Traveling along the Silk Road, Report #3: Amman, Jordan

Associate Dean Linda Wagener Continues Report on Journey from Bosnia to China :: 07/17/08

Linda Wagener, associate dean of Fuller’s School of Psychology, continues her series of journal reports from a six-week journey along the “Silk Road,” an ancient east-west trading route taking her through Bosnia, Jordan, Turkey, and China. As she meets young people along the way, Dr. Wagener—along with a traveling group that includes two School of Psychology students—seeks to better understand what it takes for youth to survive and even thrive in today’s world.

Journal Report #3:
Arriving in Amman, Jordan 

We entered Jordan in the middle of night, arriving at Queen Alia airport at 2:00 in the morning.  Even at that time of night, the desert heat hit us when we walked outside.  Within minutes, our clothes were sticking to us.  When I woke up from a brief sleep and walked onto my hotel room balcony, the glare of the sun off the white city was almost blinding.  I had to retreat behind my southern California sunglasses.

Very quickly, as a woman in Jordan, I took notice of the different patterns of interaction between men and women.  I had to restrain my normal impulse to make eye contact, smile, and shake hands with other people.  It has been better for the young men in our group to take the lead in negotiating for taxis, checks, and arrangements.  It is not necessary in Jordan to wear head coverings or full skirts and long sleeves, yet that is the most common form of dress, despite the example of Queen Rania.  We dress modestly by western standards yet there are still occasional stares and noticeable points of tension.

While here in Amman, our purpose is to study young people displaced from Iraq by the recent war.  Although we have long been aware of the hardships faced by the disruption of daily life in Iraq, the personal stories of the families we have interviewed have been heartbreaking.  We have often been moved to tears and have had to come to emotional grips with the complexity of the situation in Iraq which has led to hundreds of thousands of refugees.     

Yesterday, for example, we interviewed Hannan, a 20-year-old woman and her father, a published poet and painter.  Because he had done some work for Saddam Hussein, his life was threatened and livelihood diminished after the change in power.  Most of the Iraqi refugees in Jordan are here illegally, and often cannot find work to support their families.  Public schools are available to the Iraqi young people until the university level, but then it is often far beyond their financial means.  They become dependent on the many foreign aid agencies providing services here in Jordan, yet that is rarely enough. The roles of husbands and fathers are undermined by their inability to provide financial support.  Often the family is broken, and many women are heads of households.  Men under 45 years old are considered to be at a “critical age” for terrorism and are often here in secret, feeling forced to stay indoors until dark when they can come out without fear of being seen.  Jordan has officially welcomed their Iraqi neighbors yet the vast numbers have strained Jordan’s resources.

The young people we have interviewed here have given us powerful images of their experience of having the purpose and meaning of their lives taken from them.  Hannan, who has been here for four years, described looking in the mirror and seeing someone who has not existed since she was 16.  She and her friends agreed that their spirits were still in Iraq.  As she spoke, she began to weep and her father’s eyes filled with tears.  She turned to me and said, “I cannot watch my father cry. A child should not have to see her father cry.”  She and her friends want to continue their studies but can’t afford the universities and, as a consequence, they have little hope of finding meaningful work. Although they long for their home in Iraq, the infrastructure is in such chaos that there is great danger for them or their family members should they return.  They are stuck, unable to make realistic plans for a future that includes hope.  They can’t go back and the way forward is unclear.  They dread a future without opportunity to utilize their gifts and potential.

After spending the day with Hannan and her friends, we drove to the Dead Sea and watched the sun go down over the hills of Jerusalem as we floated in the strange, heavy water.  The emotional complexities of this place defy any easy description.  We find it impossible to remain emotionally detached, nor would we want to.  The people we meet are so easy to love, and they have been unfathomably generous in sharing the deepest longings of their hearts.