24 April 2008

A family portrait

Our friend, a music teacher here in Amman, introduced us to Abu Haneen and his family. He asked us if we wanted to meet a family of artists with three young daughters, ages 20, 16 and 10 years old. The father is a poet and painter, the mother is a painter and the daughters, Haneen, Kobra and Ayah are all painters and actresses.

We were immediately intrigued.

“Great!” said Ziad on the telephone, “Can you come now to the sewing factory? And bring your camera! Abu Haneen says you can film him and his wife sewing.”

The factory was on the top floor of a small building in Jabal Amman, with large panoramic windows overlooking downtown. Spools of colored thread stacked up in rows against the wall. Sewing machines lined up one after the other. Bolts of dusty cloth settled in the back of the room. The fan whirred in the background; the clock ticked against the wall.


It was six o’clock in the evening and only Abu Haneen and his wife, Om Haneen, remained in the factory. The other workers had already left.

Abu Haneen came to Jordan first during the sanctions, looking for work to provide for his family. Life during the sanctions was extremely difficult. Most work paid very little. A government salary earned barely enough in one month to buy a basket of eggs.

Abu Haneen’s wife and daughters soon joined him in Jordan after the fall of Baghdad in 2003. It was not safe for Atoor and her three daughters to be alone in Iraq without a man in the house. Haneen, the eldest daughter, was nearly kidnapped while walking to the bakery to buy bread. Life is different now in Iraq. Where once people used to help and support one another, there is now only chaos and instability.

When Om Haneen arrived in Jordan, Abu Haneen at first refused for her to work with him. The mother’s place is in the home, taking care of her children. But circumstances soon forced him to give in. They now work together in a Jordanian sewing factory. Without permanent residence and the ability to legally work in Jordan, Abu Haneen and Om Haneen earn very little – about 1 JD or 70 cents per hour. They work at least 10 hours a day. Abu Haneen works seven days a week; Om Hanee takes Fridays off to spend time with her daughters.

Abu Haneen and his wife never come home for lunch. Sometimes they don’t even make it home for supper, although their home is only 50 meters away. When their parents work very late, Haneen, Kobra and Ayah bring pillows and blankets to the sewing factory and spend the night with them while they work.

In contrast to the dark, neon-lit factory, the home is bright and covered with paintings, hung on the wall or stacked high above the ground, almost reaching the ceiling. White, empty canvases line the hallway.

The two elder daughters, Haneen and Kobra, spend their days tidying up the house and painting while Ayah, the youngest, goes to school. In Jordan, government schools are only offered for primary school children. Parents must pay for secondary school and university, which is very expensive, costing at least 3,000 JD a year. Haneen and Kobra study at home and work hard to have a few paintings ready to share with their parents when they return home from work.

The first day we spent with the three daughters, Haneen and Kobra recalled their memories of Iraq and life in Baghdad. They talked about their parents and the difficulties of living in Jordan. In the late afternoon, when the youngest arrived home, the daughters all sat near the open window of the bedroom and began to sing. The sun was just beginning to fade. It was a magical and golden hour.

We have been spending many days with the family. They are such a warm and beautiful family. David and I feel so at home with them. The family in many ways represents Iraq for us – the richness and beauty of Iraq now severed from its homeland.

Haneen, the eldest daughter, feels torn. Her body is here, but her spirit still lingers in Iraq. She wonders when her body and her spirit will join together again.

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