First meeting with Bassam Kubba-A light from an Iraq refugee

The Saudi Arabia airlines, a budget carrier, was carrying mostly Indonesians on a pilgrimage to mecca. It was the privilege of a lifetime for them to make the pilgrimage to mecca, and it was clear that many of the passengers were excited, with most of them traveling with the group. There were few people who walked alone. It was a tough flight and I spent 36 hours alone in Jeddah overnight. It was cold at Jeddah airport at night, and there were a lot of people like me, but most of them had company. I wrapped a long sweater around my body, still shivering. I was offered hot tea and fruit while waiting for my connecting flight at the airport. I had my own airline food stamps, but I didn't have much of an appetite. A masked woman in black came and sat down next to me and asked me not to drink what I was given. I smiled.

After a long wait I finally got on another plane, maybe royal Jordanian, I don't remember. It wasn't a long flight and soon I was in Amman, the capital of Jordan. After getting off the plane, I withdrew some Jordanian dinars from the ATM not far from the immigration department. The exchange rate was 1 Jordanian dinar to 10 RMB. The fee for a visa upon arrival is 40 JOD.

(b) airport fright

Then I took my bag and left the border. When I got off the elevator, I felt that my bag and my camera were gone. I was a little worried because I borrowed the camera from a friend. In 2013, I used a SONY Ericsson phone with few features. I did not buy a local data pack, and the phone was not working. The camera was borrowed by a friend from another friend and delivered to me the day before my trip. As I recall, the camera was on the counter next to the ATM when I was withdrawing money.

So I went to airport security to explain the situation, and I heard the security guard talking on the phone in Arabic. By the time I got back to the ATM, the camera was gone, the security guard had made a few more calls for me, and two men in black suits had arrived. They talked in Arabic for a while, and the security guard left. The men in suits told me to follow them, and I followed them through the crowd and the elevator into a narrow corridor where there was no one around and I was nervous. Then we passed through several narrow corridors, all deserted.

I had butterflies in my stomach, and then they sent me to a small office, where two men faced me and asked me questions. They asked me questions in English and then talked to each other in Arabic as if they were discussing something. I looked around to see if there was a window where I could jump. I clearly remember being disappointed and frustrated because the office didn't even have a vent, let alone a window. There was only one door ajar. I was still wondering if they had my camera, if they had my camera, if they would give it to me, if I should give them some money, if I gave it to them, if they would hurt me or something along those lines. That last thought kept spinning in my mind, and I kept wondering if I was finished for the day, if my body would be found, as pale as death.

After I had signed all the papers, the two men who had asked me stopped talking. They kept staring at me. I didn't understand what that look meant. At that time, my heart has been turned upside down, very desperately looking for a glimmer of life. Then a man came along and asked me to follow him. Again, I walked through the narrow, dark corridors, and several times the man in front of me waited for me to hurry up, looking resentful. I didn't dare to walk too fast or ahead of him. I always thought he was going to pin me down somewhere. Once I carried a knife and spray in my bag, but this time I carried a small bag for ease of use, with nothing in it but a flashlight and a pile of printed travel materials. I was in my 20s, full of cowardice and timidity, and often couldn't find my place in the crowd. You can magnify your frustration in times of difficulty.

After a long walk, I heaved a sigh of joy as I saw the bright terminal ahead and the people coming and going. The man in the suit dropped me off at the airport, pulled my camera out of his bag and handed it to me. I was so excited that I almost jumped at him. The other person stepped back, refused my hand, and said seriously, "In Jordan, cannot." I regretted it and said thank you. Then I went to the bus stop to catch the bus into town.

Jordan was the first middle east country I came into contact with. At that time, I was shocked by the kha-colored buildings everywhere, which were especially beautiful in the sun. Everyone can go there if they have the chance.

I found my hotel reservation on a paper map in Amman, a small city with more than enough legs. It was easy to check-in and wander the streets alone. I didn't believe in electronics at the time, and even though I hadn't been to Jordan, I knew everything there was to know. I could even guess the names of the streets based on what they looked like. Because I had already looked it up and taken it to heart.

(here, I wait for breakfast at a famous corner shop in Amman.)

(this is a small hotel I stayed at in Jordan. with a friendly front desk.)

(here I am having lunch at an aisle restaurant between walls in Jordan, one of many in the country.)

(pictured is an ancient theatre attraction in Jordan, the Middle East has a very rich history.)

(here, I'm having lunch with two south Korean friends I met on the way. The portion sizes in Jordan are huge.)

(cute little car on the street in Amman)

(photo: a Christian church attraction in Amman)

(pictured on my way to the famous Dead Sea in Amman)

Then I met a lot of people on the road, and they were always on my memory drive.
Bassam was in my eyeliner.
I met a Singaporean friend once in Indonesia. He was very friendly and knowledgeable. At that time, he had mastered very advanced computer technology. He was very helpful on the journey.

He was living at Bassam's house. I started observing Bassam right after I met him. Unlike a refugee, he was optimistic, always laughing and responsive. He said I could stay at his house if I wanted to save money on my trip. The sofa in his living room was still empty.

So I packed up and moved to his apartment. During the day, I go out in the day and sleeps on his sofa at night. Bassam found me a blanket, and I slept better at his house than at the hotel.

My Singaporean friend told me that Bassam was an Iraqi from Baghdad, Iraq. He was taking refuge in Jordan, where he was teaching yoga and rock climbing. Bassam was 21 years old at the time, and he rented a small apartment in Amman, I and my Singaporean friend live there at the moment and there's also one Australian who was studying Arabic in Jordan lives there. And also there was another tenant whom I had not seen.

The Iraq war had already begun a long time ago in the moment. The United States, Britain, and other countries invading Iraq as early as 2003 to take on Saddam Hussein and his organization. Bassam had long since lost his home in the Iraq war, which lasted about a decade, and his presence in Jordan was illegal. Many people believe that the war in Iraq gave birth to the notorious IS, which brought untold suffering to Iraq. I've seen a lot of fashionable women on the streets of Jordan, and a lot of masked women. "If I had been to Iraq before the war, I would have found that there were fewer women wearing headscarves on the streets," said Bassam. "they had more options."

There are many refugees in Jordan and to this day, there are still 750,000 refugees. Jordan is overwhelmed. The refugees live in camps far from the city. Bassam also worked as a volunteer at the camp for a while.
The war was an endless butterfly effect. The camp was not just for refugees from one country. Besides the Syrians who were also on the run, Bassam told me that there were many Palestinian refugees in the camp. Bassam's job at the camp is translation and documentation. He speaks Arabic and English. Working at the gates of the camp, he identified the families of the people who had come, to make sure they had come of their own accord and had not been kidnapped. When I asked him how he felt about the refugee camp, he said: terrible! 

Bassam is a generous man, and I don't think he lives very well in Jordan. But he did everything he could to help us, and he was the first to help us with what we needed. He took us around Amman and he took us out for pizza, and we were all exhausted. At one o 'clock in the morning I needed a document (I wanted to transfer to Israel) and was too shy to ask. Bassam said nothing. He picked up the key to his little white car and said, let's go!

He wanted nothing and was a patient listener. He never revealed any of his problems. He was very humorous, and every now and then he would make me laugh with a joke. He has good interpersonal relationships, and he even took us to his friend's house to play bridge, drink fruit wine. I still remember the sweet taste of the delicious fruit wine. 

He couldn't go anywhere. He had to stay in Jordan. He is a refugee without legal status, and when he gets to the border, he gets into a pile of trouble. He didn't like to talk about his difficulties or his hatred of the government, and I hardly heard a word of it. He's just trying to live like everyone else.

"I never look back." That's what Bassam told me.

(this article is unfinished)

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