Laying One Brick at a Time, Taking One Step at a Time

Suleimaniya, Kurdistan, Iraq, April 13, 2012

"People say: What is the sense of our small effort? They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time." Dorothy Day

I when I feel overwhelmed by the things I experience here, I ask myself: What is the sense of my efforts?. Sometimes I cannot see that small bricks are necessary to build a wall.

Today at the [Qalawa] camp was very hard. It was hard to get the kids attention, they were not following instructions, and sometimes I get very frustrated when things don't come out as I expect. I forget that the real reason to be there is not to be successful.

Today, I spoke to one of the woman in the camp that has a disabled child. As she told me about the child's condition, my heart was immersed in deep sadness. The young mother was fixing a button in the boy's pants and telling me he can't see, or walk, or talk. I felt helpless at such a reality, and could just listen to her talking and looking at her child. The boy's hands were so beautiful and perfect, as if to compensate for the rest of his body's handicap.

I suddenly realized that every week we come, the kids are still there, living under the same deteriorating conditions as the last week. I had the thought that what we do is not changing anything in the lives of these children. What I cannot see is that everytime we go, the camp's air feels different; special. Every family welcomes us, greeting us with a smile. I like their simplicity and the respect they show us when they invite us to share whatever little they have. I find myself very close and comfortable around them.

As Robert Fisk said last week in a lecture in Erbil: "What people really need is not  democracy, but justice and dignity." And I think this is exactly what we have failed to do here in Iraq; while bringing "democracy", we have stripped the Iraqi people from justice and dignity.

In the meantime, and despite my own frustration, I echo the words of Mother Theresa: "The miracle is not that we do this work, but that we are happy to do it".

PS. I never put pictures of the kids in order to protect their identity and dignity, but thought these don't show their faces and wanted you to have a sense of what our days look like.

Amir explaining the rules of the game to the kids, actually this day was very successful and the kids enjoy this game that consisted of putting some dirt in a cup that had a small hole in the bottom, then running to the other side as fast as they could to bring as much of the dirt to the other side. The team with most dirt wins, actually both teams won!

After the day activities, everyone was full of dirt and fun!

The kids never want us to leave after the day activities are over, we are super tired and they ready to continue!!!

Something to think about on Thanksgiving, Suleimaniya, Iraqi, Kurdistan

It has been more than three months since my last post. In that time, many things have happened here in this part of the world: the PA went to the UN to ask to be admitted as a member state, Arab Spring has become the Arab autumn and now the Arab winter, thousands of Syrians have been killed, Egyptian Christians have been massacred in Cairo, Gilat Shalit was exchanged by 1027 Palestinian political prisoners, 24 Turkish soldiers were killed in near the Turkish-Iraq border (Turkish territory) which led to air and land strikes in Northern-Iraq, Kurdistan, Muammar Qaddafi was murdered. It seems that violence is business as usual.

Perhaps I didn’t have the will to write, I was sick, very frustrated, overwhelmed or even disappointed. After a year in Kurdistan, nothing seems to have changed. Life goes on, people in the west and even here go to work, and they are busy with everyday things. In the meantime, I try to keep myself motivated and find a reason to wake up in the morning; to believe that there is hope for change, a reason to keep fighting for justice, in a far away country, removed from all the things that I love: my family, my friends, my country. Sometimes I find it hard.

Every morning and afternoon, I walk to work and pass by a group of old Kurdish men (Kakas) that greet me and invite me for a domino match, I have even beaten them a couple of times. I walk on the neighbourhood, absorbed on my own thoughts. I go to work and the day goes by seating between emails, reports, forms, meetings and trainings. Then the weekend comes and the story repeats itself. This doesn't make sense. Seems like if I were working for nothing, as things don't seem to change.

Suddenly, Friday morning, my day off, I go to a very special place. A place that is hard to explain, a place where love and misery coexist. Here, I realize why I am here, when I see the face of the children I get to work with every Friday, they are Iraqi children internally displaced by violence. Their eyes are so beautiful, full of laughter, full of joy, despite the hard conditions of living as refugees in their own country. When they come running and I hold them and see how full of love they are, I can’t but remind myself how lucky I am to be there and get to enjoy this time with them. We play, sing, dance, and learn together. The other day, I taught them the Macarena, I wish you could see how their small bodies danced to the rhythm of the music. For a single moment I lost sense of where I was, and just enjoyed their laughter. I forgot they are children of war and violence, displaced, fragile. I get back to reality, most of them must have spent the majority of their lives in this forgotten camp, a place of uncertainty and misery. Now every single week, they are asking to dance the choreography they learned. Even if we don’t have the music, I will sing for them and they do the steps. We have so much fun together. Then when is time to leave, everyone is sad, but we just look forward to next week.

Yes, this happens as you live a different life, go to do your groceries, to the salon, to the post office or for your daily walk. According to the UN Refugee Agency, there are 27.3 million internally displaced refugees around the world, the majority of them women and children, Iraq being the third largest country with internally displaced people (IDP), between 1.3-2.8 million, after Sudan and Colombia. Although internally displaced people outnumber refugees by more than two to one, no single UN or other international agency has responsibility for responding to internal displacement. As a result, the global response to the needs of IDPs is often ineffective. And guess who paid for the wars that created these refugees? You, with your tax dollars! And who is paying now, for programs to help refugees? Again, you with your tax dollars. And who should be accountable for these millions of people who now are homeless, I leave that for you to answer. Desmond Tutu said that those who are silent to injustice can be called complicit.

Last week, it rained on the camp, for a full three days, I could not think but how where the kids and if they were warm enough. When we arrived, there was mud EVERYWHERE, but the kids didn't care, they were waiting for us. We always take our shoes off to keep the tent clean, but this time it was needed much more. I found myself lifting up the smaller kids who where struggling to take their muddy boots off. It was a beautiful Friday, a beautiful muddy Friday.....

One of the kids pair of muddy shoes

So, when you are eating your Thanksgiving dinner, and are giving thanks, be thankful for all the blessings you have: a warm and safe home, food, water, electricity; think about the people: especially internally displaced women and children, who have nothing and yet are thankful for the little they have.

Amir's shoes on the tents entrance

My First Day in Suleymania: A visit to Qalawa Refugee Camp, Suleymania, Kurdistan--062911

It was noon and the driver arrived to pick me up. I had accepted a new job and was moving once again, this time to Sulaymaniyah, after 4 months living in Erbil, the capital of Iraqi-Kurdistan. The modern city of Sulaymaniyah was founded on 14 November 1784 by the Kurdish prince Ibrahim Pasha Baban who named it after his father Sulaiman Pasha. Because it was founded as the capital of a powerful Kurdish principality, Sulaymaniyah has developed into a large city with a population of about 1million people. It is the cultural center of the Sorani-speaking Kurds and an important economic center for Iraqi Kurdistan.

A view from the Dukan Lake, Suleymania

I had a mixture of happiness and nostalgia, leaving Erbil, which I already considered home, even though it was very different from my home; language, culture, women’s place in society, but I had learned to accept it and love it, I had friends and had established many relationships. I was happy and ready to try Suli’s way; everyone I had talked to said it was better than Erbil, in terms of customs and traditions, they kept stressing the fact that people in Sulimania were more open and that I would feel better here.

Om Suli, I was invited to attend a puppet show in the Qalawa refugee camp and of course I was in, since I love anything that has to do with children. We arrived to the camp and were greeted in the entrance by a man. There was an empty, rocky and dusty lot and my first reaction was one of shock. I had only seen the Palestinian refugee camps which looked more like neighborhoods, with cements houses, being established more than 50 years ago. Blue tents served as roofs, held by big tires. I didn’t go inside the camp, since the children were practicing and anything could distract them; I perfectly new this from my experience working in a summer camp in Palestine. Instead, few girls came out to receive us and I greeted them in Arabic: Shlonish, How are you? Then I used a more colloquial expression: Shaku Maku, more like what’s up, and they replied; Kulshi Maku, Nothing’s up! This is a normal Iraqi response. We were all laughing!

Qalawa Camp was formed in June 2006 by a group of IDPs on an empty piece of open land southeast of Sulaymaniyah center. It is located in Sharwani area, near the Rizgari fuel station. We were told there are around 59 families living here. I approached two women that were near and asked them how long they were living in the camp, one of them said that she was from Baghdad and was living there since 2009. She said that there were no jobs and that they had problems with electricity.

According to a 2008 report from the International Organization of Migration (IOM), camp residents face poor conditions, as they have no sanitation, loose garbage around the tents, no electricity and no toilets. In addition, there have been cases of typhoid reported. IDPs have access to a mobile medical unit and water is being trucked in. The camp was formed when a large number of families fled sectarian violence in Baghdad and Diyala. During our visit we were told that the children from the camp do not attend school. According to a report from the Danish Immigration service from their visit to the camp in 2010, there were 27 children of school age in the camp in 2009. They were not enrolled in school, particularly if engaged in begging and lacking alternative sources of livelihood, declined UNHCR supported transportation to schools in the neighborhood. Only few of the camp’s children can read.

The children’s messy, untidy hair reminded me of their reality as refugees, but their smiles and beautiful eyes lifted me up. I started to ask their names, and they all took turns to tell me their names. One of them clung into my arm and kissed it, my heart wanted to melt but I smiled and kissed her head back. It was very hot and dusty, and we were trying to set up the stage for the puppet show. It was just a colored banner in Arabic and English welcoming everyone, but it was meant to serve as an interface between the public and the actors. We laid some blankets in the dusty ground for the audience to sit overlooking the mountains.

After some running around and playing, we were able to gather the children in a circle, to get ready to start the show. Then one of the AUI professors, who have been working on the camp arrived and our circle was destroyed. They all gathered around him to welcome him. The roles were reviewed by the volunteers and the children took their puppets and gathered behind the improvised stage. The show started and the puppets as well as the children’s heads were coming up and down. The narrators, a boy and a girl, who were able to read, took turns in telling the story and the children came on stage often times delayed, but we laughed and clapped and enjoyed the performance. The children were happy and full of energy despite the burning sun. It was the first time that they had the opportunity to show their abilities in public. The event was very simple, and yet empowering. It was a symbol of what can be achieved if we can give time, love, solidarity and hard work.

I can’t wait to go back to Qalawa, it reminds me how blessed I am and why I am here; to share what I have with others and to make these children hope for a better future. It reminds me that I CAN do something to change the world by changing peoples’ lives, one at a time.

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.” A. Roy

Children of My Heart: The other face of Iraq, Israel, Palestine, Turkey

This is a photo essay that I made, which expresses much of what I feel about the situation here in this part of the world!!!

10 Things I Will Never Forget About my Journey...Israel/Palestine/Iraq

This is a reflection on what I 've lived and witnessed for the past 10 months while living in Israel/Palestine and Iraqi-Kurdistan. I thought of putting this list of the things that had impacted me the most on my journey. If you have been following my posts you may be familiar with the details' if not, you can always refer back to previous posts. This list is in no way extensive, rather is just something I was reflecting on the other night before going to sleep. I would need many sheets of paper or many web pages to list all the people and events that have touched me on this journey but here goes a small preview....

1. Living and working at the Tent of Nations, a Palestinian Farm surrounded by all sides by Israeli settlements. Watering the plants, trying to keep the farm despite the daily challenges of the occupation. Working at the summer camp with 60 Palestinian kids was no easy task but will stay in my heart FOREVER. (July 2010)

2. Staying at Al-Arakib village on the desert in Beer Sheeva, Israel after the first village demolition. (July 31st. 2010)


3. The amazing women of Kayan in Haifa, Israel who work with their hearts to empower women in the northern part of Israel. (Sept-Nov. 2010)

4. The pharmacist in Nablus, West Bank, who introduced his sons to us, one next to him, the other one who spend fifteen (15) years in jail for throwing stones when he was 11 and the third one on a picture on the wall, he was killed in the 2000 Intifada by the Israelis. (Oct. 30th, 2010)
5. Being tear-gassed by the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) in the village of Beit Ommar, West Bank on a peaceful demonstration over the illegal settlement of Beit Ayn. (Nov. 22nd 2010)


6.Watching the children selling gum in the streets in Erbil, Iraqi-Kurdistan. (Several times, Jan-April 2011)

7. Watching one widow woman in Khabat village 30 km from Erbil, crying because of the poor living conditions she and her children were living and the helplessness of not being able to provide better for her family. (Jan 11th, 2011)



8. Being the only women in the citadel, sitting and sipping my coffee, later I learned it was a men-only area. (Jan 14 th, 2011)


9. Being almost killed in the mountains of the Iraqi-Kurdistan, when our car slipped on a cliff on Massif mountain in the outskirts of Erbil. (Feb. 4th, 2011)


10.Being yelled at by the Sami Abdelrahman Park in Erbil,Iraqi-Kurdistan because we were lying on the grass and then a second time because we were dancing! I yelled back at him in Arabic telling him to bother the two guys next to us who were also lying on the grass. (April 1st, 2011)
Please, if you have been following my journey, or have been part of it in one way or the other, let me know your thoughts by email or by posting a comment into the blog comments section. I'd really like to hear how it has changed your or your community's perspective, life or way you perceived this part of the world. I would like to include these comments on o book project that I am working on. Also please feel free to share with friends, family, at work, or just to open a life changing possibility reaching someone with totally opposite views...

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Individually and collectively, we can raise the consciousness of the people of this planet, so that each of us will be viewed as members of the same family,who are here to claim their birthright of unconditional love and...[ ]. If we don't do it; who will. From the song Sisterlove The Hypnotist, Cafe del Mar Vol. 1.

Peace,
Joha

We Give Life and Love, and We Get Violence and Inequality-- Khabat, Iraqi Kurdistan--010511

“Women contributes tenderness, love, conservation of life, values, patience,.....Thank God for making me a woman, but how hard is to be so here in Iraq” Johanna L. Rivera/ Jose L. Redondo

We returned back to Khabat, for our second day in the survey. Khabat is just 30 minutes from Erbil, well, with our driver, surely less. Erbil is the capital of the Autonomous Iraqi Kurdistan Region. On one hand; the poor infrastructure of Khabat and on the other, massive development and investment being poured into Erbil, construction of villas, malls, cinemas and billboards that read “Democracy cannot be achieved without justice”. There is construction and dust EVERYWHERE, whereas in Khabat, there is no sewage system. You can see the sewage water running on many streets as the kids run and play around.



We met Kak Faisal[Kak is a polite way to address a person here in Kurdistan] and the took us to our first home. As we explained the survey and the benefits from participating on it to the woman, she was very receptive. She started answering to our questions and then 2 men one of them her brother, entered the room. My colleague explained to him the purpose of our visit and how we were seeking to identify women to participate in the survey and eventually in the courses. He was opposed to her sister participating in any kind of course let alone working outside the house. He said that “Our tradition does not allow women to work outside the house”, besides he pointed out that his sister was old (she was in her forties) and she would not be able to learn anything in such a short time (a 3 month-course). I didn’t notice when exactly the woman left the room, but we could not complete our survey and left the house politely thanking the brother (FOR NOTHING!!!)



The houses we visited seemed to be constructed recently. You could tell because most of them were on bare concrete blocks, no decoration. The infrastructure around this village is very scarce. You can see the sewage running on channels on the street, there is a lot of garbage around. Kids playing and running on the streets, along the sewage.





We went to a second house, where we interviewed a woman, she was 23. She was married at the age of 13 and divorced at age 19. Her children were not with her, as she doesn’t have any means of supporting herself or providing for them. This situation (the early marriage), which could seem unacceptable for us, is a common practice in this traditional society. Marrying at this early age, leaves women no choice but to leave school, often without reading and writing skills, to attend her wife’s duties and leaving her depending only on her husband. When he leaves or dies, she is left with her children and no source of income, sending her and her children into deep poverty.


Some Statistics:
The estimated number of widows and divorcees reached 2 million out of a total population of 30 million. Many of these widows’ loss stem from wars of the past decades, including the Iran-Iraq War, the First Gulf War, and the American invasion with its resulting sectarian violence. The Iraqi government has not been providing sufficient financial assistance to this vulnerable group and women are often in need of humanitarian aid. On a recent study by Oxfam, 76% of widows said they did not receive a pension from the government. 40% of women with children reported that their sons and daughters were not attending school. Another study by the World Food Program found that 12.4% of households in Erbil were headed by women.



Largely widowed and almost entirely all without any employment, the female-headed households live in constant threat of eviction with few if any alternatives, making them especially vulnerable to exploitation and violence as they search for other means to find food and shelter. IOM research in 2008 identified victims of trafficking in northern and central Iraq with profiles of the victims revealing that more than half of female victims were orphans or from single parent families. Another IOM survey of 1,355 female-headed displaced families who have returned to their places of origin found that 74 percent are struggling to secure adequate nutrition for their families.

Kitchen of one of the families we visited for the survey in Khabat. Photo by Johanna L. Rivera

In addition to this, one in five women (21%) in Iraq aged 15-49 has suffered physical violence at the hands of the husband. 14% of women who suffered physical violence were pregnant at the time. 33% have suffered emotional violence, and 83% have been subjected to controlling behavior by the husbands.



Iraqi women and girls are not fully aware of their rights. 59% of women aged 15-49 believe that it is acceptable for a man to beat his wife under certain circumstances. This figure is higher in rural areas (70%) and among women with no formal education (71%). Women aged between 15 and 24 are as likely to tolerate abuse as older generations.



In a recent survey by Oxfam titled In He Own Words, Iraqi women talk about their greatest concerns and challenges, 1,700 women were interviewed and talked about their stories. Here I leave you with one of the stories that really made me take a deep breath:

“My son Amer graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering and was planning to get married…. On 5 November 2007, three days before his wedding, he and my daughter Basimah, along with a friend, went out to buy the wedding dress and other wedding accessories in the Al Karradah neighbourhood market in Baghdad. Two hours later, someone called us from Basimah’s mobile phone to tell us that they had been admitted to the hospital as a result of an explosion…. When I arrived, I started searching among the injured patients, running from one ward to another going crazy. Then they took me to the mortuary and there I found them. I wept silently for such a long time and so all the other women around me began weeping too....

I wished I were dead when I saw their bodies in the morgue piled on top of each other. I can't forget the scene of them even for one moment.... I wish I could see them again. They were the fruit of my life and the only hope I had in this world. …. We have received no pension money to live on…there are so many cases of widows and others [who have lost loved ones and breadwinners] who are also not receiving anything from the government, no compensation or pension."

-- Emman’s elderly husband is ill with cancer and can no longer work. Emman said that she and her husband always struggled economically, but had enough to ensure their children attended university so they could improve the family’s situation. Her daughter Basimah had a good job as a computer programmer but had resigned due to rampant insecurity shortly before she was killed.

So, I leave you ---------with something to think about as I keep on my journey deep into the Iraqi women’s struggle.


All of us, men and women, soldiers and peacekeepers, citizens and leaders—have a responsibility to help end violence against women, UN Secretary General, Ban Ki Moon

Thoughts and Reflections for the New Year—Iraq 123110

How do I start gathering my thoughts about this year of 2010? First, I have to say that it has been a very productive one. A year full of changes, challenges, and decisions made, of letting go of some things and people and embracing others, losing but mainly gaining. A lot of traveling, and when I say a lot, is a LOTTTT! From NY to Cairo and back, and then back again….

In Cairo, holding the PR flag, full of puerotrican children's hands in solidarity for the children in GAZA, December, 2009. 

I started and ended my year in the Middle East. Last year, on New Year’s Eve, I was in Cairo, in my first international activism mission. I took part on the Gaza Freedom March, an international delegation that gathered around 1,400 people in Cairo, whose purpose was to challenge the siege of Gaza. It was the first anniversary of Operation Cast Lead, and we wanted to get the world’s attention on the approximately 1,400 people killed by this unjust Israeli attack on civilian population. Although most of us didn’t make it into Gaza, we stayed in Cairo for a week, annoying the Egyptian government, also complicit of the siege, for enforcing Israeli policies and for not letting us get into Gaza. We did actions and demonstrations every day; from climbing the pyramids and hanging the Palestinian flag, to the biggest international gathering on Dec 31st near the Egyptian Museum.




I remember that, when everyone was getting ready for the New Year to come, we were getting ready to make our voices heard. More than 500 people from 42 countries gathered and came out to the street in front of the Egyptian Museum paralyzing the traffic. Immediately, we were confronted by the Egyptian riot and undercover police, that had been all week following us. They started to kick people and to try to break the demonstration.

During the demonstration on December 31st, 2009, Cairo, Egypt. Photo by Johanna L. Rivera.

The sense of unity that I experienced was incredible. Everybody was holding each other, while being beaten or kicked, or women being pulled by their hair. I remember a guy that held me and hugged me after I was shocked and crying because of my confrontation with the police (I was not beaten, but still was PTSD). This guy whom I didn’t know was holding me and I experienced a sense of peace and comfort. The people's bonding and unity was amazing. It was the same feeling I experienced last November, on one of Beit Ommar's demonstration when being teargassed by the IDF. The feeling that no one can break the unity and strength that comes from standing for justice and truth. It almost feels that your spirit rises and you are so powerful and not afraid of what can happen.

I imagine that was the same feeling that activists from the Freedom Flotilla felt when their boats were illegally taken by the Israeli military (May 2010). That same spirit that makes Palestinians go on every week in Beit Ommar, Bil’in, Al Walaja and many other villages fighting in non violent ways. I guess among all my frustration and sometimes helplessness, I feel there is some hope. Hope that comes from the past months living this journey deep into the struggle. Knowing that there is evil, sure, but that there is more good. Sitting at a table around Israeli and Palestinian activists after a demo, knowing that they are fighting with the only weapons they have; their bodies and spirits and that there is no man-made weapon that can overpower truth. The Israeli military, with their US-made weapons can kill many, but they will never kill the spirit of truth; and the truth is that we are all human beings, made equal and that we don't own the land; the land owns us. And I will add that my hope, even when sometimes is mixed with tears and frustration is the only thing I can take with me on this journey, is the only thing that keeps me standing in the middle of the struggle.

The hope I got from the people at the Tent of Nations, fighting everyday against the illegal occupation of their land. They have been successful for the past 10 years from preventing the Israelis of taking over their land. Hope from my girls from Bethlehem, because in their eyes and smiles I see that we have to keep the cry for justice, so they, one day will be free to see the ocean. The hope from the bedouine people of El Arakib, rebuilding their village again and again after its 9th consecutive demolition. The people in Beit Ommar, Issawiya, that confront the soldiers every day, and stand against the occupation. The women from KAYAN working from within to empower other women to gain more social and political participation and to fight Israel's racism. The hope from ALL the people I met that work everyday to fight injustice and inequality.

In the weekly demo in Beit Ommar against the illegal appropriation of land from the farmers


But still, many questions remain. First, I want to understand what is behind all this disproportionate violence. How is it that a human being can react in such a way as to use such disproportionate violence against an unarmed civilian, to purposely KILL. Today, there were news report of a Palestinian killed at a checkpoint in Nablus, because the Palestinian attacked the soldier with a bottle. How does that work? I hit you with a bottle and you kill me, when you are the one oppressing me and taking away all my freedoms and rights on the first place. I have been on the checkpoint when there have been excessive delays of more than one hour of just waiting and one soldier on top of us, on the roof with a gun, just watching, indifferent, while smoking a cigarette how the Palestinians get anxious.

Entrance of BETHLEHEM checkpoint


Second, I want to understand what is behind these terrorist attacks here in Iraq (the main one in October 31st) , on the Christian community. How come, in the name of religion, you can justify bombing a church, although what is said here is that what caused the bombing was that the government intervened in an inappropriate way by failing to negotiate with the terrorists but went inside the church, causing the attack to be worse. I guess this mistake in strategy is political too. I don’t know about you, but it makes me ANGRY, in a different way than the Palestinian-Israeli issue makes me angry. I don’t know why or how people become so brainwashed to do such things but I know how it feels (here in Iraq) to be afraid in the very place you are supposed to find peace and lift your spirit.

I can only hope that peace will come, one person at a time, one smile at a time. I know I cannot change the way or the politics of these conflicts. If I had a magic stick and could make ONE wish come true for next year, it would be to make the first commandment true. LOVE YOUR NEXT AS YOURSELF! At least I think that would be a good start.

Children playing in Khabat village 20 km out of Erbil--Iraq their eyes and smiles help me keep on this struggle. Photo by Johanna L. Rivera

Children from Beit Ommar village in Palestine, for them I keep my hope. Photo by Johanna L. Rivera