Amman, Jordan
October 22, 2008
Dear Friends,
The other day I saw an elderly Iraqi gentleman off at the Amman airport. After months of waiting on his security clearance, he was finally on his way to join his two sons and four grandchildren in the states. He has been living alone in Amman for at least two years now, and I had asked him if he would like me to accompany him to the airport. He accepted my offer.
As we made our way to the airport in the early morning hours, I asked him if he had gotten any sleep. He said he had been up all night trying to pack, to fit all of his worldly belongings in two medium size suitcases. I learned that among the things he was forced to leave behind was a large feather pillow his mother had made about seventy years ago. She had gathered the feathers herself. Also left behind were some embroidery pieces she had made as well as a couple of books and other items. When his wife died of cancer over 28 years ago, this gentle man had raised his three children alone. I met his only daughter recently in Syria. She and her husband are among the refugee population there longing to join family in a safe place where they can work and raise their two small daughters. I thought of an embroidered pillow case cover my mother gave me some years back. It is something I cherish imagining how she had laid her head on it as a child. Maybe, I told him, I could retrieve some of the things left behind with a neighbor.
Iraqi Gentleman at the Amman Airport
As we waited in the airport we were surrounded by a host of other Iraqis, also being resettled to the United States, taking the same flight. Some had family there, others were going to states to which they had been assigned. I watched as each received a large white plastic bag with the letters IOM (International Organization for Migration) on it. The bag would identify them as refugees when they arrived at their various destinations. It seemed so demeaning. As the time drew near to enter the passenger checking area, we joined the others lining up with their suitcases and bags. In front of us was a woman clothed from head to foot in a black abaya. Only her eyes were visible through a slit in the face covering.
Despite all the years I have spent in the Middle East, the sight of women with their faces covered is something that always seems to give me a start. The woman in front of us at the airport was accompanied by her husband, a blind gentleman who stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder. I wondered what type of welcome was in store for them in the states. Where were they going? Did they speak any English at all? What will await them? At a recent McCain rally in Minneapolis, an elderly woman took the microphone to speak. She said “I don’t trust Obama. I’ve read about him, and he’s an Arab.” McCain’s awkward reply seemed to imply that being an “Arab” and a “decent family man” were somehow mutually exclusive.
A friend arrived from the states yesterday. We first met in 2003 in Baghdad in the weeks preceding the U.S.-led invasion. He too was with Voices as part of the Iraq Peace team. He will be spending the next weeks in Jordan and Syria to follow the plight of Iraqi refugees in the region. Last night we went to visit a family of eight who have been advised that they will be resettled in the U.S. They have no family there, and have no idea where they will be assigned. Ironically the father of the family is also blind due to an injury he suffered in the Iraq-Iran war over twenty years ago. It was my third visit to their humble apartment and, together with our Iraqi translator whom they know and trust, we were warmly greeted.
We asked how they are doing, if they received any news from IOM as to when they might travel? They had no news of travel dates, but the mother of six advised us that her own mother in Baghdad is ill. More than anything, she would like to see her elderly mother one final time before she leaves for the U.S. Sadly, this simple wish will not be granted. If she were to travel to Baghdad to visit even briefly with family, she would not be allowed back into Jordan. Two of her brothers were killed in Iraq in the last couple of years. We want to keep in touch with this family. When they find out where they will be going, we might know groups or have friends in that state who could welcome and befriend them.
I am delighted to tell you that I have the feather pillow and some of the embroidered pieces. It gives me such pleasure to think that the grandchildren will have these treasured items.
