Jordan, day 3 (Friday)
Today, our third day here, we finally got our luggage. We were very happy to be able to change our clothes. Because we knew the luggage would be arriving this morning we got a late start on the day's activities.
Around noon we met up with Amjad who took us on a long and steep walk to the older part of town. Shops were closed, today being holy day, although there were makeshift shops in front of the closed shops selling a wide variety of merchandise. It was very crowded and there was much more traditional dress in this part of town. Sermons were pouring out of loudspeakers and could be heard many blocks from the mosques.
We walked to the ancient Roman ruins which included an acropolis, an amphitheatre, remnants of a bath house, and many Corinthian columns and walls. It was extremely interesting and we had an elderly guide we could barely understand but enjoyed his unique presentation. No kidding, in ancient times this city was known as Philadelphia. Check it out.
We then hired a car which took us to a place where they "restored" fish. It actually was a fish restaurant with pools of live fish. You pick the ones you want and they clean and cook them for you. There was a kiva-style oven where flat bread dough was stuck to the sides and then peeled off when done. The restaurant turned out to be too crowded and we wound up at a place called "Butchery and Cafeteria." Here we had a variety of kebob, grilled chicken, hummus, falafel, pickles and bread. After we ate we bought sweets for the families we would be visiting.
The first house we visited was a slum that should not have been standing but was being rented for 45 Jordanian dollars per month [about $32 U.S.—One USD is worth 0.71 JD]. It stank of mold, vermin and human waste. Outside of a tiny area that served as kitchen and a tiny shower it consisted of a damp living area about fifteen by fifteen feet. Layers of paint were peeling from the walls and ceiling and there were chunks missing from the walls here and there. There were no windows and only one bare light bulb. This was the living room and bedroom for Hussein, age 35, his wife Hayam, age 30 and their four small children. Haider, age 4, had been severely injured by a bomb blast in Iraq. His body was covered in deep scars. The German magazine Stern included pictures of the boy on a story about the refugee crisis. Hayam, his mother, was busy at the market place selling cigarettes, Kleenex, clippers and various other trinkets spread out on a blanket. Since her family is here illegally she is at some risk of being caught, but the risk is much greater if Hussein tries to work, so he stays with the children all day. He says he and the children never go outside. One of his children has a heart condition. All of them were barefooted in the foul dampness. They are Shi'a Muslim who fled Sadr City for fear of their lives. We also met Hussein's uncle, who lived next door in a space half the size of his nephew's and just as bad.
Our most treasured visit today was with another Shi'a family in a larger but poor apartment. It was kept as well as possible and there were windows, a living room, a sleeping room, a kitchen and W.C. The man of the house was Dhiaa, age 35, who had worked for RTI's International Development and Democratization / Democracy Dialogue Activities. He had been a team leader for ten months in the local governance program funded by the U.S. Agency for International Development employing 1500 citizens throughout Iraq. He had glowing letters of recommendations from several U.S. officials, none of which did him any good. His life was threatened by Sunni groups and when they sprayed his car with bullets he fled the country with his family. He has a lovely wife and four children. The oldest daughter, Noor, age 15, is the breadwinner for the family. She works long hours every day (illegally) at a print shop where she is abused and is paid about half what a Jordanian would receive. She says her life is only "work, sleep and eat" and she very much wants to go to school, which is not possible for her here. When I asked her how she was treated at work she pulled up her sleeve and showed me bruises and scratches all over her arm. When I asked what happened she teared up and said, "I cannot talk about the Jordanians."
Dhiaa told us they fled Iraq with only the clothes on their backs and one tiny suitcase. They had enjoyed a middle-class lifestyle. They were educated and the children had been going to school in Iraq. Noor talked to me in English and my information from her was straight from her mouth.
Dhiaa said their parents had tried to cross the border not long after them but they were turned away and had to sleep in their cars. Meanwhile rich Iraqis are still able to buy their way in.
As we became more friendly and open with each other, Mohammad, age 13, Ahamad, age 11 and Anas, age 6, bounced around us using the bits of English they knew. They were as charming as any children could be. The two youngest did gymnastics on a door frame missing its transom window. At one point the lovely woman of the house got the idea to dress us up in hijab issalat Islami, which is a total covering of the body with only some of the face exposed. We all enjoyed this immensely and took many pictures. As we were still in this dress, prayer time came around and they got out their rugs and went through evening prayers as we sat quietly behind in our pious garb.
Our visit lasted several hours with glasses of chai, moving words and heartache as well as a bonding with comic relief and genuine concern. We felt frustrated that we could not do more. At least we are telling you about it. Maybe with growing awareness the U.S. people will push for more visas for these valuable, educated, trained, gentle people who risked their lives and all their belongings working for various U.S. agencies and ended up illegals with no rights, property or legal way to make a living. Currently the U.S. is not allowing them visas....and the refugee crisis worsens each day.
