death dilemna and to respond with an offer of a micro-project. It is infuriating to know that saving her child's life is possible but that it is beyond our means.


I could not help but think of the trillions of dollars that are poured into the destruction of Iraq while children are dying from lack of medical care and families live in desititution. I cannot find the words to express my feelings. All I know is that this is, on a very basic and simple level, terribly terribly wrong.

We sat together and wept together, the five of us - not as "Iraqis" and "Americans" - but as five women who understand that every child is a precious gift to be cherished and protected. Our grief was not for just this one child whose life has a cost too high for us to pay, but for all of the children who are being sacrificed for the profit of a very few.

Fatima has decided that she would like to have salon supplies so that she can visit women in their homes to provide them with beauty treatments as she cannot expect them to climb to the top of her building.

We leave drained and promise to "do what we can". It feels like an empty promise and we are caught in the dilemna of whether offering her a thread of
hope is a kindness or cruelty. Is false hope better than no hope at all?

We will soon have nine other stories on our web site of Iraqi refugees that need micro-projects, including Fatima's.

in peace & action,

Sasha