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Sixty-two and Looking for a Home and job
Janet McGiffin / August 2008
Dr. K. is a Civil Engineer and was Lecturer at the University of Baghdad for twenty years, then he was forced to leave Iraq because of threats to himself and his family from militia. He is a quiet man, grave but with an occasional illuminating smile. At 62 years old he says, “It is too late”. He is referring to getting a job, even given nearly forty years of engineering experience. There are many other Iraqis like him, refugees in their late fifties and sixties who are starting over when they were just looking at retirement.
His hopes for work are also doomed, he feels, because Lecturers at Iraqi universities were required to join the Ba-ath party, a group now condemned by the world as supporters of Saddam Hussein. His forced membership could count against him if he applies for asylum in the US. “We had families to support,” he explains. “How do we eat? I had to sign.” He adds with some bitterness, “The world heard from Saddam Hussain, that ‘All Iraqis are Ba’athists, even if they say they are not.’”
When the Americans entered Iraq in 2003, Dr. K. took a job as a Deputy Mayor of the municipality of Baghdad. For one year he acted as liaison with twenty or more American consultants in weekly meetings. “Baghdad is divided into sub-municipalities, ‘districts’, and American consultants were responsible for each district. I represented the mayor.” Dr. K carries a card with his name and photo showing he is an "Authorized Manager” in the Iraqi American Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
Several American contractors offered Dr. K. work and a salary. “In Iraq we had prime contractors and we had sub-contractors who were all nationalities like Iraqis, Jordanians, Syrians. They were all hiring people.. I refused. I was Deputy Mayor.”
If Dr. K. could show pay slips from an American company today, his chances of getting resettled in the US would be good. But instead, in 2005 Dr. K. received death threats. “My driver was killed, my bodyguard was killed. Within twenty-four hours, I took everything and left. I drove to Jordan and stayed some months with friends. My family came after me, three or four months later. Then we flew to Egypt.”
Dr. K. thought he would find work in Egypt. “I have done research about materials for highways and airports, especially asphalt, and research on airport maintenance and building construction. I specialize in designing and construction of roads.” His articles were published in conference proceedings. But in Cairo Dr. K cannot get a work permit and, in any case, few jobs exist in his field, even for Egyptians.
Dr. K.’s son is spending his Cairo time by taking intensive computer courses at the Microsoft offices in Cairo. He is now completing his third course, to be a trainer. Each course cost $1,000 plus $50 for each exam. There are ten exams and no job placement. While he was in Syria, before coming to Cairo, Dr. K.'s.son completed a course in English Business Language. Dr. K.’s daughter here is also a civil engineer, and also not working.
Not all of Dr. K.’s family are in Cairo. The Egyptian government stopped issuing visas to Iraqis in fall of 2007, leaving many Iraqi families separated. For three years, Dr. K. has been applying for visas for himself, his wife and his other children to live and work in the Arab Emirates to be near other family members, but his efforts are unsuccessful. Truthfully, he is not enthusiastic. “As an Iraqi who worked with foreigners, we are considered traitors in Arab countries. We don’t have a chance to get a job. Besides, they can say any time, ‘Get out.’ And what do I do then? Who will let me in? I can’t go back to Iraq. Never.”
Dr. K has cousins in Australia, Canada, and the US and his hope is to somehow join them. “The Mayor of Baghdad is living in Canada with his family,” he says, with a bitter smile. “I was Deputy Mayor and I still here.”
He lifts his hands in a gesture of futility. “We are feeling as dead. Our internal impression is that we are dead.”
