With an estimated 150,000, Egypt is second only to Jordan and Syria in terms of Iraqi refugees: Hadeel Al-Shalchi spoke to some of those who fled the violence Standing on a strip of pavement in front of the Mustafa Mahmoud Mosque in Mohandessin, Layla Jamal throws her head back, laughing at a joke her friend just made; her headscarf flutters. Her eyes follow her three-year-old daughter as she jumps around the women in the group while, a few feet away, the men stand with sombre looks. Jamal's husband, Ouda Mohamed, is among them; he is rubbing his stubble, his shoulders heavy under a thick leather jacket. It's their first day of lining up to register at the United Nations Human Commission for Refugees (UNHCR): to put their family's names on a list to give them refugee status and so obtain legal on that heavy Iraqi dialect, the only Arabic heard in the group of asylum-seekers today -- the rest speak African languages; Somali, Amharic. "Life here is very tiring," Jamal sighs. "There are no schools, no money, no home and no help from Egypt. We came on our savings, but they're almost gone now. We had to sell my gold, my telephone -- just to survive." Mohamed jumps into the conversation; husband and wife finish each other's sentences: "we have six children, what do I do with them all? The situation is so bad in Baghdad, we had to get out. When we were trying to get our papers ready to leave Iraq, we had to send someone to the offices. In three months, we moved homes four times because militias kept raiding our house to take it over. This was besides the constant threat of kidnapping and killing." But aside from relative safety, life in Cairo is a matter of going from one embassy to the next -- in search of a resettlement opportunity somewhere in the world. "We don't want to live in Egypt," Mohamed says. "Egypt has its own problems with too many people here. We're just hoping someone from another country with an embassy here will take us. But they all tell us to go to the UNHCR and get our refugee status because otherwise they won't look at us." And so the lining up continues. The procedure is tedious and bureaucratic, but all asylum-seekers must go through it: after finally making it inside the UNHCR, the applicant must make an appointment for registration as an officer, in order to apply for what is known as a yellow card; this appointment may not be scheduled until several months on. When a yellow card is eventually issued (if the asylum- seeker passes a series of qualifying questions), it confirms the family's status as refugees in Egypt, and is then taken to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The ministry in turn issues the family a serial number, to be taken to the Mugamma in Tahrir Square, where it can be exchanged for a three-month residency visa. In the meantime, a refugee must find a way to survive in the vast and intimidating city: a city of over seven million people, with a high rate of unemployment. It is hardly surprising that most Iraqi asylum-seekers can't find work and quickly see their savings running out. Yet the number of displaced Iraqis is still rising. At the moment, one million Iraqis are displaced inside Iraq, while there are other two million in neighbouring countries -- mainly Jordan, Syria and Egypt. This is the largest population displacement in the history of the region since 1948, when the Palestinian refugee crisis followed in the footsteps of the Nakba. Until this year, Iraqis were allowed to enter Egypt on a tourist visa, then they could buy another three-month worth of residency if the UNHCR approved them as refugees. Egypt has since tightened its rules, saying travel agencies have been taking advantage of Iraqis wanting to flee their country, and allowing no one but Egyptian embassies to issue them a visa. This means travelling many miles to either Jordan or Syria. And yet, according to some reports, at least, there are those Iraqis who have done well for themselves in Cairo, buying property and setting up businesses in the 6th of October city -- local papers have accused them of raising property values and causing economic havoc for Egyptians. But the executive director of the Africa Middle East Refugee Assistance (AMERA), Essam Shihah, puts such ideas in perspective. He says the majority of Iraqis have come to escape the violence in their country and only a small minority can take advantage of the investors' law, setting up businesses or buying property. "You have to talk about the majority," says Shihah. "The majority coming to Egypt is very poor. They need the NGOs and the support of people; most Iraqis came to Egypt because they believe they helped the Egyptian people before, so they expect people to welcome them." Shihah talks about the prosperity Egyptians attained by working in Iraq during the early 1970s and 1980s. Almost four million Egyptians lived in Iraq during the Iraq- Iran war, working and saving money before going back to Egypt. Now Iraqis want the favour returned. "But the problem is that Egypt is not as rich a country as Iraq was," says Shihah. "So there is a lot of trouble with access to education and health and property. Most of them face a lot of problems with work, and that's what they're complaining about." Sitting on the edge of a bench at the Giza Zoo, Ali Jaleel recites a small poem written for his mother. In it he talks about missing her, about trying to work to make a life for himself, and his concern for his countrymen at home. "I've never written poetry in my life," he exclaims. "I just sat down to write my mom an e-mail one evening, and it turned into a poem." He arrived in Cairo seven months ago, in flight from the violence in Baghdad, and in order to try to enroll in the Higher Cinema Institute. He is hoping he will not need refugee status, but has an appointment anyway because it seems like the only way to obtain legal residence and eventually a chance to leave for the West. "Frankly, that's where all of us want to go," says Jaleel. "We want to go to Sweden or Germany. Those places respect refugees and give them their rights until they are able to stand on their feet and find their way around." Jaleel says he has received no assistance from the Egyptian government since he has arrived, and has found it difficult to find employment. He originally wanted to enroll as a cinema student in Cairo, but is finding it impossible to match his academic credits from Iraq with the requirements of the institute. "I always wanted to live in Egypt. As a cinema student, I've always admired filmmaking and the art of cinema that came out of Egypt. But I can't survive much longer. I need a job, I need money." Jaleel speaks of the humiliation that Iraqis feel upon applying for refugee status: "Every Iraqi has this sense of pride and dignity that they can't shake. We're a people of heritage, civilisation and wealth. We were always givers, not takers, so now when we come to a country not as visitors, but as refugees, it's painful and embarrassing." Indeed, UNHCR's Abeer Etefa says that almost all of the Iraqi asylum-seekers seen by the UNHCR have been highly educated, highly-trained individuals who have just had enough violence and chaos. "It is hard to be a refugee, and to leave your life behind," she says. "I hope that people will create a protection space for them, either here in Egypt or in the West, where their skills could be used." That's why Shihah says it's time for the Egyptian government to start helping Iraqis who are coming to this country, and for the UNHCR to speed up its process and grant more Iraqi asylum-seekers refugee status." "Egypt is a host country," says Shihah. "We hosted Moses, Jesus, people from Croatia and Sudan. The UNHCR is dealing with refugees on behalf of the Egyptian government, and by law we are not allowed to return them to their countries. But I think the UNHCR must open their doors for everyone, and not just pick some and let others out on the street." But Etefa says the UNHCR is doing its best. "Our capacity is limited," she says. "We can register 250 people a week, and have increased our registration staff every week. At one point, we were approached by 2,000 Iraqis on one day, so it takes a lot of effort. We've never dealt with such numbers." Egypt hosted the high-level international conference of Sharm El-Sheikh that discussed stability in Iraq, and dealt with displaced Iraqis. Representatives of 21 countries and organisations, including the five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council and the Group of Eight industrialised nations were invited. Etefa says it will take collaborative efforts on the part of the entire international community to come up with a solution for the Iraqi refugee crisis. "It's happening but slowly," she says. "And it's not enough, and it will need a long-term solution. We [UNHCR] are a humanitarian agency; we're like nurses -- we treat the symptoms but the disease is political, and so the cure will have to be political." So while the great countries and politicians meet, Mohamed and his family will be waiting at the doors of the UNHCR and walking from embassy to embassy, hoping that someone will hear their story, and open their doors to them.
