ANWAR
I met Anwar in Amman a year ago this month. Her positive energy, encouraging smile, and the story of her courageous and independent struggle as an Iraqi woman threatened for her work with the American government and American media agencies, made her the star of the documentary trailer and inspired the film title – Between Earth & Sky.
A month after I filmed Anwar in Jordan, I met her again, but in Michigan. She arrived in Detroit the night before on a plane from New York and was staying temporarily with cousins who were firmly settled in Dearborn – a city famous for its large Iraqi-American community – for over ten years. Anwar had a large jacket on; her hands always nestled warmly in her lap. Her overstuffed suitcases stood at the corner of the room, still unpacked. Yet she was anxious to get a driver’s license, find an apartment of her own, and any job to support herself. All efforts took months as she struggled to obtain all the necessary identifications and find a place to live. With a weakened economy, Anwar never found a job in Michigan.
Anwar heard from friends that things were better in Nashville, Tennessee. There was a growing Iraqi community and the sun shone just a bit brighter than in Michigan. Anwar packed a small suitcase to visit Nashville, but never made it back to Dearborn.
In Tennessee, Anwar found friends to support her and a job as an operator with a telemarketing company. Once an engineer and manager of a radio station in Basra, she was now making $8/hour dialing telephone numbers and living in an empty apartment with only a single bed. But Anwar was happy to just have a job and an apartment of her own.
A few months after her move, Anwar met a young Iraqi-American in Nashville who fell in love with her at first sight and quickly proposed to her and her family. Anwar decided to marry soon after knowing that he was a good man and that life would be easier for her with a strong partner, who understood exactly what she had been through, by her side.
Anwar is happy with her new life and with the new opportunities awaiting her. She has decided to study for a teaching license and to have her engineering degree accredited.
Although she is moving forward with her life, Anwar continues to look back at the loved ones she has left behind. Right now, savings aren't even a consideration as she and her husband struggle to make enough to send back to their families still stuck in Iraq.
ABU AHMED
Abu Ahmed, on the other hand, wonders when Iraq will become safe enough for him and his family to return. (To follow the complete story, see Safe Arrival, Uncertainty, Indi Watan, Double-Edged Sword, and A New Spring)
Almost a year ago today I was living with Abu Ahmed’s family. They had just arrived in Amman a few days before I arrived to film the trailer for the documentary. Yet, they still insisted I stay with them. It was tough watching them go through the transition of settling into a new home, the kids starting a new school, and the family shifting into a new life, all over again.
In April, Abu Ahmed and his family packed their bags yet again, but this time for the United States. They received only one week’s notice from the IOM (International Organization for Migration) to leave for the United States. They barely had enough time to get their things in order, notify the children’s schools, and return their keys to the landlord. The night they left, still uncertain, due to some failed IOM procedure, if they would be able to board the plane for the US, Abu Ahmed told us he was tired - tired of moving, tired of uncertainty, tired of starting from zero.
Now resettled in Virginia, starting from zero is all that they can do. Abu Ahmed and his family immediately found a place to live. Both their children, Ahmed and Mustafa enrolled into summer school as soon as they arrived. Tomorrow they will begin their first school year in the US. Om Ahmed is taking English classes. The family even purchased a car.
But amidst the country’s deep recession, Abu Ahmed, a former mechanical engineer and manager in Iraq, is unable to find a job to support his family. He has contacted everyone he knows, perused every website, flipped through every notice, but unsuccessfully. And each day spent in the US without work is costing the family money, money they have saved through many years of hard work.
The exhaustion of war, the exhaustion of fleeing, the exhaustion of always having to start over and over again has finally taken a toll. “If things do not change quickly,” says Abu Ahmed, “If I cannot find a way to support my family, we will have to go back…to Iraq.”
OHANNES
Ohannes and his family are ready to rebuild a new life.
Ohannes arrived in Glendale, CA at the beginning of June this year. He came with his wife, mother, and elder aunt. His brother, sister-in-law and niece followed soon after. All seven live in a small two-bedroom apartment in a small Armenian neighborhood, tucked away behind tall trees and well-trimmed hydrangea bushes.
Ohannes beamed when he saw us, greeting us with strong hugs and a youthful smile. Everyone looked younger and happier.
The house was furnished with a couch and dining set from IKEA. A calendar hung on the wall and a basket of fresh fruit rested on the kitchen counter. The family served us our usual Turkish coffee, reminding us of our past visits to their last apartment in Jordan.
But this visit was different.
The gloominess that pervaded their household in Amman had passed. The over two years of waiting and longing to be resettled had passed. Ohannes and his family now face a new future and a new opportunity to start all over again.
A former manager in Iraq, Ohannes was able to find a job as a superintendant for a construction company in Glendale. He found the job through family friends and was firmly aware of the difficulties of finding work in this flagging economy. But he is determined to work hard and do well within the small amount of time he’s been here.
This week Ohannes will start a new schedule. He will take English classes in the morning to improve his English and work from afternoon until 11 o’clock at night. Soon, he will begin taking management courses at the local community college to improve his management skills and his chances of being promoted. He told us the schedule works fine for him. He doesn’t need rest. He just needs to move forward with his life.
But despite Ohannes’ commitment and hard work, the family is still struggling. World Relief only provided them with resettlement assistance the first month they arrived even though other resettlement agencies have been able to provide assistance to other Iraqis for at least six months. Ohannes’ ailing mother and aunt have no health care and are not saavy enough to navigate the US health care system alone.
The transition has also been much more challenging for Ohannes’ mother and elderly aunt. In Iraq, surrounded by family and friends, not a day passed without a visit from a relative or a friend. Here in Glendale, they are confined to an apartment complex where they know no one.
Yet, they continue to smile and hope for the best for the future of their own children and their one and only granddaughter who just turned two years old last week. Tamar, her hair tied in a small ponytail, bounced back and forth with a telephone in her hand, silently chanting her ABC’s.
I met Anwar in Amman a year ago this month. Her positive energy, encouraging smile, and the story of her courageous and independent struggle as an Iraqi woman threatened for her work with the American government and American media agencies, made her the star of the documentary trailer and inspired the film title – Between Earth & Sky.
A month after I filmed Anwar in Jordan, I met her again, but in Michigan. She arrived in Detroit the night before on a plane from New York and was staying temporarily with cousins who were firmly settled in Dearborn – a city famous for its large Iraqi-American community – for over ten years. Anwar had a large jacket on; her hands always nestled warmly in her lap. Her overstuffed suitcases stood at the corner of the room, still unpacked. Yet she was anxious to get a driver’s license, find an apartment of her own, and any job to support herself. All efforts took months as she struggled to obtain all the necessary identifications and find a place to live. With a weakened economy, Anwar never found a job in Michigan.
Anwar heard from friends that things were better in Nashville, Tennessee. There was a growing Iraqi community and the sun shone just a bit brighter than in Michigan. Anwar packed a small suitcase to visit Nashville, but never made it back to Dearborn.
In Tennessee, Anwar found friends to support her and a job as an operator with a telemarketing company. Once an engineer and manager of a radio station in Basra, she was now making $8/hour dialing telephone numbers and living in an empty apartment with only a single bed. But Anwar was happy to just have a job and an apartment of her own.
A few months after her move, Anwar met a young Iraqi-American in Nashville who fell in love with her at first sight and quickly proposed to her and her family. Anwar decided to marry soon after knowing that he was a good man and that life would be easier for her with a strong partner, who understood exactly what she had been through, by her side.
Anwar is happy with her new life and with the new opportunities awaiting her. She has decided to study for a teaching license and to have her engineering degree accredited.
Although she is moving forward with her life, Anwar continues to look back at the loved ones she has left behind. Right now, savings aren't even a consideration as she and her husband struggle to make enough to send back to their families still stuck in Iraq.
ABU AHMED
Abu Ahmed, on the other hand, wonders when Iraq will become safe enough for him and his family to return. (To follow the complete story, see Safe Arrival, Uncertainty, Indi Watan, Double-Edged Sword, and A New Spring)
Almost a year ago today I was living with Abu Ahmed’s family. They had just arrived in Amman a few days before I arrived to film the trailer for the documentary. Yet, they still insisted I stay with them. It was tough watching them go through the transition of settling into a new home, the kids starting a new school, and the family shifting into a new life, all over again.
In April, Abu Ahmed and his family packed their bags yet again, but this time for the United States. They received only one week’s notice from the IOM (International Organization for Migration) to leave for the United States. They barely had enough time to get their things in order, notify the children’s schools, and return their keys to the landlord. The night they left, still uncertain, due to some failed IOM procedure, if they would be able to board the plane for the US, Abu Ahmed told us he was tired - tired of moving, tired of uncertainty, tired of starting from zero.
Now resettled in Virginia, starting from zero is all that they can do. Abu Ahmed and his family immediately found a place to live. Both their children, Ahmed and Mustafa enrolled into summer school as soon as they arrived. Tomorrow they will begin their first school year in the US. Om Ahmed is taking English classes. The family even purchased a car.
But amidst the country’s deep recession, Abu Ahmed, a former mechanical engineer and manager in Iraq, is unable to find a job to support his family. He has contacted everyone he knows, perused every website, flipped through every notice, but unsuccessfully. And each day spent in the US without work is costing the family money, money they have saved through many years of hard work.
The exhaustion of war, the exhaustion of fleeing, the exhaustion of always having to start over and over again has finally taken a toll. “If things do not change quickly,” says Abu Ahmed, “If I cannot find a way to support my family, we will have to go back…to Iraq.”
OHANNES
Ohannes and his family are ready to rebuild a new life.
Ohannes arrived in Glendale, CA at the beginning of June this year. He came with his wife, mother, and elder aunt. His brother, sister-in-law and niece followed soon after. All seven live in a small two-bedroom apartment in a small Armenian neighborhood, tucked away behind tall trees and well-trimmed hydrangea bushes.
Ohannes beamed when he saw us, greeting us with strong hugs and a youthful smile. Everyone looked younger and happier.
The house was furnished with a couch and dining set from IKEA. A calendar hung on the wall and a basket of fresh fruit rested on the kitchen counter. The family served us our usual Turkish coffee, reminding us of our past visits to their last apartment in Jordan.
But this visit was different.
The gloominess that pervaded their household in Amman had passed. The over two years of waiting and longing to be resettled had passed. Ohannes and his family now face a new future and a new opportunity to start all over again.
A former manager in Iraq, Ohannes was able to find a job as a superintendant for a construction company in Glendale. He found the job through family friends and was firmly aware of the difficulties of finding work in this flagging economy. But he is determined to work hard and do well within the small amount of time he’s been here.
This week Ohannes will start a new schedule. He will take English classes in the morning to improve his English and work from afternoon until 11 o’clock at night. Soon, he will begin taking management courses at the local community college to improve his management skills and his chances of being promoted. He told us the schedule works fine for him. He doesn’t need rest. He just needs to move forward with his life.
But despite Ohannes’ commitment and hard work, the family is still struggling. World Relief only provided them with resettlement assistance the first month they arrived even though other resettlement agencies have been able to provide assistance to other Iraqis for at least six months. Ohannes’ ailing mother and aunt have no health care and are not saavy enough to navigate the US health care system alone.
The transition has also been much more challenging for Ohannes’ mother and elderly aunt. In Iraq, surrounded by family and friends, not a day passed without a visit from a relative or a friend. Here in Glendale, they are confined to an apartment complex where they know no one.
Yet, they continue to smile and hope for the best for the future of their own children and their one and only granddaughter who just turned two years old last week. Tamar, her hair tied in a small ponytail, bounced back and forth with a telephone in her hand, silently chanting her ABC’s.
