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.

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.

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

Dear Friends of Collateral Repair Project

CRP co-directors, Sasha and Mary, will be blogging from the Middle East beginning August 5. We'll be there and writing to you from this blog for the next 3 months! We are thrilled to return and to once again be working directly with our wonderful and dedicated Amman Team members: Maha, Sanaa, Manal and Salwan.

We will visit many more Iraqi refugees in Amman and share their stories and photos with you here as well as giving you a closer look at the challenges they face while living in exile.

We'll also visit all of the past recipients of our micro-projects that you have funded to see how they are doing so that we can assess how well this project is improving their lives. We'll share the updates on these families you are already familiar with you here also.

We are excited to tell you that we will also be visiting Damascus, Syria during our time in the ME as we hope to expand our project to assist Iraqis there.

Please consider subscribing to this blog as it will be replacing our usual UPDATE while we are in the ME.

In peace & action - and always grateful for your support,

Sasha Crow & Mary Madsen - CRP co-directors