BEIRUT: Lebanon was always going to be an interim home for Mahir Abdulsalam and his family, who arrived here as refugees last July after deciding that life in Baghdad had simply become too dangerous.
After a year in which the family has struggled with unemployment, bullying and beatings, they have now been granted asylum in the United States.
The Abdulsalam family is Sabian, a religious minority which is neither Christian nor Muslim, but which follows the teachings of John the Baptist. Sabians base their practices around pacifism and “always try to live in peace with others, of all religious backgrounds,” Abdulsalam says.
While the Sabians had suffered persecution even before the 2003 U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, back then they were at least able to lodge complaints with the authorities, Abdulsalam says, and they were listened to.
But since 2003 the situation has become increasingly dangerous for Sabians in Iraq. Known for being goldsmiths and jewelers, they are often the victims of armed robberies. Extremist militants also target them for their perceived irreligious ways. After years of struggling to survive, Abdulsalam finally had enough.
“All my life I have felt like a second-class citizen,” Abdulsalam says. “But even after 2003, I was determined to remain in Iraq. I thought no, this is my country, I will not leave, I must tolerate this.”
However the incidence of violence against Sabians has only increased and “many relatives have been killed.” Tired of living in fear, the daily explosions and terrible pollution, in 2010 Abdulsalam decided to move his family out of Iraq.
His two brothers have remained, living in Basra in the south of the country. One is a doctor and the other an engineer, and their salaries are good, Abdulsalam says. But they have made sacrifices to survive. Their wives and daughters cover their hair now, and the family, while still practicing Sabians, also attends religious ceremonies at the local mosque. “They pretend for appearances sake, to save their lives,” Abdulsalam says.
With friends already living in Lebanon, he chose to seek refuge in Beirut, where Abdulsalam registered his family – a wife and two sons, aged 17 and 12 – with the U.N. High Commission for Refugees. There are approximately 10,000 registered refugees in Lebanon – excluding Palestinians – 80 percent of whom are from Iraq, according to the figures from the U.N. agency.
Refugees in Lebanon, “live in hardship. In addition to the risk of arrest, detention and deportation, they have few legal means to support themselves and their family members,” according to the UNHCR.
Unable to work legally, the family has struggled and Abdulsalam is desperate for employment. “When I work I forget my problems, I don’t think about the bad things in life.”
Abdulsalam says that while some Lebanese have been welcoming, others have been less than friendly. He believes the country’s complex history means some Lebanese find it hard to trust strangers, but that “when they come to know me, they change their mind about Iraqis.”
His sons have not been quite so lucky, and routinely suffer harassment and bullying in their neighborhood and at school, where the U.N. pays their fees, even from some of their teachers.
A couple of months ago, while studying in the school’s library, a Lebanese boy confronted them both, asking them where they were from. When they answered, the boy removed his belt and struck Abdulsalam’s eldest son across the head, leaving a huge wound.
“He came home and his white T-shirt was completely covered in blood,” Abdulsalam remembers. After taking him to hospital for stitches, Abdulsalam was determined to find the perpetrator.
When his son pointed him out, Abdulsalam hit the boy once. But the boy later returned with around 20 of his friends, a “big gang.”
“They attacked me, and beat me until I was lying on the floor, where they continued kicking me,” Abdulsalam says.
According to the UNHCR, most Iraqi refugees are in Lebanon as a “gateway” country, and are seeking asylum in a third country.
“I always assured my family that we will not live here forever,” Abdulsalam says. “We cannot stay here, it is too expensive,” he adds.
Beirut is also “so loud. And the political situation is not stable.”
While Abdulsalam has family in Australia, and his wife has relatives in Germany, the U.N. is unable offer resettlement countries by preference.
The family heard in August that they have been granted asylum in the U.S., and are now awaiting final security clearance from the U.S. authorities, which Abdulsalam hopes will come in the next few months.
His sons are happy about the move, but Abdulsalam and his wife have reservations. It was a relief when they heard they had been offered residence in the U.S., but “we know there will be more difficulties ahead of us there, and unemployment is high.”
While his background is in agricultural engineering, Abdulsalam was working in Baghdad as an electrician, as the pay is better, and hopes to find such work in the U.S. His wife has a PhD in mechanical engineering and was lecturing at a university in Baghdad, and she hopes to one day return to academia.
His sons, both interested in computing and astronomy, are keen to continue their education at university in the United States.
Abdulsalam is also struggling to reconcile that the country responsible for the war which ultimately led to his emigration from his homeland will now host him as a refugee, a “wonderfully strange fact,” but he is reassured by the knowledge that “the U.S. people are not their government.”
“People can live in peace there, and minorities are not oppressed,” he says.
He hopes to one day return to Iraq, if the security situation stabilizes, which he acknowledges is a long way off.
“Hopefully we can move back to Baghdad, when we hear that it is safer,” Abdulsalam says.
“I miss my friends the most. And I miss the food, especially fresh fish. And the boys miss their friends and the lifestyle, they miss going to the market,” he adds.
“I listen to the Iraqi news every day and the same problems – the explosions, violence, the weak administration – continue.”
After a year in which the family has struggled with unemployment, bullying and beatings, they have now been granted asylum in the United States.
The Abdulsalam family is Sabian, a religious minority which is neither Christian nor Muslim, but which follows the teachings of John the Baptist. Sabians base their practices around pacifism and “always try to live in peace with others, of all religious backgrounds,” Abdulsalam says.
While the Sabians had suffered persecution even before the 2003 U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, back then they were at least able to lodge complaints with the authorities, Abdulsalam says, and they were listened to.
But since 2003 the situation has become increasingly dangerous for Sabians in Iraq. Known for being goldsmiths and jewelers, they are often the victims of armed robberies. Extremist militants also target them for their perceived irreligious ways. After years of struggling to survive, Abdulsalam finally had enough.
“All my life I have felt like a second-class citizen,” Abdulsalam says. “But even after 2003, I was determined to remain in Iraq. I thought no, this is my country, I will not leave, I must tolerate this.”
However the incidence of violence against Sabians has only increased and “many relatives have been killed.” Tired of living in fear, the daily explosions and terrible pollution, in 2010 Abdulsalam decided to move his family out of Iraq.
His two brothers have remained, living in Basra in the south of the country. One is a doctor and the other an engineer, and their salaries are good, Abdulsalam says. But they have made sacrifices to survive. Their wives and daughters cover their hair now, and the family, while still practicing Sabians, also attends religious ceremonies at the local mosque. “They pretend for appearances sake, to save their lives,” Abdulsalam says.
With friends already living in Lebanon, he chose to seek refuge in Beirut, where Abdulsalam registered his family – a wife and two sons, aged 17 and 12 – with the U.N. High Commission for Refugees. There are approximately 10,000 registered refugees in Lebanon – excluding Palestinians – 80 percent of whom are from Iraq, according to the figures from the U.N. agency.
Refugees in Lebanon, “live in hardship. In addition to the risk of arrest, detention and deportation, they have few legal means to support themselves and their family members,” according to the UNHCR.
Unable to work legally, the family has struggled and Abdulsalam is desperate for employment. “When I work I forget my problems, I don’t think about the bad things in life.”
Abdulsalam says that while some Lebanese have been welcoming, others have been less than friendly. He believes the country’s complex history means some Lebanese find it hard to trust strangers, but that “when they come to know me, they change their mind about Iraqis.”
His sons have not been quite so lucky, and routinely suffer harassment and bullying in their neighborhood and at school, where the U.N. pays their fees, even from some of their teachers.
A couple of months ago, while studying in the school’s library, a Lebanese boy confronted them both, asking them where they were from. When they answered, the boy removed his belt and struck Abdulsalam’s eldest son across the head, leaving a huge wound.
“He came home and his white T-shirt was completely covered in blood,” Abdulsalam remembers. After taking him to hospital for stitches, Abdulsalam was determined to find the perpetrator.
When his son pointed him out, Abdulsalam hit the boy once. But the boy later returned with around 20 of his friends, a “big gang.”
“They attacked me, and beat me until I was lying on the floor, where they continued kicking me,” Abdulsalam says.
According to the UNHCR, most Iraqi refugees are in Lebanon as a “gateway” country, and are seeking asylum in a third country.
“I always assured my family that we will not live here forever,” Abdulsalam says. “We cannot stay here, it is too expensive,” he adds.
Beirut is also “so loud. And the political situation is not stable.”
While Abdulsalam has family in Australia, and his wife has relatives in Germany, the U.N. is unable offer resettlement countries by preference.
The family heard in August that they have been granted asylum in the U.S., and are now awaiting final security clearance from the U.S. authorities, which Abdulsalam hopes will come in the next few months.
His sons are happy about the move, but Abdulsalam and his wife have reservations. It was a relief when they heard they had been offered residence in the U.S., but “we know there will be more difficulties ahead of us there, and unemployment is high.”
While his background is in agricultural engineering, Abdulsalam was working in Baghdad as an electrician, as the pay is better, and hopes to find such work in the U.S. His wife has a PhD in mechanical engineering and was lecturing at a university in Baghdad, and she hopes to one day return to academia.
His sons, both interested in computing and astronomy, are keen to continue their education at university in the United States.
Abdulsalam is also struggling to reconcile that the country responsible for the war which ultimately led to his emigration from his homeland will now host him as a refugee, a “wonderfully strange fact,” but he is reassured by the knowledge that “the U.S. people are not their government.”
“People can live in peace there, and minorities are not oppressed,” he says.
He hopes to one day return to Iraq, if the security situation stabilizes, which he acknowledges is a long way off.
“Hopefully we can move back to Baghdad, when we hear that it is safer,” Abdulsalam says.
“I miss my friends the most. And I miss the food, especially fresh fish. And the boys miss their friends and the lifestyle, they miss going to the market,” he adds.
“I listen to the Iraqi news every day and the same problems – the explosions, violence, the weak administration – continue.”
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