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Iraq + 1 more

We belong to the past, there is no future for us in Iraq

The daily struggle of Margaret Hassan's driver and his family, today refugees in Syria

DAMASCUS - Their Syrian neighbors lent them the clothes they are wearing for this interview. "I want to look respectable - says the head of family, Jamil - I did shave: I hadn't done it in weeks. You know, once you lose hope, your dignity as a human being goes down the drain as well...".

It wasn't always like this. Only four years ago Jamil Abdullatif, 44, had a decent job, a house in Baghdad, two cars and a normal life. He was the driver and logistician of CARE International, a humanitarian aid organization established in Iraq since 1991. For years he had been driving aid workers around his country, to provide food and health assistance to vulnerable Iraqis, mostly children. But on October 19, 2004, the head of the Iraqi operations, Margaret Hassan, was abducted and believed to be murdered by unidentified gunmen. Her body has never been found. As a result, CARE suspended its operations in the country. Jamil lost his job. And his heart started to fail. "After Margaret's death - he recalls - the Iraqi office was closed. I was assigned to transfer our vehicles from Iraq to the CARE office in Jordan, and one day, right at the border between the two countries, I collapsed. It was my first heart failure".

For the Abdullatif family it was just the beginning. In 2005 violence intensified, ravaging the Sunni district where they were living. One day their house was hit by a rocket, and got on fire. In a matter of minutes, half of the building was reduced to smoke. But Jamil, a Sunni, and his wife Hoda, a Shiite, still couldn't conceive to leave Iraq: they wanted their three daughters to grow up in their own country. They thought to seek refuge in a Shiite quarter, where they would be safer. In fact, they weren't. After not even a month, they received a threatening letter, urging them to move or face death. It was October 2006, and the time had come to leave for good. Syria seemed to be the best possible option: the closest, the cheapest, the most welcoming solution.

"We took a car and a driver, the price was 600 $. It was a long trip, there were many people crossing at the border. We arrived in Damascus late at night, the taxi driver was very upset, so he dropped us in the very middle of a street, with the luggage, the children, everything". The family found a place to rent, but it was so shabby that they just couldn't bear to live in it. They discovered another apartment, where they stayed for 8 months. A new baby girl, Farah, was born. When the owner raised the rent, they couldn't afford it, and had to move again. Their savings were quickly vanishing, the family ended up in a public park. It was summer and hot, but a bench is no life, especially for children. Hoda's mother came all the way from Iraq to get the girls and to bring them back. Jamil and Hoda decided to stay behind, sleeping in a garden and searching for a way to save Jamil's heart. And just when they were running out of hope - thanks to the Syrian health authorities and with the support of the organization Terre des Hommes - a heart operation was finally performed. It was July 2007. A future was blown back into Jamil's chest and the family life.

Since then, they are back together in Damascus, sharing a one-room apartment in Dahlie El Asad. But the future they were hoping for, is not in sight. Jamil's physical conditions do not allow him to work. The three older girls- 10, 7 and 6 - are facing psychological problems and are under counseling with the organization Terre des Hommes, which is running a support programme for about 5.000 kids and their families, thanks to the financial assistance of the European Commission's Humanitarian Aid department (ECHO). The girls lost one school year, and are now trying to catch up with their level taking support classes in the afternoons. The family has no income, their savings have long gone. They have registered with UNHCR and got the refugee status. Hoda is doing her best to manage the assistance she receives. Since she left Iraq, her life style has dramatically deteriorated. "I used to have a microwave - she laughs - now I do not have a refrigerator, or a TV set, or a cooking stove...". Prior to becoming refugees, many of the hundreds of thousands Iraqis who fled to Syria were quite well off, they had jobs and properties, a university diploma and a health insurance: today this highly educated population is cramming into hovels, trying to figure out how to make ends meet. To face the hardship brought upon her family, Hoda has developed her own copying mechanisms: "I exchange part of the rice I receive with milk for the kids: still, I have no fruits or meat for them. We mostly eat lentils, I fry tomatoes and potatoes.... that's our diet. I have learned to cope, and I keep my pain inside: but my heart is crying over my destiny".

In the room the family is renting, the only items available are plates and few mattresses. Still, this poverty-stricken fate looks more appealing than the life of fear and violence that might expect them back home. The Abdullatif are the typical example of the new Iraqi Diaspora: all the family members are today scattered throughout the world, in Yemen and Libya, Jordan, Denmark and Syria. Nobody is left behind in Baghdad, and prospects of an intentional return are slim. "We want to leave the Arab world for good, we want to be resettled somewhere, it doesn't matter where - continues Hoda - There is no future for our children here. There is no safety, no trust. We belong to the past, when a Sunni could marry a Shiite and do not feel it as an issue. The situation might improve, but a month later it will collapse again. Anything can happen in Iraq today, it is unsafe as ever, and we do not want to be part of this anymore".

Daniela Cavini
ECHO Regional Information Officer
Amman