Double Jeopardy: The Harsh Reality for Iraqi Immigrants Trying to Live in America

By Nina Berman, AlterNet. Posted April 25, 2009.

Carol Roxbugh, CEO of RST, would not comment on individual cases but said, "We can only be compliant and try to do the best for them. It's hard for them to understand all the ins and outs of the programs." She acknowledges that the economy is making it particularly tough and "the funding has not kept up with the cost of living." But she said she thought the refugees, "came over with unrealistic expectations. Not everyone lives like the Ewings in Dallas," she said

Not one of the 10 families interviewed in Dallas thought life here would be paved with gold, but they didn't expect the insecurity and bureaucratic failings.

One refugee said his landlord was charging him for rent owed by previous tenants. Another said he was charged for a water bill dated before he even arrived in the U.S. Many families spoke of delays in food stamps and being forced to sign leases for apartments they cannot afford.

"We must sign documents without understanding what they say, and they tell us if you don't sign, you will get nothing. They don't give us any copies, " said Ibrahim. But their biggest shock has been the brutality of the American health care system.

Yaseen Ibrahim, 43, a father of five, was a taxi driver in Baghdad. An explosion on the street ripped through his home, and he fell from the second floor, crushing his leg.

He received no medical attention in Iraq and left for Syria with his family. There he lived on rent subsidies from the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees in a small, third-floor apartment. He couldn't go up or down the stairs. He couldn't work.

The doctor screening him during his refugee interview in Damascus assured him he would be treated in the United States. "Don't worry, you will be OK. They will the will fix your leg," he said he was told.

He arrived Oct. 1, 2008. He received six month's paid rent, one month of free utilities, food stamps and cash assistance through Catholic Charities, his assigned refugee agency.

Last month, the cash assistance stopped. Fortunately, he was able to get Supplemental Security Income, but that only pays $670 a month, and his rent is $650, not to mention, bills for electricity, water, diapers for two kids, phone, and his $200-a-month payment to the International Office of Migration for the airplane tickets from Damascus.

His dream to get his leg fixed is finished. He's been bounced back and forth between two hospitals in Dallas, each telling him he's ineligible for care. He's sought the help of the listproject.org, a U.S. nonprofit group dedicated to helping Iraq refugees.

"My illness is getting worse. All the time, I'm concerned, thinking about my future. I even stopped going to ESL classes because I keep thinking about all the problems. I have five kids. I can't buy clothes. I imagined a good future for them. In Baghdad, I can find some friends or relatives to help me, but here I have no one. All the things they told me, I don't see it." He feels lost and betrayed.

"Because of what happened in Iraq, we're looking for responsibility from the American people. We left everything behind us. We just came with our clothes."

Margaret arrived in mid-February, a widow with six children. Her husband was killed in Iraq for owning a liquor store. Her family has been scattered, one son escaped to Greece then to New Zealand, one daughter remains in Turkey. They had hoped for a placement to New Zealand to be reunited with the son, but no delegation came through.

She arrived in mid-February with four daughters, two of them diabetic -- her oldest, 21, is blind. While in Iraq, the daughter developed headaches and started bleeding from her eyes. The war made it impossible to seek medical care.

Since coming to Dallas, she has had one doctor's consultation and no follow-up treatment. Her Medicaid hasn't come through. Her food stamps are late. Meanwhile, her second daughter, 20, is going blind.

"I can't focus. I can't concentrate. I can't read at all," her daughter says. Time is running out. "What's the solution? What should I do?" she cries. "It's the biggest mistake I made, to come over here. What is my fate?"

For the refugees already here, the only solution they can see, like so many of their poor American counterparts, lies in the well-endowed arms of the U.S. military.

Nasreen* was a translator at the U.S Embassy in Baghdad. She recently resettled with her family in the Detroit area. Unable to find work there, she moved to Dallas for a part-time caseworker job. It's not enough to sustain her, and so she dreams of finding her way back to a government job, ideally on a military base. "The benefits are good," she said.

Hasim* worked as a military translator for 36 months, risking his life on missions and helping with military intelligence. He arrived in Dallas in September and was jobless for months. He finally found employment through friends at Tyson foods, where he acts as an interpreter and packer, making $9 an hour.

But he's frustrated and unsettled. His only way out, he says, is to go back to Iraq to the danger he left, but this time as a U.S. hire working for a military contractor. He's willing to take the risk because U.S. hires make up to five times more than what he made as an Iraqi national.

See more stories tagged with: iraq, texas, immigration, economy, refugees

Nina Berman is a photographer and the author of Purple Hearts: Back From Iraq.

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