The days are crisp but the nights are chilly here in Amman. I have to wear a scarf around my neck to keep warm.
The taxi drops us off at a corner and we stand and wait for Omar to come pick us up and take us to his home for dinner.
We are about 20 minutes late - we stopped by Abu Ahmed's house to give his wife, Basima, some chamomile tea for her upset stomach. A five-minute drive-by turned into a half-hour "please stay for some tea and biscuits!"
But Omar, as usual, is kind and forgiving and just simply excited to see us. Through a dark alley and up a small road, we arrive at his house. There is a grapevine hanging above the gate and a small porch in the front. Omar's mother and sister both greet us warmly. I hug and kiss them three times as they usher us into the sitting room.
Omar was a journalist for Reuters. He published several stories – one on an Iraqi fisherman pulling corpses from the Tigris, a river which flows through the heart of Baghdad, another on Iraqis rushing to change their names to hide their sectarian identity, and still others on the general mayhem in Baghdad.
Following a threat on his life, Omar was forced flee the country and leave his wife and two sons behind.
Unable to bring his family to Jordan, his wife and sons fled for Syria. Unable to join his family in Syria, Omar eventually asked them to return to Iraq. It was better for his wife to be with family in Baghdad then alone with two young children in Syria.
It has been almost a year since Omar has seen his wife and children. Within that year, he has only seen them a total of thirty days.
Since I last saw Omar almost seven months ago, he is still without work and living illegally in Jordan. Although Omar was threatened due to his work with a foreign newspaper agency, Reuters provided him with no assistance or compensation. The best they could do, they said, was to offer him his old job in Baghdad.
His mother and sister now join Omar in a small flat in Jabal Al-Hussein. His 61-year-old mother is in Amman for medical treatment. This is one of the few ways Iraqis are able to enter Jordan temporarily. Omar's mother and sister have one month to visit and care for him before they must return to Baghdad.
Omar's mother has prepared for us, what we consider a grand feast, but what they regard as merely a light dinner. A true welcome would take place on the family farm, the table piled with food, measuring at least 15 feet long! They look forward to the day when they can truly welcome us, although we all know that day will not soon come.
Omar’s mother watches us as we eat and enjoy the food she has prepared. It seems she is savoring the moment to take back with her to Baghdad, to remember later when Omar is no longer with her.
Omar wants to return to his family - to his wife and children, to his sister and two younger brothers, and especially to his mother who still sees him as a young child. Despite her longing to have her son close to her, she refuses to have him return to the danger that will await him in Baghdad. “You are lucky to be alive,” says his sister. “Not all Iraqis are so lucky.”
Omar is truly lucky considering many Iraqis with the Sunni name “Omar” have changed their names to hide their sectarian identity and risk being killed in predominantly Shiite neighborhoods.
But while many Iraqis have been forced to hide in the shadows, Omar continues to walk proudly, as an Iraqi, beneath the blazing sun.
The taxi drops us off at a corner and we stand and wait for Omar to come pick us up and take us to his home for dinner.
We are about 20 minutes late - we stopped by Abu Ahmed's house to give his wife, Basima, some chamomile tea for her upset stomach. A five-minute drive-by turned into a half-hour "please stay for some tea and biscuits!"
But Omar, as usual, is kind and forgiving and just simply excited to see us. Through a dark alley and up a small road, we arrive at his house. There is a grapevine hanging above the gate and a small porch in the front. Omar's mother and sister both greet us warmly. I hug and kiss them three times as they usher us into the sitting room.
Omar was a journalist for Reuters. He published several stories – one on an Iraqi fisherman pulling corpses from the Tigris, a river which flows through the heart of Baghdad, another on Iraqis rushing to change their names to hide their sectarian identity, and still others on the general mayhem in Baghdad.
Following a threat on his life, Omar was forced flee the country and leave his wife and two sons behind.
Once I flew the airplane I figured out the borders are just like very sharp knives. They were cutting me piece by piece. When I arrived at the Amman airport I looked at myself. Nothing left at all. Nothing left, just a ghost, just a symbol of a man. I was a big part of him still in Iraq.
Unable to bring his family to Jordan, his wife and sons fled for Syria. Unable to join his family in Syria, Omar eventually asked them to return to Iraq. It was better for his wife to be with family in Baghdad then alone with two young children in Syria.
It has been almost a year since Omar has seen his wife and children. Within that year, he has only seen them a total of thirty days.
Since I last saw Omar almost seven months ago, he is still without work and living illegally in Jordan. Although Omar was threatened due to his work with a foreign newspaper agency, Reuters provided him with no assistance or compensation. The best they could do, they said, was to offer him his old job in Baghdad.
His mother and sister now join Omar in a small flat in Jabal Al-Hussein. His 61-year-old mother is in Amman for medical treatment. This is one of the few ways Iraqis are able to enter Jordan temporarily. Omar's mother and sister have one month to visit and care for him before they must return to Baghdad.
Omar's mother has prepared for us, what we consider a grand feast, but what they regard as merely a light dinner. A true welcome would take place on the family farm, the table piled with food, measuring at least 15 feet long! They look forward to the day when they can truly welcome us, although we all know that day will not soon come.
Omar’s mother watches us as we eat and enjoy the food she has prepared. It seems she is savoring the moment to take back with her to Baghdad, to remember later when Omar is no longer with her.
Omar wants to return to his family - to his wife and children, to his sister and two younger brothers, and especially to his mother who still sees him as a young child. Despite her longing to have her son close to her, she refuses to have him return to the danger that will await him in Baghdad. “You are lucky to be alive,” says his sister. “Not all Iraqis are so lucky.”
Omar is truly lucky considering many Iraqis with the Sunni name “Omar” have changed their names to hide their sectarian identity and risk being killed in predominantly Shiite neighborhoods.
But while many Iraqis have been forced to hide in the shadows, Omar continues to walk proudly, as an Iraqi, beneath the blazing sun.
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