11.06.09
War Forces Iraqi Mom Into Prostitution
Baghdad, Iraq (CNN) — Wedad can’t bear to live this way much longer. Disgusted by the work, she can hardly stand it. Wedad is a prostitute in Iraq.
Sectarian violence claimed the life of her husband three years ago. Unable to rely on her family, Wedad tried getting a job to support her three young daughters, but found the men interviewing her didn’t want her for her work skills, only her body.
“It was extremely difficult to make the decision to do this, because nobody goes into this wanting to do it,” she said hesitantly. “My situation forced me into it because I couldn’t find a job and the government didn’t have a job for me.”
For Wedad, who is using a false name to conceal her identity, the difficult circumstances could not be overcome. So she took a step she never would have thought imaginable and became a prostitute.
Yanar Mohammed, an Iraqi womens’ rights activist, estimates there are thousands of women like Wedad working in the sex trade in Iraq. Most are too afraid or ashamed to come forward and ask for help.
“She is looked at as an outcast in the society, and nobody to be respected and nobody to support her,” Mohammed said.
Mohammed, whose Organization of Women’s Freedom in Iraq tries to help women like Wedad, said many Iraqi women enter this life because they have no support systems and no way to make a living.
Prostitution is illegal in Iraq. According to Mohammed, a typical prison sentence for women convicted is three to four months in jail, but their customers are rarely, if ever, arrested.
When the women get out of prison, they generally have nothing to look forward to, Mohammed said. “On the day she is released she finds her pimps, the people who exploit her, waiting for her at the door,” Mohammed said.
“In many of the cases, this is what happens. In other cases, she simply has nowhere else to go. She is either a widow or an orphan of this war, and she has no alternatives.”
Wedad, one of those war widows, lives in constant fear of being found out, more because of the shame she would face from her family than the punishment she would face from authorities.
“I won’t be doing this forever; it’s impossible,” Wedad said. “My girls are still young, but when they get older, I can’t…” she stopped in midsentence, overcome by emotion.
So far, Wedad has been able to keep her work a secret, but her daughters are getting older and more curious. They’ve started to ask her where she’s going. “I’ll say I’m going to the doctor or I’m going to the salon, that I have an errand to run,” Wedad explained.
“But sometimes, when they know I’m going out and they ask me to get them something specific like food, it’s really hard for me to tell them I’m going to get it for them because I don’t have the money. It’s just really hard.” Wedad’s voice trailed off and she began to cry.
After her husband’s death, Wedad did everything she could to avoid this outcome. Now she does everything she can to get through it.
According to Wedad, she is only able to perform by pretending she is giving herself over to her clients as a “dead body”.
It’s a coping mechanism that allows her to feel as little as possible, so she can shield herself from as much mental anguish and pain as possible.
Wedad clings to one hope: that her daughters will not have to end up doing what their mother does.
Will You Still Complain?
Assalaam Alaykum,
Alhamdulilah, we were able to conduct another round of family visits this weekend. We had 6 families scheduled in but we could only visit 5 of them. Our day began quite late as some stuff members had homework, reading and studying to take care off. Majority of our staff members are college students but that doesn’t stop them from being on the frontlines of service to Muslims. Alhamdulilah, Al Amaanah is a team of allstars who are willing to put to put the needs of others before their own. It is this spirit of sacrifice that makes them unique. May Allah protect them and their families and enter them all into Firdaws Al ‘Alaa without accounting, Ameen.
Our first stop was Brother A and his family. Brother A is the head of a household which includes his mother, his wife and 3 teenage boys. Subhan Allah, Umm Brother A’s generousity continues to amaze me. She doesn’t let us step outside the door unless we eat or drink something from what she has prepared. We usually do it out of fear, expecting the next step to be the a swing of her walking stick 
Humor aside, I left their house with a melted heart. We thought they were doing well, but little did we know… Subhan Allah, the family of 6 grown individuals moved from a 3 bedroom apartment into 2 bedroom because they couldn’t afford it anymore. Brother A has a physical disability which makes it difficult for him to find work. The 3 boys go to high school and work after to earn a little income and the women aren’t able to work as they speak only Arabic. While I was sitting in their living room I couldn’t hold back my tears. A man old enough to be my father asking me, a college student, to help him take care of his family. He was telling me how the emotional torture of not being able to support his mother, wife and children was killing from the inside. He handed me a few bills that he has been unable to pay, one of them being the electricity which would be cut off in another 6 days. It was difficult to hold myself together but I did everything I could and gave him words of encouragement. Alhamdulillah, his hope in Allah was strong. He kept telling me that we are the ‘sabab’ or reason and Allah is the only one who truly provides.
Next, we were off to meet 2 young Afghani boys, lets call them B and E. We use to meet them a lot during the summer but since the semester started our meetings have been very limited. We spent some valuable time together catching up on eachothers happenings and joking. It was time for Maghrib, so we offered our prayers and headed to our next destination.
Our third stop was a breath of fresh air, Alhamdulilah. Abu J, his wife and 3 young boys aged 6, 10, 13. Our Field Operations team recently helped them move out of their old apartment complex (super ghetto) into a much safer neighbourhood next to a masjid! Abu J was working and doing well which was great to see. His kids were a little surprised to see us, but excited none the less. They showed of their PSP’s which they bought with money they earned by helping out in the Masjid during Ramadan. Subhan Allah, Abu J was telling us that his kids are in the Masjid if its time for salah or not! Masha Allah they love the Masjid. Umm J informed us that her 10 year old prays Fajr in the Masjid everyday before he goes to school! May Allah protect and reward them. After enjoying some juice with the family and watching the youngest kid break a glass, we said our goodbyes.
Umm Y, a widow with a 5 year old son was our next stopover. Alhamdulilah they both were happy to see us. Subhan Allah our joyful mood quickly turned into grief as Umm Y apologized that she didn’t have anything to offer us . Her foodstamps had been cutoff, and she didn’t have food in her house. We immediately contacted a volunteer to get her some groceries, Alhamdulilah.
Our final stop of the was Umm M, a widow with 3 kids. We hadn’t seen her family for a long time so we sat and caught up with them. She was so excited to see us, as always. We shared our stories about family, school and Al Amaanah over some sweet Arabic styled chai (tea). Her youngest son, aged 5 is always entertaining to be around. He was dressed in his spider man PJ’s trying to share his expereince at the Zoo. Masha Allah he speaks better english than his mother and his other 2 siblings, which they are always joking about! Umm M and and her other 2 children all have very high aspirations. The mother is attending ESL classes at a local community college, the daughter is completing her core requirements for her petroleum engineering degree and the son is finishing up high school, preparing for college. Masha Allah have been a source of inspirtation for us and other families. It was getting late so we bade them farewell and began our journey home.
Subhan Allah the day had been an emotional roller coaster. As always, on our way home we discussed what lesson can we learn from our visits.
Our hearts didn’t feel the same. When you see the pain and suffering of a family with your own eyes, it is not the same as hearing about it. We, at times, become oblivious to our surroudings. There are widows who don’t have food to eat while we are feasting on our lavish dinner tables. What makes it worse that they live no more than 10-15 minutes away from our homes…We need to SACRIFICE more from our busy schedules to meet our clients so we can feel what they feel and be thankful to Allah for what we have.
10.17.09
Iraqis terrorised by child kidnaps
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By Gabriel Gatehouse
BBC News, Baghdad |
Reports suggest the kidnapping of children is increasing in Iraq’
As sectarian violence declines in Iraq and the security situation improves, Iraqis face a new threat to a peaceful life: violent crime.
Baghdad has been hit by a spate of kidnappings, mostly targeting children.
Police say that, while some gangs are motivated simply by money, they believe insurgent groups are increasingly using criminal activities to finance themselves, as the security forces cut off other lines of funding.
On 30 September, 11-year-old Muntadar was snatched off the streets of Baghdad. The family never saw him alive again.
“Look at the place where they kept him,” his father Yussef says, pointing to a poor quality photograph sent to him by the kidnappers. “A child his age, kept in a place like this. Look how scared he looks.”
The kidnappers contacted Yussef, by phone, and he agreed to pay a ransom of $25,000.
“They called me to tell me that they got the money and that they would free my son in about an hour. But I believe they killed him the same day they kidnapped him. I paid the ransom but I didn’t get my son back.”
The kidnappers have since been caught. They were from the same area of Baghdad as the Moussauwi family. In fact they lived just across the street.
Over a week after Muntadar was taken, neighbours alerted the police to a strong smell coming from a nearby building. It was here that they found Muntadar’s decomposing body, disfigured by acid.
“They had tried to hide the body by covering it in rubble,” Yussef said.
But they couldn’t hide the stench, which still hangs thickly in the air.
School patrols
Many cases go unreported, because relatives are worried about antagonising the kidnappers.
The authorities say they cannot provide figures for exactly how many kidnappings have taken place since the beginning of the year, but some estimates suggest the number could be as high as one per day.
Brig Gen Faisal Mohsin, a senior police commander in Baghdad, told the BBC he believed at least some of the ransom money was funding insurgent activity.
“Iraqi forces have become more professional now, and they are on high alert,” he said, “pursuing all kinds of crime, and cutting off the sources that fund terrorism. So some of the terrorists have started financing their activities by kidnapping children.”
The situation has become so acute in Baghdad that the ministry of education has instructed schools to take special precautions.
They have increased security patrols and checkpoints in and around schools, instructing teachers not to allow children to go home with anyone except their parents, or on special school buses.
Lucky Rawan
Taiseer has three children and lives in a modest house next to a mosque in southern Baghdad.
His middle daughter, Rawan, is lucky to be safe at home, playing in their walled front garden with a new teddy bear. Her father gave it to her as a present, after she was released last month.
Four-year-old Rawan says she can’t remember much about her ordeal. Her father believes she was drugged.
But when the kidnappers realised the family simply did not have the money to pay, they let her go. The gang that took her has not been caught.
Taiseer says he looks forward to the day when his daughter can go to school or out to play unaccompanied.
But for now, while explosions and killings may have declined in Baghdad, parents are increasingly fearful for their children’s safety.
10.12.09
Sudanese refugees ‘raped in Chad’
Many women are too scared to report the abuse Sudanese women who escaped the Darfur conflict to eastern Chad are facing high levels of sexual violence, an Amnesty International report says.
Despite the presence of a UN force, women and girls are being attacked when they leave 12 designated camps in search of water, the report says.
It also documents cases of refugees being attacked inside the camps by Chadian aid workers.
Chad’s government has denied that any Chadian has attacked a Sudan refugee.
Since 2003 about 250,000 Darfuris have fled the conflict in Sudan, where mass rape of civilians had allegedly been used as as strategy to displace entire villages.
“The rape that countless women and girls experienced in Darfur continues to haunt them in eastern Chad,” Tawanda Hondora, Amnesty’s Africa programme deputy director, said in a statement.
The rights group says in many cases women are too scared to report the abuse, or attackers escape without being brought to justice.
‘Resentment’
The BBC’s Celeste Hicks in Chad says life is tough for the refugees, who scratch out a living from the bleak sands of the Sahel.
In temperatures well in excess of 40C (104F), most women are forced to leave the camps to look for extra water and wood for cooking.
Amnesty claims this is when they are most at risk of attack as many local Chadians resent the fact that Sudanese get fuel, food, water and medicines.
One Sudanese refugee, Mariam, told the BBC that people from Djabal refugee camp near Goz Beida had come into conflict with Chadian villagers.
She recounted one incident where nine women went into a village to collect wood.
“They were stopped by some men from the village,” she said.
“[The men] took their materials and attacked [them] with sticks and stones. Now the children are too scared to go out alone.”
No-one seems to have much time to protect us Sudanese refugee Mr Hondora said women also face danger inside camps.
“They face the risk of rape and other violence at the hands of family members, other refugees and staff of humanitarian organisations, whose task it is to provide them with assistance and support,” he said.
Many of the women said they were worried about being abandoned by their families or shunned by the community if the attacks came to light.
‘Weak policing’
“There is no security, the UN peacekeeping force in Chad is not providing that security and neither is the Chadian armed forces,” Mr Hondora told the BBC’s World Today programme.
Our correspondent says the UN peacekeeping mission, Minurcat which provides security patrols in the east is suffering from lack of funds.
Currently it has only about half of its mandated soldiers.
A special UN-trained Chadian police unit, the DIS, is supposed to investigate rape cases, but many women complained that they were not taken seriously.
“The DIS spends a lot of time protecting themselves. Even the UN soldiers have to protect them. No-one seems to have much time to protect us,” a woman at Gaga Refugee Camp told Amnesty.
Minurcat’s Michel Bonnardeaux says part of the problem is that weak policing and judicial capacity means cases are not prosecuted.
Few of the 278 people arrested by the DIS in 2009 have been brought to trial, our reporter says.
10.03.09
Sex for Survival
The US invasion and the sectarian war have created thousands of widows in Iraq [AFP]
The US invasion and the sectarian war havecreated thousands of widows in Iraq [AFP]When Rana Jalil, 38, lost her husband in an explosion in Baghdad last year, she could never have imagined becoming a prostitute in order to feed her children.
A mother of four, Jalil sought out employment, but job opportunities for women had decreased since the US invasion.
She begged shop owners, office workers and companies to hire her but was treated with what she calls chauvinistic discrimination.
Within weeks of her husband’s death, a doctor diagnosed her children with malnutrition.
Fighting tears, she recalled the desperation which led her to the oldest profession: “In the beginning these were the worst days in my life. My husband was the first man I met and slept with, but I didn’t have another option … my children were starving.”
She left the house in a daze, she recalled, and walked to the nearest market to find someone who would pay her for sex.
She said: “I’m a nice-looking woman and it wasn’t difficult to find a client. When we got to the bed I tried to run away … I just couldn’t do it, but he hit and raped me. When he paid me afterwards, it was finished for me.
“When I came home with some food I had bought from that money and saw my children screaming of happiness, I discovered that honour is insignificant compared to the hunger of my children.”
Iraqi widows desperate
Prior to the US invasion, Iraqi widows, particularly those who lost husbands during the Iran-Iraq war, were provided with compensation and free education for their children. In some cases, they were provided with free homes.
However, no such safety nets currently exist and widows have few resources at their disposal.
According to the non-governmental organisation Women’s Freedom in Iraq (OWFI), 15 per cent of Iraqi women widowed by the war have been desperately searching for temporary marriages or prostitution, either for financial support or protection in the midst of sectarian war.
Nuha Salim, the spokesperson for OWFI, told Al Jazeera: “Widows are one of our priorities but their situation is worsening and we are feeling ineffective to cope with this significant problem. Hundreds of women are searching for an easy way to support their loved ones as employers refuse to hire them for fear of extremists’ reprisals.”
She said the NGO has documented the disappearance of some 4000 women, 20 per cent of whom are under 18, since the March 2003 invasion.
OWFI believes most of the missing women were kidnapped and sold into prostitution outside Iraq.
Although few reliable statistics are available on the total number of widows in Iraq, the ministry of women’s affairs says that there are at least 350,000 in Baghdad alone, with more than eight million throughout the country.
Bitter trade
As Iraqi families continue to fall on hard times, some have been forced to make the most painful of decisions – selling their daughters.
Abu Ahmed, a handicapped father of five who is himself a widower, sold his daughter Lina to an Iraqi man who came to Iraq to “shop” for sex workers. Abu Ahmed said he could not afford to buy food for his other children.
He told Al Jazeera: “I’m sure that whatever she is, at least she is having food to eat. I have three other girls and a son and what they paid me for Lina is enough to raise the remaining ones.”
Abu Ahmed had been initially approached by Shada, the alias of a woman living in Baghdad, who sought young women for Iraqi gangs running prostitution rackets in neighbouring Arab countries.
She told Al Jazeera that her role was to convince young women from impoverished families that a better life awaited them beyond the country’s borders.
She said: “Families don’t want them and we are helping the girls to survive. We offer them food and housing and about $10 a day if they have had at least two clients.”
“Our priority is virgin girls; they can be sold at very expensive prices to Arab millionaires.”
Shada said she sleeps in a different house every few nights as armed groups have marked her for trial and assassination.
Escape from Jordan
OWFI’s Salim says cases like Lina’s have become very common as poverty is increasing in Iraq and desperate families sometimes sell their daughters for less than $500 to traffickers.
But increasingly, young Iraqi women arrive in neighbouring capitals to find that prostitution carries a heavy and dangerous price.
Suha Muhammad, 17, was sold to an Iraqi gang by her mother, herself a prostitute, after her father was killed.
When she arrived in Jordan, she was gang-raped by four men who told her they were teaching her the tricks of the trade.
She told Al Jazeera she had been sold to a gang that caters to VIPs in Syria and was often shuttled to Amman, the Jordanian capital, for high-profile clients.
After six months, she escaped: “I ran away and an Iraqi family helped me by driving me to the immigration department where they helped me get a passport to return to Iraq.
“My aunt is now taking care of me in Baghdad. She never imagined that my mother could sell me, but unfortunately women in Iraq are not important and respected.”
Traffic
Mayada Zuhair, a spokesperson for the Baghdad-based Women’s Rights Association (WRA), said Iraqi and Arab NGOs are trying to monitor the trafficking of young women from the war-ravaged country to neighbouring destinations.
She told Al Jazeera: “We are trying to find out the fate of many widows and teenager girls who were trafficked. Unfortunately it is not an easy process and without international support, funding, and resources, we fear more young Iraqi women will be taken abroad to work in the sex trade.”
In the meantime, however, prostitution remains the only option for Nirmeen Lattif, a 27-year-old widow who lost her husband in an attack on Shia pilgrims south of Baghdad.
When she turned to her husband’s relatives for financial support, they could not afford to help her.
She says she tries not to think of the gravity of what she does or the dishonour it carries in conservative Muslim society.
“I think of my children, only my children; without money we starve in the streets.”
10.02.09
Iraqi widows yearn for new lives
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By Hugh Sykes
BBC News, Baghdad |
Nearly three decades of war, brutal totalitarianism, invasion, occupation and insurgency in Iraq have left behind at least a million widows – and several million children without fathers.
That was the conservative estimate earlier in 2009 by Iraq’s acting minister for women’s affairs, Narmeen Othman. She believes there may even be two million widows.
Under Saddam Hussein, despite the brutality of his regime towards so many of Iraq’s people, war widows were looked after by the state. Now, they are mostly hidden and vulnerable.
It’s been called Iraq’s cultural time bomb.
Close to the surface of the new normality here, there are painful memories, and a yearning for lost loved ones.
And – there’s anxiety about looking after the children when the breadwinner has gone.
Success story
At the al-Ethar charity in west Baghdad, donations from well-wishers help support families without fathers. They also help to find husbands for women who want to remarry.
The director, Hana Badrani, told me she has more than 2,000 widows on her books, with a total of 7,000 children whose fathers have been killed. Most of the widows do not have any qualifications to help them get work. They’re trapped.
She introduced me to one of their success stories – Iman and Hussein. Iman’s husband was shot dead two years ago. She has now re-married – and she and Hussein have a little boy called Yussef, who kept on catching my eye and grinning.
Hussein told me: “Marrying a widow is good for the man and for the children.”
man says her friends encouraged her to get married again.
Hussein’s mother Latife encouraged her too: “All these widows,” she said. “All these children. Who else is going to take care of them?”
I also met Umm Fatima – a young widow who started to sob when I asked her how her four children were coping. Their father Ahmad was shot dead nearly three years ago by men wearing military uniforms. He’d simply been refuelling his taxi cab when they killed him.
Umm Fatima has lost a husband and the family income.
She believes it’s very important for her and for the children that she re-marries. “A father for them would make us all more secure,” she told me – financially, and emotionally.
“They miss their dad,” she went on. “And when they meet men sometimes, they want them to give them a hug.”
Social traditions
But an Iraqi campaigner for women’s independence, Hanaa Edwar, questions the assumption that a widow would be better off re-marrying.
“For her dignity as a human being,” she said. “Women should feel they are capable of doing what men can do. They can protect their children without a man in the family.
“In this society where there are tough tribal traditions,” she added. “We have to try to build a new look for women in Iraq.”
Hanaa Edwar is Christian. I wondered what she would say to Muslims who might argue that their social and religious traditions are none of her business.
“I don’t care about that really,” she responded. “I consider myself a human being. I don’t bother myself with religions, I am an Iraqi citizen. And, of course, I am an international human being.”
But there are still numerous women here – and their children – who yearn for a new husband. And a new father.
One day, I sat with a widow, Umm Ahmed, and her three-year-old daughter Sara. Umm Ahmed told me, in a very matter-of-fact way, that her husband had been shot dead, simply walking down the street.
When her mother had finished speaking, Sara looked up at me and said: “Please stay with us.”
09.20.09
Zakat ul Fitr Distribution – The Result
Assalaam Alaykum,
Alhamdulillah, our Zakat ul Fitr distribution was a success. TakabalAllahu minna wa minkum
~ $10,000 worth of food passed out
~ Over 6500lbs of food
~ Distributed to 187 families by over 50 volunteers…in a span of 5-6 hours
Volunteers also brought toys and Eid gifts for the kids, alhamdulillah.
09.18.09
A Coincidental Encounter
“I had just arrived to Midway Airport after a very bumpy ride. My trip was the usual drum of traveling, one that I had gotten quite use. With all the security checks, handling luggage, and dodging other frantic travelers, I just wanted to finally get to my final destination. I was welcomed by familiar faces and we made our way home after the car was loaded. We took an unexpected road and to my surprise we were going out for dinner instead of heading straight home. :/ We arrived at some Arab restaurant, I can’t remember the name, and took our seats next to a wall-waterfall. Our waitress promptly came to give us our menus. I hadn’t lifted my head to see who our waitress was but she caught me attention when she asked, “I know you from somewhere…?” I looked up and gave her a puzzled look, as I faintly remembered her face, I couldn’t recall. She then said, “Al Amaanah?” and a light went off in my head. “I came to visit you!” I exclaimed. I had visited her months back when she had recently moved to Houston but hadn’t seen her after that visit. She lived with her mom in an apartment near some of our clients. I was surprised that she remembered who I was after so long. I wouldn’t of recognized her had she not said anything.
We got talking and she was telling me that it was getting hard for her to find a job in Houston. She was receiving some assistance but it wasn’t enough to sustain her and her mother. Allhumdulillah she got a phone call from her old neighbor from Jordan, who was now residing in the greater Chicago area. He owned a restaurant and offered her a job to work there. And that is how she became my waitress for the night.
She was doing well in Chicago, working and getting accustomed to the American life. She inquired about the people who work in Al Amaanah, asking how they were all doing and told me to send her salam to them.
She wanted to see me again before I left for Houston but unfortunately, I was going to be residing too far to meet her in my short trip. I gave her my salam and wished her well before we parted.
Subhanallah, I was amazed that night how the Qadr of Allah brought me to that restaurant that night. Of all the places I’d run into someone from Houston, Chicago would be the last place. I was glad to see that she was doing well and was happy. I spent the car ride home pondering over how He is the best of Planners, and how us humans don’t know what the qadr of Allah has laid out for us.”
09.17.09
The Burmese Come to Houston
Published on September 01, 2009 at 1:25pm
Chris Curry
Burmese refugees in Houston
Inside the urban jungle of southwest Houston there is an apartment complex like any other. Laundry dries from identical balconies stacked three at a time. The units are modest and slightly damp, and some have cockroaches. There is a pool.
Beyond the thick iron gate that surrounds the complex, strange things are afoot. Men wear dresses. Women, with tan swirls of makeup on their cheeks, squat along the sidewalk, or near a drain in the grass, sifting ants from a mound of white rice. Bright parasols dot the parking lot on hot afternoons. One resident calls Sun Blossom Mountain, on Ranchester Drive, his first glimpse of home since fleeing from Burma 16 years ago.
The refugees have even built a court for chinlone, their favorite sport. In a shady corner between two trees they strung a net, as if for badminton, but players use their feet to volley a small ball of woven palms carried over from a camp in Thailand. A chiseled man wearing only underwear jumps at the net and, with his heel, spikes the ball across and into the dirt.
More than 100 Burmese families now live at Sun Blossom Mountain and its sister complex across the street. A new family seems to appear every week.
They are entering what refugee workers describe as a “perfect storm” in the U.S. resettlement program. It is outdated and drastically underfunded, and the economy that for so long propped it up has sunk into a recession. At the same time, refugees are arriving in ever greater numbers — especially in Houston.
Following its success with the thousands of Vietnamese who fled here after the fall of Saigon, the city has been a magnet for the masses of refugees the United States resettles every year, which is approaching 75,000 this year. It has an abundance of jobs and affordable housing, along with a reputation as a welcoming international city. Since the turn of the century, nearly 1,600 have arrived annually at George Bush Intercontinental Airport, bleary and unsure if someone from one of the local resettlement agencies will pick them up as promised. There are Iraqis and Afghans, Somalis and Cubans, Burundians from Rwanda and Bhutanese scattered across the city for another chance at life.
The bulk of new faces are Burmese, part of America’s new focus on what it considers especially vulnerable groups. In late 2006, it began taking in large numbers of the between one and two million people who have escaped from the frightening military dictatorship in Burma (also known as Myanmar) and into Thai refugee camps or Malaysian cities. Roughly 2,200 have come to Houston over the last three years.
Phe Bu Reh arrived with his wife and three sons on June 2. It was their first time inside a city. Phe Bu, like most incoming Burmese, is not from the educated class forced out as political dissidents in the past. He grew up in the hills of Kaya, one of several ethnic states against which the Burmese military wages perpetual war. He was caught sending food to starving rebels and escaped into the jungle, where he joined a party furtively making its way to the border. Three women gave birth during the slow and nervous trip. For the next eight years, Phe Bu lived in a patchwork bamboo hut inside a Thai refugee camp. He met his wife there.
Phe Bu can have little contact with his old home. His father, overwhelmed by constant interrogation, has become a monk. To resettle in America, a refugee must show that he cannot return to his home country or stay in his current one. Even his camp, which Phe Bu was not allowed to leave, came under attack by Burmese troops. Now he is safe. But he must quickly adjust to life in America and get on his feet.
Refugees once received 36 months of financial support as they learned the language and culture and searched for work. That fell to 22, 18, 12 and finally eight. The funds that cover the first month — including rent and utilities, food, furniture and case management — are at $900, half of what experts recommend. Rent assistance in Houston lasts four to six months, depending on what agencies can afford.
Refugees receive food stamps and eight months of Medicaid and modest cash assistance from the government. They must take health tests and vaccines and learn to speak English, ride the bus, shop and throw out the trash. Their children enroll at school. They must get social security numbers, identification and work permits — and then, most importantly, find jobs and become self-sufficient before it’s time to pay the rent. To navigate this complex process, they depend on one of four major resettlement agencies in Houston to which refugees are assigned (the Alliance for Multicultural Community Services, Catholic Charities, Interfaith Ministries and YMCA International).
For years, agencies across the country have used private funds, unpaid overtime and volunteers to patch together a system that before the recession was typically able to find jobs for more than 80 percent of refugees after six months. Those numbers are plummeting — to as low as 20 percent at one national agency, the International Rescue Committee, which Bob Carey, its vice president of resettlement and migration policy, expects is more or less the situation at most. In some states, refugees are becoming homeless.
09.16.09
Zakat ul Fitr Distribution
09.13.09
The Forgotten Ones
09.08.09
Adjusting to New Lives
Refugee students adjust to new lives
By JENNIFER RADCLIFFE Copyright 2009 Houston Chronnicle
Sept. 7, 2009, 9:31PM
Fifteen-year-old Ahmed Al-Bayati is a little reluctant to tell his Memorial High School classmates he’s from Iraq.
He worries the Spring Branch teens might think he’s a terrorist.
It’s a minor consideration for the refugee, who survived bombings in his homeland, traveled roads lined with dead bodies and shouldered immense family pressure on his long journey last year to the United States.
“I pray to God to please make me big and older fast so I can take care of my parents, so I can make their lives easier,” said the high school sophomore, keenly aware that his mother and father uprooted their lives to keep him safe and provide him opportunity.
More than 700 refugee students resettled in the Houston area for the start of the new school year, a sharp increase from the roughly 500 last year. “At the very least, we’re doing about 30 percent more,” sad Joseph Henderson, refugee program coordinator for the Houston Independent School District.
And the countries these students fled are different, part of the nature of refugee resettlement. Houston schools, for instance, didn’t start enrolling large numbers of Iraqi students until the 2007-08 academic year.
Now, more than two-thirds of Harris County’s 1,978 refugees come from Iraq, Myanmar and Bhutan. Just seven years ago, the top countries of origin were Bosnia, Cuba, Vietnam and Sudan.
“It changes from year to year,” said Aaron Tate, who runs the refugee services operation for the nonprofit Interfaith Ministries.
The frequent population shifts make it imperative for educators to study up on ethnic and cultural backgrounds of new groups resettling in Houston.
Graciously welcomed
Once classmates hear the stories of what refugee students have endured, they usually welcome them graciously, educators said.
Ashika Pradhan, whose family fled persecution in Bhutan, said she’s making friends easily at O’Donnell Middle School, near the Alief apartment where her family resettled in late April.
Pradhan attended a large school made of bamboo and plastic in Nepal, where she spent her life in a refugee camp with no electricity
Lessons are easier and the teachers are nicer in Alief, the 13-year-old said.
“In Nepal, they use to hit us if we didn’t chose the right answer,” she said.
With the help of a federal grant, HISD’s refugee program provides orientation and school supplies to all Houston-area refugee students.
Varied backgrounds
While educators can’t assume that refugee students have much formal education, students’ backgrounds vary dramatically, said Jennifer Alexander, head of HISD’s multilingual department.
The current wave of children from Iraq, for instance, tend to be from educated, middle-class families. Many youngsters from Myanmar, however, have spent their lives in refugee camps.
“Refugee children run a huge gamut,” Alexander said. “People might want to pigeon hole them, but you really can’t do that.”
For the most part, Alexander said that refugee children perform as well as other students, often outperforming immigrants without refugee status.
“They all come wanting to learn. They want to do better,” Henderson said. “Education is the ultimate goal.”
Al-Bayati is already planning to study petroleum engineering at Texas Tech University. He hopes to eventually return to Iraq to open a company that operates fueling stations.
He’s struggling to fit in with American teenagers.
“I’m trying not to forget my culture, but I’m trying to be similar,” he said. “All my insides is from my culture, my country.”
08.24.09
An Unforgettable Visit
I almost didn’t go. Alhamdulillah, my other previous engagements were cancelled and I was able to make my way to visit a family for the first time. I was tremendously nervous. I asked the other sister who we were going to meet and she told me it was Umm J. It would be her first time meeting her too. When we arrived at the complex, we made our way to the building where they were located. Umm J greeted us outside and directed us to their apartment. As soon as we approached the stairwell to their place, I saw this beautiful soft smile of a child peering out from the stairwell before quickly disappearing inside.
My heart stopped for a moment.
I knew that face.
I had seen him before: I saw him once when we came there distributing food. I saw him in the pictures from the Al Amaanah outings. I saw him running around at the graduation ceremony back in April. He has sparkly brown eyes and eyelashes that were so long and curly they seemed to touch the back of his eyelids every time he blinked.Ma sha Allah. It was the qadr of Allah that out of all families I meet for the first time, it was his.
As we made our way inside and set down in the living area, her other 2 sons, “J”, who is 12, and “B” who is 11, came out. They were relatively shy and quiet. J came and brought my 2 year old son a toy to play with while Umm J had generously brought us all juice.
We could hear boisterous noise in the back room of the one child we had yet to see. Umm J told us that “Y”, her 4 year old son, was shy. We talked momentarily with Umm J asking her how she is doing, where she came from and what she did for a living. We talked to her sons about school and what sports they like. As we talked, I couldn’t help but drink the delicious juice she brought us. My son, determined to drink juice out of a coffee mug, spilled a little. Umm J said not to worry about it – but I was adamant that I couldn’t leave it there on the floor. She told me that her youngest son, “Y”, spills juice, water, coke, whatever, all the time.
We continued chatting with Umm J about different things. In a flash of light, one of the sisters sitting on the couch noticed the elusive 4 year old dash in the kitchen, fling open the freezer, climb up, grab something out of it, and then take back off in the back room. Just a short while later, he dashed into the room, leaped into his mother’s lap and gave this innocent smile. My son was taken by his presence; I think he was just excited to see another little person in the house that he could play with. As quick as he came in the room, he dashed back out, but returned quickly bringing a toy for my son to play with. As Y sat on the floor showing my son what to do with his toys, my son sat amazed watching him. As he handed the toy to my son to give him a chance to try it out, Y disappeared again. He returned a moment later, this time bringing a toy nerf gun. He sat showing my son and I how to use, merely only using the word “look!” over and over again to express his desire for us to watch. Umm J told us he didn’t speak much English. Compared to J and B, the older brothers, I suppose their exposure at school helps them learn the language easier. I tried a little of my broken Arabic with him and he just smiled: either my Arabic was horrible or he was just too shy to respond. Whatever the circumstance, the non-verbal communication that pursued was good enough for me.
It was getting late, so after an hour or so we made our way to the door. We graciously thanked them for the hospitality and left. Out in the parking lot, the other sister mentioned that they were headed to another family’s home to help them do some grocery shopping. If it wasn’t past my son’s nap time, I would have gone – but I knew that any moment now he was going to start throwing his sleepy tantrums. As we left my tired son kept crying and saying “baby, baby!” (He refers to all children as “babies”.) Y must have made an impression on him because he just wanted to go back and play with him. As I continued my drive home it was but a few moments of the crying and calling for “baby” till he passed out asleep. Alhamdulillah, what an unforgettable visit.
08.01.09
YouTube Channel
Assalaam Alaykum,
Just fyi, Al Amaanah now has a YouTube channel. Finally, all of our videos in one place!
07.21.09
Spread Their Stories
This is HalfDate’s current drive:
This drive is phase one of a million dollars campaign.
The challenge is how to turn your pleasant words into a million dollar forhttp://www.edhifoundation.com/through ReliefWorks Canada.
Goal:We want to collect 100 comments from committed volunteers (who pledge to help publicizing phase 2 of this campaign)
Deadline:Aug 1st, 2009
Here is how:
- Look at these children for 30 seconds and imagine them as your children
- Close your eyes for 30 seconds and imagine that on the Day of Judgement, Allah will forgive all of your sins just because you helped these children
- Now, type what you did for them to earn Allah’s pleasure (e.g. I told all my friends and we raised $1000 for them).Click here to type.
If you want to join the volunteer group of this project send an empty email to sadaqahgate at gmail dot com (this is an autoresponse email, so don’t send anything personal)
Read more:http://halfdate.com/2009/07/19/spreading-their-stories-drive/#ixzz0LvTumOPy
07.20.09
What no eye has ever seen…
Saturday began nice and early with an 8:00am Finance department meeting at staff members residence. After a delicious home cooked breakfast and a few hours of number crunching and strategizing, I was off to a Managers Meeting at the Al Amaanah Office. We collectively reviewed the progress being made in all the departments and discussed ideas for the coming months. A few of us headed over to the Al Amaanah storage facilities across the street from the office to sort some clothes after the meeting. A Somali sister (widow) with 8 kids, of which the eldest is 14 years old, needed some winter clothes. She is moving to Washington to join her family members as she is finding it very difficult to raise the kids on her own here in Houston. SubhanaAllah, the sister saw her husband being killed in front of her children in a refugee camp in Africa. May Allah protect and provide abundantly for the family, Ameen. Some of the sisters were kind enough to deliver the clothes to the family, May Allah reward them for that.
On my way back home to enjoy a day off (Yea right!), I got a call from the Field Operations team. A volunteer had gotten injured during furniture pick ups and was unable to continue. Alhamdulilah, it wasn’t anything serious, the brother just couldn’t lift furniture and needed some rest. Since there was a man down, Allah chose me to fill in. I went and met up with the team and mashaAllah what a unique team it was! An Al Amaanah staff member and 4 children, all of which are amongst our clients. Since public school is still closed and the Al Amaanah Islamic Summer school just ended, the kids sit at home all day. The parents asked us to take them out and make them do some manual labour and Alhamdulilah that they did. There were 4 pick ups remaining so off we were (2 staff members and 4 children in a Uhual). The next few hours were grueling to say the least. Lifting heavy fruniture up and down multiple flights of stairs in a good old Houston summer. Alhamdulilah, at every stop the donors generously provided us with drinks and refreshments.
After completing all the pick ups we headed to Al Amaanah storage to unload the packed Uhual. Alhamdulilah with the help of some Iraqi brothers we unloaded the furniture and took a break to pray. By this time, everyone was literally on their last ounces of energy and struggling to keep up. The day wasnt over yet! We had one more location to drop off furniture to, it was a new family from Iraq. We mustered up some energy (candy!) and made our way to the family. The kids volunteering with us found some of their old friends at the same apartment complex that we were delivering to. Alhamdulilah, that give them a much needed energy boost. Once we took the furniture to the family, on the 2nd floor , we took another break to pray. It was a great experience to see all the little kids joining us to pray, mashaAllah it was a big jama’ah!
After close to 8 hours of lifting and transporting we decided to call it a day. That’s what we decided, but the kids had other ideas. They refused to go home unless we took them out to eat. Once we got approvals from their parents we headed to House of Kabob, the unofficial Al Amaanah post Field Operations day party spot. We devoured the food as we reflected over the day that had passed. Alhamdulilah, it was a unique expereince. It was almost Isha time and the kids still didnt want to go home and we had to almost drag them to their houses. MashaAllah the kids probably had a very good nights sleep as they worked very hard all day and enjoyed a well deserved meal at the end.
When reflecting over the day, I asked a few questions. Why are we ready and willing to do this all over again? Why do we feel tranquility and enthusiastic when we are out in the sun lifting heavy furniture in and out of a truck? Why do we enjoy this so much? Many answers came to mind, but one was enough……
“..what no eye has ever seen, and no ear has ever heard, and no heart has ever imagined..”
A Hospital Visit
Assalamu alaikum,
A few days ago, myself and another sister went to visit someone at the hospital. I personally avoid hospitals like the plague, so I wasn’t too excited. . There was a man who had been having continuous seizures and had been rushed to the hospital, but he still has not been diagnosed. His daughter was staying with him at the hospital. I basically talked myself into the visit by thinking that this was going to be ajr for me, it would do good to visit a sister that must be going through a lot, we would give her company, etc.
I was in for a surprise. We got to the man’s hotel room and he looked exhausted. The doctors had asked him not to speak and he seemed to have spent much of the day watching TV. His daughter had quite possibly been on the computer all day. She was sitting around in her pajamas and instant messaging away, but she was HAPPY. She had been going to summer school for the past month, and pretty much the next day had started to live at the hospital (when we visited she had already been there for a week). She had virtually no break in between school and the hospital, but all she could think was ‘eh whatever.’
No typical high schooler thinks like that. We whine, we complain, we think ‘this sucks.’ Her attitude was completely different. It was something that she knew she had to bear. This girl had lost her mother at a young age, was sitting in the hospital with a father that she knew wasnt ok but didnt know why, and an elderly grandmother at home by herself. She was still Ok. I think growing up in America, I really have been babied. Could I have stood that emotional turmoil when I was her age? Could I even stand it now? Im not sure I have that amazing internal strength that she possesses mashAllah.
While we were at the hospital, they were hosting us. Thats right, hosting. The daughter made sure we were sitting comfortably, and the father that wasnt supposed to talk made small talk with us. They offered us the drinks that they had in the room. The daughter even went out to get us ice cups. During our visit there were a variety of doctors and nurses going in and out of the room. They didnt seem to care that we were there and just went about their business. I felt like we were imposing on their privacy, but they didnt seem to feel that way at all.
I kept thinking, wow I had to actually talk myself into coming to the hospital. It was nothing like I expected. The daughter who I hadnt previously met was nice and friendly to us. She didnt seem to need cheering up at all, just company. Unless you looked over and realized we were in the hospital, you never would have known. Im actually looking forward to visiting her again 
