George Capaccio - CRP Amman volunteer

Collateral Repair Project cannot thank George enough for his contribution to our projects in Amman. We attribute George's talents and effort largely with the success of the Art & Performance Camp for Kids living in the impoverished Jabal al-Nasr area of Amman. Thank you, George!

On December 30, 2002 I left Iraq after spending two weeks in Baghdad with a delegation of peace activists organized by Voices in the Wilderness. I have not returned to Iraq since. But my concern for the Iraqi people remains as strong as ever. Looking for a way to renew my connection with a people and a culture I have grown to love and admire, I contacted Sasha Crow, founder of the Collateral Repair Project. Collateral Repair Project accepted my offer to join them in Amman and work as a volunteer.

On August 9, 2009, nearly seven years since my last trip to the Middle East, I arrived at the Queen Alia Airport in Amman, Jordan. From there, I took a bus into the city and then a taxi to Sasha’s former neighborhood in Jebel al-Nasser. She had prepared a home-cooked meal for the two of us to share as we made plans for the first day of a children’s art and culture camp. The camp was intended to bring together Iraqi, Palestinian, and Jordanian children for two weeks of creative activities. It was a joint effort of Collateral Repair Project and International Relief & Development, an NGO with offices in Amman.

Working with Omar, an Iraqi volunteer with CRP, and a team of dedicated assistants, Sasha and I launched our program the following day. Over the next two weeks, we organized a wonderful mix of hands on art activities for the children. They created their own papier-mâché masks,

drew portraits of each other, and even made a pair of treat-filled piñatas.

I led the children in creative movement exercises.

In addition, I told Arabic folktales to the children, and directed them in a dramatic enactment of a traditional tale.

For the final day of our summer camp, the children’s families were invited to come to the Women’s Center where the camp was held. After viewing a display of the art work, they watched their children perform on stage. During the show, the children wore the colorful masks they had worked so hard to create. Many of them also used the paper puppets they made for their characters in the play. As a final celebration, the children gathered around their piñatas (one piñata at a time!) and gave them enough good whacks to break them open.

Helping to run the camp was only part of what I did with Collateral Repair Project. In the evenings, Sasha and Omar introduced me to some of the Iraqi refugee families CRP has been assisting. For me, these meetings were the heart and soul of my time in Amman.

I had come to Jordan hoping to hear the stories of what these families had endured in Iraq and what their lives were like in Amman. Upon returning to the U.S., I planned to share these stories, through articles and talks, in order to raise awareness of the consequences of the U.S. invasion and occupation. Thanks to CRP, I was able to meet quite a number of families from a variety of backgrounds. For this entry, I would like to recount one such meeting as an example of the very high price these families have had to pay and of the good work CRP is doing. The text is from my journal, which I kept up the whole time I was in Amman. (I have not used the real names of all of the family members.)

Tonight we visited another family whom CRP has assisted. The family is Assyrian and comes from Baghdad, although their roots are in Anbar, which is north of the capital. James met us on the street that runs past his building, and then took us up a short flight of stairs to his family’s apartment. His sister Shemiron and his elderly mother Hajia were sitting in the front room watching TV. CRP, through donations, was able to purchase a prosthetic leg for James’s sister.

James calls Sasha his sister. His mother considers Sasha her daughter. Hajia is only 81 but she looks much older. After her husband died, she had to raise their children by herself. In Iraq the family lived in an area of Baghdad where many Iraqi Christians once lived before they were driven from their homes.

The family has successfully completed all their interviews with IOM (the International Organization for Migration) and expects to be resettled in the state of New York. But they don’t know when their plane tickets will arrive. Their home is practically bare of furniture. A few decorative items adorn the walls. In the parlor, there are some Christian iconic images along with paintings of English royalty. James’s mother named her two sons after British kings. The namesake of one of her daughters was a British queen.

At one point during our conversation, James said all they have left is Jesus. Everything else in their lives has been taken away from them. He spat out the name of Saddam Hussein and, stretching out his arm, shouted, “Go to Hell! He destroyed everything.”

James did agree that under Saddam, Christian minorities were safer and not likely to be persecuted, but still discrimination did exist. Before the war in 2003, he and his non-Christian neighbors were friends. But after the war, everything changed. People threatened him, told him to leave Iraq or they would kill him.

Last fall in Baghdad, while shopping in the market, James’s sister Shemiron became the victim of a car bombing. She had to have part of her right leg amputated. She also lost hearing in her right ear. She had been a secondary school teacher for 27 years. Her subject was mathematics. Several of her students were killed from the same bomb that disabled her for life. Shrapnel tore into her body. She pulled up the left leg of her trousers and showed us several deep scars from the shrapnel. While brother and sister described this tragic event, their mother Hajia, with a look of such deep sadness, openly wept for her daughter’s pain and suffering.

Shemiron spent 3 weeks in a hospital in Baghdad. Surgeons amputated the lower part of her leg but left a bony stump. In November, about a month after the bombing, the family left for Jordan. In Amman, Shemiron received a heavy prosthetic leg, which she and Sasha refer to as the “dinosaur.” It hurts her to wear it. Now she has a lighter prosthetic which she saves for special occasions like going to church. Shemiron is afraid it will be damaged on the many broken steps and fractured pavements in Amman. She knows it is strong and durable, but it has become so important to her that she doesn’t want to take any unnecessary risks with it. Around the house, she wears a third prosthetic. This one doesn’t fit well and causes her unrelenting pain.

When CRP staff first met her, Shemiron never went outside and, without a prosthetic, crawled from room to room, becoming more and more depressed. Now her mood has brightened considerably, and she was able to talk freely with us. She showed us photos of her former students, her colleagues, and even her college graduating class.

James smoked furiously while an Assyrian TV station showed the carnage from yesterday’s car bombings in Mosul and Baghdad. He changed the channel. The screen came alive with Assyrian singers and musicians performing while young people did traditional dances. Pointing to the television, James said, “This our people. This our music, our dances.” Tears filled his eyes. It was this moment, perhaps more than any other, that gave me a deeper sense of what it means to be separated from one’s homeland, one’s culture, and one’s family, and to face an almost unbearably uncertain future.

James had been an agricultural engineer in Baghdad after graduating from Baghdad University. He showed us his transcript and proudly pointed to his grades. He hopes this document will improve his chances in the U.S., and wanted to know if he would be able to advance himself there. I recalled my own family and how my grandfather had come from Italy with nothing. By the time I was in high school, my own parents had advanced far beyond my father’s family. This seemed to offer some assurance to Edward whose love for his aged mother was so evident throughout our stay. He often stood by her side as she sat on the sofa with hands folded in her lap, and touched her ever so gently while thanking God for keeping her alive.

When it was time for Sasha and me to leave, James followed us down an unlit stairway and along an alley to the street. Like a good shepherd, he watched over us until a taxi stopped and took us home.

Collateral Repair Project has been nominated for Global Exchange's HUMAN RIGHTS HEROES AT HOME

Please take a moment to vote for us...and the Iraqis we serve Thank you!

There is a $1000 award for the nominee with the most votes. We would like to be able to win this award to use toward providing more much needed assistance to Iraqi refugees. We can, with your help!

Vote here:

http://peace.myhumanrightsheroes.org/entries/7719

IMPORTANT INFO: The voting site will ask you for your e-mail address because it will send you a confirmation e-mail to assure that you will only vote once.

The site will also ask you for a password - NOTE: It is NOT asking you for your personal e-mail password. You can create a unique password to use on the voting site so that you can leave comments about the nominees

Please leave comments! Since you know and support CRP your comments about our work are valuable in letting others know about us

Thank you!

Eid sa'id to all of our Muslim friends!
(belatedly)

I began this letter a week ago but I was interrupted by a move into a different flat in Amman. Now, Ramadan and its four days of Eid celebration have just passed but the message of this time is still very pertinent. And our appeal is even more so.

Dear Friend of Collateral Repair Project,

Summer is drawing to a close here in Amman. The weather has turned from very hot to very warm; at night, the long sleeved blouses I wear in public are now comfortable. During weekday mornings and afternoons, the streets are filled with groups of children in their blue school uniforms. Plump figs ripen on the trees in many gardens. Jasmine still scents the evening air, its perfume released at sundown. At night, the city is a galaxy turned up-side-down as Ramadan crescent moon and star lights twinkle out of many windows

Many very early mornings, I am awakened by the Musaharti - or, in at least southern Iraq, called “Abu Tbeila” (which literally means “man with little drum”) who makes the rounds of all the streets in the neighborhoods, beating a small drum while calling out melodically that it’s time to waken for the morning meal (suhoor) before another day of Ramadan fasting begins. From my hillside flat, I watch as the lights turn on in the flats around and below me before crawling back under my covers.

Ramadan is a month long period when Muslims fast from food and drink from sun-up until sundown. Fasting and its hunger helps Muslims identify with those who have hungry bellies, not by choice but because of want. It motivates sympathy, compassion and charity. Ramadan is the time of giving to those who have little (zakat) – and when even those who have little give generously to those with even less. My friend tells me that even if one has only a piece of bread, they share a portion of it with another. I am constantly awed by this. It is very different than what I am accustomed to in the west where we tend to hold tighter to what we have when we feel we do not have enough or when we feel that what we have is threatened.

In this majority Muslim culture, one of the most frequently used phrases used is “al hamdolelah” (thanks to God) and is used freely when people talk about their circumstances – even when they are bad. It is a recognition that one is to be grateful for whatever one has; that life itself - that one has survived, at least - is a gift requiring gratitude. Once, when I explained to an Iraqi friend here that I am considered impoverished in my own country, she became upset with me, telling me that I must never say this - that “poverty” is a lack of having generosity, not what’s in one’s bank account!

Friends, Collateral Repair Project is struggling to stay afloat. We have trimmed back projects and staff to the bare minimum in our effort to stay afloat and continue providing much needed assistance to Iraqi refugee victims of war and, as importantly, as we distribute this assistance, we remind them that there are many of us in the west who remember them, who care and have deep remorse and sorrow for their losses resulting from the crimes committed against them in our names. We need your help now to bring “zakat” to those who have so much less than we do and who are hurting so much.

I’ve been in Amman for three months now. I will remain only a few short weeks more. Our bank account is depleted now. We want to spend every precious day I remain here continuing our mission of representing you in reaching out in peace and compassion to Iraqi victims of war.

We can only do this if you help. If you have enough, won’t you please share a little? If you cannot help at this time with a financial contribution, will you please helping by asking others to support our work?

Please donate today

Thank you on behalf of Iraqi refugees in Jordan who rely on your support

We will be sending you an UPDATE later this week. To be included:

• Ways your contributions have eased life for Iraqi refugee families receiving emergency assistance during the past three months.
• Information and photos of our two week Art & Performance Camp that was attended by 45 energetic and enthusiastic kids in Al-Nasr district of Amman – an area that is home to many impoverished Iraqi, Palestinian and Jordanian families. We know you’ll smile when you see these happy creative kids!
• Iraqi & American girls reaching out to one another in friendship.
• Our participation in World Refugee activities in partnership with International Relief & Development and Jordanian Alliance Against Hunger
• Heart-to-Heart / Hand-to-Hand: Donors & their recipients both benefit
  
• Intangible assistance CRP provides to refugees here in the form of advocacy
• Resettlement and resignation – the current situation for Iraqi refugees in Jordan
• UNHCR funding cut-backs and how these will impact critical assistance programs Iraqi refugees rely on

In Peace & Action,
Sasha Crow - CRP founder & co-director - from Amman, Jordan

• 

www.CollateralRepairProject.org

"You cannot witness all of these things and do nothing"

[ Dr. Intisar Mohammed - from documentary: Iraq - The Women's Story ]

TRIUMPHS OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT

Last Thursday, we went to a poor neighborhood in west Amman to our appointment with Hamid and Nadia, to hear their story and see what we could do to help them. When we arrived, they told us that there was another couple in desperate need who hoped that they could talk to us, too. This often happens.

Help is so precious here, and so rare, that when one family is offered assistance, others emerge, seeking hope and help. These two stories below have a common denominator: people triumphing after enduring incredible trauma and devastating loss.

HAMID AND NADIA

Hamid and Nadia are a young couple, aged 30 and 23, respectively. They arrived in Jordan in the spring of 2009, making the journey to relative safety from the violence in Iraq. They clearly love one another, though they are struggling to survive. They, like countless others, are grasping for life.

They have heard about the CRP from their family. We have come tonight to document their story. The HEART To HEART program and "G.", one generous and compassionate donor, allow us to be able to leave them with something tangible, for now -- enough money to buy some food. We will follow-up by advocating on their behalf with other agencies to expedite further assistance.

Hamid and his relatives, also refugees, tell his disturbing story. Hamid's family was targeted for terror. He and many of his relatives were threatened, forcing them to seek safety elsewhere. After relocating, Hamid and his brother (35) and his father (74) were kidnapped, beaten, and severely tortured.

Some, like his father, were left with mangled, broken hips. He tells us that he spent 3 months at Abu Graib but, as in so many cases, no charges against him were ever filed. He has fears that he is being followed. We have changed their names to protect this fragile young couple and all of their family members. We will post no pictures.

Hamid's voice is throaty, as he screams out his pain and terrors into the long nights. When awakened, he wakes up afraid, shaking and screaming."

When asked what they need, family members all say, "Everyone {who loves him} talks to him. We talk to him all the time. We need for him not to wake up at midnight. We need for him to stop screaming." The family is gentle but obviously deeply concerned for Hamid, who looks terribly embarrassed at his inability to 'make it all go away.' He needs rock-solid counsel. He needs medication. These things are not yet in place.

Like all the families we have visited, this family cajoles their most traumatized members with genuine love and a teasing humor. They all laugh a lot, in between serious re-tellings of nightmares being lived out every day and every night. "He must drink milk and sleep like a baby," they say, and everyone laughs together, touching. "If we do not laugh, we will die."

Hamid's young wife was just a teenager when she was beaten. One result of her violent beating is that she is blinded, having no vision whatsoever in her left eye. She went to an eye doctor in Syria. They could not help her there.

The pressures upon this young couple are mountainous. Nadia's mother is still in Iraq. She constantly encourages her daughter leave Hamid because their life together is too hard.

All family members, including Hamid, talk about his repeated violent outbursts, as his fear and his memories of his uncles, cousins and brothers being killed still haunt him. But as we talk, his little niece comes and sits by her uncle and snuggles into his lap, eventually falling asleep while he gently strokes her hair and brow.

Again, asked about 'what they need,' they become thoughtful. Their needs are quite simple, in their own estimation. "We must find WORK. ... Some furniture?... some food?"

The members of their family who help them now will be resettled to another country at the end of July, after which they they will not be able to afford the rent to keep his brother's apartment. "We would go to a smaller apartment," they say hesitantly, "as we are only two."

The approximate cost of such a place, including water and electricity is approximately 140 JD per month, a little under 200 USD. Two hundred dollars would get them into a new apartment.

The triumph of this young couple is that they still live! They love each other deeply and are surmounting incredible odds. They amazingly retain the capacity to love one another and the members of their family. They give enough love to have little children loving them back. They care for the people in their neighborhood, expressing much compassion for others and for each other, too.

HEART to HEART IS ONE WAY YOU CAN HELP HAMID AND NADIA

Will you?

MOHAMMED AND MUNA

When I first met them, I thought that Mohammed was about 70 years old. Both he and his wife Muna appear far older than their actual ages. Mohammed is only 50 years old. Muna is 48. Their hard life has aged them both far beyond their years. Their initial request is for help with their self-perceived main problem: infertility. Haltingly and painfully, their history emerges.

For 15 long years now, this couple has lived in Jordan. They, as all other Iraqi refugees, are not legally allowed to work here. In Iraq, Mohammed worked in the Ministry of Oil. When he did not enter the Baathist party, he was threatened and told simply, to "get out." When he did not comply, he was tortured. He retains no conscious memory of this time. He did not talk about it at all.

They left their home in Baghdad, traveling first to Fallujah, where they got their passports. They came to Jordan to, "try to make children; to get a cure for infertility." Mohammed tells us that he, "has had many medicines to help this. All made {me} worse."

By 2006, Mohammed had "many problems," he said, with people here. Problems exist for all refugees. They vie for the same jobs as the poor who are residents in Jordan. Jordan, a 'water-poor' country, is staggered by the influx of upwards to nearly a million Iraqis, and millions of other refugees, too.

Jordan's resources are stretched to the limit as they strive to accommodate so many refugees as well as their own citizens. They have a plethora of social services, and the Jordanian government and most people, too, are both kind and generous to all the poor, no matter what their country of origin.

There are some, however, as in every nation, who feel frustrated at the river of foreigners who have streamed into their home country. Simply providing water for all is a huge challenge. Most of the Iraqi refugees in Jordan, as I have repeatedly said, have no legal standing, no rights to work or to freedom, no recourse when treated unfairly. If they complain, they go to jail. If they complain too much, they get deported back to violent, unsafe, chaotic, and untenable Iraq.

We must all awaken to this fact. It simply is not safe for Mohammed to return to Iraq. It will never be safe for him to return there. If he does go back, he faces the same threat that caused him to flee. "No one will listen to me. Everywhere, I try to say... the Truth. I am told: we are not a police station! Shut up. Don't talk." He goes on. He is bleak, profoundly depressed and hopeless. "I hate everything. I hate my life. No one will talk to me. No will will help me. No one will listen to me. WHAT is in my hands? It is all lost."

There is much documentation of Mohammed's case. His psychiatric report reads "Severe clinical depression. Traumatic grief. PTSD. Sleep disorder. Intrusive images. Nightmares. Infertility. Suicidal."

He shows us X-rays of his damaged ribs and one of his femur, which is badly bent at an angle far from 'normal.' How did this happen? A long pause. "I do not know. I cannot remember." He shows us a pile of devastating death certificates. Four brothers, and one of his sisters, all dead from torture. As the news of each successive death reaches Mohammed, he sinks into deeper and deeper despair. The pressure of all of this fear and abject poverty has splashed out all over the canvas of Mohammed and Muna's life. Muna weeps a lot, constantly mourning their unborn children, who, barring miracles which have not yet happened, will never come into her waiting arms.

They subsist on 110 JD per month, provided to them by the UN. Their rent is 100 JD. The rest of their needs are met by charity alone. There is never enough.

The only real hope for them is to be resettled into another country. "Any country," they say. Any country. We explain that CRP has no real power to help with resettlement, but will attempt to find resources to help with the cost of Mohammed's medications and for now, leave them 20 JD. Their miracle is that they have survived. They have never abandoned one another. Their eyes still seek to meet another's. Their eyes still pour out light. We tell Mohammed and Muna that we will come back to see them as soon as we have some better answers for them. As we prepare to leave, the Call To Prayer rings through the quiet streets. It is very late. Muna begs us not to forget her. "Promise me that you will not forget me. Promise me!" She asks, one more time, "what is the solution? What is the solution for us?"

As we walk up the hill from their house, Mohammed grins widely and gives us the peace sign.

Posted by Annie Tannner - CRP volunteer in Amman

HEART to HEART ~ HAND to HAND

This project allows people to make their giving personal. It "puts the faces" on the people you help. Every person helped through this program is given a short note from you, your donation, and (if you choose) a picture of you, too, so that the Iraqi refugee YOU help gets to know YOU, too.

You, in return, receive a picture of the person/family that YOU HELPED, along with the actual words of thanks that your generosity elicits.

I remember how wonderful it was, as a child, to 'get' a letter from my pen pals who lived in far-away places. This program reminds me of that time, and makes me smile. When I was in high school, I made a song for a film my teacher made, a film about helping the kids in the Special Educaton program. Something about this Heart to Heart Program of the Collateral Repair Project struck a familiar chord in me, and an old, old memory rises up now, like bread, to the top of my mind:

"...Helping hands reach out to touch their lives.

They, in turn, reach out to touch our lives.

Sharing is the secret in this very special world,

Where giving is the answer and loving is the rule....."

Now, the whole world is a special education class, and millions and millions of refugees live out the nightmares that Men have dreamed into reality. Let your hands reach out to help one other person. They will then have the heart to reach out and touch you back, and then, hopefully, to touch others. In trust, encouragement, and solidarity with the teeming masses of people in need.

I urge you to click on the link below, for information and givings of any amount of money. Together, we are making the difference between despair and renewed hope and trust in life. I thank you. The CRP thanks you. The refugees thank you.

HEART TO HEART

Posted by Annie Tanner - CRP volunteer, Amman

Two Women

In many ways, Tiba and Layla have little in common. Tiba is a young woman of 28 with only one daughter while Layla, age 51, has a large family - five daughters and three sons. Tiba has experience as a beauty operator and Layla was a hospital dietician. Tiba is quiet and withdrawn; Layla speaks openly and her presence fills the room. In other ways, these two women share much. Both women's humble apartments are accessable only by climbing up steep flights of stone stairs in impoverished neighborhoods. Both are Iraqi; both are widows, and both have suffered tremendous loss and are now living in Amman as refugees. Both struggle unsuccessfully to provide for the needs of their families. Both feel hopeless and weary.

Layla

Layla was referred to us by the sewing machine shop owner where we purchased Um Marwa's micro-project (see report below titled: "Um Marwa") when he found out that we help Iraqi refugees. She is his neighbor.

Layla and her four youngest - all daughters ranging in age from 18 years to 24 years - share a one bedroom apartment that is infested with insects. They showed us the bites that dot all of their ankles. They do not have a refrigerator to keep food from spoiling in the brutal summer heat here. The paint is peeling off of the walls and they have little in the way of furniture but Layla and her daughters keep a clean home. They tell us, "We cannot go out. We have nowhere to go and no money. We spend our days watching television and cleaning; that is our life now"

Layla's husband was killed in the Gulf War. She never remarried but worked hard to take care of her big family alone. She, like many Iraqis, had membership in the Baath party because, without it, there was little chance of keeping her employment in a government hospital. Then, with the de-Baathification imposed under Bremer after the US-led invasion, Baath party members began being targets with threats and assassinations. She began receiving letters and phone calls that warned "Leave the hospital and Iraq or harm will come to your children" Her eldest son, age 30, was then kidnapped and killed. Layla brought her unmarried children with her to Amman in late 2003, fleeing in fear for their lives.

Two children remain in Iraq with their spouses and children. Layla frets that her son-in-law there is getting death threats now. Her youngest son who accompanied her to Jordan has moved out of the house now. Layla tells us that he's become "trouble", hanging out with the wrong sort of people, drinking and causes grief for her and her daughters when he comes around them. There are many ways that Iraqi families have become fractured because of the war.
Layla broke down and sobbed, "I am so tired. I have no men here to help me - only my daughters and they have no future here. Our only hope is to be resettled. They will take my daughters and kill them if we return to Iraq"

Layla showed me scars that pock her neck, shoulder and legs. She said the scars cover all of her body. I ask what caused them and she told me that these are shrapnal wounds she received in the initial days of the war when she was caught between battling US and Iraqi forces.

A woman in the US participated in our HEART-to-HEART, HAND-to-HAND project and sent a lovely note of friendship and peace with her photo and a cash donation. We gave these to Layla to help with her family's needs. Layla, deeply touched, asked us to tell their donor, "I thank you so very much and I ask God to bless you and your family for your help!"

When we sent Layla's story, photos and words of gratitude to the woman who had helped her, this compassionate donor then sent funds to purchase a refrigerator for Layla's family. Thank you, "G" for making a difference in the quality of life for this family and, most of all, for offering them the gift of your friendship.

Tiba

Tiba lives alone with her only child, 10 year old Sara. In 2003, Tiba, her husband and little Sara left Iraq in 2003 and settled in Amman. In 2007 her husband returned to Baghdad to visit his family. The taxi he was traveling in was found burning, its driver murdered; there was no sign of her husband. No one has heard from him since. He is assumed to be dead.

Tiba is withdrawn in her loneliness and grief. She rarely leaves the apartment, not even to visit her brother and his family that live a couple of floors above her in the same building. She takes medication to calm her "nerves" but sometimes she has to go to the hospital when her depression becomes too deep. Her daughter, Sara, is a lovely child, open and sweet. She loves to take photos with her mother's cell phone camera and to go play with her cousins upstairs. She seems happy but hungry for fun - not surprising.

They receive about $154 per month cash assistance from the UNHCR. Their rent and utilities cost $105. Despite her depression, Tiba tries to earn money to care for her daughter.

She's set up a room in their apartment as a small home beauty salon. She shows us the little cabinet where she keeps her meager selection of supplies and the plastic lawn chair in front of the small mirror where her clients sit. Right now, she's earning about $28 a week from clients who pay $2-3 per service. She told us that she can get paid more and attract more customers if she could improve her salon a little.


Tiba needs a swivel office chair and a good size wall mirror - and most of all, a good hair dryer; the one she has now sucks in her client's hair in its filter and pulls it, causing them to complain.

It will cost only about $200 to purchase all of these items.

Give HERE to help this young widow support her daughter

Posted by Sasha Crow in Amman

Um Marwa

I wrote a bit, last week, about Um Marwa, who we had gone to visit, delivering into her grateful hands her new micro-project, a home sewing machine. I would like to write a bit more about her now, filling in the blanks about this remarkable woman.

There were many things that impressed me about Um Marwa, her amazing capacity to find God's blessings in her life being the one that repeatedly struck me in the face. Um Marwa is a widow with eight chldren. In Iraq, her husband was a barber, and she was a tailor. Her husband died after the Iraq war with Iran. She has 8 children, all grown and married, six still living in Iraq, "in good homes in a Sunni area," she tells us. She has 17 grandchildren that she has not gotten to see for years, now. Still, her eyes shone with pride and love while she spoke of them. "God is Good." Like a mantra, these words and similar words pour, again and again, like honey from her thankful mouth.

She, like many others before her, fled Iraq because of the massive sectarian violence that broke out after the infrastructures which keep societies civil had been broken by War and chaos. She had moved from a Shia neighborhood, no longer safe, to a Sunna area, "to protect my children." On the day of the execution of Saddam, five explosive mortars completely destroyed her home.

"God blessed us, and he has blessed my daughters," she said, her eyes full of true and honest gratitude. "My daughters were saved. God saved them."

One daughter has severe facial birth defects resulting from the residue of depleted uranium and/or other chemicals left by war on the land, in the air, in the water of Iraq. She had many surgeries in Iraq. "All failed." Here in Jordan, Marwa (now 23) and her mother told us, "God has blessed her six surgeries."

She has faith that a way will be found to "complete the work," which will allow her right eye to open. A bone was taken from her skull and now forms her new nose, allowing her to breathe freely. She is $3000 American dollars shy of completing the long and exhausting process of repairing her face. "I will have a new glass eye, then," the young woman says, hopefully.

Marwa's case was covered by the Jordanian press

Marwa is honest and straight-forward, though shy. She does not like to complain or cry, she says, because she has deep concerns about, "my mother's declining health." Her care for her mom is evident in her gentle and solicitous behavior towards her.

This beautiful family could surely use a hand, here. A heart, here. Their ability to retain their unstinting faith in the face of such difficulties is absolutely, profoundly, and terrifically striking. May we all grow into this expansive expression and humble grace. The triumphs cascade, like dominos, as I remember them. The most profound triumph of all is that their humanity remains intact, and their inner, original Spirit soars, even when their hearts are heavily laden with grief and fear. They survive! They Live! It is a miracle of which they are keenly aware. War has destroyed, yes, but true Beauty was never even touched.

NOTE: CRP is not soliciting donations to help with Marwa's surgery as we cannot finance paying for expensive medical treatments. We are, however, approaching medical aid organizations in Amman to try to find help for her.

By Annie Tanner, CRP volunteer in Amman

UN Report that their budget shortfall will dramatically decrease Iraqi refugee assistance - beginning in August

Dear Friends of CRP

It's with heavy heart that we must contemplate ending our worthy work that has helped so many Iraqis whose lives have been so shattered by violence in their country and then displacement. We have been, and continue, to search for a way to continue our work, knowing how vitally needed it is. And now, especially now, as we read the UN report that their budget shortfalls force them to dramatically cut back their assistance to Iraqi refugees in Jordan and Syria that has been the only means of survival for most Iraqi refugees, now we are even more reluctant to end our work here as we know that Iraqis will soon be in crisis with the loss of their UN support.

excerpt from UN report: JORDAN-SYRIA: UNHCR funding shortfall for Iraqi refugees

Who will be affected?

From August financial assistance will "not be sustainable", according to UNHCR. A large chunk of the monthly cash handouts go to the most vulnerable families - female-headed households - and these look likely to be cut back sharply, perhaps even completely, depending on funding. UNHCR will no longer distribute certain non-food items such as nappies and sanitary towels.

UNHCR said it would cut its health funding; and plans to expand programmes of psycho-social care for traumatized Iraqis would be shelved. Funding for vocational training programmes would be reduced. Outreach programmes, which have been especially successful in reaching vulnerable women, would also be negatively affected.

Read full report HERE

We know that we are all suffering from the economic meltdown - we are all insecure now and some of us are floundering ourselves, wondering how we can take care of our own family's needs. We understand that and we at CRP are experiencing this ourselves. And yet we ask that, if you can contribute - even a small amount - please do. Please. If you cannot, please help by spreading the word about our work to others who may be able to help. We cannot give up now. How can we abandon these traumatized and broken people when they cannot care for themselves and when they are losing much of the assistance they have relied on to cover their basic needs? We must not.

Please Help

Are We Giving Up, People? Are we giving up this work?

I am praying to the Mother Of Us All: Still my frenetic mind. Still my racing heart. Move my hands across this keyboard and let the words flow, from my hands to all hearts. I pray now, to effect an immediate and radical change for Good, and for good, always, and in all ways.

Tonight, on the 2nd of July, 2009, I find myself stunned.

Sasha and Mary have just told me that the CRP has less than 3,000 dollars to work with. Minus the % that goes to IHC for their fiscal sponsorship. . Period. Kaput.

Are We Giving Up, People? Are we giving up this work?

The CRP, still a baby, really, is dying! Dying of neglect? Dying of starvation? Dying because no one really cared about the "collateral damage" from the war in Iraq? Because not enough people cared? Because not enough people cared enough?

To me, the CRP IS a baby, conceived and birthed by my friend Sasha Crow, and then nurtured in its fragile infancy by both Sasha and my new friend, Mary Madsen, who came in answer to Sasha's plea for help in this. Sasha was in Seattle; Mary, in Oregon.

Somehow they made this Project work. Out of nothing, they made everything.

From nothing, they came to Jordan and helped people, one family after another, pouring a shining ribbon of light into the darkest corners of one of the more hopeless situations unfolding on our planet today.

They are still helping today. It is powerful and beautiful. Their dedication is tremendous.

In the face of enormous odds against them, they have tenaciously, passionately, and truly helped people who have been discarded and forgotten, if they were ever known at all.

I spent much time, in the past, midwifing people through their process of death. Is it possible that I am here today to help in this terrible thing, the death of another baby, the Collateral Repair Project? I am reeling.

There is no lack of money on this planet. There is plenty of money. There is, instead, a Lack of Heart.

I weep for us all, now, as I grapple with what to say, how to communicate without alienating those who could help the CRP the most, if so moved.

"If we were so moved." Such a big word, this "if."

I have been in Amman for a grand total of three weeks. I see what the CRP has brought here, and is still bringing, every day. Everywhere we visit, people's eyes light up, with gratefulness and real, genuine, heartfelt love. Every family we have visited is profoundly changed by the small help the CRP has been able to give them.

We cannot erase the horror. CRP makes the horror smaller, every time, every single time.

Today for example: We went downtown and met Um Marwa. We went to the sewing machine shop and the CRP bought her Micro-project, a home sewing machine, a pair of scissors, and some extra needles and bobbins. Her worried face transformed in front of my eyes. Light came in where there was none before, only exhaustion and fear. When Sasha told her that the money for her new sewing machine came from people in America, from people in Japan, from Mexico, from Germany, England and other countries, she simply and sincerely responded, straight out and without hesitation:

"First: God Bless all these people, because they do it first for God, and then to help people in order for them to live.. God bless them and I thank them. Really." Later, at her house, a broad, slow smile lit up her tired face. "I was lost without my sewing machine."

What did the CRP give, here? Not only the machine, the bobbins, the needles, the pair of sharp scissors. The CRP gave hope back to this woman whose life has been so terribly changed by the War. Um Marwa dares to hope again, today, all because you gave to the CRP. Imagine it. Daring to hope again. Beautiful. Priceless.

Then, we went to visit Iklass and Raed, who will be resettling to southern Oregon in the next few months. They and their 5 children and another on the way....

I am not sure that the mother of this group, Iklass, was able to take in the news that they will get to resettle. Finally, slowly, as if she could barely allow herself to believe, she began to understand-- no more waiting.... no more endless Limbo... no more Waiting for Godot, who, if you remember or do not know, never showed up.

Raed, her husband, did understand. His entire demeanor changed in the winking of an eye.

From the depths of long-standing hopelessness and deep, toxic shame at not being "able" to provide for his own family here, a candle was lit in his heart.

I saw it light up, tiny at first, then beaming from inside him, out, out, touching his frightened and disbelieving wife, touching his hollow-eyed children. All of them could then smile, too. And laughter emerged, and Life was renewed, as though spring had come after an endless winter.

Trying as hard as they could to speak in English and to make themselves understood , they humbly thanked the CRP: "Really. Really. Thank you very much. Very much!" This, along with: "Muslims do Good, for God. You {all of you who have given to the CRP}, by doing all you have done for us, have already deserved to go to Mecca {the fulfillment of their highest and most sincere prayers}."

Hear me, all of you good people all over the Earth! I beg you, be moved by these people.

They have every reason to Hate. Their country is ravaged. Their homes, gone. Their children, some born with terrible deformities from residues of Depleted Uranium, forced to journey to a foreign land where, even if they cannot legally work here, at least they are not being mortared. Do they hate? Not in front of me. Not one time since I have come here. Instead, they forgive. They forgive!!

They say "We must help each other. We must!." They are referring not to us, but to themselves!

They, who have nothing, offer us dinner. It is all beyond the pale. Over the top. Beyond the Fringe.

Some other brief examples of what I am trying to convey, here:

Shemeron, whose new prosthetic not only actually fits her leg, it is also PADDED at the 'stump' end, and weighs about 4 pounds. Her "old" prosthetic is a dinosaur. It weighs about 45 pounds. It did not fit her. It was a tyrannosaurus which caused repeated wounding, blistering, and bleeding, rubbing the end of her leg raw, making every step a torture and a reminder of What Is Gone.

She-- unimaginably, for me-- nearly refused the new prosthetic, putting it off for some time. Why? She felt she did not "deserve it."

"I am sorry," she said. "I am sorry for the burden which I have placed upon the American people who have donated the money for this, my new leg." She sat, in shame. I wanted to fall through the floor.

I am here now, remembering…

On her way home from teaching in Baghdad last December, Shemeron stopped to buy bread in the marketplace. Boom! Her foot was gone. Dead people and blood and carnage were all around her. Somehow she made her way here. Somehow, she survived. And she feels ashamed-- ashamed of burdening you.

On my birthday, June 28th, we took a 13 year old boy downtown with his auntie, to buy him some summer clothes. He is not a healthy child. He had a fever, and is weak and sickly, on top of tremendous trauma and displacement. Still, they came, hand in hand. After picking out two pairs of pants, a pair of PJ's, some new underwear, a couple of shirts and tee-shirts, his aunt wanted to "be sure" that we would convey her thanks to those who gave to the CRP for her nephew:

"May God bless them. And may God paint a smile upon their faces and the faces of their children always. Thank you, thank you. I will remember you in every time of prayer, every day...." How beautiful. How eloquent. May God paint a smile....

Would we, as Americans, be able to forgive and to thank, if the tables were completely and utterly reversed and we were the Refugees and they the Givers? Would we be that big, inside? I can only pray it could be so. I pray it will be so. I pray it is so, now.

"Friends Share," says a little sign in my friend's house in California. Well, then:

By simply coming here, Sasha and Mary have transformed America from being "The Enemy" to being caring, compassionate, and generous friends. Sasha and Mary have shared and are still sharing all that they have, and all that they ARE. They have brought you to Amman, Jordan. They give in your names. Never once have I heard either of these two beautiful women take credit for any giving. They give, they say, "for you." For those who give to the CRP, they give all credit and all thanks, all the time, every time, unfailingly. Unflinchingly. They bring you here today, and every day in the life of the CRP.

How long a life? I cannot tell.

Five times a day, a Call to Prayer rings out, in Song, throughout this city. It reminds all of us to pray, Muslims and Christians and all the rest of us. Every day. Like a giant Clock marks the passing of time in other parts of the world, men cry out to pray to God. . Five times. Every day. Every night. It does not stop. There is no day off from this Call.

I Call to you, from the bottom of my heart, and in unison with all beating hearts upon this planet, to take another look into the eyes of the Iraqi people on the CRP website. These people are not terrorists. They are suffering civilians and humans, all. They could be you. Their situations are a living nightmare of the lowest degree. We have all been dreaming a violent Chaos into Reality. I beg us all now to wake up... wake up softly. Wake up truly. Wake up gently, too, as all of us need that now. Wake up, darling people all over the planet, and begin again: a new day, a day for Giving, not for getting. Let this baby of my two friends’ hearts Live!

We can help them "If we so choose." Pick up your pens and write the checks. Or go to your computer--a few clicks , a few minutes to spend sharing with friends.

http://www.collateralrepairproject.org/Donate.html

And may God paint a smile upon your computers, credit cards, and bank accounts

Sincerely,

Annie Tanner - CRP volunteer in Amman

The Collateral Repair Project

P.O. Box 8160

Medford, OR 97504

http://www.collateralrepairproject.org

May God Paint Smiles Upon Your Faces - Always

On the second evening after we arrived in the big city of Amman, Sasha and I walked several blocks down the main street of our neighborhood. We were expecting our first guest the following day and had only two cups in the cupboard, so it was time to go out and buy another one. We walked along a busy, 4-lane road to the Mukthar Mall, passing many small businesses and shops of all sorts.

It was my first 'taste' of Amman and of our neighborhood.

The Mukthar Mall is a conglomeration of many types of businesses, all housed under one big roof. It includes a hardware store, a grocery store, a store which carries household goods, and what we would consider to be "regular" mall shops of every possible kind. It is a busy place, filled with many people.

As we entered, Sasha was greeted by a woman named Rukaiyah, part of a family the CRP had helped in the past. Rukaiyah was with her nephew Firas, who appeared to be approximately nine or ten years old. Rukaiyah does not speak very much English, but she tried hard to communicate with Sasha, who she obviously holds in high regard. After reconnecting with Sasha and warmly welcoming her back to Jordan, she launched into her broken story, speaking quickly, almost breathlessly.

Firas is her sister's only surviving son -- her other four children were killed in the street in their hometown of Baghdad in 2006. Firas was with his brothers, and saw them all die. His parents owned their own home there. One was Shia, the other, Sunna, which was quite common before the war.

With the ensuing dismantling of the infrastructure which keeps peace and provides social services , sectarian violence blossomed where before there had been tolerance. Firas's parents were targeted by fundamentalists, who told them to "get divorced." When they did not, their home was mortared while they were inside of it. Firas's father was kidnapped. He has never been heard from again, and is presumed dead. Firas’ mother’s hips were broken when their home was mortared and have never set properly. She no longer has use of her legs and is in constant pain. Somehow, they made their way -- mother and son-- to Amman. They now live with Rukaiyah and her two brothers in a small two-bedroom apartment. Rukaiyah begged us to come and visit her sister, to see if there is anything the CRP could do to help them.

A few days later, with our Iraqi counterpart, we went to their humble home. We learned that not only is the mother crippled, she also suffers from major heart disease which would require expensive and extensive surgery. Sasha explained that, sadly, the CRP does not have the money to attend to her complex medical problems.

Sasha asked about Firas and we were astonished to learn that he is thirteen years old. Like many other children of war, he seems to have stopped growing shortly after witnessing his brothers’ deaths and his father's disappearance. We learned that he, too, is not well: his stomach does not 'hold' food well, he is weak, small and not thriving. It would cost, they said, 48 JD (approximately $60) to see a doctor and have tests done. The CRP gave the family 50 JD ($70), enough to cover the cost of the doctor and the taxi ride to and from the doctor's office.

We also told the family that CRP would help them to get some summer clothes for Firas, as he had none, and the weather was getting hotter by the day.

One June 28th, we met Rukaiyah and Firas in the old downtown area of Amman, where prices are generally much cheaper, and the dollars can go further. Firas was ill that day. He had a fever. We went to two shops, and CRP money purchased him 2 pairs of pants, a pair of long shorts, 3 pairs of underwear, 2 short-sleeved shirts, a tee-shirt, and a new pair of pajamas. Firas was all worn out by now, but beaming with happiness and relief, too.

Rukaiyah told us that the doctors said that Firas has severe anemia and that he must have an iron-rich, meat-rich diet in order to heal and to grow. They have no money for meat, she tells us. The doctors wanted to do more tests, she said, but it would require an additional 27JD.

Through CRP’s Heart to Heart-Hand to Hand campaign, one generous American donor had given the $40 dollars which would get Firas the rest of his tests. Rukaiyah was overwhelmed and happy for this "miracle."

Standing there, in the open cavern of a hallway surrounded by bustling crowds, her eyes full with sincerity and grateful beyond wildest imagination, she said "We THANK him! We thank him. And may God paint a smile upon his face and the faces of his family, always. Always. I will pray for him, at each time of prayer, forever. We are having a hard summer, and CRP has come in time."

By the end of this beautiful thanking, all of our eyes were wet. There they were, so small, so honest, so real, filled with radiant humanity and absolute humility. They shone.

Firas, too, said, "Thank you! Thank you!," using up his entire English vocabulary. His eyes said all the rest, in bright eloquence, times two.

We will see them again to find out the results of Firas’ medical tests.

We hailed them a cab. The door closed, and with a last wave, they disappeared into the traffic like a whisper, like a thought that dissolves before morning erases the clouds from our eyes.

by Annie Tanner - CRP volunteer in Amman

Abu Rukauyah and his Angels

Yesterday we went to visit Abu Rukaiyah and his beautiful wife and their kids. Abu Rukaiyah, the dad, is a handsome 36 year old man. He came to the main road, at the bottom of a mountainous hill, to meet us and walk with us up to his house. We have come, this day, to set up the delivery of his new micro-project, a tile-cleaning machine, and to document their story.

He and his wife have been in Jordan since fleeing Iraq in 2004. Their trip to Jordan was harrowing. They were followed, their car was shot at by machine-guns. The tires were hit first, and Abu Rukaiyah was shot in the leg, twice. (He rolls up his pant-leg, to show the scars, as though to prove that he is not making this up. It is mortifying and unnecessary to us, but despite this, the exhausted-looking young man was compelled for his own personal reasons, to show us.)

It appeared to me that he had been required to prove his story, perhaps over and over. He provided documentation of all possible details. This is not unusual for the refugee families. The papers were well-worn, all, but official and kept safely, for repeated re-use. After rolling the pants back down from the knee, he quietly and smoothly went on.

"I continued to drive. What could I do?" Another bullet just missed their then one year old daughter, lodging in his back. Miraculously, little Rukaiyah slept through all of this. They came upon American soldiers, who stopped the terrified young couple. They gratefully "helped us, me... they... fixed my leg..." and then escorted their limping vehicle and family to the Jordanian border between 2 Humvees.

Just after they got to Jordan, his wife, who was 6 months pregnant at the time of their flight to safety, hemorrhaged. They all spent the next 5 days in a hospital, where she gave birth to a tiny baby girl, who spent the following 56 days in an incubator in the hospital, Abu Rukaiyah paying all the rest of the money the family had in exchange. Miriam is about 4 now. Her heart is weak and cannot be repaired. She has multiple problems, both physical and mental, though she is absolutely adorable, all curly black hair and big eyes.

She cannot keep food down, as she cannot swallow properly. She will not ever grow normally. They must take care when touching her, as her skin is hyper-sensitive and she cries even with the gentle touch of her obviously loving mother. "It is hard for parents to look at their child like this," they sadly tell us.

Yet they clearly cherish her as they do all their children, three of them now, with their new baby boy, Yusef, who is darling, ever-cooperative with his patient parents for the entire time we were there (about 2 and a half hours). All the children were well-behaved, polite, and soft-spoken. Miriam is almost mute.

She continues to live almost exclusively on a special baby formula, which is expensive here. The family receives SOME aid but hardly enough. Sasha takes down a lot of information. She will "check in" with the doctors and other agencies, to see if there is money to help with the buying of the formula for tiny Miriam.

It is not certain that there will be help for them, as there are many thousands of others who also need. They know this. We know this, too, especially Sasha. I am just a learner, on the low end of a steep curve. "Whether there is help or whether there is no help, we thank you, and we thank the CRP, because you are here, and you are helping us."

As always, Sasha tells them that it is not we who are helping them, but donors from the U.S., Italy, Japan, England, Lebanon, Mexico, Canada, France, and many countries, many people who are really helping them:not her, not us. She never once takes credit for what others have given. Ever.

We note all their documentation about Miriam's health, for follow-up.

This family, as all the others, offer us tea and sweets. They surely gave up something to provide these things, but it is a point of honor for them, as with all those we visit, to be able to offer food to their guests. They insist we share; it would be insulting to them to refuse. They are sincere, and so dear and sweet-natured that it cracks your heart open, if not apart.

Abu Rukaiyah is possibly one of the gentlest men I have ever met. He has suffered from acute PTSD, and is still "shy" to ask for help. The men here have a terrible time, as they feel deep and toxic shame at not being able to protect or to adequately provide for their families. It is heartbreaking to read his doctor reports. Night terrors. Insomnia. Clinical depression. "No hallucination. No suicidal thoughts," reads his chart. He works, as much and as often as he can. He is hopeful that some men he knows are going to "allow" him to work with them with his new micro-project. "I know them... I trust them, " he says. He looks quiet and worried.

His beautiful young wife tells more: her father, too, journeyed out of Iraq in 2004. After having a VERY difficult time surviving here, he chose, instead, to return to Iraq in Dec., 2008. Two weeks later, he was kidnapped. No one has heard from him again. She looks bleak, introspective, as she thinks about what she has just said.

We climbed many, many (possibly 100) uneven steps to their apartment on a high hill overlooking the center of downtown Amman. They have a balcony outside, a large open area, as they live on the very top floor of their building. The view is beautiful and dizzying to look down into.

How will he get the heavy machine up and down these these stairs? Where will he store it that will be more logical and still safe? We are hoping he will be able to persuade those who say they will help him to work, to help this shy man yet again. It is clear that he is nervous to ask. It is clear to him, too, that he will have to ask. "Tomorrow," he says, visibly steeling himself.

Abu Rukaiyah has done any work he can do to help his family. Like most of the men and women we have met, he sincerely and even passionately says, "I will do anything. Anything." Sometimes he has worked as a volunteer for CARE organization. They intermittently take temporary volunteer workers who are paid a small stipend. This paid volunteer work is legal. Other employment is forbidden for non-resident Iraqi refugees though. He, as all the refugees, greatly fear the random raids on illegal workers from authorities and possible immediate deportation back to Iraq if they are caught. Working helps him - steadies him.

He, like all Iraqis, must make no problems for anyone while here in Jordan. Like so many others, he and his family do not hold a legal "refugee" status, which would provide them with some set rights. This legal status is not usually given until resettlement is granted. The process can take years. Until then, no matter what, he must not cause any anger from any boss or neighbor. There is too much risk. He can only hope that those he trusts will not greatly under-pay him or not pay him at all. If they do, he will have no recourse whatsoever.

In Iraq, he had a spare auto parts shop. After the initial bombings and the following breakdown of all security and safety infrastructures, sectarian violence and on-going war changed their world even more profoundly. He went home. "This is not your neighborhood. This is not your home." When he stayed, the front of the house was bombed out. They are grateful that they were not home.

Going to work, he was told,"This is not your shop." It was burned to the ground, with all of the money inside it. On that day, he tells us, he suffered a heart attack, as all was lost. This, too, is documented, as is every thing. Both the home he owned and his business are just "gone." After recovery, he went back to gather his family, and was greeted with these stark words: "This is not your country."

They fled.

Somehow, they have survived. They endure. How? "We believe in God. God is helping us. God is Good." How they actually survive is beyond my scope of understanding. Their inner strength, even when they are clearly still suffering emotionally and in many other ways, too, tangible and intangible, is a testament to the strength of their beings.

Our Iraqi translator/companion has a knack-- a gift, really-- for helping people to laugh, one who brings life and encouragement into the hearts of all the people we have gone to see. The 'mood' somehow remains easy, relaxed, open. These people with nothing, share everything with us. We are their honored American guests. They are beautiful.

Their plight, now, is "a terrible beauty," as one of my friends coined, an uncannily, horribly accurate phrase. These people are mightily struggling yet not giving up, but bending heavily under the load they must carry every day now. Hideously, their story is common, though the details are uniquely their own.

Abu Rukaiyah and his family were too afraid to resettle to the U.S., as they heard on the streets it would be very hard for them in the States. They will await resettlement, instead, to Germany. They ask us, "But how it will be for us, there?... as Muslims?" We do not know. We do not have any answers.

We can only care. We do care. We are proxies for you who cannot be here. We know that shared grief lessens the load for each. We are moved, profoundly, every day we are here making a chronicle of these once-proud people's stories, so that they will not be lost along with everything else.


We brought small and inexpensive gifts for the girls. Wings that light up, one purple pair, one bright pink, and crowns with fluff on them. The sisters look like fireflies, eyes sparkling with pleasure and with delight at this small present. I think they look like angels.





Out of the bedroom came a girl, Sahra, aged 10. We did not know she would be there. We have brought nothing for her. She brushes this away, all grace, and kind-faced too. She speaks little English, but really tries her hand at communicating. "Hello. Hello. I am Sahra. How are you?" She kisses us on each cheek, looking directly into our eyes. She is intelligent and soft.

We discover that she is Abu Rukaiyah's niece. She recently arrived in Amman with her mother, after her father was killed in Iraq. She listens silently while her uncle explains all this, displaying no emotion at all. She just looks at me. We make an arrangement to return to meet with Abu Rukaiyah's sister, who has, so far, not received any aid at all.




After dark, we leave. As we walk down the many, many stone and marble steps, the children call out, "bye!.... bye!... sala'am... bye!" I cannot see them, but they are there, close to the sky. We hope their new micro-project helps them. We will come back again, another day.






Posted by Annie Tanner - CRP volunteer in Amman

Your Gift Keeps on Giving - Salwa's Micro-Project

When your donations purchase equipment and supplies for a family to have a home-based "Micro-Project" cottage industry, we ask each recipient to sign an agreement that they will not sell the equipment and that they will return it to us for another family to use if they are granted resettlement to another country or if they *return to Iraq.

(*we often agree to allow families to take their Micro-Project equipment with them if they go back to Iraq, knowing that the situation there is even worse than in Jordan and that their project can help them earn a living there)

When Abu Abbas and his family were granted resettlement to the US (read more about this family in the post below this one), they returned the Iraqi bread oven CRP had given them for their Micro-Project so that another family could use it to earn a small income. We did not have anyone on our long list of those waiting for Micro-Projects who had requested an oven so we called another past recipient - also a baker - and asked if she knew of anyone who could benefit from the oven. She referred us to Salwa.


Salwa lives with her daughters - 11 year old Noorham, 18 year old Sally, two sons: 19 year old Saifadeen and his 23 year old brother, Ethier. They share the small apartment with her eldest daughter, Hadeer, who is married and has two small children - 4 year old Amir and his 8 month old sister, Rafaf.





Salwa is an Iraqi who had married a Palestinian man and they had raised their family in Iraq with no problems because of their different nationalities until after the lawlessness caused when the US invaded and dismantled the police and security forces. Then Salwa and her husband began getting death threats: They found notices tucked into the gate to their home that stated: "You are the cause of our problems because you are Palestinian" Salwa tells us of a taxi driver who drove between Jordan and Iraq and he was killed because it was assumed that he was Palestinian. The family was terrified. Salwa's husband left to go to his family in Palestine. No one in his family have seen him though - they think he may be held in an Israeli prison - but no one knows for sure.


Salwa's daughter, Hadeer, was married to an Iraqi man at the time and she was pregnant with Amir. Hadeer, her husband, Salwa and the other children fled to come to Jordan. Hadeer's husband was caught and forced back to Iraq (as were many "military age" men at that time). The women and children stayed in Amman. When Hadeer was nearly ready to have the baby, she returned to Iraq to be with her husband for this important time. When Amir was 2 months old, she and her husband attempted to go to Jordan again. Hadeer and the baby were allowed to enter but her husband was turned back at the border. He then attempted to come to Jordan again two weeks later. He never made it. The bus he was traveling on was attacked and everyone on it was murdered.

Hadeer has remarried - to a poor Palestinian man who lives here in Jordan. He is the father of baby Rafaf. He works but his job is intermittant and has very low wages. Salwa's eldest son works part-time in a restaurant at very low wages. The family all live together and pool their meager resources to get by. They are not enough.


Salwa is excited to receive the bread oven. Although a grandmother, she immediately ran to help the delivery man carry the heavy oven up the hillside to their home. Salwa made this type of bread when she lived in Iraq and looks forward to having useful work and being able to contribute to the family income.


She thanks you:

"Thanks to God there are people who care for us Iraqis. It is beautiful that they feel our feelings and try to help us. We pray only to see the end of our suffering here. When - insha'allah (God willing) - we can return to Iraq, we will always remember you as the only people who helped us"

Saying Goodbye to Old Friends as They Start New Lives in the US

For those of you who have been following CRP since the beginning, you may remember Abu and Um Abbas and their family. Abu Abbas was the very first CRP Micro-Project recipient; he received an oven specifically tailored to make the wonderful Iraqi flat bread. The flattened rounds of dough are thrown against the inner walls of a large drum oven, blistering and drying as they cook. After receiving their Micro-Project, this family was able to escape an exploitative situation where Abu and Um Abbas worked long hours and very low wages for the same man that also rented them an exceptionally low standard apartment at very high rent. After escaping this situation and through their hard work to establish customers for their bread - and expanding their wares to include Iraqi pickles and other Iraqi foods, their lives were much improved - but they still lived in poverty and with the uncertainty and lack of rights and options that all Iraqi refugees here endure.
(an old photo of the entire family)

Now they have been resettled to the US.

While waiting for acceptance, Abu Abbas told us that he hoped to find a community in the US where he can work, doing what he knows and loves best, cooking - feeding people. He hoped for a community that included Arab-Americans who would be familiar with the foods he creates. He knows that the employment situation for Iraqis in the US is not good - that even skilled US citizens who know the language are without work. But he has to take this chance - his only chance to make a life for his family - to be able to support them as a husband and father. He told me, "I will work hard; I am not afraid of work".

I met with Abu Abbas and his wife last week. They'd received notice that they were leaving in a few days to resettlement in Reston, Virginia and, as requested in our Micro-Project contracts, wanted to make arrangements to return the oven to us so that another family could benefit from it. Not everyone is as honest as Abu Abbas - even though it is only a very small percentage (less than 4%), some Micro-Project recipients sell their project equipment. Now that contributions to fund our projects have fallen off dramatically, we rely on turnover of existing projects to provide new projects for waiting families. We appreciate that Abu Abbas is honorable. In appreciation, we gave him $100 to help with the needs of his large family while traveling.

The following day, the eldest son, Abbas and his mother brought the bread oven to us so we could take it to a widow and her family. (story and photos of her and her family soon)

Iraqis are facing many challenges to successful resettlement to the USA. Some are even choosing to return to the dangers they fled from in Iraq rather than face absolute destitution in the US when they cannot find employment after their allocated initial resettlement support runs out. Having friends in their new communities can make a world of difference.

If you - or someone you know - lives in the Reston Virginia area and wants to offer non-financial, supportive friendship to this family, please contact us by e-mail: info(at)collateralrepairproject.org

YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

posted by Sasha Crow - CRP co-director in Amman

Catching up

Dear Friends of CRP

It's hard to believe that we've been in Amman nearly two weeks. We leaped immediately into activities here and the long days, the heat, and having been "intestinally challenged" have interfered with my grand plan and promise to make regular contributions to this blog. Now I have some catching up to do!

I'll post first about our partnership in celebrating World Refugee Day with two other NGOs (nongovernmental organizations) here: International Relief and Development (IRD) and Jordanian Alliance Against Hunger (JAAH). "Celebrating" is the wrong word - one cannot celebrate the fact that an estimated 35 million people worldwide are refugees. We cannot celebrate that one in every five Iraqis have lost their homes and the lives they'd had in Iraq and are now living stateless, without rights of citizenship and many without what they need for basic survival and well-being. This day is not cause for celebration for Iraqis in Jordan; it is yet another day, much like the days and now years that came before it where they struggle to make ends meet, cannot entertain plans for their futures nor can they return to what they had. With the exception of those who have been accepted for resettlement to a third country, most Iraqis here will be in the exact same situation as they are now when World Refugee Day rolls around again. We cannot celebrate but we can hope to raise awareness of this ongoing tragedy and ask you to not forget those who have lost everything when they were forced to seek refuge here.



JAAH and IRD sponsored two local events in Amman for World Refugee Day. Both events featured entertainment and activities for some of the 500,000 - 700,000 Iraqis in Jordan. Below are photos from these two events. At both events, CRP volunteer Annie Tanner shared her music and huge heart. At the JAAH event, CRP provided a children's art activity and also gave gifts to over 100 children.

Posted by Sasha Crow - CRP co-director - in Amman

We have the power to choose this and to make it so

Finally getting my feet on the ground here... jet-lag and insomnia are NOT a great combination. The past 2 nights I have been awake until AFTER the first "Call to Prayer", which happens at about 4:30 a.m.

1st 2 days in Amman: stark contrasts, poverty/wealth, a whole new culture to learn, great and profound sadness at the horror people are living while we do not know; humanity in the streets and in the city, new music, calls to prayer; rock, dust, spices, amazing food and outrageous music. All is different. All is the same.

I am well. I am safe. I am being alert. It seems appropriate, as I am still lost all the time. Sasha feels totally safe here, wandering the streets by herself, walking home at 11 pm through dark streets. She says she has done this alone for two years, and feels safer here than she did in Spain. I just got here, so of course it is all alien, still. Not to mention the chicken being one of my totem animals.

Yesterday we met a woman who the CRP had helped in the past. She was with her 10 year old nephew, and became very emotional when she saw Sasha.. We were in the grocery store at the "Mechtal Mall," a large conglomeration of stores and kiosks of varying types. Her nephew was a shy young kid, trying not to cry in public, while his auntie fell apart and told us that this kid's family all got killed in a 2006 bombing in Baghdad. One parent gone, disappeared off the face of the Earth, and both siblings, killed. Wars destroy innocent people's lives. I imagine this kind of story is just the beginning, just a taste of every refugee's nightmare story.

We went downtown to the main markets-- the same thing as the N. End markets in Boston, the open markets in NYC, the Porte Portese in Rome, only bigger and more of it than little Boston; the same things, with the vendors hawking and shouting, wanting you to come into THEIR shops, all highly organized chaos, new smells, mounds of spices in open barrels, tons of cloth for texture and color, all new things to see. The open markets have a universal feel.

It is really the same humanity, just a totally different culture. There is a lot of money here, smacked right up against intense poverty. We went and visited 2 families today-- absolutely stark nightmares being lived out by people who could easily be us, if we were unlucky enough to be in the way of our government. One teacher, a woman, with her leg blown off, a bad prosthesis, her 81 year old mother, crying through the nights with her broken daughter, with her brother, the only male left alive, an agricultural engineer who cannot even find a job cleaning the streets or toilets... the other family blown apart by this insane war we have orchestrated in the Middle East... I am crash-coursing on my history of this area (I know nothing)... all the people inCREDibly challenged-- imagine your most prosperous friends and family losing EVERYTHING and most of their family, then being displaced and then not allowed to work. It is crushing for these proud people. The few humanitarian aid workers I know find it difficult, at best, to find peace in themselves, maybe ever. They work tirelessly for the refugees. They will never stop, as long as there is a breath left in them. It is a testament to the nature of their beings. Powerful. Wrenching.

We also met today with 2 different local agencies that are giving "parties" for "World Refugee Day," which is Sunday, the 21st of June. The CRP was asked to donate something to these gatherings. They donated me. Music. What can singing a song do? I do not know, but I came here to help Sasha as she sees fit. She sees fit for me to sing, and so I shall. It is all beyond the fringe of my wildest imagination, yet clearly not that, but Real.

My job tonight? I am supposed to write a song about building bridges between Iraqi's and Americans, for the CRP and for a woman who works for an agency in London and travels around the world getting private donations from Iraqi's to help all these discarded people. My God.

Can a song change anything? Can it heal anything? Outside, a man in a mosque singing the 3rd of 5 Calls To Prayer. The timing is perfect in this, yes? PRAY. Then, ACT.

Me? None of the awfulness, the "collateral damage," is a big surprise to me, I have always KNOWN that wars rip and tear people to shreds, normal people, average people, doctors, lawyers, and Indian chiefs. Experiencing it THIS way, hearing story upon story of complete devastation, brings another whole set of emotions. I am all over the board, here, and not really answering even myself. How DO I feel? Sad. Impotent. Empathetic. Powerless but for compassion and small kindnesses given.

I am steady inside myself. My core is solid. I know who I am. I know what I can give and what I cannot. I am clear about my role. I do not make myself important. All I can give is myself, so I will give myself. If I cry every single day (I am sure I will), then so be it. I brought some of my mom's and grandmother's handkerchiefs. I carry kleenex and water. I will need to sleep more. I think I already said this but will plow on.

I can hardly believe I am here. Then I look around, and I AM here.

The difference between last week and the last two days? The pain here is visceral. We have allowed our government to destroy millions of innocent people's lives. For what? We need to change.

Imagine: we know NOTHING of the realities of life in Iraq before us. Imagine: thousands of years of Shiites and Sunna living together in peace in Iraq. They have a saying here: "The Daughter of the East Marries the Son of the West." That is the reality before us. The rest is smoke and mirrors. We are dazed. They are dying while we dream an ugly dream into reality. Wake up. Then, ACT.

WARS DESTROY. And for WHAT? and WHY?

Imagine: your beautiful life in an ancient and diverse culture. Imagine: monumental violence perpetrated, total manipulation. Imagine: massive loss, devastation, shock, death, mutilation. Imagine not a terrorist in the group, only teachers and doctors and engineers and mothers, fathers, orphans all, ripped from Home and no income now. Crushed by bombs and ignorance and passivity. Weep. Then, ACT.

While we are waking, weeping, praying, and then acting, could we please all stand up and ACT FOR PEACE? Peace. What a concept. NO MORE WARS. NO more participation in wars. NO funding for wars. We have the power to choose this and to make it so. DO IT. People are dying while we just forgot or never knew. PEACE NOW PEACE NOW PEACE NOW PEACE NOW

by Annie Tanner - CRP volunteer in Amman

Heartfelt Words

The words below were written by Robin - a US citizen I met in Amman in early 2008. Robin was introduced to me by a mutual Iraqi friend who kept insisting that I must meet her friend, "an American married to an Iraqi". When I finally met Robin and her husband, I fell in love with them both and they have become my dear "brother" and "sister".

Robin has a unique perspective on this crisis. She married Omar - an Iraqi refugee without legal status in Jordan - in fall of 2007. Robin lived with her husband, immersed in the refugee community as a part of it. She was not a member of the NGO community but only a woman who happened to find love with a man who happened to be Iraqi and a refugee.

Robin wrote the letter below to send out to her friends and family when she forwarded our recent UPDATE (read it below Robin's words) to them.

I am often brought to tears when I visit families and hear first-hand their horrifying stories but I rarely cry any longer over the general situation for Iraqi refugees. Robin's letter brought tears to my eyes. I am sharing it with you now because I hope you will hear her heartfelt words and take them to your own heart. Robin understands - better than most people can - the pain of Iraqi refugees and how CRP responds to it.

Robin lives in Louisiana (thus her references to 'Cajuns') now as she had to return to the USA to care for her elderly mother. Omar waits in Amman - with no more rights than any other refugee there - for his visa to join his wife. Myriad complications in this process have kept this loving couple apart for close to a year and they are still uncertain when they can be together again.

From Robin - with her permission:

Hello dear friends and family,

This is the project that I was telling you all about. Sasha is a dear friend I had the privilege of meeting and getting to know while I lived in Jordan. I have seen, and lived, what this project is all about. They truly bring hope to a situation that is very desperate.

Iraqi people are just like us Cajuns...open hearts, open doors, and will give you the last crumb off the table before eating it themselves, even if they are starving. They love with all of their hearts and are so passionate and unabashed about it. They considered me their sister wherever I went...and they MEANT it.

To read that their passion is dying out...being drained because of the conditions they live in, breaks my heart. Their 'joie de vive' or joy for life was all they had left and now that is being taken away too? These are innocent victims of a war they did not ask for. For those of you who think Iraq had any part in 9/11, you're wrong. Research it, learn about it, but please do not make assumptions simply because you do not understand a culture that is different or a religion that is not your own. Islam, TRUE Islam, teaches peace and love for all....don't let the radicals turn your hearts against them all. We, as Christians, should know better than to judge..only God can do that. Unfortunately, all too often, that is exactly what we do because of the fanatacism and stupidity of a few....and I speak of this from both sides.

More than anyone, Cajuns should understand how important culture is and appreciate the differences. I ask you all to please take a look at this project and find it in your hearts to help feed starving families, clothe children, and bring hope back to a people and culture even richer than our own. Help the Collateral Repair Project repair some of the damage that we Americans have helped to inflict on these innocent people. I know that times are hard, but they are even harder for them. ANYTHING helps. If nothing else, just read the letter and visit the website and share this story with as many people as you can.

Yes, their religion is different. Yes, their culture is different. BUT THEIR HEARTS ARE THE SAME AS OURS. Believe me when I say this..I have lived it...and I am married to a beautiful Iraqi man whose love and devotion to God and me have changed my life forever.

Thank you to those who took the time to read this. It is my sincere hope as fellow Americans, Christians, Cajuns and humans.. that you pass this message on.

Robin Kilgore Kamil

Our Monthly UPDATE - newsletter to our donors and friends

I'm pasting a copy of May's UPDATE below. If you would like to subscribe, send us an e-mail to subscribe.crp(at)gmail.com with "subscribe" in the subject line.
Note: We will not barrage you with e-mails. Although we would like to send the UPDATE out monthly, often we send it only every other month.

Contents

• CRP founder and co-director Sasha Crow recently returned from Amman, Jordan - and will return soon
• Our BLOG from Jordan
• Volunteers from CODEPINK joined us in Amman
• Evergreen College students visit Amman and meet with Iraqi refugee young people
• HEART to HEART ~ HAND to HAND - a new way for you to connect more personally with Iraqi refugees in Jordan
• Kudos & Shukrun (thank you!)
  
• Pashmina shawl sale & fund-raiser
• Events
• Misc
• Please contribute
  

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Message from CRP founder / co-director, Sasha Crow

Dear Friend of CRP

I recently returned from spending three months in Amman, working side-by-side with our Iraqi coordinator, Maha, to deliver assistance to Iraqi refugee families.

Some things had improved since our last visit in November 08 - UNHCR is doing aggressive outreach to register more refugees so that they can be eligible for the small monthly cash grants and other services. More families are receiving the grant and the amount has increased a little. Medical services have expanded. But, despite these improvements, services and support are still woefully inadequate compared to the overwhelming need. The global economic downturn has resulted in higher prices for food and other necessities, hitting those hardest who have so very little.

The one thing that struck me most during this last visit is how mental health has plummeted.

Some of this can certainly be attributed to up to 6 years of existence as refugees after enduring and witnessing horrors in Iraq and in finding themselves in ever-deepening poverty. But much has to do with the fact that many more Iraqis have been resettled to third countries recently and those left behind (especially those who have been denied resettlement) have lost hope of their situations improving or of having the opportunity to improve them themselves. Many who had looked forward in hope to resettlement to the US now either refuse it if offered to them or consider refusing; they have heard from friends and relatives who have been resettled here about the pathetically inadequate support for Iraqi immigrants to the US and that a good many of those already resettled here are "choosing" to return to Iraq rather than face absolute destitution.

With resettlement off the table, they're left with no options of escaping their situation. Most cannot contemplate returning to Iraq as the threats that forced them to leave are still very real. Even if security does improve, still many do not have homes to return to - they have been destroyed or taken over by others.

They cannot leave Jordan and yet they cannot build lives there. Most feel that there is no way out - of Jordan or from the limitations imposed on them as refugees. They exist in suspended animation somewhere between Hell and Purgatory. And they are losing hope.

All are exhausted. The common complaint I heard is: "I am so tired"

Now, more than ever, Iraqi refugees need your help.

Most days, I shared tears of sorrow and frustration with the many of the families I visited. I told them that I represent many, many others who cannot be there but who remember, who care and respond. I cannot tell you how heartened they are to know that we have not forgotten them. I wish I knew how to share these moments with you so that you could know how much your support and caring means to them. We have just begun a new campaign that we hope will accomplish this.

Part of CRP's mission has always been to facilitate "mutually respectful relationships between Iraqi victims of war and coalition citizens". With our new "HEART to HEART / HAND to HAND campaign, we offer you a chance to be in more direct contact with Iraqi refugees you assist - and for them to learn more about who you are, too. We hope that you will read more about this effort in this UPDATE (below) and on our web site.

I am returning to Amman on June 12 for another three month stay. I hope that you'll respond to this opportunity so that I can carry with me many of your photos and personal notes along with your contributions to bring assistance to more families.

I am also pleased to tell you that I will be accompanied by a good friend - singer/songwriter, Annie Tanner. Annie will be taking her compassionate heart, her talent and her guitar to bring some joy into the homes of refugee families. She will also be joining us in our daily work and sharing refugees' stories and her experiences by contributing to our BLOG.

Finally, I am so grateful to you for allowing me the privilege of representing your caring hearts when we take families the much needed assistance you provide. Thank you

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OUR BLOG from JORDAN

If you haven't already visited our blog, we invite you to read Sasha's posts of her experiences while in Amman from the end of January through April of this year. We will resume our blog reports when we go to Jordan. We share stories of the refugee families we meet, their photos, the challenges they face, and how we use your contributions to respond to those needs.

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CODEPINK volunteers joined us in Amman

We were pleased when CODEPINK members, Kit Siemion and Jim Preston joined us as volunteers in Amman for several days after spending time in Gaza. They accompanied Maha and Sasha as they visited families to deliver food assistance and to purchase a Micro-Project for a family.

This is what Kit wrote before they arrived in Jordan to tell us what they hoped to accomplish by joining with us:

Jim and I are committed Peace Activists trying to build bridges of understanding, compassion and hope with people the world over through travel and work. We consider ourselves "citizen diplomats" and believe experiencing a culture and sharing it with others will help foster a sustainable Peace because only the People can create Peace.

We think Kit and Jim did a terrific job of doing what they set out to do!

You can see more photos from their visit with CRP and also photos they took in Gaza HERE , HERE and more HERE

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EVERGREEN COLLEGE (Olympia Washington) STUDENTS visit with IRAQI young people in Amman

On May 13th, CRP collaborated with Evergreen College to bring together US students and Iraqi young people together in hope of fostering mutual understanding and facilitate relationship-building. Here is an initial report of the event from one of the Evergreen coordinators:

17 Evergreen students on an educational study-abroad tour organized a gathering with 12 Iraqi refugee student-age young people. The idea was to meet, talk, share a meal together and collaborate in doing something creative. There was initially discussion among the Evergreeners if we should facilitate a panel-dialogue but then the group decided instead to interact through art. This was also due to the concern that our Arabic skills were lacking.

In the morning the shopping crew went to the market to shop for provisions; in the afternoon the cooking crew prepared the meal. Our guests arrived promptly at 6pm and the welcome crew ushered everyone into the lounge at our hotel. The entire group sat in a circle and introduced themselves, Iraqis and Americans alike. Following some discussion and some laughter that broke the ice, the Evergreen students organized a collaborative art workshop. The idea was that the process of painting together would create a "space" where the Iraqi and American students could interact through their mutual creativity. People chatted in small groups, some painted together while others looked on.

While the paint dried, dinner was served and everyone sat down to share a meal together. After dinner, conversations continued, connections were made and many photographs were taken. The group as a whole came to the consensus that the collaborative artwork should be taken back to Olympia to share this evening with the Evergreen campus. The Evergreen students proposed forming a mural with the "panels" of artwork to present to the campus community.

Finally, our Iraqi guests got up to leave and everyone exchanged email addresses. We hope this gathering will be the beginning of continued connection, conversation and dialogue between us and our Iraqi friends.

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HEART to HEART ~ HAND to HAND: building a bridge between you and the Iraqi refugee families you assist

Part of CRP's mission has always been to facilitate "mutually respectful relationships between Iraqi victims of war and coalition citizens". With our new "HEART to HEART / HAND to HAND campaign, we offer you a chance to be in more direct contact with Iraqi refugees you assist - and for them to learn more about who you are, too.

Now, when you donate to provide assistance to Iraqi refugees, CRP will hand-deliver your photos and personal messages to assistance recipients so that they know the names and faces of those who help them. In exchange, we will send you photos and personal messages back from them.

You can choose to send your messages and photos to us electronically - by e-mail or you can send them to us through the US Postal Service. If sending through the mail, it would be especially nice to send your message in a greeting card.

Find out how you can participate by visiting our web site HERE

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Kudos and 'Shukrun' ("thank you" in Arabic)

to the congregation of East Shore Unitarian Church of Bellevue, Washington for contributing over $2000 through their Easter offering. These funds will make a huge difference in the lives of many Iraqi refugees in Amman. Only a portion of this contribution has already provided Micro-Projects for three families and given a wheelchair and other health-related supplies for an elderly disabled man. More refugee families will be benefiting from East Shore's generosity soon.

Thank you / Shukrun, EAST SHORE congregation!

This just goes to prove how a group of people, each contributing a little, can make a significant difference to others who are less fortunate

We hope others will be inspired by East Shore. Will you please consider asking your faith-communities, family members, co-workers and other affinity group members to join together to raise funds to help an Iraqi refugee family? Even a little provides a family with necessities they cannot afford - such as medicine and food.

for more information about how your group can help a family, please CONTACT US

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Our Pashmina Shawl fund-raising sale was a success

Sasha brought over 100 Pashmina shawls back that she picked up in the souks (market places) in Amman. CRP held its first Pashmina sale in Ashland Oregon last weekend, nearly selling out of shawls and bringing in over $2000 for our refugee assistance projects!

Our thanks to all who attended and supported our work through their purchases!

We still have around 20 shawls - available for only $20 donation. If you live in the Medford/Ashland vicinity and missed our sale, you can contact us to arrange an appointment to see the shawls.

We hope to hold another Pashmina sale this autumn after Sasha and Annie return from Amman with their suitcases bulging with more shawls. We hope to make this a twice-yearly event.

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UPCOMING EVENTS

Taos NM 5/26-6/2
World Peace Week
CRP outreach liasion, Karen Jones of Seattle will give a presentation: Forgotten: Bringing hope to Iraqi Refugees in Jordan - How a Grassroots Project is helping Iraqi families in crisis

Eugene OR 5/29-30
Lane Peace Conference Peace and Collective Action: Connecting Hope and Change
CRP co-directors, Mary Madsen and Sasha Crow will present: Iraqi Refugees - forgotten in Limbo. Will include: overview of the Iraqi refugee crisis, film of interviews with Iraqi refugees in Jordan, problem-solving session, and Q & A

Seabeck WA 7/2-5
Seabeck Regional Conference - Western WA Fellowship of Reconciliation: Building a Just and Sustainable World
CRP outreach liasion, Karen Jones will be presenting on the Iraqi refugee crisis and Collateral Repair Project's response. More info available later

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MISC:

We need donations of crayons and water colors to take with us to Jordan to give as gifts to children when we visit refugee families. We need about 20 more of each.

Please send them to:
CRP c/o Madsen

1800 Poplar Drive # 6
Medford, OR 97504

Cookbook Project - A Celebration of Iraqi Culture
We are excited about our project to create a cookbook of Iraqi recipes with recipes shared with us by Iraqi refugee women. Iraqi refugees spend much of their time focusing on their challenges and losses. With this project, we hope to offer them an opportunity to celebrate on one important aspect of their rich culture - it's food. The book will include recipes for mains through desserts with photos of the women making their dishes - accompanied with personal stories of each of the Iraqi women who contribute. We will also include their memories of the foods they cook and Iraqi food-lore and customs. We hope to be able to have the cookbook ready in late autumn of 09 for purchase in time for your holiday giving.

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In these uncertain times when we are forced to be more attentive to our own needs, please remember those whose lives have been irrevocably damaged in our names and whose resources are gone.

Your contribution - no matter how large or small - makes a difference

Please contribute

www.collateralrepairproject.org
Collateral Repair Project is a project of International Humanities Center

Nawruz and Mother's Day

A friend sent me this in an e-mail on Mother's Day. I wrote to ask its author, Nesreen, if I could post it on our blog and to ask her a little about who she is. She kindly agreed to allowing us to share her words. She is an Iraqi expat in Canada and, like most Iraqis I know, her love for her country transcends time and distance. Iraq is in her blood and heart.

You can read more of her writing HERE

Nawruz and Mother's Day
Nesreen Melek

Six years ago I was sitting on the same couch watching their shock and owe bombing on my beloved country. I asked myself what anology they would use for Baghdad and other cities this time. In the early nineties, a CNN reporter covering the Gulf war reported that Baghdad looked like a Christmas tree. Six years ago, when they started their war, it was too late for Christmas... it was spring, a season of fertility, but for Iraqis it was a season of death.

I felt like as I was watching a horror movie; I was watching but not believing that the American government could be so brutal. There were no weapons of mass destructions, Iraq was not responsible for 9/11 and Iraqis didn’t cause any harm to the American people. I knew it was about the oil and was not about the Iraqi people. American people didn’t care about the Iraqis. The American government pushed the United Nations to impose ten years or economic sanctions on Iraq which caused the death of more than one million Iraqi children.

The horror continued, and I kept asking myself what had we done to them to hate us that much? What was wrong with them? Did they have hearts? What had we done to be punished that way?

I knew that there were people against this ugly war but they could not do anything. I kept asking myself, why would Americans allow their government to kill innocent people in their names? The people could stop this ugly war... But nothing stopped their hatred against my people...

Rallies were held, I attended them all, people stretched out their arms to reach mine and apologized for the American acts against my own people. People wiped my tears, hugged me and I cried on strangers’ shoulders knowing that the destruction would continue and so would be the killing. I knew that they had their plan to destroy Iraq.

Life went on and I was part of it knowing that in Iraq there was a child who could not sleep because he/she was scared from the continuous bombing, there were women who lost their beloved ones and that there was fear in the hearts of each Iraqi because of the daily bombing and the daily killing..

I was speechless when I watched the looting of the Iraqi museum. My sister called me from the States early in the morning that day but we could not say a word to each other. We were both mourning our losses...we were mourning the death of the cradle of civilization on the hands of barbarians..

Nights and days passed, each day the damage and the pain was bigger than the day before..

The American president who orchestrated this war kept talking about how democracy will be spread in Iraq, not mentioning that his troop spread their poisonous hatred on the fertile Iraqi soil

Iraqi prisoners were dragged on the floor in the name of their democracy, women were raped in the name of the democracy, children lost their parents in the name of their democracy, men were killed in the name of their democracy, palm trees were burnt in the name of their democracy, deceased were eaten in loose dogs in the name of their democracy, people left their country in the name of their democracy, scientist were killed in the name of their democracy, yet the American people couldn’t stop their government’s atrocities against the Iraqi civilians.

Americans celebrated each and every occasion. None of these occasions meant anything to me anymore. The last occasion they celebrated was Valentine day.. I asked myself, if they did not feel for the Iraqi children who were killed in their names how could they care about each other...

I felt speechless in so many occasions, until I started expressing myself through written words.. Now I feel that I’ve used all the words and I have no more words left. I can’t cry anymore, the pain in my heart has reached its peak, I feel numbness spreading over my body..

During my last visit to Baghdad, I realized how much Iraqis had lost. There was no life in their eyes, nothing excites them anymore, as they had lost interest in living. Even the children I saw looked different, there was no happiness on their eyes there was only fear.

A few days ago, was the first day of spring, it was Nawruz.. It is spring in Baghdad, the orange trees must be full of Kaddah (Orange tree flowers) and there is no better smell than the smell of the Iraqi Kaddah.. It smells like Jasmine flowers but stronger.. In Iraq, it is mother's day.. I hope that I can make necklaces from this Kaddah, give it to all Iraqi mothers who suffered from the continuous brutality of the world, I wish I can give an orange seeds to the Iraqi children so they can to plant them. My tears, yours and others shall pour like rain on these seeds hoping that there will be good days to come. ..

(photos taken in Amman, Jordan)

The "war" is not over

Shemiron's brother, Edward, meets us at the door and welcomes us in. His elderly mother, Zarifa, sits on the sofa, surrounded by the remains of their dinner and hurries to try to clear it when she realizes there are guests. She greets us warmly but silently then sits back on the sofa wearing a hat that reminds me of another era, seeming to retreat into some secret place of her own. Her 5 year old grandson, Philip, plays quietly as the grown-ups talk.

Shemiron limps into the room to meet us. Her right leg, from the knee down, is covered up by a stiff prosthetic leg. Her face is in a constant grimace of pain. Her eyes are the saddest eyes I have ever looked into and when I do, I feel myself falling into her grief and pain. Tears line her eyes like crystal eyeliner. Edward tells us that she cries often, especially in the night.

Shemira was an elementary school teacher in Baghdad for 24 years. She loved her work and sent money to help support the rest of her family who had already fled to Amman. She also cared for Zarifa - the two lived together.

But all of that ended last November when she stopped on the way home from the school to pick up some medicine for her mother and bread for their supper. She met her sister at the market and the two were hurrying to finish their shopping before curfew when a car bomb exploded, severing Shemira's right foot completely off, torturing the flesh on the back of her left leg and ending the hearing in one of her ears. Her sister escaped with only shrapnal wounds.

Edward exclaims "Al hamdilelah!" (Thanks to God!) as he tells me of their narrow escape from death and repeats the phrase many times during our conversation and the ferver in his expression seems like that of a man who has only just moments ago realized that the worst has not happened. Shemira, too, appears to still be in shock from the experience - that and losing her foot, her career, her home - her life as she knew it.

Two months after the explosion, Shemiron and her mother made the long trip from Baghdad to the Jordanian border and the two women, one very elderly, the other severely injured, were refused entry. They tried again ten days later and were successful on this second attempt.

Shemiron went into the kitchen to make tea for us and when it was ready, Edward insisted that she sit down while he brought us the cups from the kitchen. She bent to remove the prosthetic. Her foot is completely missing, the stump of her leg uneven and the scars appear still new. She shows us the back of her other leg - it is criss-crossed with scars and
buckled skin.

Edward brings in the tea and tells us that their sister in Baghdad - the one who was with Shemiron in the explosion - sent 300JD to buy the prosthetic leg. Before she got the prosthetic, she had to crawl to get around the house. Although 300JD is the usual cost of a good prosthesis here, the one she received has many problems - it is stiff, it has no ventilation so her foot is at risk for infection. Edward says she cannot keep it on for long - if she does, it gives off a bad odor. The foot on the prosthetic is longer than her remaining foot - the heel of her plastic "foot" hangs over the back of her shoe nearly 2 inches. Worst of all, it hurts her to use it. Every step she takes is tortured. They took the prosthetic back to the clinic where they purchased it and asked the doctor to adjust it. He made a small adjustment and when that did nothing to improve her comfort, told Shemiron that there was nothing else that can be done.

Edward and Shemiron's sister comes in the door, wearing an exhausted face. She is a doctor at the hospital across the road. As an Iraqi, she is paid only 300JD per month and she is supporting everyone in her family - including Philip's parents and their other three children - with this small amount.

She tells me that they hope to immigrate and have been offered resettlement in the US. They have heard how bad the situation is for Iraqis and that other doctors and highly professional people are working in hotels changing sheets or other menial jobs - if they find employment at all. She will refuse to resettle there if it is offered. The family contemplates whether they should accept resettlement to the US for Shemiron and her mother...perhaps it might be ok for them because neither can work and should be eligible for social security support. They do not want to be separated but what can they do? They cannot provide proper care for Shemiron and her mother there when they are struggling just to pay rent and put food on the table.

Edward tells me he came to Jordan in 2004 with his sister. He is an agricultural engineer and was working on a small farm. He told me that machine gun toting militia came into his work, grabbed him by his collar and threw him out on the road, warning him, "If we see you again, we will kill you." He never returned again to work and a month later, he fled.

For those of you, so far away from Iraq and sheltered from the truth of the ongoing violence, it may be easy to think that the 'war' is over and believe the official statements that "things are getting better". They are - insofar as violence is down from what it was two and three years ago - but it is certainly grossly higher than it was before the US-led invasion. Every day, more families like Shemiron's grieve new losses and those who can flee, hoping to find a safe haven from the daily risk that they might be 'next'. The living - those who survive - are accompanied by relentless ghosts of horror, trauma, loss, displacement, fatigue, and unimagineable insecurity that haunt their days and will not allow them peaceful dreams if they can dare to dream at all. The "war" is not over.

Orphan Day 2009 - continued (see previous posts below)

Our last visit was to deliver gifts to Intisar and her four children - Hani (9), Ziad (6), Shaymin (3) and Firas (1 1/2). We had begun our morning, delivering gifts to a family who lived in a lovely apartment, in a nice area - but only because they have to rely completely on the charity of friends and their apartment was given to them rent-free. But as the day progressed, each home we visited was in worse condition that the previous ones. Intisar and her kids live in one of the very worst homes we have ever been in.

When we reached Intisar's home, we had to climb stairs that reminded me of nightmares I had when I was a child - they were suspended without support and without handrails. The walls were made of brick that appeared to have no motar holding them together. We entered the apartment into a large, empty room with cement floor, with dark water flowing through a large corner of it. A peek into the single bedroom showed me walls covered with mold. The small sitting room was cheerier - with a bright carpet on the floor. A broken computer covered with a thin film of dust sat on a table by the window. They pay 40JD per month for their rent. They rely solely on charity to meet their needs. It is not enough; they are 6 months behind in paying their electricity bill.


Intisar and the kids share the one bedroom flat with Intisar's deceased husband's "other" wife. (most of the marriages I have encountered are with only one wife - however, occaisionally I meet a family where the husband has two wives - rarely more than two) The two women tell us they are happy with the arrangement and have always gotten along well. They share household chores and taking care of the children. Now that they are both widowed, they provide each other with emotional support as well.

Their husband's death is not war-related. He died of an aneurysm in April of 2007.

We are happy that we brought toys to these children even though their father's death is not directly related to the way and they came to Jordan prior to the US invasion. These simple gifts are probably the nicest things they have received in a long, long time. Their faces lit up brightly when they received their toys - although it took young Firas a while to lose the grimace on his face he had upon waking from his nap and finding a foreign-looking stranger with a camera sitting near him!

Orphan Day 2009 - continued (see previous posts below)

Next we went to the area of Amman that is designated as "New Camp" - a Palestinian refugee camp within the city. New Camp is not a tent camp - it consists of mostly low income apartment buildings connected with narrow roads and with a highly concentrated population of mostly impoverished Palestinians - and now, a growing population of equally impoverished Iraqi refugees. We were visiting Bushra and her family in a lively area with a lot of activity on the streets: kids playing soccer, teen boys hanging out in small bunches, teen girls and young women walking together arm-in-arm, and older people visiting one another, sitting on their stoops.

Bushra told us that had they lived in Baghdad near the airport. When the Amrikans came they were in terror under intense bombing night after night. She tells us, "Many of our neighbors houses were hit by the bombs. She recalls that one time the US dropped burning photos of Saddam from the air onto their neighborhood. She said, "Then the Amrikans came to us and told us to leave our houses or they will burn them with us in them."

So the family moved to her sister's home in another part of the city. When they were finally allowed to return to their home, they found that most of their valuables were gone. The Amrikans had killed their small home flock of ducks and chickens and also had cut down their precious pomegranate trees, chopping them off at ground level.

Bushra and her four children: Bethana (11), Shayma (9), Harith (11) and Malik (8) left Iraq soon after the beginning of the US invasion in 2003 after militia burst into their home and shot the children's father in the head in front of them. Bushra told us that she lost both her husband and brother as they were both killed on the same day - her brother was murdered by militia while he was out shopping. She speculates he was killed because he had worked in Saddam's government.

Soon after militia contacted Bushra, telling her to give them a huge amount of money "to pay to buy a kidney" or they would take her to use her kidney. They had no choice but to flee.

Life has not been easy for this family since arriving in Amman. They live in a one room home in terrible repair. Bushra had worked as a housekeeper for a Jordanian family and earned enough to pay their rent and buy food but her employers moved away a few months ago and now she is 3 months behind in paying the rent of 60JD per month. They do not receive the UNHCR monthly cash grant but Bushra told us that they had an appointment scheduled with UNHCR the following day and hopes they will begin to get cash assistance. She pleads with Maha, "If you know anyone who needs their house cleaned, please call me."

Bushra's eldest brother was just released a month ago after being held in Abu Ghraib for four years. She said that when she called him recently, he told her that he was beaten, kept naked much of the time, humiliated when female US military members would come to look at him, threatened with dogs, kept blindfolded often, and that food and water were with-held for long periods of time. She says he is broken - he remembers these details of Abu Ghraib but lost much of his memory about his past. He is beginning to remember his children but he still cannot remember his wife.

Another of her brothers was beaten badly by US military members and now is partially paralyzed.

Bushra's and her two small children live with them. Her sister was away - in Baghdad - when we visited. She was in Iraq, arranging for her husband's funeral. He had gone back to Baghdad to sell their house there and was killed in a bombing a week ago. Now these two yery young children are orphans, too.

I ask Bethana what she remembers about her life in Baghdad. She told me, "Where we lived we played with our cousins. There was a stationery shop near our house where we would go to buy candy from the shopkeeper, Um Ahmed. On the main street there was a man selling cigarettes, sitting on the ground. On the second street was our school. Our uniforms were blue dresses with a white blouse. We had a roof and in summer we slept on the roof and in winter our grandmother would sleep with us in our room. I had many friends. For us, it was better in Iraq; it was our school, our area, our home..." She adds, "It was a better education and our teachers were better than the ones here. Our neighbors there were very kind to us, not like here. Here they always ask about everything we do, always watching us."

Buthana added,
"We were with our hearts together with everyone there"

Orphan Day 2009 - continued (see previous post below)

Nada and her three children live in a one-room apartment with a tiny attached kitchen on the top story of a shabby building. Despite their deep poverty, Nada tries to make their humble apartment a cheery home for her children. As we stopped to catch our breath after the long climb up the stairs, we were greeted by several pots of bright flowers. There was a garland of dried yellow blossoms hanging near the entryway inside. Nada said her daughters had made it when they went on a school picnic. Inside, the small room that was both living room and bedroom for the four was tidy and homey.

Nada, her husband and children fled Iraq together in 2006 after her husband had been kidnapped. Nada asked the two youngest children - 10 year old Ab'rarr and her brother, Zaid, 8 - to go outside to the rooftop balcony to play for a minute. She quietly told us, "When the militia came to our house to take their father, they destroyed everything in the house and they beat us. I don't want to remind them of these things." She continued, "The militia took him away and then called and asked us to pay a certain amount; we argued but then I paid and they released him"

Nada told us that they spent all their money to pay the ransom and then to escaped to Jordan together in 2006. A month later, her husband went back to Baghdad alone to try to get some money he was owed. He was kidnapped again and she agreed that they would pay the ransom. The voice on the other end of the phone told her that they would call her to set up an 'appointment' to get the ransom. They never called again and her husband was killed. She tells us, "That was two years and seven months ago."

Now the militia have taken over her husband's shop and their home. They had put an advertisement in the local paper which stated that they "..made a contract to 'buy' the house and if the owner disagrees he has one month to come forward or he will forfeit the house" Of course they knew he was dead when they wrote this.

12 year old Aaraf sits solemnly listening, sadness seems a part of her being. She suffers from kidney disease. She is shy and blushes easily when I ask her what she remembers about Iraq. She answers in a small voice, "I miss everything in Iraq." Despite missing a year of school because they did not have their documents with them when they arrived in Jordan, she does well in school now and blushes again as her mother proudly told us that she is the head of the student council.

Nada tells us that Ab'rarr often cries wanting to go back to Iraq to see her grandfather who she loves and misses greatly. She has anemia.

Life is challenging here for this young mother and her children. Nada is Palestinian by ancestry so she herself does not qualify for the UNHCR cash assistance for Iraqi refugees but her children do. I asked how much they receive and Nada told me that they were receiving 120JD ($168) per month but then the UNHCR began distributing the cash grants through ATM cards that were given to families so they could withdraw the funds directly rather than having to go to designated NGOs to pick up cash. Because Nada is "Palestinian", the UNHCR put the ATM card in her eldest daughter's name. But when they took the card to the bank to activate it in their system, the bank refused to activate the card in a minor child's name. For eight months they had no income at all until they were able to straighten this out between UNHCR and the bank.
They did not receive the past months' grant after their card was finally activated - only 150JD ($310). Now their grant has gone down and is only 110JD ($154). They have very little left to buy food and other necessities after paying the 65JD rent and utilities. Nada is only 36 but sadness and the exhaustion of trying to provide for her children with so little make her appear older.


Nada brought out an album and showed us photos of their family while they lived in Iraq, before the US invasion - when the children still had their father and their lives were very comfortable. Now they've lost their home, their livelihood and the man who loved and protected them.

Orphan Day 2009

The Middle East designated the first Friday in April as "Orphan Day" when special attention is paid to children who have lost one or both parents. We set out early to brighten the day for a few of Iraq's orphans here in Amman.

First we went to the toy shop at our local mall and had a small shopping spree - snazzy remote-control cars for the boys, dolls for most of the girls, beading kit for an older girl, and toddler toys for the youngest. The friendly shop keeper wrapped them all in bright metallic paper while Maha put the names on the tags...

...We called our favorite taxi driver, Khalid, and set off to deliver the gifts to four families whose children had all lost their fathers.

We had not met these families yet but they had been recommended by social work volunteers from another NGO as being "needy" so we were a little surprised when we entered the building where the first family lives - it was quite beautiful - certainly much nicer than the types of dwellings most Iraqi families live in.


We brought gifts for three brothers: Taher - 13, Ali - 9, and Hussein - 5. Their mother, Eman, met us at the door and invited us in graciously. I was immediately struck by how humbly dignified she was - and how deeply sad she looked.

Eman and her husband were from different sects - as was very common before the US invasion and it was basically "not an issue". But afterwards, as neighborhoods and districts began dividing by sect, their neighborhood became Shia-dominated and her husband began receiving threats after one of their neighbors told the militia he was Sunna.

They first came to Jordan in 2006 and only stayed for 6 months before going to Syria to get medical treatment for Hussein who has a blood disease. They were in Syria only one month when her husband returned to Baghdad to try to sell the shop he owned there. He never returned. Militia shot him multiple times in the head.

The family returned to Baghdad because the hospital would not turn over his body unless she herself came to get it. The militia had taken over her husband's shop and their home. They lost everything. Tahir, only 10 years old at the time, became the target of threats. He received a note wrapped around a bullet - the message was clear. His life was in danger.

Eman moved her family from area to area of Iraq for awhile, back to Syria, again to Baghdad and then to Jordan a year ago when they were finally granted visas . The eldest boy, Tahir said that it's been very difficult for him to get his education while living on-the-run but he told us that he studies extra hard and his grades are good.

Eman told us that they receive no assistance from UNHCR or NGOs; Collateral Repair Project is the only organization that has offered them anything. Tears well up in her eyes as she tells us they rely on charity to survive. The nice apartment belongs to one of her husband's business colleagues and he lets them stay there rent free. Family in Iraq helps sometimes by sending money. One of her husband's brothers pays for the kids school fees. They had been a wealthy family before the invasion. Eman has a difficult time accepting charity from even her family but must to survive.

I ask Tahir what he remembers about Iraq. With amazing calm he told me:
"I was in school, in my classroom and we heard the sound of planes. There was huge sound and they dropped a missle on our school. All I saw was blood and more blood and all of us were crying. The missle killed all of the kids in the classroom where it directly hit. All I got was shrapnel in my legs" He says he has 'bad' dreams sometimes.

Hussein wants to return to Iraq and always asks his mom, "When can we go back to our house in Baghdad?"

Eman tells us she found the boys playing in their bedroom the other day, one with his head wrapped like a militia member, another with a toy gun, and the other with his eyes blindfolded and his hands tied together.

She tells us that they received an offer to resettle to the US but she refused it. She said she cannot go there - knowing no-one - especially since her health is bad. She has a blood clot in her brain and the doctor told her that if there is a second one, she will likely die. She cannot work and needs medical care. Eman knows she will not get support she needs in the US.

Although these kids escaped the violence of Iraq, their loss and the horrors of war will follow them wherever they go.

risks - and responsibilities

When I began this blog, I intended to create a post each night about the families we visited and brought assistance to that day so that you could experience, as I do, these families' stories and perhaps get an idea of the immensity of their struggles and suffering

I want to do this because I see how much more is needed and I know that you would be overwhelmingly compelled to do anything you could to alleviate their suffering if you could be here as I am, sitting in their simple homes, hearing over and over again, day after day their sorrows and fears. I wish I could share with you the palatable helplessness and hopelessness in nearly every home I visit. I wish I knew how to bring their tears to this page and their amazing and unfathomable forgiveness for those of us whose nation cause these tears. I get upset with myself because I just don't have the skill to make their pain real to you and I am frustrated that the long hours of our days and emotional exhaustion leave me little time or energy to write.

At times I am overwhelmed by knowing where to start and just which of the many, many ways Iraqis suffer and struggle here should take priority when I do have time to write. In every aspect of their lives and for Iraqis of every age, the challenges are myriad; their losses immeasurable. I start out stunned and outraged at one problem in the first home we visit in the morning and then, by the end of the day when I sit down to choose which family's challenges to share with you, of all their many and equally compelling challenges, I cannot decide which is the most critical.

Every aspect of Iraqi refugees' lives is a crisis and an emergency. Now I often sit on all of these stories for a few days, waiting to see which one nags most at me, demanding me to tell it.

One of these is the insecurity of living here without legal residency. I think of a family we recently took food assistance to. When we arrived, only the mother and youngest children were at home. She was anxious and explained that her husband and eldest son were at the police station, trying to convince them to give their passports back. They had fallen only one month behind on their rent and the landlord was angry and he called the police. The police came and took her husband and son to prison for two days. The landlord put them and their things out in the street. A friend found a new apartment for them and loaned the family money to pay the back- rent they owed at the first apartment. Even though the debt had been satisfied, the police took and would not return the family's passports unless they would get a Jordanian "sponsor".

Like most Iraqis here, this family does not have Jordanian friends who can provide sponsorship. This results in unscrupulous people offering their sponsorship for a "fee" that is usually beyond the Iraqis' ability to repay. Too often we meet Iraqis here who suffer threats and intimidation when they fall behind on paying off their "sponsors".

The woman we were visiting told us she was nervous, waiting for her son and husband to return from the police station. She knows her husband, because he is a man, is especially vulnerable to imprisonment or being forced to return to Iraq. "But", she told us, "if my son went alone, we do not know what they might do to him."

I consider going to the police station to intervene, in hope that perhaps a westerner's presence and interest might facilitate the return of the passports. I decide not to this after considering the high risk that my "interference" would only provide the authorities provocation to further harass this family after I leave Jordan .

Iraqis without residency are extremely vulnerable. They cannot count on justice in the same way citizens can. They cannot ever feel confident in their safety - only because they are Iraqi.

It is not uncommon that citizens and some police "toy with" Iraqis here, letting them know they are not welcome and that they are powerless. Police do random stops of Iraqis - especially men - in the streets. People are pulled in for questioning (which provokes terror of forced repatriation to Iraq) for no discernible reason. If there is a simple problem between neighbors - or even between children, if the police are called, Iraqis take all of the blame and suffer unreasonable consequences. Iraqi victims cannot report crimes against them because it is likely they will be persecuted while their perpetrators remain free. Even some Iraqi children suffer harassment and, in some cases, violence against them at school. If they report it to their teachers, they are punished. I hear them too often to discount the stories about some Jordanians who work in some large aid organizations and who belittle Iraqis or deny them assistance arbitrarily for no apparent reason. Risk - of being forced back to Iraq, of imprisonment, of assault, of emotional abuse - is a fact of life for most Iraqi refugees here, causing many to stay cooped up inside their homes.

This came up recently when Maha and I were discussing possible ways CRP could give Iraqi mothers a special day on Mothers Day. At first we considered renting a couple of buses to take the mothers and their families out of Amman to a beautiful location for a picnic and day of fun - something they rarely experience in their harsh lives. We knew this would provide a memorable occasion for them and temporary distraction from their troubles. But then we had to consider the risks of being stopped at checkpoints and what might happen when the guards found a bus full of undocumented Iraqis. We next considered a picnic at a local park so that families could find their own transportation. But even this was too risky; gatherings of Iraqis would cause unwanted attention. We then came up with the much more modest plan to deliver cakes, flowers and good wishes to them in their homes to avoid causing problems for them.

Last night, I walked home along the busy street on one side of the huge Sports City complex and park that has a football (soccer here) stadium. There were scores of police lining the street, armed with long clubs. I asked why and was told that a game was about to end and that jubilant fans might become unruly. I was also told that often, if Iraqi or Palestinian teams have won, the police randomly beat celebrants on their way out of the stadium. Since both are resented here, racism lays just beneath the surface and events like this give opportunity for that racism to go over the line into violence. My friend told me that they had even seen an elderly woman beaten on her head as she exited the stadium. With a sigh he continued, "Iraqis and Palestinians are not even allowed to celebrate their joys openly"

I struggle as I try to understand this.

The massive influx of Iraqis to Jordan put a huge strain on limited resources here. Rents skyrocketed as desperate Iraqis poured in, needing someplace to live. Poor Jordanians and Palestinians suddenly had to vie with Iraqis for the limited number of low-price rentals. Some landlords took advantage that Iraqis were willing to pay more than the usual rate just to have a roof over their heads and they would rent to Iraqis at prices residents were unable to afford. Low-wage labor positions at below standard wages were gratefully taken by Iraqis unable to legally work here and desperate to have any employment. Jordanian and Palestinian residents had to accept lower wages and worse working conditions than before along with more competition for these jobs. When residents began to suffer so greatly because of the Iraqis flooding into the country, is to be expected that this would result in resentment directed at those perceived to have caused the problem.

But I was startled when I found out that additional resentment directed at Iraqi refugees is explained and justified because many here blame Iraqis for 'allowing' the US to take out Saddam. He was respected by many here because he sympathized with Palestinians suffering under US-supported Israeli occupation of Palestine. Also, under Saddam, citizens of Arab countries could attend colleges and universities in Iraq without tuition - in fact, many were given stipends in addition to free tuition. Saddam also had the guts to stand up against US efforts to dictate oil prices and Iraq's oil wealth was used to provide its citizens with high standards of living. He was considered to be a champion of Arabs.

Although Jordan itself is considered to be a "friend" of the US, many residents here resent the US meddling in Arab affairs, theft of Arab resources, and the US support of Israel. By some inaccurate logic, many here perceive Iraqis' inability to stop the US invasion and destruction of the Saddam government as either a failure by Iraqis to protect their country or even that they cooperated in its destruction. It is hard for me to understand this rationale - how were Iraqis, citizens of a small nation who had been weakened by 12 torturous years of sanctions, supposed to stave off the world's superpower and its multi-trillion dollar military apparatus?

But, even considering the ways Iraqis are made to feel unwelcome here, I cannot fault Jordan for having the headache of having to deal with nearly a million refugees pouring over its borders from Iraq through no fault of its own. Along with Iraqis, Jordan and its residents are paying the price for US greed. Jordan cannot be expected to pick up the pieces and support those who had to flee from war. With limited natural resources - especially water, - unemployment rates that were already high before the invasion, and sensitive internal political and social concerns, this tiny nation should not have had to take on the additional burdens that resulted by the invasion of Iraq. Despite the imperfection in some of the ways it has dealt with this problem, Jordan is to be commended on its generosity in accepting so many Iraqis to seek safe haven here. The US, the cause of this exodus, by comparison has only admitted a small number of Iraqis inside of its borders.

It was entirely predictable that assimilating a rapid and immense influx of Iraqis would stress this country and its citizens. And it is also to be expected here, as it would in any country, that this would result in resentments and abuse of those who seemingly caused this distress. But Iraqis have been dealt a double whammy - unable to live in their own country, they cannot live freely here. They face death at home and humiliation and intimidation living in extreme poverty here.

Most of us have been taught since we were children that, when we break something, it is our responsibility to fix it or pay for it. The suffering of Iraqis and the great strain on Jordan and its citizens needs fixing - badly. The US, through its criminal folly in Iraq, is responsible to compensate Iraq, Iraqis, and Iraq's neighboring countries for generosity forcibly demanded of them by this situation. Until every Iraqi can return to a safe, functioning and independent Iraq, they - and those who shelter them - must be compensated

~*~

I go out each day here and witness the damage that's been done to Iraqis "in our name". I try to understand it so that we can find ways to repair some of it and the immensity of it is beyond what I can comprehend - even after being immersed in this issue and with the Iraqi refugee community for the past few years.

I sometimes feel discouraged when I see the damages as being too large for us to effectively relieve: we feed a few hundred families out of the tens of thousands of needy; we bring heat to a few frigid homes; another hundred-plus now earn incomes in the safety of their homes because of micro-projects. I see that what we do accomplish is vitally important for those we are able to help but not "enough" by any means because there are so many we cannot help and whose problems are bigger than our capability to address them.

But then there are times when I know that what we provide is sometimes not tangible but as important. I think about going as a guest to listen to a small group of Iraqi women tell a US doctoral student about what their lives are like here. I sat quietly at the table between the interpreter and a woman with a broad, sad face.

The women were asked if they felt integrated and welcome into society here. Their responses were spoken through tears by many of the women. The woman next to me broke down and put her head in her arms on the table, sobbing. I reached over and rubbed her back and handed her tissues. When she looked up into my own eyes wet with tears, I gestured my sorrow and sincere apology. She grabbed onto my hand and held it for the remainder of the discussion group. Afterward she said what so many other Iraqis have: "I know the people - the American people are good people and that they care. Thank you. Thank you"

I especially wish that I could share these experiences with you. At these times, I think that it evident that we are the recipients, we are the ones given what we need for our repair, to sooth our sorrow and guilt, to assure us we are still human.

I am amazed by Iraqis and have such tremendous respect for their capacity to forgive - to love - when they have every reason not to and when it must be so hard for them. We have much to learn from them about generosity!

But first we must risk opening our eyes to see what we have done and what we continue to allow to be done in our names. We must risk accepting that if we did, we would understand that our response to repair must be equal to this damage or we are not doing "enough"

Honoring the strength, selflessness and courage of Iraqi mothers

March 21rst is Mothers Day in the Middle East. Maha and I delivered special cakes and potted flowers to Iraqi refugee mothers on their special day.

Many of the mothers we honored have lost children and husbands because of the US-led invasion. All are trying to care for their children under the most daunting circumstances. They struggle every day to provide adequate food and shelter for their kids. They fight to provide their children with education. They comfort children who have been traumatized by war. Many of their husbands are despondent without the ability to work to support their families and these wives endure much and they do their best to support and respect their partners during these difficult times. They nurture their families despite being traumatized themselves and the incredible challenges each day presents to them.

To make their day special, we honored them with cakes that they could never consider being able to afford and that they could share, as they share themselves so unselfishly, with their families. We brought them growing flowers as symbols of the beauty of their effort to nurture the lives that came through them. When we could, we gave the children the gifts to take into their homes to present to their mothers, resulting in many delighted smiles and kisses!

And with each delivery, we told these remarkable women that "Amrikan" and others of many nations give these gifts -

"with our love and respect for the courage, selflessness and strength
of Iraqi mothers and that we have not forgotten them"

photos of some of the mothers you honored on Mothers Day