Seven months after attempting to live a normal life in Amman, Jordan, Abu Ahmed and his family will have to pick up their bags and start from zero all over again. They will be leaving for America in one week. The news come as a double-edged sword – they are happy for the opportunity to finally settle in one place, but anxious to start a new life and ultimately, to leave their country and their old life, behind.
Abu Ahmed is tired and exhausted from moving these last five years since the war began – between houses in Baghdad, between countries in Jordan and now between two worlds, two cultures, and two distinct identities.
How can he find a place to live? Does he need a car in the US? Where can he find a job? What are the schools like for his children?
David and I walk over to their home for a visit to congratulate Abu Ahmed and his family on the big news. Om Ahmed's sister and husband and children are also there, talking and laughing and drinking tea. I have some new tea for Om Ahmed to try. So the women move to the kitchen with me to make tea and talk.
Om Ahmed is excited to finally go to “America.” Besides a trip to Syria and their move to Jordan, this will be her first long-distance “trip.” She wants to go to Virginia because it is green and she likes green.
Her older sister sits next to her, eying her closely, and wondering if Om Ahmed understands the full consequences of leaving for the United States.
Om Ahmed’s sister has six children and is struggling to provide for them here in Jordan. Schools in Amman are expensive – college tuition costs around 3,000 Jordanian Dinars or 4,233 USD a year. Neither she nor her husband, a landscape architect, is able to work here, so all living expenses are drawn directly from their savings. She has two children attending university and one that just finished and is now looking for a job that does not exist here in Amman for Iraqis. Her daughter may even return to Iraq to study if she cannot find work here.
Om Ahmed’s sister is also applying for resettlement in the US, but unlike Om Ahmed, her application is not moving forward. Neither she nor her husband ever worked for the American government. And unlike other Iraqis, she says, they refuse to lie about being threatened. They refuse to wear torn clothing for their interviews and look poor and destitute.
Nevertheless, Om Ahmed’s sister wonders if it will be possible to raise six children in the United States. I smiled and told her about our family of seven children. When we first arrived in the US there was only six. Yes, it is possible to raise a family of six, but very difficult.
I also want to be honest with them about the American family and way of life in the United States. I notice many Iraqi families here are extremely close. Family members do not go one day without seeing one another. And children, even those in college, are with their parents all the time. This will not be the case in the US. There may be a chance that children will live far away from home to attend college, they way I did. There may be a chance that children will live far away from home to work where jobs are available.
Om Ahmed’s eyes open wide. She refuses to believe me, exclaiming that her eldest son, Ahmed, soon to enter college, would never leave her! He would go to school near her and he would work near her!
After Om Ahmed’s sister and her husband and children leave, David and I stay behind to talk to Abu Ahmed and his family. Abu Ahmed and Ahmed, sit across from us in the living room. Om Ahmed sits next to me, squeezing my hand in her lap.
We ask Ahmed, who is now 16, how he feels about leaving and going to the US. “I don’t know yet how I should feel,” he says. Everyone is nervous about leaving and starting a new life.
We ask Mostafa, the little one, if he wants to leave. He says no, burying his head in his father’s lap. We ask him if he wants to go back to Iraq. He shakes his head, no. We ask him if he wants to stay in Jordan. He says, yes. He is getting used to the school here and he has friends here now. The choice between staying and going is a simple one for Mostafa.
But the choice is not so simple for Abu Ahmed and his wife. Without residency they cannot live a normal life here in Jordan. Abu Ahmed can lose his job and then they will be forced to return to Iraq like so many other families no longer able to live off their savings. Even if they do not want to go the US, it is still a chance to finally settle somewhere.
David and I do our best to calm their fears and anxiety. Tomorrow we will introduce them to the world of “craigslist” and garage sales – the way things are bought and sold in America! And we will make a list of everything they need to know about settling in a city in the United States.
The family walks us out to the door and wishes us a good night. Abu Ahmed looks tired. I wonder if he will sleep tonight.
Abu Ahmed is tired and exhausted from moving these last five years since the war began – between houses in Baghdad, between countries in Jordan and now between two worlds, two cultures, and two distinct identities.
How can he find a place to live? Does he need a car in the US? Where can he find a job? What are the schools like for his children?
David and I walk over to their home for a visit to congratulate Abu Ahmed and his family on the big news. Om Ahmed's sister and husband and children are also there, talking and laughing and drinking tea. I have some new tea for Om Ahmed to try. So the women move to the kitchen with me to make tea and talk.
Om Ahmed is excited to finally go to “America.” Besides a trip to Syria and their move to Jordan, this will be her first long-distance “trip.” She wants to go to Virginia because it is green and she likes green.
Her older sister sits next to her, eying her closely, and wondering if Om Ahmed understands the full consequences of leaving for the United States.
Om Ahmed’s sister has six children and is struggling to provide for them here in Jordan. Schools in Amman are expensive – college tuition costs around 3,000 Jordanian Dinars or 4,233 USD a year. Neither she nor her husband, a landscape architect, is able to work here, so all living expenses are drawn directly from their savings. She has two children attending university and one that just finished and is now looking for a job that does not exist here in Amman for Iraqis. Her daughter may even return to Iraq to study if she cannot find work here.
Om Ahmed’s sister is also applying for resettlement in the US, but unlike Om Ahmed, her application is not moving forward. Neither she nor her husband ever worked for the American government. And unlike other Iraqis, she says, they refuse to lie about being threatened. They refuse to wear torn clothing for their interviews and look poor and destitute.
Nevertheless, Om Ahmed’s sister wonders if it will be possible to raise six children in the United States. I smiled and told her about our family of seven children. When we first arrived in the US there was only six. Yes, it is possible to raise a family of six, but very difficult.
I also want to be honest with them about the American family and way of life in the United States. I notice many Iraqi families here are extremely close. Family members do not go one day without seeing one another. And children, even those in college, are with their parents all the time. This will not be the case in the US. There may be a chance that children will live far away from home to attend college, they way I did. There may be a chance that children will live far away from home to work where jobs are available.
Om Ahmed’s eyes open wide. She refuses to believe me, exclaiming that her eldest son, Ahmed, soon to enter college, would never leave her! He would go to school near her and he would work near her!
After Om Ahmed’s sister and her husband and children leave, David and I stay behind to talk to Abu Ahmed and his family. Abu Ahmed and Ahmed, sit across from us in the living room. Om Ahmed sits next to me, squeezing my hand in her lap.
We ask Ahmed, who is now 16, how he feels about leaving and going to the US. “I don’t know yet how I should feel,” he says. Everyone is nervous about leaving and starting a new life.
We ask Mostafa, the little one, if he wants to leave. He says no, burying his head in his father’s lap. We ask him if he wants to go back to Iraq. He shakes his head, no. We ask him if he wants to stay in Jordan. He says, yes. He is getting used to the school here and he has friends here now. The choice between staying and going is a simple one for Mostafa.
But the choice is not so simple for Abu Ahmed and his wife. Without residency they cannot live a normal life here in Jordan. Abu Ahmed can lose his job and then they will be forced to return to Iraq like so many other families no longer able to live off their savings. Even if they do not want to go the US, it is still a chance to finally settle somewhere.
David and I do our best to calm their fears and anxiety. Tomorrow we will introduce them to the world of “craigslist” and garage sales – the way things are bought and sold in America! And we will make a list of everything they need to know about settling in a city in the United States.
The family walks us out to the door and wishes us a good night. Abu Ahmed looks tired. I wonder if he will sleep tonight.
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