One of the three projects I did while in Syria was the “Returning Home” essay. This has been displayed on an exhibition at the VerdensKulturCenteret, (The World Culture Center), in Copenhagen in Oct. 2008, and printed a month later in Dagbladet Arbejderen. First half features the story of Raad, who fled Iraq during the war on terror. The last half features portraiture of various other groups of Iraqis who like Raad, found shelter in the dirty streets of suburban Damascus.

Previously living in the suburbs of Baghdad, Raad found himself settling down in Zetti Zenep, halfway between the center of Damascus and the airport. He gets trough the day with limited options, and with a hopes of rejoining his family in Baghdad once more.

The  minarets of the Sayida Zeinab mosque stretches towards the sky, in a slum area, of the same name, an hours drive from Damascus. The granddaughter of the prophet Mohamed is buried inside the mosque, making this place a part of the Shia pilgrimage. For many years the population here has been mainly Shia, but after the invasion of Iraq a lot of Sunni Muslims have taken refuge in these parts.

The neighbourhood is centered around a main street were you mostly find food shops, and travel agents that will take you to the main cities of Iraq. The side streets tell stories of struggle and deceived dreams of a new beginning. Many Iraqis chose to come here in search of a new life, and even though there is plenty of labor, no work is available. Some have family already established that help them, the less unfortunate do what they can to survive. The lucky ones that had money put aside, opened shops here but due to the bad econemy in the area few are doing well. The employees are payed with what little is left and this barely pays the living expenses.

Across the street from the local tea man I meet up with Raad. For the next seven days I am to spend time with him getting to know his story and having a look into his world. He looks like nothing you would expect from a refugee living here. With my washed out t-shirt i fell a little under dressed in his company. He is wearing a light salmon colored shirt that looks like it was taken fresh out of the pack. He takes a seat and puts down the English books that he carries under his arms on the table. For our first meeting he has little time, due to lessens that he cant be late for. The little money he makes is partly spend on further education that he will use when he returns to Baghdad or if he is lucky enough to get a VISA for America.

He tells me how they watched the American Hummers drive passed there suburban house in the days of the invasion. After a short time shooting broke out and they had to hide inside there house away from the windows. Then the sectarian violence started, a thing they never had expected. He being Sunni and his wife Shia has made them both accept the other side. “Prior to the war this would have been no problem at all, but now its unthinkable to mix in that way.” He got threatened on his life when it got public that his brother helped the American soldiers during the invasion so he chose to flee Iraq. His brother is now living in USA and is trying to get him, his wife and kid a VISA as well. He tells me that he is not to enter Iraq during the time that the embassy is working on whether he can enter USA with his family or not. If he does, they will deny it for sure.

“It’s hard, to leave your family behind and sit at wait for something that might not come.” He viewed the situation safe enough for his family to stay behind, because he was the only one directly threatened. At first he wanted to look for the possibilities to start a new life in Syria, but with almost no jobs available and poor living conditions he would not have the ability to support them here. He also tells me that he is very close to forgetting about America and leaving Syria to rejoin his family. This seams to be a heavy burden on him and for some seconds he becomes quiet and distant before he continues.

This isn’t like they expected it to be. In his opinion he would rather have that the war never started in the first place. “Maybe Saddam was a bad man, but I would rather have my family and friends back that died during the war. It’s not just clothes and houses we lost, but our friends, family and our lives too.”

The refugees that come to Syria is given a permit to stay on a monthly basis. Every four weeks they have to go and get it renewed, and on some occasion’s they are told to leave Syria and renew it at the border. This is done by buses driving just beyond the border and then waiting for them to enter again before driving them back to the city. 4-5 hours is normal to have to wait at the borders. A 15$ fee is also payed when entering again, which can be a lot of money for some.

A lot of the refugees chose to come to Syria. Depending on who you ask, anything between the official 1.8 million to the unofficial 4 million Iraqis took refuge in Syria alone. It’s hard for anyone to determine the exact number due to the fact that anyone who holds an Arab passport can enter Syria. After a a huge number of refugees already had entered, attempts were made to limit and in some cases stop further entry. Something Jordan did but in an earlier stage. This is partly why Raad came to Syria and also because the relative friendlier nature of the people living here.

Despite of the low wages and poor job possibilities, right now the life in Sayida Zeinab seems to be better then what he could expect in Baghdad. But again he tells me that life without his family is much worse. A couple of times a week his cell phone rings with his whife in the other end. calling to ask if everything is alright. Because of the high cost its usually very shot conversations, ending with a fast hello to his son. He has no credits on his phone, so he has to wait for them to call him.

The restaurant he works at, is located on the main street. They sell traditional Iraqi food, to suit the customers, that eat there meal there. Upstairs is a preparation kitchen were Raad has his duties. Together with Sale, he prepares vegetables, cutting them up and making salad. They keep the mood up by telling jokes, and talking about what they see in TV. From the humid room, they can see people passing on the street down below. When all is done, he either goes to his English classes or cools down under the air conditioner on his bed in a room a few meters from the table he works at in the kitchen. The little money that is left from what the school costs are used for essentials, he eats his meals at the restaurant. Life here is a day to day thing, he tells me, “people just look one day in the future”.

His room is small, and shared with two others, sometimes more. Private life is absent. There are no windows, and there is a constant smell of food is in the air. In one end there is a small TV where most of the free time is spend in front of. They watch a lot of western TV shows, that fuel the appetite for the culture it portraits. And never the less reminds them how things could have been. “This is a boring life, It’s too hot and dusty to go out, so we just stay here and watch TV”, he tells me, and changes the channel.

At the end of our seven days together his attitude little by little changed. At the beginning he was unsure weather or not to rejoin his family and forget about the opportunity to go to America. His energy seamed to be draining day by day, and as it would turn out he decided to leave.

On the day of his departure he puts on the same shirt that he had on the first day. After praying and making sure he didn’t forget anything, he makes a round in the restaurant, and on the street saying goodbye. He is handed a note with contact information to a person who can help in case of kidnapping or other trouble that you might encounter in a city as unstable as Baghdad. The last of his money is exchanged into 2 bottles of water and Dinars for the trip home.

At the buss depot, a busy day is unfolding. Raad is far from the only one who has come to the same conclusion of whether to stay or not. Bags on the sidewalk ready to be stowed away for the trip and crying children being comforted by there mothers is what meets the eyes. For the driver this is business as usual, for the passengers its a mixture between failed opportunities and yet another big move.