Living in Jordan, Longing for Iraq

Amman Becomes Primary Destination for Those Escaping War

AMMAN, Jordan -- For Edmond Arssen Eskendrian, life was hard in Baghdad. But it's harder in Amman.

Eskendrian said he left Iraq a year ago, locking up his house and driving with his family to Amman. He thought his connections with foreigners and his years of working with a foreign embassy in Baghdad would help him make a new life in a new city -- the city of dreams and opportunity, he imagined.

Now, with no job and his savings thinning, Eskendrian's hopes have faded. Baghdad is still too dangerous to return to, and Amman is becoming harder to stay in, he says. Iraqis here are blamed for inflation and climbing real estate prices and for the terrorist bombings that killed and wounded scores at three hotels in November.

"I don't feel alive," said Mustafa Alwan, a 29-year-old Iraqi who came to Amman about a year ago. "The present is barely livable, and the future is dark."

Long a haven for Iraqis fleeing repression, sanctions and the other deprivations of Saddam Hussein's rule, Jordan's capital has since become a primary destination for those fleeing the unrest of the past three years. With the increase in kidnappings and assassinations in Iraq and the onset of summer holidays, hundreds of Iraqis are arriving daily at the Iraqi-Jordanian border or at Queen Alia Airport, outside Amman.

The influx has changed Amman dramatically, especially its economy, Jordanians say. Abdullah Ayish, a Jordanian who runs a real estate office in Amman's upscale Abdoun neighborhood, said that since 2005, rents have quadrupled and it has become harder for Jordanians and Iraqis alike to find housing.

Iraqis are everywhere in the streets and in the coffee shops. Their distinctive dialect pops up in conversations from the Mecca Mall, a downtown shopping bonanza, to the lobbies of five-star hotels where business executives gather to chat.

In an apartment in the heart of Amman, Eskendrian, a 52-year-old Christian, recalled his life as a driver for the Italian Embassy in Baghdad. After the U.S.-led invasion in 2003, he said, he led an easy life, making $200 a month and surviving roadside bomb attacks and drive-by shootings while ferrying diplomats through Baghdad's shabby streets and to far-flung provinces.

A year ago, his family received a letter warning that he would be killed and his house burned if he didn't stop working with the "infidels." When a second threat arrived two weeks later, "I had to leave," he said. "It is not only my life. It's my family's, too."

"Although it is not easy to live here, at least I am not worried about my family," Eskendrian said, gazing happily at his wife and two daughters.

One of the girls, Telma, 18, was less content. "I accept the situation in Baghdad," she insisted. "It is okay to be threatened and surrounded by bombings or imprisoned in the house. At least I have friends there and I was among my people."

When Iraqis here get together to chat, many swap stories from home, tales of narrowly surviving attacks, car bombings, kidnappings and other violence. Yet despite their quiet, safe lives outside Iraq, they are quick to assert a longing to return.