WUNRN
Letter from Zainab Salbi, Founder
& CEO
Women for Women International
As I sat beside the Tigris River in
Baghdad on a hot July evening, the air is still, the dust has settled, and the
call for prayers is echoing over the river as it reflects lights from
relatively new restaurants. I visited my mother's grave yesterday and learned
that her tombstone was destroyed by a missile 2 years ago in one of the clashes
between the militias and the US troops. "Not even the dead are spared from
the bombings in Iraq," I thought to myself. But at least my mother is not
witnessing the pain many Iraqi women are witnessing as they try to find space
for themselves in the "new Iraq." Today in Iraq, women have no one
unified reality.
At
the same time as many women increase participation in the political
sector-Iraq's Parliament and local councils are required to have 25% women
representation-thousands more are experiencing brutal hardship and extreme
poverty. There are now more destitute women in Iraq than ever before-estimates
of the number of war widows range from one to three million. These and other
socially and economically marginalized women are vulnerable and at high risk of
trafficking, organized and forced prostitution, polygamy, domestic violence,
and being recruited as suicide bombers, something that the society is still
trying to process and understand.
In
a single day's journey around Baghdad, one can see all these many and
conflicting realities of Iraqi women-that was my day today. I arrive at Women
for Women International's office, I see a woman in her fifties waiting for me
to interview her for a job at Women for Women International. She had been a
social worker for 25 years, worked in Sadr City throughout most of her
professional career and is passionate and loving about the people in Sadr city,
never questioning the fact that she is a "Sunni" woman working in a
"Shia" neighborhood. She tells me, "That was the old Iraq. We
worked, drove, traveled, went to universities, to parties, no one questioned
us. Today, I find it hard to get my spirit back. I saw too many dead bodies and
too much suffering. It was worse than the war with Iran, worse than the first
Gulf War, worse even than the last Gulf War is our own civil war. That's when I
stopped leaving my home. I don't know how to make sense of things
anymore," she explains with a sigh.
Leaving
the office, I met a friend for lunch. She is an activist for whom I have deep
respect; she has never left Iraq, has survived and persevered through all of
the challenges. She continues her activism and her work to sustain and support
the voices of women, but today I see she is giving up. "It's not only the
bombing." she explains. "It's not only the lack of electricity. All
of these things we got used to. It is much more about the corruption you see in
the country, the lack of vision, of leadership, of something to hold us to each
other, to the country. I am witnessing a country where the corruption is eating
it alive and is giving a chance to militias to destroy it even further. I think
I have hit my limit." I can hear the defeat in her voice; so few of the
older, educated, middle class women are holding on-I have the deepest respect
for the integrity and the dedication of those who do.
My
friend's daughters were listening to our conversation at lunch. Eagerly, they
peppered me with questions intended to confirm their mother's stories of a less
conservative time where women moved freely in the public sphere: "Did you
really drive to college? Is it true that most women did not wear a headscarf?
Is it true that most girls did not get married until they graduated from
college? Is it true that most women were working?"
It
broke my heart to hear their questions, for I realized that there is a whole
generation of women and men who don't even remember that this era of freedom
and stability ever existed. My friend's daughters are part of the privileged
class. They are going to university and not questioning their rights to do so.
But there are many girls their age from different sectors of society who are
not even going to school, and hence are growing up illiterate.
I
leave my lunch to visit one of the participants in Women for Women
International's program, one of the millions of widows in Iraq. Her husband was
killed on a Friday afternoon as she was preparing lunch in the kitchen.
He
was playing with their sons. They heard an explosion outside. When they ran out
to see what happened, a missile landed on him, killing him instantly and
injuring all four sons. "My life was changed in a second from a happily
married woman to a widow, a poor woman, with no support whatsoever," she
explains. I asked her if anybody besides Women for Women International is
helping her, and I was surprised by her answer: "Poverty has changed much
of our culture," she says. "My in-laws told me they are too poor to
help me and my four sons. My own parents told me the exact same thing. So I had
no hope but to manage on my own. I taught myself basic nursing techniques to
save money on my kids' medical needs after each surgery they had to undergo to
correct damage caused by the explosion. I sold all that I had to open a mini
store in front of the house where my kids and I work so we can earn some
living. With Women for Women's help I now have a job as a candle maker."
I
finally decide to return home. As with every drive, there are tens of check
points where the soldiers are holding a machine to check if the car has a bomb
or not. You are also not supposed to use your cell phone when passing the check
point-a rule that I forgot and was quickly reminded of by the inspecting
soldiers. They asked me to get out of the car and go to the women's check point
to be checked. I walked calmly to one room by the side road where there is a
woman sitting inside, waiting to body search women sent by the soldiers
outside. I try to start a light-hearted conversation: "Why bother to
search women; it is the men in this country who are causing all the
trouble." I say this with a light tone, only to be surprised and informed
of another reality of Iraqi women: "No sister," she tells me with a
sad face. "Many women are suicide bombers these days. Just the other day,
two women exploded themselves in front of the mosque, on two separate
occasions. I still don't know what to make out of these women," she says.
I don't either. I leave the check point with a teary eye at the pain of the
country and what it is witnessing from its men and women. Another sandstorm
makes its way through the city one more time. I can see it in the distance,
taking over the green that once surrounded the city, trees and flowers.
Another
kind of sandstorm seems to be overtaking the pained hearts of Iraqi women,
blocking out the sun over the entire country. I better go inside-maybe tomorrow
will be a better day. Maybe women will once again have the strength to keep
themselves, their families and their nation going. They are in need of a new
reality. The world must support them. We must stand strong with our Iraqi
sisters.
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