| Page 4 of 4 < |
Driven by War to a No Man's Land in Jordan
Palestinians Ikhlas Aziz, left, and sister-in-law Aida Qadsiya are refugees in Jordan. In 2003, they fled Iraq, the family's refuge from Arab-Israeli war.
(By Anthony Shadid -- The Washington Post)
TOOLBOX
   Resize
COMMENT
 Discussion Policy
 CLOSE
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
Who's Blogging  |
Camp residents navigate the monotony with conversation, backgammon and cards. Routine is supplied by the United Nations, which delivers water daily, bread and vegetables every other day and rice, sugar, canned food, cooking oil and toiletries twice a week. Rumors swirl. "Every day there's a new one," said Abdel-Rahim's sister-in-law, Aziz.
This week, it was that American officials planned to visit and offer asylum. Before that, it was that the Canadian government, which had accepted 53 of the Palestinian refugees last year, planned to return. Abdel-Rahim had applied to go to Canada. He pulled out the letter he had received from the Canadian Embassy.
"You have not provided sufficient evidence that you have a well-founded fear of persecution nor that you have been and continue to be seriously and personally affected by civil war, armed conflict or massive violation of human rights," it read in part.
The last line concluded: "I am therefore refusing your application."
"I would have to die, my husband would have to be killed, or my children would have to be slaughtered in front of my eyes, so that I'd have the right to leave this place," his sister-in-law said. "Is that logical?"
By afternoon, the winds had subsided, and the family ventured outside, walking a little gingerly past some of the 10 cats that share their tent. A few other people were also tentatively opening their doors.
"If you look at the records, I've been here four years, but to be honest, it feels like 400 years," Abdel-Rahim said.
"We're here in a prison without committing a crime," his sister-in-law said.
Everyone shook their heads in agreement.
"But even a criminal knows the length of his sentence," his brother Khalid added.
Abdel-Rahim looked at him. He spoke without pity, almost clinically. "Our crime is that we're Palestinian," he said.
