The war in Iraq has caused one of the most severe refugee crises in
history, and no one seems to be paying attention.

Since the shock-and-awe invasion of Iraq began in March 2003, that
country's explosive unraveling has never left the news or long been off
the front page. Yet the fallout beyond its borders from the destruction,
disintegration, and ethnic mayhem in Iraq has almost avoided notice. And
yet with -- according to United Nations estimates -- approximately
50,000 Iraqis fleeing their country each month (and untold numbers of
others being displaced internally), Iraq is producing one of the -- if
not the -- most severe refugee crisis on the planet, a crisis without a
name and without significant attention.

For the last two weeks, I've been in Syria, visiting refugee centers and
camps, the offices and employees of the United Nations High Commissioner
for Refugees (UNHCR), and poor neighborhoods in Damascus that are
filling up with desperate, almost penniless Iraqi refugees, sometimes
living 15 to a room. In statistical and human terms, these few days
offered a small window into the magnitude of a catastrophe that is still
unfolding and shows no sign of abating in any immediately imaginable
future.





Let's start with the numbers, inadequate as they are. The latest UN
figures concerning the refugee crisis in Iraq indicate that between
1-1.2 million Iraqis have fled across the border into Syria; about
750,000 have crossed into Jordan (increasing its modest population of
5.5 million by 14%); at least another 150,000 have made it to Lebanon;
over 150,000 have emigrated to Egypt; and -- these figures are the
trickiest of all -- over 1.9 million are now estimated to have been
internally displaced by civil war and sectarian cleansing within Iraq.

These numbers are staggering in a population estimated in the
pre-invasion years at only 26 million. At a bare minimum, in other
words, at least one out of every seven Iraqis has had to flee his or her
home due to the violence and chaos set off by the Bush administration's
invasion and occupation of Iraq.

Yet, as even the UN officials on the scene admit, these are undoubtedly
low-end estimates. "We rely heavily on the official numbers given to us
by the Syrian government concerning the Iraqi refugees coming here,"
Sybella Wilkes, the regional public information officer for the UNHCR
told me, while we talked recently at the main refugee processing center
in Douma, a city on the outskirts of the Syrian capital. Even the
high-end UNHCR estimate of 1.2 million Iraqi refugees in Syria (a
country of only 17 million people) was, she told me, probably too low.

According to Wilkes, the Syrian government, using tallies taken from its
southern border posts, privately estimates the number to be closer to
1.4-1.5 million Iraqis in Syria. The UNHCR operation here, desperately
under-funded and short of staff, does not have people on the border
tallying numbers and has no way to check on the real magnitude of the
disaster underway.

Yet, in their work, they can feel its oppressive weight daily. Erdogan
Kalkan, a 35-year-old Turkish UNHCR employee of 15 years, told me that
the overworked staff has already scheduled a total of 35,000
appointments with refugees seeking aid in Syria; only 25,000 of those
have actually had their cases addressed -- and that barely scratches the
surface of the problem. "We have been increasing our processing capacity
from the beginning," he said, while puffing on a cigarette. We were
speaking in a newly converted warehouse where Iraqi families now can
meet with UNHCR workers in cramped white cubicles and be interviewed
about why they left Iraq and what their most immediate needs are.

UNHCR's budget for Iraqis in Syria in 2006 was a bare $700,000, less
than one dollar per refugee crossing the border. UNHCR needs far greater
financial resources even to begin to help the mass of Iraqi refugees in
the country, as well as food, medicine, and aid from other UN agencies.
At the moment, it is essentially the only UN agency assisting Iraqis in
Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan. UNICEF and other UN agencies have voiced
interest, but as yet have provided little support in Syria, according to
Kalkan.

Adham Mardini, the public information assistant for UNHCR in Damascus,
told me their budget in Syria has risen precipitously to $16 million for
2007, although that, too, remains far below what would be necessary
simply to fulfill the most basic needs of the most desperate of the
refugees. It adds up to a little over $13 per Iraqi refugee per year --
if you don't include the refugees in Syria from Somalia, Palestine,
Afghanistan, and other war-torn areas for whom UNHCR is also responsible
(along with UNHCR overhead). Iraqi refugees receive food supplements
from UNICEF, but only in the most severe cases of need, and cash is
simply unavailable for distribution.

Back in late 2006, UNHCR in Damascus started out as the most modest of
operations -- with two processing clerks, each seeing between five and
seven cases daily. Now, there are 25 clerks processing more than 200
cases daily, not to mention guards, drivers, new computers, a Red
Crescent aid station at the center, a new bathroom, and plans for adding
a child center, psychological counseling services, and a community
center before the Secretary General of the UN visits later this month.

Yet all of this is still nowhere near enough to keep up with the
implacable flood of Iraqis entering Syria every month. Iraqis, who now
comprise a little over 8% of the population of this small country, tell
stories about why they left their land and what they are dealing with
today, which these numbers, staggering as they are, do not.

More Than Numbers

"I left everything behind," Salim Hamad, a former railroad worker from
Baghdad, told me. "My house was empty when I left, and I have no idea
what became of it." We met in a small tea shop in the sprawling Yarmouk
refugee camp in Damascus. It is perhaps not inappropriate that Yarmouk
is primarily a Palestinian refugee camp, since the Iraqi diaspora
represents the largest exodus of refugees in the Middle East since the
state of Israel was created in 1948. The camp is an uninspiring mass of
high, grey apartment buildings through which snake crowded roads.
According to locals, tens of thousands of Iraqis have already joined
their ranks, with the numbers increasing daily, and Salim Hamad is not
atypical of the new arrivals.

Five months ago, Salim had to sell his car, his furniture, and most of
his other belongings simply to raise enough money to bring his wife and
three children to Syria. They had grown tired and fearful, he told me,
of seeing corpses in their streets every day.

Because Jordan's pro-U.S. King Abdullah had long since clamped down on
Iraqi entry to his country, for Salim and countless others, Syria has
been the only available destination. Yarmouk, with electricity and
running water, is, in fact, one of the better areas for refugees. The
two other main refugee camps into which Iraqis are now flooding,
Jaramana and Sayada Zainab, present far grimmer living conditions,
including more than 10 people sleeping in rooms without beds, lacking
potable drinking water and in some cases heat, and with intermittent
electricity.

Other Iraqis are living in poorer city neighborhoods, eating up their
savings, sometimes relying on the goodwill of Syrian friends or
relatives. Given visa restrictions, which prohibit Iraqis from working
here (except, of course, in the black market economy), when often meager
savings run out, the crisis is sure to worsen exponentially.

UNHCR recently offered the following staggering projection: According to
its best estimates about 12% of Iraq's population, now assumed to be
about 24 million people, will be displaced by the end of 2007. We're
talking about nearly 3 million ever more destitute Salim Hamads by the
New Year. (Add to that Iraq's growing population of internal refugees
and its spiraling civilian death tolls and you have the kind of
decimation of a nation rarely seen -- with, undoubtedly, more to come.)

A report released March 22 by the NGO Refugees International calls the
flight of Iraqis from war-torn Iraq "the world's fastest growing
displacement crisis."

"The situation now is pushing Syria and Jordan to the maximum," the
UNCHR's Wilkes told me. "Syria's 'open door' policy is extraordinary,
but economically and socially we wonder how long it can be maintained.
We're very aware of the impact on these governments this crisis is
having. We're hoping the international community will help share the
burden."

The primary trigger for this crisis was the 2003 invasion and occupation
of Iraq, and yet President Bush and his top officials have taken no
significant steps whatsoever to share in the resulting refugee burden.
To date, the administration has issued only 466 visas to Iraqis. Under
recent pressure from the UN, it has said that it would offer an
additional 7,000 visas -- but without either announcing the criteria for
accepting such refugees or even when the visas might be issued. Upon
hearing this paltry number, an Iraqi refugee said to me in disbelief:
"Seven thousand out of over four million Iraqis who have either fled
their country or are internally displaced?... I don't know if he could
insult us more if he tried."

"I ask all nations, particularly the United States, to do all that they
can to help us," was the way Qasim Jubouri, a banker who fled Baghdad
with his family in order to keep them alive, put the matter to me.
"Since the U.S. government caused all of this, shouldn't they also be
responsible for helping us now?"

Like Salim, he too left for Syria with nothing more than some clothing
and his meager savings. Now, the money he brought is running out and he
has no idea how he will feed his family when it's gone.

Thirty-two year-old Ali Ahmed has a similar tale to tell. "I was a
financial manager of seven companies in Baghdad, but I had to leave my
house, my car, and just about everything." After militiamen fired on his
car in the once upscale Mansoor district of Baghdad, Ali fled to Jordan.
He returned to Iraq to try again, but once more faced death in an attack
in which six employees from his management firm were killed.

And even that wasn't the end of it. "We had 11 engineers from one
company detained by the Mehdi Army [the militia of Shia cleric Muqtada
al-Sadr]. We never heard from them again. I knew then that I had to drop
everything and run for my life."

Ali does not see himself returning soon. "I don't expect to go back for
at least 15-20 years. I have left everything behind, and now I have
nothing but a small food store I run here. But it is not enough. Not the
UN, nor any government, least of all the Iraqi government, is doing
enough to help us." (The Syrian government, thus far, maintains a policy
of looking the other way when it comes to modest or menial jobs Iraqis
find which don't put Syrians out of work.)

Another Iraqi refugee told me of being detained by Mehdi Army militia
members and having a rod forced down his throat as part of his
"interrogation." He was lucky to come out of the experience alive. Many,
on either side of the worsening sectarian struggle, do not. The
slaughter of Sunnis by the Medhi Army and the slaughter of Shiites by
Sunni extremist groups have become commonplace.

Despite the fact that Sadr recently ordered his militia to focus all its
attacks on occupation forces, scores of dead bodies turning up on
Baghdad's streets each day prove otherwise.

Iraqis who worked with, or have been in any way associated with, the
American military or occupation authorities are faring at least as
badly, if not worse. Everyone collaborating in any way with U.S. forces
in Iraq is now targeted -- along with their families.

"I used to work with the Americans near Kut," Sa'ad Hussein, a
34-year-old electrical engineer told me, "I worked for Kellogg, Brown,
and Root [then a subsidiary of oil-services giant Halliburton] to
construct an Iraqi base there until I got my death threat on a piece of
paper slipped under my door on my return to Baghdad. I had no choice but
to flee."

"Things are getting so much worse in Iraq," was the way Salim Hamad, who
fled five months ago, summed up life in his former homeland as our
interview was ending. "There is a big difference between those who left
four years ago and those who left four days ago. Everything in Iraq is
based on sectarianism now and there is no protection -- neither from the
Americans, nor the Iraqi government."

Fleeing "Freedom and Democracy"

Sa'ad Hussein, who arrived in Damascus only three months ago, described
the Baghdad he left as a "city of ghosts" where the black banners of
death announcements hang on most streets. There is, he claimed (and this
was verified by others we spoke to among the more recent refugees),
normally only one hour of electricity a day and no jobs to be found.

"I was an ex-captain in the Iraqi Army, and I think that's why I was
threatened, in addition to working with the occupation authorities," he
explained. When asked how many of his former Sunni army colleagues had
also received death threats, he replied, "All of them." It was not safe,
he told me, for him to go back to the now largely Shi'ite Iraqi Army
because, "I may be killed. This is the new freedom and democracy we
have."

On all measurable levels, life in Baghdad, now well into the fifth year
of U.S. occupation, has become hellish for Iraqis who have attempted to
remain, which, of course, only adds to the burgeoning numbers who daily
become part of the exodus to neighboring lands. It is generally agreed
that the delivery of security, electricity, potable water, health care,
and jobs -- that is, the essentials of modern urban life -- are all
significantly worse than during the last years of the reign of Saddam
Hussein.

"The Americans are detaining so many people," Ali Hassan, a 41-year-old
from the Hay Jihad area of Baghdad said as we spoke in front of the
central UNHCR office in downtown Damascus. "And my brother was killed by
Shi'ite militiamen after he refused to give them the keys to empty Sunni
houses we were looking after."

As scores of other refugees crowded around photographer Jeff Pflueger
and me, wanting to tell their stories, Hassan, a Shi'ite who also fled
Baghdad just three months ago, added, "Now I can't go back. I am a
refugee and I still don't feel secure because I still fear the Mehdi
Army."

"So many Iraqis never leave their homes now because they are too afraid
to go out due to the militias," Abdul Abdulla, a 68-year-old who fled
Baghdad with his family insisted, having literally grabbed the
microphone I was using to tape my interview with Hassan.

From the volatile Yarmouk area of Baghdad, Abdulla, a Sunni, said Shia
militia members waited on the outskirts of his neighborhood in order to
detain anyone trying to leave. "We stayed in our homes, but even then
some people were being detained from their own houses. These death
squads started coming after [former U.S. ambassador John] Negroponte
arrived. And the Iraqi Government is definitely involved because they
depend on [the militias]."

While talking with Abdulla, I noticed a woman in a black abaya or gown
covering her entire body, one of her arms in a cast, standing nearby.

When I approached Eman Abdul Rahid, a 46-year-old mother from Baghdad,
she willingly told me her sad story, all too typical of civilian life in
the Iraqi capital today. "I was injured," she said, "because I was near
a car bomb, which killed my daughter... There is killing, and threats of
more killing, and explosions daily in Baghdad."

"America is the reason why Iraq was invaded, so we would like the
American administration to give aid to us refugees," she added, "I would
like people to read this and tell Bush to help us."

Six Months and Counting

Sundays and Mondays at the UNHCR refugee processing center in Douma are
mob scenes. Refugees, some of whom have been waiting several months for
their first interview at the center, an event crucial to finding aid,
arrive in taxis, minibuses, on foot, or on buses specially hired by
UNHCR. They line up outside a freshly painted white and blue gate,
manned by security guards, and slowly trickle into the converted
warehouse to wait eagerly for their names and numbers to be called.

On one of my Monday visits, as my friend Jeff and I approached the
warehouse-turned-processing center there were more than 1,000 Iraqis
crowded around the entrance hoping to get in. Taxis honked their way
through the gathering crowds of refugees, each of whom held a number
representing his or her place in line, along with passports and other
required papers.

As we were being escorted inside the center by UNHCR public information
assistant Adham Mardini, he told us that the previous day between 6,000
and 7,000 Iraqi refugees had descended on the place. On that day alone,
2,179 future appointments had been scheduled, each representing an
average of 3.6 people, since many of them are set by the heads of
families.

"Sundays and Mondays are always crazy here because these are the days we
set their appointments," he commented. "And these people now have to
wait up to six months just for their interview."

Some Iraqis showing up are, however, in need of emergency care. Refugees
often arrive without medicines, and with serious heart problems, kidney
failure, sizeable burns across their bodies, or ill-healed wounds -- and
that's not even to speak of the psychological problems they face from
violence seen or experienced or from lives completely uprooted. All of
this, the minimalist UNHCR center must try to face. A surprising number
of arrivals are simply put in ambulances to be taken either to local
hospitals or treated by the Syrian Red Crescent.

Under a makeshift roof outside the warehouse but inside the outer gate,
families lucky enough to have their numbers come up on this day are
filling out forms. Men stand writing on sheets of paper pressed against
walls; women hold crying babies amid the cacophony and chaos.
Periodically, a UNHCR volunteer appears at the door of the building with
a bullhorn to announce the names of those who should prepare to be
interviewed. Most of them have been waiting at least four months for
this day.

Iraqis continue to crowd through the door from the road as I talk with
Mardini. "As you can see, the Baghdad security plan is working very
well," he says with a wry smile. From hundreds of miles away, it's his
organization which is providing what "security" is available and it
can't hope to keep up with the steadily increasing numbers of desperate
Iraqis.

To make matters worse, UNHCR officials have been noticing an increase in
Kurdish refugees from the previously more peaceable northern regions of
Iraq. "Over 50% of all newcomers in the last two weeks are Kurds,"
Kalkan, the UNHCR veteran of 15 years whom I'd spoken with before, says
as he joins Mardini and me at the door. The two of them express a modest
mix of frustration and discouragement, given the circumstances. After
all, just as UNHCR in Damascus begins to ramp up to accommodate the
massive numbers of refugees they have to deal with, the flow increases
confoundingly.

Perhaps an hour later, when we make our way back to the street, the
hoard of refugees has miraculously dwindled to only a few dozen forlorn
Iraqis outside the now-closed door. We can't understand what made them
all disappear so quickly.

"I came here three times to get this appointment because it was so
crowded," an Iraqi doctor tells me, as he holds number 525, showing his
place in line. "I arrived today at five AM with my family of eleven for
this appointment and now they have postponed it!"

He had been one away in line when the door was closed for the day. Due
to the burgeoning number of refugees, half the UNHCR interviewers had to
be shifted to the task of scheduling future appointments for newcomers.
Thus, half of the interviews for this day had been cancelled.

"Now I have to wait another two months," the doctor told me, as I stared
into his tired eyes. He's still holding his number in his hand as a
small crowd begins to build around us and others start to pour out
similar stories of frustration and despair. As voices rise in
frustration, Jeff flashes me a look of concern and we decide to thank
them for their time and move on. Other than writing their collective
tale of woe and taking their photos to show the world the faces of this
growing crisis, there is little else we can do.

Abu Talat

Abu Talat, a 58-year-old father of four, was my primary interpreter
during my eight months in Iraq. Six months ago he finally gave up hope
of remaining in his home in Baghdad, took his family, and like hundreds
of thousands of other Iraqis fled to Syria. One of the luckier refugees,
he had enough savings to rent a humble two-room apartment in Damascus.

He has always been, and remains, a proud man. Having served in the Iraqi
Army until 1990, he holds military traits like dignity, honesty, and
honor in the highest regard. While I've always offered to help him in
any way I could as his life disintegrated, only once did he ever accept
a meager sum of money from me.

Upon my arrival in Syria, he invited me to his home to share dinner with
his family. After the meal, while we were drinking strong tea, he asked
his daughter to show me the certificate from the UNHCR which proves that
they are officially refugees. He handed me the paper and watched me as I
read it.

The document lists him as the head of the family. A black-and-white
photo of him is at the top of the page, and the names and ages of his
family members at the bottom. Just above them is the following text:

"This is to certify that the above named person has been recognized as a
refugee by the United Nations by the United Nations High Commissioner
for Refugees pursuant to its extended mandate. As a refugee, (he/she) is
a person of concern to the office of the United High Commissioner for
Refugees, and should, in particular, be protected from forcible return
to a country where (he/she) would face threats to his or her life or
freedom. Any assistance accorded to above/named individual would be most
appreciated."

I glanced at him, not knowing what to say, then handed the paper back.
He looked it over himself, as if in disbelief, then let his gaze focus
on nothing in particular, while his chest heaved as he visibly struggled
to master the urge to weep. Finally, he said to no one in particular, "I
am now a refugee."

I wasn't going to post to this cause I am gettin tired of being stepped
on for my views ...

However I get a diferent take on this.

Sure get your family to relative safety.

Then reach down tween your legs... and if you still got a pair

go back and take your country away from these militias.
_______________________________________________________________

Shadow>

Most of these statements contain a thinly veiled bit of PROPAGANDA.

Word association... If one militia is 'extreme' they all are.

You call one of the most extreme (by their action) an army. You call
the other an 'extreme militia'. If the one is so is the other. Calling
that particular origanization an 'army' is like calling a street gang
the 'Neighbor hood watch'.

AB said it all better than I could. Which is saying something- whatever
else I may be, I'm good with words.


*standing ovation*

AdventureBegins the whole story isn't about the miltias but of refugees.
It seem your more interested in your defense of the war than the reason
we actually went to war. What was the war called? Operation Iraqi
Freedom? With educated Iraqis fleeing the country the Iraqi gov't loses
human infrastructure nessary to strength the Iraqi gov't and secure
stability.

Went to war? We've been at this war for over a decade. I know I keep
saying that, but since it's true, I have to constantly correct people
who say otherwise.

In WWII a Nazi propagandist say that if you repeat a lie enough time the
people will eventually accept it. Poetnartist,
you my friend have blinded yourself to the realities of this war. It
seems ingorance is bliss for those defending Bush.

Read shadow's post a bit closer. Then link into one of the many anti
Bathist web sites (never take someone's word for any thing... allways
investigate the truth for your self).

You will find a lot of those names on a list there.

the vast majority of the people fleeing Iraq are doing so because they
were avid supporters of Saddam.

to the point that their neighbors hated them.

I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS WAR. WAR IS THE LAST RESORT OF A FEEBLE MIND.

I don't support Bush. I support the truth. And in this case, Bush
happens to be on that side of the fence.

But, as they say, "Even a broken clock is right twice a day".

AdventureBegins the orginal poster took this article word for word from
Newsweek site. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17552164/site/newsweek/

And your point.

MSN?, FOX?, CNN?, they (he he) allways check their facts right? Just
like the new york times reporter that recently got fired cause the got
caught. None of them bothered to report on thoses refugee's background
cause that's not what sells advertising space. O' The poor refugee's.
Not... well... This refugee was the captian of one of saddams death
squads...

I'm not saying the refugee problem is not important. I am simply saying
that there is another reason besides the US being there for the.

Tactical considerations don't include the refugee situation that will
allways follow war. Strategically however... What better way to keep
the bordering countries from mounting military offensives of their own
into your combat zone than to have so many people chokeing their borders
that they can not effectively move their forces into iraq.