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15 April 2002 by Till Mayer in Ruweishid; pictures by Till Mayer and Thorkell Thorkelsson For weeks, the same images of war have been seen on television screens in Jordan - tanks rolling through Iraqi cities, buildings on fire, houses reduced to ruins, mothers crying for their dead children. But Mohammed Al-Raqqad has not seen the flickering television pictures showing the shock, sadness and chaos. He works as a volunteer in the Jordanian Red Crescent camp near Ruweishid, 65 kilometers from the Iraq border. He is not there for the money. A thin mattress on a dusty floor, a few square metres of space in a tent, which he shares with two other volunteers, some food from the camp kitchen. That is all this 38-year-old father of four is asking for. For Mohammad, this is like history repeating itself. In 1991, hundreds of thousands of people became refugees as the bombs fell on Iraq. Then, as now, he wanted to help, so he became a volunteer for the Jordan Red Crescent. “I saw many sad stories. War means indescribable suffer,” he says. Twelve years ago, Mohammad helped thousands of people in the refugee camps. “Often we had to work 18 to 20 hours a day. Every night, I crawled into my sleeping bag completely exhausted. And still I felt guilty. Because I knew there were so many vulnerable people outside, who needed my help,” he adds. When the third war to hit the Gulf region in two decades started, Al-Raqqad was ready to help again. He got a month’s leave from his job working in a governmental office, packed his bag and made his way to Ruweishid. Hundreds of third country nationals have passed through the camp - students and guest-workers from Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan or Egypt. Some have stayed only for a short time. Others – between 200 and 250 – remain in the camp, waiting to see what the future holds, especially those for whom returning home would mean returning to another war-torn country. Mohammed Al-Raqqad assists in the administration of the camp, or whenever there is a technical problem. He is there when strong hands are needed. “We are well prepared”, he says. “I never regret volunteering for this mission. Maybe it doesn’t help my career. But my wife, children and friends are all proud of what I am doing,” he says, adding that there are rich rewards in what he does, especially when he makes unexpected friends. “In 1991, I gave aid to a man from the Philippines. We are still in contact, writing letters to each other,” Mohammad explains. “Working as an aid worker gives you the chance to learn about other cultures, other human beings. This means wealth for me.” But there is also sadness. A few days ago, an old Iraqi lady arrived at the camp. Her escape to Jordan, which had lasted three days, had left its mark on her. “I will never forget her tears. What happened to her house? Will she ever return to Iraq?” he asks. Wind blows dust between the rows of tents. The heat is strength-sapping. Mohammed Al-Raqqad decides to take a little rest. With two of his friends he boils up some black tea. He is happy that he is here, helping, and not watching the burning houses, tanks and looting on a television screen. Related links: Iraq: humanitarian crisis Jordan: appeals, updates and reports make a donation |
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