Trip to the unknown

Maki Al-Nazzal reports from Amman on the ordeal of Iraqis fleeing to Jordan

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As a brutal summer descends on southern Iraq, many fleeing to Jordan will find the trip has become a hazardous course through desert patches ruled by criminal gangs, militia and US military patrols.

The 600-kilometre desert road to Amman, where tens of thousands of Iraqis now live, runs through Al-Anbar province, a hotspot of some of the most fierce fighting between US troops and insurgents. Travellers on this road are aware that they could be suddenly caught in the crossfire of a possible clash between US troops and the guerrillas or killed by a roadside bomb targeting a US vehicle or convoy.

The road is also a breeding ground for many smuggling outfits supported by heavily armed gangs. Merchant Ahmed Massoud, 45, travelling to Amman for medical treatment, could have been another statistic when he was assailed by members of one of the gangs that control sections of the highway. "They took our money, but thank God they didn't kill us. We were cautious enough to transfer most of our money through traders and it is only a little that we brought with us for the road and the first night in Amman," he said.

There are about 350,000 to 450,000 Iraqis in Jordan but this is just an approximate estimation. Numbers of Iraqis crossing from Iraq to Jordan is set at around 300 to 400 per day. A dramatic surge in this number is likely when final school exams are over in Iraq next month. While procedures at the Iraqi side of the border are minimal and last about 15 minutes, the Jordanian border checkpoint is marred by long lines of cars and dozens of families waiting for approval to cross into the Hashemite Kingdom. Many are turned back.

Often families who have been denied entry are forced to spend the night in the open between the two borders as they wait for the Iraqi border checkpoint to reopen in the morning so they can return to their homes.

"They bounced me back for the third time," complained Ahmed Al-Khazraji, a young grocer from Fallujah, "although I proved to them that I am a merchant and I only need to stay there for a couple of days to load my merchandise. There must be something wrong with my appearance or a similarity between my name and someone's who is not welcome in this country."

Jordanian border officials began to clamp down on the number of Iraqis entering the country, enforcing more stringent security checks, after the 9 November Amman hotel bombings alleged to have been carried out by Iraqis and other Arab nationals. Thorough interviews are now conducted of many Iraqis hoping to enter the country. Often families are forced to spend the night in the open between the two borders as they wait to be processed.

"Why don't they make people apply for a visa so that they tell them in advance whether they are allowed to enter the country or not?" asked Bilal Naji who was refused entry to arrange for medical treatment for his father in a Jordanian hospital. "All Iraqi doctors are here [in Jordan] now and we have to come for treatment. They shouldn't just tell us to go back like this," he said.

Amman hosts tens of Iraqi doctors who have fled widespread assassinations and abductions committed against their colleagues in Iraq. "There is no security, no respect for human rights, no jobs, no gas, no electricity, no one to listen to your complaints and no vision for what's going to happen tomorrow or even a minute later," said Jabbar Al-Zaidy, a writer and former Iraqi News Agency senior official.

"There is no life in Iraq that one stays to live. It is only for those who take shelter behind concrete walls and thousands of guards and servants," Al-Zaidy added.

Dr Zeineb Sameer, of Ibnul Nafees General Hospital in Baghdad, told Al-Ahram Weekly she was forced to wear Islamic code dress when going to work. Being Muslim she accepted that, but her real problems started after the February Samarra events: "When an injured militiaman was brought in for treatment, his fellow militiamen pointed their guns to my head threatening that they would kill me if he died. Being an anaesthesia specialist and a Sunni Muslim I would take the blame for his death regardless of how bad his injury might have been. I am happy I survived until I finished my internship, but I could not work there any more. I would love to stay in Iraq to do something for those who get hurt in the daily massacres, no matter who they are and which sect they are from, but I left when I found it impossible to stay."

The tears in her striking eyes tell more than her words. Now Sameer must find a hospital that will accept her for getting a license in a country full of doctors. Some doctors have had to pay "training fees" to the hospitals they work in.

Abu Hassan, an ex-army officer who was once a prisoner of war in Iran for almost 10 years, brought his family to Jordan after selling his house and all his belongings in Baghdad. "It was a good investment to buy more than one flat [in Amman]; to use one for my own accommodation and let the others out for income that covers living expenses. The price of property has almost doubled since I bought them."

Not all Iraqis who come to Jordan are equally well off. With no advanced university degrees, no capital, and no one to support them in getting residence permits and decent jobs, many Iraqis lead desperate lives, hoping but to remain in the country and earn a meagre income. One finds them selling smuggled merchandise in the street or waiting at places where people come searching for cheap labour.

Despite their differing fortunes, all Iraqis in Jordan look eastward to their once native country, wondering when the violence will end and allow them to return.