This post is from a blog I kept in 2009 while working in Jordan to conduct a conflict assessment of the country.
Last week I headed back to a community center in East Amman that works with a combination of Palestinian-Jordanians and Iraqi, Somali, and Sudanese refugees. They center mostly holds classes for youth and adults in English, Arabic, computers, art, sports, etc. It's mostly for youth who don't go to school for whatever reason. Some of them are refugees and have been out of school for quite some time (until 2007, Jordan did not provide free education to non-Jordanian-citizen children); some of them don't go to regular school because they need to help work to support their family. Some of them have simply dropped out. Adults come to improve their literacy and computer skills. M, the director, had told me earlier that from the beginning he laid down the law that "Here, we are one people, not Palestinian or Iraqi or Somali, just people." He told them, "I don't want to have to fire anyone. Or kick anyone out." From then on he claims they hadn't had any problems, but he said that many of the other centers in other areas had a lot of problems between groups of students or teachers.
M had kindly set up a focus group with some of the Iraqi teachers and one Palestinian-Jordanian teacher. From the beginning they were friendly but guarded. The Palestinian teacher, Menal, asked me at the beginning, "What is the point of this project? What will it do to help me? How can it improve things?" I was at a bit of a loss. Probably nothing, I thought. I told her I wasn't sure but that hopefully someone would read our report and at least understand better the challenges facing her community. And perhaps an NGO would provide more helpful assistance. That was all I could offer. Menal went on to stress the vast divide between the Palestinian and Jordanian community and the great amount of discrimination she felt. She wasn't very hopeful for the future and couldn't envision anything that would make it better.
Last week I headed back to a community center in East Amman that works with a combination of Palestinian-Jordanians and Iraqi, Somali, and Sudanese refugees. They center mostly holds classes for youth and adults in English, Arabic, computers, art, sports, etc. It's mostly for youth who don't go to school for whatever reason. Some of them are refugees and have been out of school for quite some time (until 2007, Jordan did not provide free education to non-Jordanian-citizen children); some of them don't go to regular school because they need to help work to support their family. Some of them have simply dropped out. Adults come to improve their literacy and computer skills. M, the director, had told me earlier that from the beginning he laid down the law that "Here, we are one people, not Palestinian or Iraqi or Somali, just people." He told them, "I don't want to have to fire anyone. Or kick anyone out." From then on he claims they hadn't had any problems, but he said that many of the other centers in other areas had a lot of problems between groups of students or teachers.
M had kindly set up a focus group with some of the Iraqi teachers and one Palestinian-Jordanian teacher. From the beginning they were friendly but guarded. The Palestinian teacher, Menal, asked me at the beginning, "What is the point of this project? What will it do to help me? How can it improve things?" I was at a bit of a loss. Probably nothing, I thought. I told her I wasn't sure but that hopefully someone would read our report and at least understand better the challenges facing her community. And perhaps an NGO would provide more helpful assistance. That was all I could offer. Menal went on to stress the vast divide between the Palestinian and Jordanian community and the great amount of discrimination she felt. She wasn't very hopeful for the future and couldn't envision anything that would make it better.
When it came to the plight of the Iraqis I felt even less useful. Was I just pouring salt on wounds by asking these questions? I hoped it was helpful to give them a forum to vent. They can't get jobs, even with their master's degrees. The one young male teacher told of playing guitar at a coffee shop and being kicked out by the police, because he is Iraqi, literally thrown out the door, in front of his friends. The older female teachers told of how their husbands couldn't get work, and sat around becoming more and more depressed each day. How their children were harassed in schools. How they just didn't feel at home, even after six years. They were just waiting for resettlement in America. And what could I do for them? Could they take my contact information? Of course I gave that but hoped they didn't assume that would help them gain resettlement. One woman looked as if she were going to cry. What can I say? No, my research won't solve their problems. Any of them. All I can do is sit there and listen.
