Iraqis Displaced within Iraq and Seeking Refuge AbroadThey Haven’t Heard the NewsAmman, Jordan What a handsome young man. He came three months ago from Baghdad. He said he had to. He left his wife, his mother and six little children behind. When I asked about his children, he became silent and I realized after some moments that he was crying. I too was silent, hesitating to continue. So young, I thought. All he has ever known is war. Cathy Breen writes from Amman JordonAmman, Jordan April 29, 2010 Dear Friends, My time in the Middle East is coming to an end and I would like to write you one last time. I was very sorry to leave Syria yesterday, but my return flight to the U.S. is out of Jordan. I had hoped to travel by land from Damascus to Amman, but the road was closed due to confrontations in southern Syria near the border. So I found myself in the early morning hours yesterday at the Damascus airport waiting to board a plane heading for Amman. How I wished I was arriving instead of leaving. Dear FriendsDamascus, Syria Two nights ago while visiting an Iraqi friend in his apartment, I asked if we could turn on the TV news. I wanted to take advantage of the gracious woman who was translating for us to get a sense of what is going on here in Syria. I will call her Fatima. We had not met before, and at my urging she had just shared some of her own story with me. Now as photos of chaotic scenes flashed before us (of smoke, of people running, of the dead and wounded), Fatima exclaimed, trying to laugh as she spoke, “We ran away from Palestine to Jordan. We ran away from Iraq to Syria. War seems to follow us!” The two friends told me nervously that there had been some disturbances at the other end of the neighborhood earlier in the day. They, of course, had stayed close to their homes. Holding Out for a LaughDamascus, Syria Dear Friends, I want to laugh today. As the mystic Indian poet Kabir sang, “A whole body laugh, feeling God’s poke in the ribs.” There is no lack of things that make me sad just thinking of them. An Iraqi man separated from his family for almost two years. The wife and four children left for the U.S. in June of 2009, but the father was denied on “credibility.” For what reason? I challenge anyone to try and get the Dept. of Homeland Security to release this information to the family. His little son in Michigan, now 4 ½ years, has long since forgotten his dad’s voice over the telephone. The family in the U.S. is trying another route to reunite the family, but the wait seems eternal. I hope to see the father tonight. Dear FriendsApril 4, 2011 I arrived in Damascus a few days ago. There weren’t many cars crossing the border, so it was a relatively quick trip, and inexpensive (about 4 hrs. and $12.00). Friends living in Damascus had found me a room to rent in a house in the old city. There were four other boarders, all of them studying Arabic. Two of them are German women, in their 50s, who, sadly, will be leaving in a few days. One young fellow from the states left early today for Amman. On the occasions when I spoke with him he appeared quite nervous. He told me late last night that his mother really wanted him to get out of Syria for awhile. A Conversation with Firas Majeed of Native Without a Nation
November 18, 2010 Joshua: Do you see this kind of idea being maybe even able to prevent future wars? Because, I think, one of the problems is that we don’t know each other. And if we are able to know each other, we realize that there is no reason to fight. Firas: Yeah, you’re right. That’s what exactly happen. And people, the children, they are not children. They are going to lead the world after us. And we need to prepare all our children, your children and our children, prepare them to lead the world better than now. Letter from Cathy Breen, May 16 2010Damascus, Syria Dear Friends,
Letter from Cathy Breen, May 15 2010Damascus, Syria May 15, 2010 Dear Friends, Last week I visited a family I met last year. They were rejected by Homeland Security for resettlement to the U.S. in March of 2009. They received a form letter with a check in the box “credibility.” Translated this means “we don’t believe your story.” The family told me that during the interview for resettlement the Department of Homeland Security officer repeatedly said “good, good” after each question, even telling them that as far as he was concerned they would be accepted. Cathy Breen Writes from DamascusDamascus, Syria Dear Friends, I wish I could transport you to be here with me. It has turned hot, but this morning is still blissfully pleasant. But it is still early morning, 6:30am, and in two hours the sun will be beating down. I have a third floor room in an old rather tumbling down house in the old city on Straight Street. Yes, it is the same street that is mentioned in our scriptures where Paul was healed from his blindness after an encounter with God on the road to Damascus. As I write you, I am thinking about how poor my own vision has become. The glaring unforgiving sun here doesn’t help the cataract in my right eye at all. I am cautious as I descend the steep cement stairs to the one bathroom in the courtyard below. Perceptions from a Six-Year Iraqi Refugeeby Farah Abrahim Mohsen As an Iraqi refugee displaced for six years in a row, the vision of Iraq has became more distant every year, but the desire to go back grows stronger day after day. On a cold Damascus winter afternoon, over a hot cup of Shai Khameer, I shared with a friend my dream to go back home. “If you miss home so much,” he asked, “why don’t you go back?”  |
