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Editor's note: Refugees are part of the collateral damage of unrest in the world, and Utah has long been a destination for those displaced from their homeland. So it is no surprise that a decade of war in Iraq has resulted in an increase of refugees from that country. The following account by a former Iraqi journalist who is now building a new life in Salt Lake City is one of many examples of far-flug world citizens who now call Utah home.
INTRODUCTION
My name is Mohammed Mushib. I live in Salt Lake City, but I was born in Baghdad and lived there until 2007. In Baghdad, I was a television journalist. In Salt Lake City, I am a refugee. Once I reported stories, now I am part of a story.
I am the ninth of ten children, my parents and seven of my siblings are still in Baghdad. My brothers and sisters and I all have degrees, although neither of our parents had a formal education. I have always enjoyed reading and learning. I am particularly interested in politics, history and religion. My reading laid the groundwork for my underground opposition to Saddam Hussein’s regime.
WORK AND EDUCATION
When I was 13 and in middle school, I started to work as a cashier. After graduating from high school, I went to the University, where I earned a degree in political science. I worked all through college at a number of jobs, including the, sewing, construction and auto parts store. After graduation, I bought the auto parts store and became a businessman. I had a nice house, a nice car, and my wife Faeza and I started our family.
WAR
In 2003, the war started. Iraq was in chaos. We did not have a government for one and a half years, so the people established security units for each neighborhood. I was a security guard in my neighborhood. In 2005, the civil war started. The militias killed many people. I lost friends, I lost relatives, there was death all around.
When Saddam fell, independent media outlets became possible in Iraq. I was asked to establish a public relations department for Baghdad TV. This is how I started my career in journalism. I soon became the director of political programming at Baghdad TV, I created new programs and appeaed on air as host of my own programs. I was chose to be a member of the board of directors and manager of the newsroom. We were a new station, there was a lot of work, and there was also a lot of flexibility. I enjoyed going out as a reporter as well as working as a manager at the station.
I worked for the first year or so at Baghdad TV without being paid because I could support my family with the auto parts store. But in 2005, at the start of the civil war, militias seized my store and I became a paid employee of Baghdad TV. The one of the militias (same one) also sent me a letter with a bullet enclosed telling me that I had to leave, where my family had been living. I stayed for three or four months at the TV station. During that time I did not see my family, we kept in touch by phone. Eventually I rented a house near the station, and my family moved to be with me.
More opportunities came my way. I became media advisor for the office of Iraqi vice president al Tarik AL Hashimi, and I became a correspondent for an Icelandic newspaper.
Security had become a problem. The militias controlled the area of Bagdad in which I lived and worked. I varied my routine, I had a bodyguard to escort me between the station and my home. On April 7, 2007, at 1:25 in the afternoon, the security team warned me that a garbage truck had been parked in front of the station. Two or three minutes later, the truck exploded, a warning from the militias. Our building was damaged. we stayed in the station with guns.
On April 9th, I left the station and went to my house, escorted by a bodyguard, arriving about 4 PM. At 7 in the evening, just as it was getting dark, there was a knock on the door. I looked out the window and saw three men, two with their faces covered. Expecting that I might be killed and that they were also in danger, I told my wife to take care of our kids because I was sure they will kill me, my wife said do not go to them I told her if I do not go to them they will kill everybody in our family and one killed better than everybody and I force Faeza and the children locked themselves in a room. When I opened the door to the men, the man whose face I could see told me: Mohammed you have to leave Iraq or you have kids
A friend picked me up at 6 AM the next morning. I climbed into the trunk of his car in case the militia had decided to kill me rather than to let me escape. He took me to a transit point where I could get a ride to Syria. All the way from Baghdad to Syria (about 11 hours), I worried about my family and about my own safety, as the militias controlled the area through which I was traveling.
SYRIA
In Syria I stayed with one of my brothers for a couple of weeks, then rented an apartment. After three months, Faeza and the children joined me.
In Syria I continued to work for Baghdad TV, which had gone off the air for a couple of weeks and then relocated to Jordan. I also reported for other TV stations, though I did not appear on camera. I took a number of classes about journalism and the media while in Damascus.
REFUGEE STATUS IN THE U.S.
In February of 2008, the United Nations told us that we could go to the U.S. as refugees. We did not want to be refugees, we had no idea what life would be like in the U.S., and we had heard stories about how hard it is in the U.S. for Iraqis, so it was not an easy decision, but we wanted a new beginning. I knew no one in the U.S., but my brother in Denmark knew someone who knew someone, so that person’s name went into our file. In August we received our visas, and were told that we were going to Utah. I had never heard of it!
We, along with about 20 other families, flew to Turkey, on to New York, then to Dallas, then to Salt Lake City. The other families went different ways in New York, we flew alone to Dallas. We spoke no English. No one met our plane. I saw a salesclerk at the airport who was wearing a hijab. She was from Somalia, and she only spoke a little Arabic. I was very relieved and grateful for her help - she gave us cake and cola and a banana, which she paid for - that I cried. God sent her to us at that moment.
We arrived in Salt Lake City, no one met us. I found the exit, there was no one except a security guard. who pointed me toward the FBI, which I knew from movies. They told me that our contacts from the International Rescue Committee were outside! They took us to a motel for the night, and after 1 or 2 hours of sleep, there was a knock on the door. It was a woman who spoke Arabic and identified herself as the person whose name I had gotten from my brother. She brought us food and welcomed us to Utah. In the morning, our case worker, Travis, took us to our apartment and to WalMart to shop, and our new life began.
LIFE IN SALT LAKE CITY
From the beginning, I wanted to work, and I wanted to learn English. About two months after we arrived, Ron Anderson, a volunteer with IRC, brought us a desk, and I began to help him deliver furniture to newly arrived refugees. Ron was my first teacher, his car was my first classroom. At first I understood very little, but he was patient with me. Another IRC volunteer, Johanna Whiteman, helped me get a job with Discovery Creek Gardens, a landscaping company. The owner of the company, Brent Braithwaite, helped me with English and with understanding American culture too. I feel very lucky to have met good people here.
I lost my job Sept. 2010. I had hoped to get another job quickly, but I am still looking. Tom Love this wonderful man who made every effort to help me get my internship with channel 2, and I am very pleased to have an internship at Channel 2, because I want to work in the media, but I am willing to take an entry level job in any area to build a solid foundation for my family in our new home.
Two months after arriving here, I started taking ESL classes at Granite School. I continued with ESL at Salt Lake Community College, where I completed the ESL program and am now taking pre-college English and math.
My family and I, like all refugees, are searching for a balance between the culture we brought with us and the culture we are learning. Every week we gather to discuss our situation, our Arabic culture and our new American culture. This is an important time for us because there is so much good here, and we want our children to find their way.
HOPES FOR THE FUTURE
My hopes for the future are that I can work in the media, that my children will do well in school and that my wife can learn more English, and that someday I can go back to Iraq, not to live, but to do something for the country of my birth.
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