By Johanna Mitscherlich, Regional Emergency Communications Officer CARE Jordan
IRBID, JORDAN (October 16, 2013) - The city of Irbid in the North of Jordan has dressed up today: It is the first day of Eid al-Adha, the most important holiday for about 1.4 billion Muslims around the world. Boys are wearing slip-ons, girls neat dresses with tights, fathers wear suits and women the traditional Thoub. At the roadside hundreds of sheep are waiting for their new owner. During the Eid celebration, people traditionally sacrifice an animal. The meat is being shared with friends, family, and also with the poor and the hungry. If you tune in to the radio, you can hear the presenter reminding his listeners to not forget about their Syrian neighbours on this day. That they should share not only food with them, but also warmth and hospitality.
50 year old Kawkab Ababneh does just that. At the very same day that the first members of a Syrian refugee family moved in next to her, she knocked on their door, introduced herself and offered help. “I still remember how they said, that they are not going to stay for long. They said that they are planning to go back home the next day, maybe the day after that, that they are going home back to Dar’aa”, Kawkab says. “For the first year, they were living out of their suitcase, did not enrol their children in school, they were always on call, prepared to go back in a second.” Kawkab encouraged them to enrol the children, to not make this time of waiting a lost, wasted time as well. When the principal did not want to accept her neighbour’s children, because they had no school certificates – they were buried under rubble and ground - Kawkab went into his office straightaway and managed to change his mind. She accompanied the family to public authorities, supported them with cans of water and kitchen equipment. But, most importantly, she welcomed them and showed them that they could lean on her, that they had a friend and a family far from home.
Today, Kawkab celebrates her second Eid-Feast with the family. A few months ago, they got some furniture. The suitcase is still packed, always ready for their return. Every time Kawkab visits them, the conversation always comes back to Syria, to damaged houses, burnt shops, broken dreams and lost futures. “Their lives only consist of memories, it’s the hope to go back, to see their friends and family, their home again that keeps them going.”
This important holiday makes no exception. The family talks to Kawkab about Syria. They talk about their traditions, how they baked bread on the morning of Eid, decorated their house, met relatives and neighbours. Today, they can only communicate via telephone with those who are still in Syria and alive. The news is rarely good. One brother was arrested, one of the daughters lost her unborn child after she saw how a man got shot next to her. But “Eid Kibir”, how this feast is also called, is supposed to be filled with “the highest joy and happiness”. The mothers therefore bought small hats and bouncing balls for the children. The children, at least, should feel some normalcy and solace.
„Kaukab’s friendship and support mean a lot to us. She helps us through these difficult times”, says Samiha, one of 21 Syrian refugees who live next to Kawkab. “I like to help,” says Kawkab with a wave of her hand. It is people like Kawkab, who avert this refugee crisis in Jordan from becoming an even bigger humanitarian disaster. Despite being affected themselves by the enormous influx of refugees, by higher rents and prices, overcrowded classrooms and hospitals, most Jordanians still do all they can to support the more than half a million Syrian refugees living in their country. A country inhabited by only six million people, and host to already hundreds of thousands of Iraqi and Palestinian refugees. “Where else should they go to, all these children, mothers and fathers?” asks Kawkab. “I cannot imagine what it must feel like to have to leave everything behind, to flee my country. If I can only ease this pain slightly, that makes me a happier woman.” Maybe Kawkab’s hospitality also has a tiny bit to do with her name. In Arabic, it means “star”. And this star surely outshines everything else in this neighbourhood.
Read more about CARE's work with Syrian refugees.
Note: Since mid-August, CARE runs an urban refugee centre in Irbid (in addition to the long running centre in Amman, and two more recently opened centres in other urban areas), scaling up its Syrian refugee response to help families with emergency cash assistance, case management and referral to access further health care and social support.