Ten Thousand Things

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Collateral Repair for Collateral Damage: International grassroots network helps
displaced Iraqis rebuild their lives, one project at a time

By Kimberly Hughes, Sept. 25, 2008 (Updated for KJ #72)

Members of the Collateral Repair Project, Iraqi Al Aoun, and Iraq Hope Network
gathered for a meeting to discuss the situation facing Iraqi refugees

As an American living in Japan who has maintained passionate opposition to the war in Iraq since its inception, I could hardly refuse an invitation to join a delegation traveling to Amman, Jordan in the summer of 2008 to meet with Iraqi refugees. The invitation came from the Iraqi Hope Network, a Japan-based initiative I joined in 2006, whereby NGO staff, aid workers, journalists, lawyers, university professors and volunteers work together to sponsor projects in Iraq focusing on humanitarian aid, reconstruction and human rights. The trip aimed to bring gifts of friendship and solidarity from Japan — clothing, school supplies, and children’s toys — as well as to determine the best ways to offer ongoing support to displaced Iraqis in Jordan in situations of serious need.

Iraqis in exile: nothing less than a humanitarian crisis

Ready to host us in Amman were members of the Collateral Repair Project (CRP), a grassroots initiative spanning four countries (Iraq, Jordan, the United States and Canada) created by two women in the U.S. to help make amends for the wrongs committed against innocent Iraqis by the policies of the U.S. government. The project connects displaced Iraqis with American citizens who feel compelled to make a positive difference after watching with growing anxiety as the lives of innocent Iraqis have been thrown into turmoil by the war and occupation.

Needless to say, I had many concerns prior to making this trip: How would I be received as someone from the United States? How would anything we might provide be able to make up for the immense suffering that had already been inflicted upon these people? Would my efforts really make a difference?

One of my colleagues in Japan from the Iraq Hope Network, a humanitarian aid worker named Nahoko Takato, with extensive past experience in Iraq, had cultivated a relationship with the Amman-based members of the CRP during previous trips to Jordan. Maha and Manal, themselves displaced Iraqis, greeted us with the warmly on our arrival. Clearly both women were devoting the better part of their lives to visiting refugee families in order to collect information about their situations, update the CPR website with personal profiles, and distribute incoming donations and supplies to where they are needed most.

The situation now facing Iraqis in exile is nothing less than a humanitarian crisis. Amongst the nearly 5 million estimated Iraqis who have been driven from their homes due to war and occupation-fueled violence and instability, an estimated 750,000 are presently in Jordan. Many fled their country with literally nothing other than their accumulated savings and the few possessions they could carry—often after having endured extreme traumas such as kidnapping threats by armed militias, nighttime raids by U.S. soldiers in their homes, and the death of family members in U.S. air aids or militia killings.

While the Jordanian government offers residency to the few Iraqis who are able to pay at least $150,000, everyone else is considered a “temporary guest” with no legal status or work permission. Once these guest permits expire, most Iraqis then make the obvious choice to remain illegally rather than risk returning to the potentially life-threatening violence in Iraq. Overstayers are also expected to make payments to the Jordanian government for every day of their continued stay—something they are clearly in little position to do. With the possibility of being deported back to Iraq, and with raids on workplaces suspected of employing Iraqis illegally, most are forced to stay home and endure a silent, fearful existence in hiding.

“Every Iraqi Has a Sad Story to Tell”

Donations collected by the organization’s North American team members finance “micro-projects” that help the refugees get back on their feet financially. These small, home-based businesses include such initiatives as hairstyling, sewing, bead-making/craftwork, baking, and pickling, to name only a few. The CRP works to help Iraqis displaced within their country’s borders, as well as those who escaped to neighboring countries (primarily Jordan, although CRP does do some work in Syria as well).

We spent the first three full days meeting with Iraqi refugees, listening to their stories, and distributing the goods we had brought with us from Japan. Many of the people whom we met lived in apartments that were cramped and substandard in terms of basic living conditions. Nevertheless, people were spending all their savings to make rent payments, and most could not afford to spend money on nutritious foods for their families such as eggs, milk or meat. Many were suffering not only from the financial burden of the charges Jordan imposes upon Iraqis for sending their children to Jordanian schools, but also from knowing their children are victims of taunts and discrimination by local children, and even sometimes teachers.
Almost everyone we met was experiencing extreme daily stress due to their separation from family members, homes, and everything that was familiar to them. The numbers themselves are sobering: According to Iraqi Al Aoun (Iraqi Support Team) staff, around 80% of Iraqis in Jordan—the majority of whom are overstayers—have already depleted their savings and are fully reliant upon the charity of others. We were also told that at least 90% of these displaced Iraqis are suffering from mental stress conditions such as severe depression or PTSD from past traumas, the extreme stress of the present, and growing anxiety regarding an uncertain future.

“Every Iraqi has a sad story to tell,” said one woman whose experience was particularly disturbing. A follower of the Sabean faith, her family was repeatedly targeted by militia groups for being non-Muslim. Her husband was violently beaten, and their house was then burned down. Even after moving to a new location, the corpses of tortured and murdered individuals were dumped into their yard to serve as a warning. Finally, able to take no more, they fled to Jordan. “In Baghdad, we were wealthy,” she told us, in tears. “Now, we have nothing.”

Despite these hardships, however, most of the people we met with in Amman possessed a very strong spirit and a tremendous sense of dignity. Many also revealed a hilarious, sarcasm-tinged sense of humor (as is often characteristic, I am told, of Iraqis in general). They were also extremely gracious, displaying consistently kind hospitality and treating us to elaborate meals despite their own precarious situations.

To share just a few of their stories:

[Note: Most Iraqis appearing in this article are identified by their
first names only in order to protect their privacy and safety]

• Zainab, an Iraqi woman with an unconquerable spirit that shines through any language barrier, was left to raise six children on her own after her husband was killed in Baghdad when passing by an area targeted by U.S. forces. After fleeing to Amman to seek safer surroundings, the family now lives in an extremely cramped apartment. Zainab and her children are lively and friendly, laughing and joking together. At the same time, the stressful uncertainty of their life in Jordan — as well as the enormity of their loss — seems as ever-present as the large photo of the family’s deceased husband/father that hangs in their main room.
  Zainab and her eldest daughter
  
  We make our way to the next apartment, amidst a group of children who eye us with curiosity while excitedly kicking a soccer ball on the dusty street.
• Two youngsters who greet us in the dark and drab front room seem no older than 12 or 13 years of age. I soon learn however, that Baida’a and Hatm are 19 and 18, a sister and brother from Abu Ghraib who came to Jordan with their parents in 2007 to escape increasing violence. Their growth has been stunted by a blood disease, thalassemia: both require over 100 abdominal and insulin injections per month. While their medicines were affordable prior to the invasion of Iraq in 2003, they now cost 900 Jordanian dinars (around $1,267) per month. Baida’a, who carries herself extremely gracefully, has gone on Iraqi television to tell of their plight. Although I speak almost no Arabic, I can communicate with her through my broken Spanish and her fluent Italian, which she picked up when receiving treatment in Italy during the days when the family was still prosperous. Now they are unable to keep up with Baida’a and Hatm’s medical expenses, and both require bone marrow transplants — each of which costs a staggering 150,000 JD (over $200,000) — in order to survive.
  
  
  Iraq Hope Network member Nahoko Takato together with Baida'a and Hatm
  
  
• Mostafa, a young man in his mid-20’s with kind eyes and an extremely gentle demeanor, was almost completely paralyzed in 2006 when a U.S. military rocket meant for a nearby police station sent him plummeting down from the roof of his home near Baghdad, where he had been adjusting his television. Now confined to a wheelchair and using a catheter, he is slowly rehabilitating but faces a long and painful road to recovery.
  
• Nada is a Sunni woman who fled to Jordan from Anbar province with her 14 year-old son after receiving threats from the Shi’a owners of a nearby market. Her name has been mysteriously removed from all NGO assistance lists, however, which she attributes to her abusive ex-husband, who has continued to stalk her since she divorced him while their son was still a baby. She has also been refused asylum in both France and Germany, again with no reason given. Despite the hardship of her situation, she radiated an extremely alive and expressive personality.
  
  (L to R): Manal from the Collateral Repair Project, Nahoko Takato and Sayaka Nishikata
  from the Iraq Hope Network, Nada and her son Omar
  
  
• Baida’a and Hatm are a 19- and 18-year old sister and brother from Abu Ghraib who came to Jordan in 2007 to escape the increasing violence. Both ill with a condition known as thalassemia, they require over 100 abdominal and insulin injections per month. While medicines were affordable prior to the invasion in 2003, they must now pay 900 Jordanian dinars (around $1267) per month in order to continue their regimen of care. Despite outwardly appearing much younger than her actual age, Baida’a carries herself extremely gracefully, and has gone on Iraqi television explaining her and her brother’s plight. In order to survive, both will require bone marrow transplants—each of which runs to a staggering 150,000 JD (over $200,000).
  
• Ala'a is living in a squalid, dark, and scarcely furnished basement apartment with her four children. She fled to Jordan in 2005 after her husband, a goldsmith, was murdered by militiamen who ambushed his car and stole all of his goods. Her youngest son was in the car at the time, and now suffers from severe PTSD as a result. Her other children are also showing signs of depression and behavioral problems, and she is in danger of having the electricity cut off since she has not been able to make her payments.
  
• Ali and Enas came to Jordan in 2003 from Baghdad with their four young children due to the deteriorating security situation. Ali is an electrical engineer who hopes to market a product he made to cure skin ailments, but is unable to do so because of the restriction upon Iraqis working in Jordan. The family applied for resettlement shortly after reaching Jordan, but has so far heard nothing.
  
  
  Ali and Enas' four children
  
  
• Ala'a came to Jordan in 2005 from Baghdad after her husband, an imam (spiritual community leader) and professor of the Arabic language, received a threatening letter from militia members due to his position teaching at a university. Herself a bank accountant in Iraq, she now stays home with their four children while her husband does part-time tutoring on a volunteer basis. One of their children is brain damaged from lack of oxygen during childbirth, and requires ongoing care.
  
  
  Ala'a and her four children (the one on her lap, brain damaged from birth, is unable to speak)
  
  
• Saleema is a kind-looking woman who has three daughters, aged 21, 12 and 9 months. Her oldest daughter has been bedridden with severe depression since the age of four or five, when she experienced extreme trauma due to the first Gulf War. Saleema took me aside and asked me (through an interpreter) to try and talk to her daughter, but she had apparently run out of the house as soon as she heard visitors approaching.
  
  
  Saleema and her two younger daughters
  
  
• Hassan is an extremely gentle-looking man who owned a bakery in Baghdad. He was threatened by militia who demanded $10,000 or else they would kill him or kidnap one of his young sons. The family fled to Jordan in 2005, leaving siblings behind in Iraq. He is applying for asylum, but so far has heard nothing.
  
  
  Hassan with his family, including members of the Collateral Repair Project (Salah is pictured at the far right)
  
  
• Jehad is a schoolteacher from Basra whose now three year-old son, Mohammed--an adorable child with a vivcious personality despite his illness--was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of one in 2006. The entire family was able to immediately cross the border into Jordan, where Mohammed began seeking treatment at the King Hussein Cancer Center. Now receiving support from the Japan-Iraq Medical
  Network, they are unable to return to Iraq due to the poor security situation and
  mounting medical bills. They are hoping to resettle in Canada, where some former
  students of Jehad are now living--or any other country that will accept them.
  
  
  Jehad with his son Mohammed, who is fighting leukemia, and his daughter Shahed
  
  

  Iraqi refugees: Waiting desperately for resettlement
  
  While the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) does provide financial support to Iraqi refugees, this reaches only a handful of families since there are not nearly enough funds to go around. Several large non-governmental organizations operating in Amman also issue payments, primarily CARE International and CARITAS, although these come in the form of very limited funds for only a short period of time. Given these restrictions, smaller organizations with strong, on-the-ground networks, such as the CRP and the Iraqi Al Aoun — which collects donations from wealthy Iraqis and distributes them to needy Iraqi refugee families — are left to pick up the slack.
  
  “Iraqis do not receive any exemption from health fees, since we are outside the official social security insurance system in Jordan,” said Bushra, a vivacious and tell-it-like-it-is woman working with the International Relief and Development (IRD) nongovernmental organization to connect vulnerable refugees with support services.
  
  At this point, Iraqi refugees truly have nowhere to go. Most of the people we met with declared that they wanted to get out of Jordan immediately and be resettled into a third country — the U.S., Australia, Sweden, or anywhere that would take them in. With Iraq’s President Maliki under pressure to assure the world that Iraq is on a path toward safety and normalcy, however — and with the Jordanian government also finding itself unable to accommodate the Iraqis in their midst — the refugees are under pressure to return home. For most displaced Iraqis, however — facing the reality of continuing violence in Iraq, with no real guarantees for their safety — this is a fearful prospect indeed. Every option facing them now seems fraught with uncertainty and instability.
  
  One of our most memorable visits was to the home of Salah, one of the CPR’s neighborhood volunteer leaders. After accompanying us all day to the homes of other refugee families in her area, along with her small son, Taha, she brought us back to her home for a rest and afternoon tea. Slowly, she revealed her story: as a Sunni family living in a Shi’a neighborhood, her nephew was one of the countless young Iraqi men who was brutally tortured and murdered for no reason. Taha had also been targeted for kidnapping, but luckily escaped when his grandfather yanked him away from his would-be abductors.
  
  Salah’s family applied to the UNHCR three years ago for overseas asylum, but has so far heard nothing.
  
  
  Salah's husband and two children (including son Taha, who narrowly escaped kidnapping)
  with Kimberly from the Iraq Hope Network
  
  “Here in Jordan, how we can we be expected to provide a future for our children when we ourselves are living like prisoners? Our only hope is to be resettled elsewhere,” Salah told us, beginning to weep. “We might smile and appear to be happy, but inside we are torn apart.”
  

  What You Can Do To Help
  
  The people portrayed in this article are only a fraction of those Iraqis who have suffered similar tragedies. Despite the fact that U.S. policy and military action in Iraq is largely responsible for this suffering, the U.S. government budgeted only 17 million USD for Iraqi refugees, as compared to 200 billion for military purposes. It has also fallen fall short of its responsibility to take in Iraqi refugees, agreeing to accept only 12,000 in 2008 — out of more than four million.
  
  The Collateral Repair Project seeks support to make a difference in the lives of Iraqi refugees by helping them set up small home businesses in line with their particular skills and means. Individuals and families in need are profiled on the CRP website, and donors may specify particular people and projects that they wish to fund. All funds are collected and distributed through the CRP’s fiscal sponsor, the International Humanities Center (a 501(c)(3) registered nonprofit organization).
  
  Numerous successful micro-projects spearheaded through CRP funds have allowed Iraqi refugee men and women to support themselves and their families through small cottage industries. Other recently successful CRP initiatives have included a fund-drive to provide Iraqi refugee children in Amman with warm coats this past winter, and a sewing training center that was set up at a refugee camp in Walit, Iraq, to allow mothers to craft clothing for their children. In addition, CRP has set up an official partnership with the Iraq Hope Network to share resources and engage in joint projects. (Details are available on the CRP website, as well as Nahoko Takato’s blog[in Japanese]: http://iraqhope.exblog.jp/10070293/)
  
  With the economic downturn affecting donations, however, the CRP has recently been forced to scale down the number of micro-projects for funding. In addition, steep increases in the cost of living in Amman, combined with dwindling resources, have recently prompted the CRP to set aside an Emergency Assistance Fund to help respond to Iraqis in crisis situations.
  Given these critical needs, all contributions to the CRP are gratefully received. Donors may also specify which types of families (those with children, medical needs, etc) that they wish their donations to reach.
  
  “Hearing of the Iraqi peoples’ heartbreak breaks my own heart,“ says Sasha Crowe, who co-founded the CRP with partner Mary Madsen. “But it is also their spirit, which is still so strong despite being so badly battered, as well as their hospitality, warmth, and incredible courage, that keeps me going and inspires me.”
  
  
  For more information on these initiatives and how to donate, see the CRP’s website at www.collateralrepairproject.org

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