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In Now-religious Iraq, No Tolerance for Gypsies

By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

BAGHDAD – Kamalia used to be whispered about as a place of sin, part of the decadence of Saddam Hussein’s rule.The houses in this former red-light district once bore carvings of the deposed dictator with dancing girls – the Gypsy courtesans he had installed here. Now, the walls are papered with images of another Hussein, the grandson of the prophet Muhammad and the most revered Shiite saint.

Today, the Gypsies are gone, and the neighborhood’s name has been changed. It is called Hay al-Zahra, after the Muslim prophet’s daughter.

Most of Iraq’s Gypsies, a tiny ethnic minority with roots here hundreds of years deep, have been driven out of the country since the U.S. invasion in March 2003. They came under assault as darlings of the old regime. And, as reputed alcohol sellers and prostitutes, they were told there was no place for them in an Islamic country.

Iraq was one of the most secular countries in the Middle East, but the holy warriors who have flooded it since the war and the new power of religious parties in politics have transformed it. Women who never covered themselves now don hijabs, the head scarves dictated by Islamists. Liquor shops and churches have been bombed, as have barbershops that cut hair in ways the Koran forbids.

“Now, Iraqis have become Muslims,” said Akeel Hamid, 34, a former Kamalia resident and a remnant of a community of Iraqi Gypsies that once numbered 50,000. “So it’s become harder for us to be here.”

Hamid is now a squatter on the grounds of an air force officers’ club reduced by bombs and looting during the fall of Baghdad. He lives with dozens of other Gypsies in tents improvised from dried date palm leaves, bamboo, and cardboard. The children have scabs on their feet, and barbed wire with trash in its coils litters the camp.

“We used to have very nice houses,” Nadia Ali Mehsin said, crouching in her hut. “Saddam gave us the right. . . . No one could harass or annoy us.”

Mehsin, 35, once owned a two-bedroom concrete house in Kamalia. It had a guest room, a spacious kitchen, a telephone, even a garage and garden. But a month after the U.S. invasion, men carrying grenades and rifles evicted them in the middle of the night, she said.

“They pushed doors in,” she recalled. “They told us: ‘Now we are the government. The government doesn’t exist anymore and we can do whatever we want.’ They told us to get out.”

Mehsin said she did not know the men. But followers of Shiite cleric Muqtada al-Sadr, whose army of black-clad enforcers police some sections of the country, claim responsibility for emptying Kamalia and other enclaves of Gypsies.

“They did bad things for society,” said Sheikh Ahmed al-Amshani, the head of Sadr’s office in Kamalia. “The girls would sit in the street wearing naked clothes. They would dance. They would sing loudly. They would try to tempt young men.”

Gypsies trace their origins to India a thousand years ago. In their trek west over generations, one group branched off to Eastern Europe and another to what is now Syria and Iraq.

For centuries, they made their living as entertainers and dancers. That tradition, and its suggestion of sexuality, persists, although many Gypsies converted to Islam. A racy music video that swept the Middle East last year features Iraqi Gypsies tossing their hair and shaking their shoulders as a singer croons about eating a luscious orange to a woman clad in orange.

Gypsies have been persecuted for centuries, including under Nazi Germany. Many Iraqis associate Gypsies with the commercial sex trade, so all Gypsies have been treated harshly, even those with no connections to prostitution.

Sadr’s father, a revered ayatollah assassinated by Saddam Hussein, had devoted entire sermons to calls for Gypsies to reform and had even sent envoys to their enclaves to convert them to a pious lifestyle.

“After the war, we had this great chance to get rid of them,” Amshani said.

A year ago, police blamed the Mahdi Army, Sadr’s militia, for driving out about 1,000 residents of a southern village known as Qawliya, Arabic shorthand for both Gypsy and prostitute. The militia said at the time that it ran into resistance while trying to rescue a girl kidnapped by the Gypsies and that neighbors razed the village. Gypsy camps in Abu Ghraib and Hillah also disbanded in recent months after Sadrist imams condemned them, Amshani said.

The cleric described gunfights between the Gypsies and “religious young men” in Kamalia that lasted a month after the toppling of Hussein. Gypsies came to him seeking protection from hostile neighbors, he said, but he could not help if they clung to prostitution.

Others said the neighborhood’s Gypsies were pressured to go – but not with arms.

“The heads of clans went and asked them to leave because they gave the place a bad reputation,” said resident Hussein Miklif, 25. “Everyone knew if they stayed they would hurt people’s feelings.”

Neighbors gave them a week to arrange their affairs, he said.

“It’s clean now,” Miklif said.

Regardless of whether guns triggered it, the 200 Gypsy households in the Kamalia area – so sympathetic to insurgents that there are no army or police checkpoints – have scattered.

“After the fall of the regime, their houses were raided,” said Nadwa Dawood, spokeswoman for Iraq’s Ministry of Displacement and Migration. “We consider them as refugees because they left their houses and are moving from place to place.”

Some sold their houses cheaply or sublet them. Others simply fled in caravans to Syria and Jordan without looking back.

“The neighborhood was empty,” said Abdul Mohsin Saahib, 47, who moved in two months after the war.

He looked at many houses vacated by Gypsies before settling on one. He saw paintings of scantily clad girls on the walls, rooms with cabaret stages, and others with windows opening onto the street to sell alcohol.

“They don’t have religion,” said Saahib’s father, Hajj Jassim Mohamed, 58. He also said supplanting the Gypsies evened the score with Hussein.

“The government used to oppress other Iraqis, honest Iraqis, and bad families used to have many houses,” he said. “After the war, they realized people in the neighborhood were religious and didn’t want them anymore. They knew it would be dangerous for them to stay.”

The family purified their house with soap and water after buying it from Gypsies. They cemented the liquor counter shut. And they hung pictures of Sadr and his father on the wall.

Another buyer said the cleric’s office in Sadr City told him the house was available. Sheikh Ghaith al-Tamimi, the spokesman for the cleric in that Baghdad slum, said the office had the names of the Gypsies in Kamalia by street but stopped short of selling their houses.

“We asked them to leave the place, but we couldn’t deal with their houses,” he said. “But if we knew of someone who needed them, we would tell him or her to buy or rent them.” Mehsin, the squatter at the officers’ club, returned to her house after being forced out. A woman with a kitchen knife greeted her, but she managed to extract three million dinars (about $2,000) for her house, she said. She called it less than a tenth of its value.

She and the other Gypsies arrived at the squatters’ camp a year ago after being kicked out of refuges in a school and a military base.

“What can we do? We just don’t have the money,” Mehsin said. “People who could afford it left the country. Where could we go? This is our country.”

© The Philadelphia Inquirer. All rights reserved.

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Critics Say Satellite TV Beams Western ‘Poison’ into Iraq

By Gaiutra Bahadur
Knight Ridder Newspapers

BAGHDAD – Oprah has a fan base in Iraq. Iraqi mothers fret about the amount of time their teenagers spend watching “Star Academy,” an Arabic-language cross between “American Idol” and “The Real World.”And an ad for the satellite channel MBC’s new lineup – which includes “Inside Edition,” “Jeopardy!” and “60 Minutes” – declares: “So you can watch what THEY watch.”

Satellite dishes, which Saddam Hussein and his coterie withheld from ordinary Iraqis, have sprouted everywhere since his regime fell. They sit on the roofs of mansions and sidewalk vendors’ stalls, pulling in hundreds of channels from all over the world. Even squatters in a bombed-out and looted club once reserved for air force officers have a receiver set up, next to a swimming pool filled with trash and a layer of green slime.

Before the war, television was all Saddam, all the time. Even music videos featured his image. Iraqis giddy to be free from the propaganda snapped up satellite dishes soon after American tanks rolled in. Watching television is one of the few safe forms of entertainment left in a country living under curfew and the constant fear of violence.

Some see it as a second invasion by the West that threatens Iraqi values.

“It’s the main means to broadcast poison in homes,” an editorialist in the daily newspaper al-Mutamar wrote recently. “There is a war between satellite channels and the Iraqi family.”

An anonymous Iraqi blogger lashed out at the saturation of the airwaves by shows such as “Survivor” and “The Bachelor” by suggesting a reality TV program of her own.

“Take fifteen Bush supporters and throw them in a house in the suburbs of, say, Fallujah for at least 14 days. We could watch them cope with the water problems, the lack of electricity, the checkpoints, the raids … ,” the blogger wrote. “We could watch their house bombed to the ground. … We could see them try to rebuild their life with their bare hands.”

Those who complain about satellite television usually are reacting to flashes of flesh on channels such as Rotana, the Arabic version of MTV, or scenarios that offend conservative Muslim sensibilities, such as the impropriety of unrelated men and women living together.

The hit program “Star Academy,” for instance, throws a cast of would-be singers from across the Middle East together in the same villa. Cameras broadcast their every move 24 hours a day, and once a week viewers vote off one of two candidates. The current cast includes Iraqi heartthrob Bashir al-Qaysi.

Iftehar Sahim Hussein, 38, a housewife and mother who wears the head scarf of traditional Muslim women, said her family decided against buying a satellite dish although they had the $100 to spare for its purchase.

“My husband says it’s like Satan in the house,” she said. “It makes people tempted.”

Mujahedeen – holy warriors – in Fallujah considered it enough of a menace to threaten stores that sold satellite receivers that allow access to pornographic channels, and the owners promptly posted disclaimers in their shop windows.

Sheik Basheer al-Najafi, one of the country’s top Shiite Muslim clerics, recently argued during a sermon that cultural domination by the West posed a greater danger than physical occupation.

Satellite television “can demoralize the young generation by introducing ideas that are foreign to them and their religion,” he said later.

A 25-year-old at a Baghdad Internet cafe with an oversized, ornamental satellite dish made of glass at its entrance said his family bought a dish immediately after the war but that they abide by the advice of the top Shiite religious council in their viewing habits.

The top Shiite scholars have banned “Star Academy,” Hussein Ahmed said. “Yes, it’s because they show women in sleeping positions and singing and doing things she shouldn’t be doing in public.

“They always advise us not to even have the channels themselves. To scramble the songs and other immoral channels. We are a conservative family. We are very much from the Islamic line and try to stay away from that.”

Most clerics have been relatively moderate in their attitudes to satellite channels. After all, Iraqis can access the Holy Quran channel as well as stations that specialize in bare-bellied beauties gyrating to English and Arabic pop music.

“It’s exactly like nuclear power,” said Sheik Jalal al-Din al-Saghir, a National Assembly member and imam of Baratha, a mainstream Shiite mosque in Baghdad. “Sometimes it’s beneficial and it helps people. Sometimes it destroys.”

He and others said most viewers, given the political instability and violence that plagued Iraq, were more interested in news than in sexually suggestive movies and music videos.

Samer al-Meshal, a journalist who writes for Sabah, a newspaper funded by the U.S. government, is addicted to a weekly program on Al-Arabiya that features a roundtable of Iraqi politicians.

Satellite dishes “occupy every roof of every house, and they also occupy every mind. It IS an invasion,” he said, “but it’s a nice one.”

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Al-Sadr Followers Clash with Iraqi Forces; Police Uncover Mass Grave

By Gaiutra Bahadur
Knight Ridder

BAGHDAD – Supporters of Muqtada al-Sadr, the militant Shiite Muslim cleric responsible for two uprisings against the United States last year, clashed with Iraqi security forces in the southern city of Kufa on Friday, on a day of widespread violence in Iraq.

A mass grave was found at a dump near the Shiite slum that’s al-Sadr’s stronghold in the capital, and two suicide car bombs struck a market and a police checkpoint, killing at least 23.

Friday’s violence underscored the weakness of the new Iraqi government in the face of widespread challenges to its authority.

The clash in Kufa came after a defiant speech by al-Sadr that was read at Friday prayers, and it brought reminders of the chaos al-Sadr’s supporters caused last year when they revolted against U.S. troops in Najaf and elsewhere. The sermon said the Iraqi government had done nothing to win the release of al-Sadr’s followers in U.S. facilities or to stop raids on his offices and warned that he might again mobilize his Mahdi Army militia.

“We dropped our weapons, but our hands are still on the trigger,” al-Sadr said. “We have been patient and quiet with the truce, which (the U.S.) violated more than once. Consider the past period a training period for us, psychologically and morally.”

Accounts of what caused the clash in Kufa varied, but there was agreement that Iraqi police or army officials shot and wounded some worshippers emerging from prayers.

“After the prayers, the worshippers left the mosque and they started to chant,” said Sabah Shubar, 41, a car mechanic who was hit in the leg by three bullets. “We were surprised by the army opening fire.”

A spokesman for the Defense Ministry said that guards for Aws al Khafaji, the imam who delivered al-Sadr’s speech, were armed. Police questioned them, which led to a dispute that ended with an exchange of gunfire, the spokesman said.

The clash left at least four wounded, including a 13-year-old and a police officer, and created tension in al-Sadr’s strongholds across the country.

Meanwhile, a mass grave was discovered northeast of Baghdad, near Sadr City.

Police said early Friday that they recovered the bodies of 14 men who were buried in a garbage dump. Each victim had been blindfolded, handcuffed and shot once in the head.

The Muslim Scholars Association, a Sunni clerical group with ties to the insurgency, claimed that the victims were all farmers, members of the prominent Dulaimi clan, who’d been abducted from a grocer’s market the day before by Iraqi army and police officers.

The association issued a statement naming all the victims. The men, brothers and cousins, all between the ages of 25 and 40, had traveled to the Baghdad market to sell their goods, said Abdul Salaam al-Qubaisi, a spokesman for the association. They came from Madain, a town south of Baghdad that last month was the focus of reputed kidnappings that pitted Sunnis against Shiites.

The discovery of the mass grave raised further fears that bloody ethnic clashes are escalating.

On a bridge in Tikrit, Saddam Hussein’s hometown, a car bomb killed seven and wounded three near a police checkpoint at 8:10 a.m., the Iraqi Interior Ministry said.

In Suwayrah, about 25 miles south of Baghdad in an area known as “The Triangle of Death,” a car bomb exploded in a market, killing 16 and wounding 36, according to the ministry.

Also, Friday, the Arab satellite news station Al-Jazeera broadcast two videos of kidnapping victims that issued ultimatums for their countries to either withdraw troops or stop doing business in Iraq.

In one video, men wearing masks brandished rifles at Australian engineer Douglas Wood, 63, pictured with his head shaved and displaying his passport. Al-Jazeera reported that kidnappers had given Australia 72 hours to withdraw its 300 troops from Iraq. A banner visible to the left of the video read al-Mujahedeen Shura Council.

Another video showed six employees of a Jordanian company called Jaafar Ibn Mansour being held by a group called al-Baraa bin Malik. Two men pointed AK-47s at the employees, also pictured holding their passports. Al-Jazeera said the kidnappers were demanding that all Jordanian companies cease doing business in Iraq.

In the face of the increasingly grisly news, the U.S. military claimed significant progress in breaking the organization of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the most wanted terrorist in Iraq.

It released a statement Friday that highlighted the killing and capture of 20 top lieutenants in al-Zarqawi’s network in recent months and included excerpts of demoralized testimonies from several detained bomb makers, drivers, propagandists and terror cell leaders.

The statement also described the near capture of al-Zarqawi in a Feb. 20 raid between Hit and Haditha, near the Euphrates River.

Al-Zarqawi’s driver, Abu Usama, recounted that “Zarqawi became hysterical” as coalition forces closed in on his vehicle, according to the statement. The statement said al-Zarqawi grabbed an American-made rifle and U.S. dollars and escaped, leaving behind his computer, pistols and ammunition.

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Ethnic, Political Ties Seen as Key to Jobs in Iraqi Government

By Gaiutra Bahadur
Knight Ridder Newspapers

BAGHDAD – Saddam Hussein’s rules for young and ambitious Iraqis were clear: If you want a future, you must join the Baath Party.Now, as the leaders of the new National Assembly parcel out Cabinet posts according to ethnic group and religious or political affiliation, students and recent college graduates worry that the government will become a collection of fiefdoms in which loyalties matter more than merit.

“I guess now with so many political parties, and the way the different ministries are divided according to sects, one doesn’t know which party he should be a member in,” said Haider Ali, 24. “I will try my luck. If not, I will go abroad to find a job opportunity.”

Ali’s worries are one reflection of the broader problems of making a democratic Iraq a unified nation and creating a national identity that supersedes ethnic and religious allegiances.

The Baghdad resident was part of a garlanded caravan of al-Rafidain college seniors who recently made their way, heads bobbing to Arab pop music, to a graduation party in Baghdad’s Fardos Square. Despite their celebratory mood, several of them expressed anxiety about their career prospects.

They’ve reason to be pessimistic. Half of Iraqis are unemployed or underemployed, according to the Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs, and recent college graduates already have been backed into jobs they think are beneath them.

An electrical engineer works in a plastics factory. A woman with a degree in business administration sews clothes to make ends meet. A would-be English teacher has cleaned streets.

They’d all like jobs in the government, which employed most Iraqis under Saddam and is now the homegrown employer with the greatest stability and highest salaries. They complain that they’ve lost out in the competition for government positions because they haven’t paid bribes or don’t belong to the right political parties or ethnic groups.

Parties mostly break down along ethnic lines, with Shiite Muslims, Sunni Muslims and Kurds forming their own blocs in the National Assembly. Iraq’s newly selected leaders have said they’ll divide 31 Cabinet posts among those three major groups based on their numbers in parliament.

That’s bad news for Sunni job seekers: Sunnis overwhelmingly stayed home from the polls in January’s elections and hold only 17 assembly seats.

Students and job seekers swap tales of friends who were told by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to produce letters of recommendation from the Kurdish Democratic Party or the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan. Kurdish leader Hoshyar Zebari runs the foreign ministry, which resonates with the sounds of Kurdish rather than Arabic. He’s likely to retain the post.

“We know that ministry is for the Kurdish party,” said Kareem al-Saadi, 22, a graduating senior at Mustansiriyah University. “When you want to have a job in this ministry, you must get a notification from the Kurdish party.” Al-Saadi said it happened in all the ministries.

Hamid al-Bayati, a deputy at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, said political parties had recommended candidates for diplomatic posts but he maintained that the ministry hasn’t become a stronghold for any one group.

The hiring committee relies on the parties to know who is “trustworthy,” he said, because “the last thing we want is infiltration from loyalists of the former regime.”

“We try to make it a mix to satisfy all sectors of Iraqi society,” said al-Bayati, a member of the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq, a major Shiite party. “We always make sure there are Sunnis, Shias and Kurds. And we receive nominations from all different groups.”

Still, perceptions of bias run deep.

“The Ministry of Defense is just for those named Shaalan. Health is just for the Dawa party,” said Mazen Abd Sadr Mohamed al-Jorani, the would-be English teacher. “I must either get relations or dollars.”

In December, an internal auditor found that Health Ministry officials had hired widely on the basis of family, tribal or party ties. Adil Mohsen Abdullah, who was fired last month after making his report public, said there were thousands of unqualified employees throughout the ministry.

“Health is a technical field which needs experts to fill the proper positions,” he said in an interview. “And if we keep turning to the tribe or the family, we’ll give these posts to the nonqualified people who don’t deserve it.”

The Commission on Public Integrity, which American administrators created as a watchdog against corruption before they stepped aside last year, has received complaints about government jobs being handed out on the basis of ethnicity or membership in political parties. It hasn’t been able to act on the complaints, however.

“The people who complain do not assist us in our investigations because of the security situation,” said Judge Radhi Hamdan Radhi, the head of the commission. “They fear revenge if their identity is revealed.”

The Labor Ministry runs a center that’s supposed to serve – by a resolution of the interim government – as a clearinghouse for government workers, using a database of 650,000 unemployed doctors, engineers, teachers and others.

“They should come to us,” said Riyadh Hassan, the head of the center. But “there is not complete control. We send them all our lists and their qualifications, and (they say), `We are sorry. We haven’t a job.’ Then we find in the papers thousands of teachers have been hired. They’ve directly employed them.”

“Sometimes, it’s personal,” he said. “Sometimes a person would bring his own people, or his acquaintances, or maybe take money.”

Ali Jamil Haleel, a 25-year old waiter with a bachelor’s degree in history, founded the General Union of Graduated Students about six months ago to help jobless degree-holders. He said many of them had encountered partisanship.

“Students graduate from a certain branch and want to apply to the suitable ministry. The dominant party would ask for a recommendation from that party,” Haleel said.

He said Saddam started the practice of favoritism. “So this thing was planted in people’s minds,” he said. “So now the parties are acting in the same way. Each party is trying to bring the people of its own sect to its side.”

International observers also are worried.

“Sooner or later, this is going to create resentment and tension,” said Marina Ottaway, a democracy and Middle East specialist at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

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Iraqi Aides Are Denied a U.S. Haven

They are running and rejected.
By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

BAGHDAD – Alyaa said she was the first woman in her neighborhood to sign up to work with the U.S. government after Saddam Hussein fell.
She used to stand shoulder to shoulder with an American soldier in front of the U.S. military’s Camp Scania in the Rashid section of Baghdad. A translator, Alyaa, 24, talked to Iraqis who lined up at the entrance seeking compensation for dead relatives and destroyed homes.

Now, because of that work, her life is in danger and in limbo.

Alyaa, who asked that her last name be withheld out of fear for her safety, fled to Jordan with her cousin Shaimaa after insurgents killed an uncle and kidnapped Shaimaa and another cousin. Alyaa had hoped to find a haven in the United States but discovered that the State Department was not resettling refugees from Iraq.

She has lost her faith in the country she once loved.

“We gave them our friendship,” jeans-clad, cigarette-smoking Alyaa said during a recent interview at an Amman restaurant. “We gave them our hard work. And they don’t even help us to have a new life.”

Would it be so hard, she asked, “for America to give a visa to Iraqis to have a new life that they took from them?”

Refugee aid workers and U.S. and U.N. officials said the United States had turned away Iraqi refugees because it was trying instead to create a democratic society from which no one had to flee and was sacrificing American lives in the process. To succeed, it needs the talents of the very people who want to leave.

“The whole purpose of being here is to create an environment of stability and security so that’s not an issue,” said Joanne Cummings, refugee coordinator at the U.S. Embassy in Baghdad.

Cummings said the embassy valued people who had put themselves at risk and kept a close watch on them.

More than 700,000 Iraqi refugees live in Jordan and Syria; 15,000 of them arrived in Amman after the American invasion two years ago, according to the U.N. refugee office. They include religious minorities, doctors, and other professionals who fear being kidnapped for ransom, and a growing number of Iraqis who were threatened because of their work with the U.S. government and its contractors.

Nongovernmental organizations first became aware of the problem as U.S. soldiers approached them for help in getting their translators out of the country, only to be told it was impossible.

In Alyaa and Shaimaa’s case, the soldier was Army Capt. Patrick J. Murphy of the 82d Airborne Division, their supervisor and an Iraq war veteran who is a Philadelphia lawyer.

“They fought just as bravely as we did over there, and I think we owe it to them as a grateful nation to do everything we can to help them become Americans,” Murphy said.

So many former employees have sought protection in other countries that the U.N. refugee office recently rewrote its guidelines for Iraq to include those ties as reasonable grounds for fear of persecution, said Marie Helene Verney, a spokeswoman for the agency in Geneva, Switzerland.

“Such people should be of special humanitarian concern to the U.S.,” Bill Frelick, director of refugee programs for the human-rights group Amnesty International, wrote in a letter to U.S. officials in February.

“In principle, there is no blunt refusal,” said Verney, the U.N. spokeswoman. “The few cases in the pipeline are taking a long time.”

The threats against Alyaa and her family came in June in sealed envelopes delivered to their homes in Dora, a Baghdad neighborhood rife with insurgents. There were six letters, one for each member of the family who was working for the United States.

“You help the people you’re supposed to fight,” Alyaa said they read. “You deserve death.”

The letters, signed by a group calling itself the Jihad Units, instructed the family to post signs at the local mosque within three days saying they had quit their jobs – or face beheading. But before the deadline passed, her uncle, a construction contractor for the United States, was ambushed on his way to work and shot in the heart.

The slaying sent the family scattering. Alyaa went into hiding, hopscotching from house to house and finally fleeing north. While she was away, a gang of men kidnapped two female cousins, the ones whose father had just been killed.

They held one of them – Shaimaa, 26, who also had worked at Camp Scania – for six weeks in a one-room mud house near Ramadi that served as a weapons storehouse. The other cousin was released after a week with a ransom demand.

Shaimaa said the men had taunted her with specific details about the young women’s friendships with soldiers at the base. They disparaged Alyaa, asking Shaimaa whether Alyaa had made love to a captain when she worked behind closed doors with him. And they killed Shaimaa’s fiancee while they held her captive.

The family sold their properties to pay $60,000 for Shaimaa’s release. She emerged “almost crazy,” Alyaa said. For a long time after her release, Shaimaa would not sit in the same room with her brother or watch television because her abductors believed it was un-Islamic to do so.

She still has dark bruises on her right forearm and incisions in the nails of both middle fingers where the insurgents attached cables to administer electric shocks. And she still awakes crying from nightmares.

The cousins flew to Amman in December. They joined a community of Iraqi expatriates that has swollen to such a degree that one commercial road in the Jordanian capital has been nicknamed Tigris and Euphrates Street for the two rivers that flow through Iraq to the Persian Gulf.

The influx has inflated real estate prices and tightened the job market, leading the Jordanian government to crack down. Iraqis can’t work or study there. And they can’t live there continuously for more than three months unless they have hefty deposits in Jordanian banks, because every day they stay beyond that means a fine.

Alyaa and Shaimaa registered as refugees with the U.N. office in Amman but returned to Baghdad in frustration in early April as their three months came to a close. “I cannot stay in Baghdad,” Alyaa said. “I cannot go to another country. I cannot stay in Jordan.”

Even advocates who are urging the United States to offer sanctuary to former workers recognize the challenges that a formal refugee program would pose.

“It’s a really tough thing,” said Amnesty International’s Frelick. “If you let all the interpreters leave the country, then what are you going to do? . . . If we start evacuating Iraqis because it’s too unsafe for them there, is that going to create a backlash in the U.S at a time when we’re sending U.S. soldiers to Iraq and they’re dying?”

© The Philadelphia Inquirer. All rights reserved.