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A Better Place to Live
Sara Angheleddu
Sometimes Nada feels that her life in Cairo will never get easier. When she left Baghdad, she had just married and all she and her husband sought was a safe place to live. Now, after one and a half years in Cairo, she still finds herself in that "temporary but never-ending" state that many Iraqi refugees know well. She is homesick but she cannot go back, and she desperately wants to be resettled—accepted as an immigrant--in the States but nobody from UNHCR has contacted her for an interview.
Above all, Nada has no friends in Cairo. Her husband and a few Iraqi neighbours are the only people she has the chance to talk to. Nada has no doubt that Egyptians lack empathy toward Iraqi refugees. "I am still astounded at the hostility that people showed toward us when we came to live here. In Iraq, when a family moves into a new place, they will immediately receive a visit from the neighbours. In Cairo nobody never knocked at our door." She hands me a cup of tea before going on. "People here think that Iraqi means rich, and they find irritating the fact that we ask for help. I am often asked by Egyptians ’What are you here for? You should have known that there is nothing for you in Egypt!’ and in those moments I feel that they really don’t know what life in Iraq looks like nowadays."
Relations between Egyptians and Iraqi refugees in Cairo are one good example of how poor communication and lack of understanding can lead to wrong stereotypes. Everyday dealings with locals are not easy for displaced people, either for social or cultural reasons. After interviewing a number of Egyptians about the plight of Iraqis in Cairo, J found that the most widespread preconception among Egyptians is that Iraqis are wealthy people who need no financial help and are responsible for the rent increases in many areas of Cairo, such as Six October City and Nasr City where many Iraqis live.
Reality is that many Iraqi refugees in Egypt are in hard times. They are not entitled to social assistance, they cannot enrol their children in public schools, and it is practically impossible for them to get a work permit.
Employment in Egypt is a problem in general. When I ask Nada if she feels discriminated by Egyptians when she applies for a job, she first smiles and says, "No comment," then points out, "You see, Iraqis are not the only people who suffer from lack of a job. And, even if I feel frustrated because I am unemployed, I do understand that a large percentage of Egyptians share my same situation. I just wish I had the same right as locals of getting a work permit."
Kareem, 42 years old, fled Baghdad a few months after Nada. He used to work for an American company and for this reason became a target of armed militias. He works in a restaurant and lives in Nasr City with his family. "I am lucky," says Kareem, "because I have a good job and many relatives in Cairo. My life here is fine." I ask him if he is planning to go back to Iraq sometime. Kareem looks at his feet. "I miss Iraq," he eventually says, "But the Iraq that I miss is gone forever." When I mention the Egyptians’ lack of empathy toward Iraqis, he shakes his head., "It is not about Iraqis or Sudanese or Somalis. I studied Economics at university, and I know the problems affecting this country. Egypt is overpopulated, and most of Egyptians are poor. Whoever arrives here seeking protection and a job is just undesired."
Kareem’s sum-up of Cairo is simple, "It has about 17 million inhabitants while its infrastructure is designed for 2 million." Put this way, it is not surprising that Egyptians perceive these refugees as competitors for scarce resources.
Lack of information about the meaning of refugee status also generates misunderstandings between Iraqi job seekers and Egyptian employers. "They don’t know what a UNHCR Yellow Card is," says 33 years old Iman who was dismissed from her teaching job because she couldn’t get a work permit. "When they fired me I got mad. I tried to explain that I am a refugee and how hard had been for me to find a job. And all they answered me was that refugees just cause a lot of problems."
Preconceptions are deep-rooted in either side. Most Iraqis here are middle class–unofficial statistics say that 40 percent of Iraq’s middle class fled. They are not likely to integrate easily in a country where the vast majority are poor. "It is not a matter of money," claims 22 year old Hoda, an Iraqi student at Six October University, "as here many Iraqis are not longer wealthy. What divides us are different outlooks on life." So far, Hoda only hangs around with her Iraqi classmates: "They understand me. We all were raised the same way and we share common values. I find Egyptians uneducated. They can only talk about money."
Role Reversals
Role reversal is another recurring theme in the Iraqi-Egyptian verbal war. "Nearly three million Egyptians used to work in Iraq during the eighties," explains Azhar, an Iraqi doctor, "and they enjoyed more rights than Iraqis did. Now that we are here, they just neglect us." Ahmed, an Egyptian salesman, disagrees, "At that time, Egyptian teachers, engineers, doctors, builders, did help Iraq very much. The treatment that Iraqis gave to them was not as generous as you say."
Discussions such as this are common and never-ending, heated by nationalist pride. "Everyone knows that Egypt has the best-educated population among Arab countries!" would claim Ahmed. Azhar brings in an historical contention, arguing, "After you [Egyptians] signed the peace treaty with Israel, everyone [the other Arab countries] left you alone, and it would still be like that if it wasn’t for us [the Iraqis]!"
Another problem for Iraqis is that many Egyptians say they are afraid of Shi’a Muslims. Most Egyptians are Sunni Muslims. Khaled, an Iraqi engineer who fled after the kidnapping of his brother, says, "Egyptians think that Iraqi Shi’as have links to Iran." And he adds that many Egyptians blame Iraqi Sunnis for fleeing Iraq because they say that by doing so the Sunnis abandoned Iraq to the Shi’as.
As a Sunni Arab regime, Egypt’s attitude towards the Iraqi Shi’a government is controversial. Within Egypt, Shi’a Iraqis are not free to practice their ceremonies openly, and cases of harassment towards them have been reported. But sectarian issues seem unimportant for most Iraqis I interviewed. Nearly all answered the same when they were asked whether they where Sunni or Shi’a. "I am a Muslim," they would say. Nothing else.
Little can solve the dilemmas of Iraqi refugees in Cairo, and little will tear down the barriers of preconceptions and stereotypes that alienate many Egyptians and Iraqis from one another. Nevertheless, despite all assertions, political or religious, and apart from cultural differences, Egyptians and Iraqi refugees in Cairo have something important in common--where they live. "Mentality is the first thing to be changed when we talk about Iraqi refugees," Hayder once told me. Since his arrival in Egypt, Hayder, an Iraqi contractor, has been trying to establish an NGO to help Iraqi families. "We can fight against marginalization and self-exclusion only by doing things together. To do so, we not only need the support of the government but also of the general population. Many Iraqis like me are currently cornered by frustration, thinking there is no scope for their life. And many Egyptians feel exactly the same. Starting to talk each other about this would help us to build up mutual understanding."
Hayder dreams to be resettled and start a new life out of Egypt, but he knows that there is very little chance to achieve it. Hence his determination to find a meaning for his life in Cairo by doing social work. "It would give me hope, and it would make me feel helpful again.," he says. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he adds, "It would make Cairo a better place for me to live."
