A Tale of Three Brothers

I have practically absorbed my love for fairy tales together with my mother’s milk. She used to sing me to sleep when I was but a baby, and later would tell me stories of all kinds, including all the Grimm Brothers’ folk tales, the Hans Christian Andersen Tales, Hauff’s fairy tales, stories from 1000 and One Nights, and Lisa Tetzner’s collection of Tales for 365 and One Days, and many, many more. In fact, until I was about 10 years old I would not sleep without a bedtime story from my mother.

Later, when I had kids of my own, I would also tell them stories. But none of my boys was as interested in those tales as I had been.

As a young adult, I began collecting folk and fairy tales – among other genres – and now have a sizeable collection.

But this Tale of Three Brothers has nothing to do with any folk or fairy tale. It is the story of real people and has really happened. The names and some details have been changed so that they cannot be easily recognised, but the story is nevertheless true.


A Tale of Three Brothers

Once upon a time, in a country far far away, in the Middle East, in a place called Palestine, a family was forced out of their home, their lovely house in Jaffa , at gunpoint , by evil, armed terrorist groups, like Irgun and Stern Gang. They had to flee for their lives, together with tens of thousands of other Palestinians. They could not take anything with them. Only the key to the main house door and some paper documents could be taken on the long track to Baghdad, and other places of refuge.

In Baghdad, they were very poor. But their neighbors helped them to survive the first few years. They settled down and lead a normal life. They had a son, who was born and grew up in Baghdad, who later married a girl, who was also born in Iraq, but whose parents had also fled the evil terrorist groups in their home country of Palestine in 1948. All they really wanted was to go back to their homes in Jaffa, but the rulers of the world would not let them go back, although they gave them a promise called "Right of Return".

So the young couple settled down in Baghdad and had three sons: Amin, Basim, and Karim. The three sons grew up, went to school, started working in different professions in Baghdad, and married women from among the Palestinian community in Iraq. All three of them had several children of their own.

Then came the war. George W. Bush, the leader of the ‘land of the free’ had solid evidence that Saddam Hussein, the leader of ‘the cradle of civilization’ possessed weapons of mass destruction which could be used against the ‘free’ people. So George W. waged war on Saddam to topple and kill him. Saddam Hussein, since the early days of his leadership, had held his protective hand over the Palestinian refugees in Iraq.

The war turned power structures in Iraq around; Saddam was captured and killed. The new rulers despised and hated the Palestinians in their country. Palestinians were arrested, tortured, killed. They received death threats; some disappeared; they were afraid for their lives.

Amin, Basim and Karim decided to take their families out of Iraq to safety. Amin and Basim, who had held good positions and earned a decent income for the past 25 years, sold their houses, bought fake Iraqi passports, and travelled via India to Southeast Asia. They were in two minds about which country they should actually go to. So in the end, Amin decided to go to Thailand, and Basim took his family to Malaysia. Basim argued that they would be better off in Malaysia, a Muslim majority country, rather than in Thailand, a Buddhist country. Amin, Basim and Karim were Sunni Muslims themselves.

Amin and Basim, in their respective country of refuge, ‘lost’ their fake passports and went to the local UNHCR (United Nation High Commissioner of Refugees) office to register as refugees, so they could be resettled in a country, that would accept them as citizens, where they and their children and children’s children could and would not be expelled anymore. Just about any country would do, as long as they were accepted there.

Karim, who did not have enough money to buy passports or air tickets to leave Iraq had waited too long, and in the end he just managed to take his wife and children and his old, ailing mother to the Iraqi border with Syria. Syria refused them entry, as there were already hundreds of thousands of Iraqi refugees in Syria. So Karim and family were stranded in no-man’s-land between Iraq and Syria, in a tent city, in the middle of the desert, without water, electricity, or anything else that is necessary for survival.

So, that was the situation of the three brothers three years ago.

What has happened since then? How is their situation today?

The first to find a country of resettlement for the family was Amin in Thailand. He was lucky. After the registration process to become a recognized refugee, which took about six months, he and the family had to wait almost a full year, before they were resettled in Norway. The UNHCR office in Bangkok, Thailand, is the regional hub for Southeast Asia. Amin was very lucky indeed, as many countries who traditionally accept refugees only accept refugees who remain in their geographical area. Non-Asian refugees in Bangkok, e.g. refugees from the Middle East or Africa, were out of their geographical area, and were only accepted for resettlement by a very small number of countries.

The second brother to find a ‘third country’ was Karim. After staying in the tent camp in the middle of nowhere in the desert for a year, together with hundreds of other families, the deplorable, most miserable and inhumane situation they were in finally resulted in the UNHCR office in Beirut, in charge of resettlement of the Middle East region, issuing a special emergency call to countries imploring them to accept these most unfortunate people for resettlement. Some South-American countries accepted a few hundred, including Karim, Karim’s wife, his mother, and all of his children.

And what has happened to the third brother, Basim?

He is still in 1Malaysia-truly Asia, waiting to be resettled with his family.

His eldest child, a daughter, has given up on ever going back to university to complete her studies. She had studied three semesters in Baghdad, but the Malaysian universities she applied to continue did not accept her papers and told her that she would have to start from scratch. She had no money anyway to go to any university.

Basim’s second child, a teenage son, began working illegally in a hotel in Kuala Lumpur. Refugees and asylum seekers are not allowed to work in Malaysia and cannot get work permits. So the son had to work longer hours for lesser pay, as he was in no position to argue with his boss. About a year ago, he was detained and sent to a detention centre for illegal migrant workers; but because he was a recognized refugee with a UNHCR card, and because someone with connections intervened on his behalf, he was released after a few weeks.

The whole family was so shaken by this experience, that they were scared for a few months to even try to go out into the city to earn a living, and had to depend on food aid from an NGO and other alms, until the necessity of survival kicked in again.

But the biggest worry of Basim was his youngest child, a fragile, shy, beautiful girl, who had just turned 6 when the family had arrived in Malaysia. “She should be going to school!”, he repeated often to everybody who was there to listen to his worries. “She should be going to school!” This sentence would turn and turn in his mind when he could not sleep, because the humid heat was too stifling in the small room they all shared at night.

“She should be going to school!”, he thought again, “what will ever become of her without an education?” He suffered remorse worse than torture. It was his fault that they were stranded here, that their lives were suspended for almost three years now!he thought. If only he would have listened to his brother Amin and go to Thailand; if only he would have listened to his brother Karim and waited with leaving Iraq; if only; if only; if only.

Tomorrow he would go out again, looking for a job, any job; begging from Arab businessmen or tourists some contributions to pay for his daughter’s school; going again to the nearby mosque to ask for money. Last week they had given him RM 50.00. He had felt insulted, but the cheapest school for his daughter was RM 2000.00 per year, payable in advance. He needed any money he could get. He needed to forget his pride. He had no pride left.

How will this story end? Will this true fairy tale have a happy end?

Yesterday, Basim was informed that the ‘land of the free’ has shown an interest to accept him and all his family members. He was told to expect a phone call from the embassy soon to make an appointment for an interview.

Basim has now hope beyond hope. If they accept him and his family, he, his children and his children’s children will finally be free in "the land of the free"!

Yes, most probably this fairy tale will have a Happy End.

THE END

Thank You for Treating Me Like a Human Being

Over the last two months, three different, unconnected and unrelated people have thanked me for treating them like human beings. What have they got in common? They are all Palestinian refugees in Malaysia.

Malaysia has not signed the 1951 UN Convention relating to the Status of Refugees. Therefore, legally, the refugee status does not exist in Malaysia. So people registered with UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner of Refugees) in Kuala Lumpur are considered illegal migrants. They are not allowed to work. Their children do not go to school. Their lives have been suspended.

They are waiting for resettlement to a third country through UNHCR, but this takes time. 2-3 years is no exception. Some families pull together all resources and live together in rented apartments, one family per room. Some get a bit of support from caring Malaysians, some from Arabs doing business in Malaysia. Some bachelors stay in suraus.

MSRI, the Malaysian Social Research Institute, the organisation I work for, is managing a Palestinian trust fund. Among other aid programmes, we also have a Sponsorship Programme for Palestinian Children in Lebanon. Because of these programmes, Palestinian refugees in Malaysia often find their way to my office in Jalan U Thant, Ampang. Like the three men mentioned above.

Wherever they turn to in their distress about their situation, whoever they approach will be sympathetic. But most people do not want to hear about the hardship these Palestinians face here. Malaysia is supposed to be this tropical paradise, and refugees, not only Palestinian but also for example Burma refugees only spoil the picture. So most people just turn away; the ones who have some empathy will press a 50Ringgit note into their ourstreched hands before turning away.

It is particularly bitter for Palestinian refugees from Gaza to read in the newspapers that millions of aid and support is going to Gaza; to see all the banners hanging at many places in the cities, mosques, bridges and other strategic places declaring the solidarity of the Malaysian people with the people in Gaza, while they, also from Gaza, live the lonely lives of refugees right in their midst.

Over the last two years, more Palestinian refugees from the Middle-East have come to Malaysia, ususally after having spent months beeing pushed from one country to the other, or from war zones such as Iraq. They come to Malaysia because here they can get "Visa on Arrival" which is valid for one month. So increasing numbers of Palestinian refugees are also arriving at my doorstep.

What MSRI can do to help these people is very limited. First of all, we will talk to them and evaluate their situation. We actually listen to their stories, mostly very sad and tragic stories. In times to come I might just tell some of them here. We listen when they pour out their frustration with their current situation and their powerlessness to change anything and to be in charge of their lives, their suspended lives in Malaysia. We offer a sympathetic ear and a cup of coffee or tea. This is why I hear this sentence so often: "Thank you for treating me like a human being!"

I want to cry when they say that. No human being should have to say that sentence. Particularly not in Malaysia, where we all pride ourselves to be part of a caring society.

After evaluating their situation we are looking at how we can help. The immediate support includes emergency food aid and medical support. A short-term goal must be to get the children to school. The refugees also need some sort of income to sustain themselves until they can be resettled. Mid-term goals are successful resettlements. The ultimate goal is for Malaysia to implement refugee rights according to international law.

But this will take time.

Until such time, I wonder how many times I will have to hear that sentence: "Thank you for treating me like a human being."