![]() |
01/09/2006
Salim is an Ajnabi (foreign) Kurd in his late 40s living in Syria. He describes what happened to his father: “My father lost his nationality in the 1962 census, even though my grandfather had been living in a village in Syria close to the Turkish border for many years. My father was later issued with a red card that explicitly stated that he was a foreigner and that he had no right to work. I was listed on his red card before he died, and ten years ago, after going to Political Security many times, they finally agreed to issue me with my own red card. My brother was less fortunate, however, because my father died before he was able to successfully register him on his red card. My brother had to pay Political Security a SYP 3,000 bribe (US$60) and wait two years before they finally issued him a red card.”
As an Ajnabi Kurd, Salim faces many difficulties pertaining to the legalization of his marriage: “I am married to Samira, who is Maktoumeen (unregistered). She has a white identity paper that she received from the Mayor’s office, but no legal official will recognize it. She only uses it to try to keep the police from harassing her too much or being embarrassed in public. Because my wife is Maktoumeen, it is not possible for us to register our marriage. Even though we have been married for many years, my status on my red identity card says, ‘single’. This is really a problem for us. We do not have any children, although we would like very much to have them. I know that if we had children, their lives would be extremely difficult because it would be difficult to register them on my red card without a legal recognition of my marriage. Right now, we are helping to care for my wife’s brother’s child, who is a small girl and has a disability. We wanted to send her to a special government school for children with disabilities, but because she is also Maktoumeen, they have refused her admission.”
Salim’s status as an Ajnabi Kurd prevents him from accessing desperately needed medical care: “I am suffering from a very serious disease that has already left me with the loss of part of my foot. It is spreading into my legs and arms, and I am afraid I will also lose my hands. I tried to get medical treatment from a government hospital by approaching them and even offering bribes, but they refused to treat me.”
“I know this happens to many people. My brother’s son, for example, was shot in the Qamishli demonstration, and he still has bullets in his body today. When they tried to take him to a hospital for emergency treatment, he was refused admission because he was Ajnabi. Then the ICRC later came to visit the injured demonstrators, and the government immediately put him in a public hospital. However, as soon as the ICRC left, he was forced to leave the hospital and seek treatment from an expensive private clinic.”
“One of my friends has nationality, and I sometimes try to use his card to receive emergency medical care, but this is very risky for both of us. I have been forced to instead go to a private hospital, which is extremely expensive. The doctors there told me that my disease will kill me if it goes untreated and that the treatment I need is not available in Syria. They advised that I go abroad to Europe to obtain this treatment, but of course I cannot go anywhere because the Syrian government refuses to issue me a travel document because I am not a citizen.”
“Once, I was so ill with this disease in my legs, that I was unable to walk. My wife and I decided that I needed to go to a private hospital immediately. Because I couldn’t move, my wife went to the bus station to buy a ticket for me to travel to the hospital. The ticket office refused to issue her with a ticket, saying, ‘You have no relation to this man,’ because our marriage is not registered. She then had to pay a bribe to the police, and they returned with her to our house and saw that I indeed could not walk to the bus station by myself, and then they allowed her to buy my bus ticket.”
Salim’s Ajnabi status has posed considerable obstacles for his employment and ability to be paid for his work: “I also have many problems relating to my work because I am Ajnabi. I had contracted with a government-owned company to do a construction job laying telephone lines with a crew of men that I hired. The company agreed to pay us SYP 85,000 (USD $1,700), but after we finished the work, the company refused to pay me. They said that I do not possess a Syrian identity card and therefore cannot receive a paycheck. Now I have to find some other way to pay the men who I hired for this project. Other times, I do receive a paycheck, but the bank will not cash it because I have no identity document. I usually try to get my paychecks written in the name of a person who has nationality and who can cash them for me. In the same way, I now try to make contracts for work in the names of friends or relatives who have nationality so that they can be paid for the work and give the money to me. It is extremely difficult.”
Salim notes that the kinds of problems he faces are not unique to his case, but that many members of his family encounter similar difficulties: “These problems exist for my whole family. One of my brothers who is Maktoumeen cannot register his daughter in school beyond the ninth grade. He was once stopped by the police and asked for his identity document. When he showed them the white paper he got from the Mayor’s office, they laughed and ripped it up in front of his face. My sister-in-law, whose father is Ajnabi, tried to get a red card, but was only successful after paying SYP 5,000 in bribes (US$100) and waiting three months. Another of my brothers could not take living like this in Syria anymore, and he paid the mafia SYP 300,000 (US$6,000) to help him go to Egypt illegally, where he then left for the Czech Republic, and eventually arrived in Germany. I do not know what his legal status is in Germany, and I rarely hear from him, but he must be living better there than here.”
Perveen Ali is a Cairo-based consultant who participated in an RI assessment mission to Syria in late October 2005.
Syria: Follow Through on Commitment to Grant Citizenship to Stateless Kurds
Desperate Moves: Stateless Syrian Kurds Entrust Lives to Human Smugglers and Traffickers
Refugee Voices: Living without Nationality in Aleppo, Syria
Refugee Voices: Stateless Kurds in Syria
Lives on Hold: The Human Cost of Statelessness
Syria: October Mission Focuses on Stateless Kurds
Your support helps us save lives throughout the world.
Ways You Can Help
|
|