Breaking Boundaries.


 By Sharon K. Sobotta


Turn on the TV or open up a newspaper on any given day and you’re sure to find something connected to the state of affairs between the Middle East and the United States—be it the ongoing war in Iraq, the conflict between Palestine and Israel, the death of another soldier or a group of women and children that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or the desire for peace. In the United States, a country where less than one-third of the citizens hold passports, the news is the one and only connection most people have to the region. When topics like terrorism are discussed with images of Muslims praying in a mosque in the background, Islamophobia is perpetuated in the United States. As a journalist, I see it as part of my mission to get people on all corners of the globe and ideological spectrum to envision the world more broadly and with less judgment. I constantly encourage my American counterparts to go and spend time in the Middle East. I may be hopelessly idealistic, but I truly believe that if Americans and Middle Easterners knew one another on a human level, they’d be far less likely to engage in war, or at a minimum would think twice before signing on to participate. During the five-year anniversary of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, I happened to be in Doha, Qatar, the very place where American soldiers sometimes go before being deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, the potential site of the 2016 Olympics, the neighbor of Saudi Arabia and the place that has captured my heart. As the Middle East is discussed is talked about in American news, there is one group of people that we rarely hear from—college aged women. Needless to say, when my friend offered me the chance to spend a day on the women’s side of the college of the University of Qatar, I jumped at the chance.  
As I entered the women’s cafeteria where I’d arranged to meet student members of AIESEC, (the international organization that promotes intercultural understanding and leadership), Hayfa (a Sudanese woman who is a lifelong resident of Qatar) warns me that I’m about to see a fashion show and teases that we’ll both feel inadequate when we see how beautiful all of the other women are. The women are staggered throughout, enjoying their lunch in cliques of friends or studying and drinking tea or Nescafe coffee independently while waiting for the next class. Some are dressed simply and modestly, remaining in a basic version of the abayah and the shella still in tact. Many are sporting high-end Gucci, Prada and other high-end brand-name abayahs with sparkly or ruffled sleeves, sequins and splashes of colored embroidery on the borders. Others have partially unzipped their abayahs and removed their shella altogether to show their dyed and trendy hair and reveal their flawlessly exfoliated and made-up skin. Some are dressed in Western clothing, with a colorful hijab atop their head. All have an extremely proud presence. By the end of the day, I’d become well acquainted with three of them—Mariam, a new-to-Qatar Iraqi woman aspiring to create her own animation company; Aysha, a native Qatari fashionista, working on getting her MBA; and Hayfa, a Sudanese-Qatari recent graduate who now works at the computer-help desk at the school.  
The story that most intrigued me was that of 19-year old Mariam.  

Nineteen year-old Mariam Salaam, from Baghdad, Iraq, who had taken up residency in Qatar with her family on September 11, 2000. Petite, thin, soft-spoken, polite, the modest young woman, in a white hijab, glasses and a long-sleeve white blouse and yellow vest, spoke boldly and bravely and had a more grown-up presence and a stronger sense of hope than perhaps anyone I’ve ever met of any age. Afraid she may be intimidated, I hesitantly asked for an interview. “Yes, I’d like to share my story,” she said with a smile even before I could finish formulating my question. Here is a piece of Mariam’s story.

Mariam Salaam, 19

Hometown: Baghdad, Iraq

College: University of Qatar

Major: Computer Information Systems.  

SKS: What prompted your family to move from Iraq to Qatar?

MS: We wanted a better life. For those on employee salaries (those who were not business owners), it was difficult to get ahead. My father was a teacher. My family was comfortable, but my father wanted to make a more descent living and he wanted a better future for us.

SKS: What was your life like under Sadaam Hussain’s government?  How has it changed?
MS: I remember in elementary school, we used to have to repeat and memorize certain sayings. One was, ‘we are with one message.’ Another, ‘we are an immortal nation with one message.’ On the street where my family lived there were Muslims, Christians (both Catholic and Orthodox), Sheas and Sunnies. It was peaceful. We were friends with each other. My Christian friend always complimented me on my veil and sometimes we went to our neighbor’s Christian confirmation ceremony. It was peaceful.  
It is true. There were rules. We knew if we spoke out against the government too much, we could get beaten up or in some cases, executed. But we knew where to stop, where to draw the line.  

SKS: Do you remember the day when the war started?

MS: Yes. It was March 21, 2003. (That whole month), my house was quiet as we waited to find out if war would happen. We were frustrated. We called our family everyday, and finally they assured us that they were sure nothing would happen, that the U.S. would not come. And then it happened! We were watching the news and we saw a bomb hit in the same area where my grandfather and uncle lived. My mom cried like hell. I have never seen her cry that hard in my entire life. We called continuously, but couldn’t get through. A week later, when we watched the news, we saw my uncle driving a car and we were so relieved.  

SKS: How has the war impacted you and your family?

MS: My mother’s cousin died, because he didn’t stop in time and ended up hitting a pole. The soldier shot him. Since the war began, crime has risen in our country. It is getting worse, not better. My neighbor was killed when someone broke into his house which wasn’t secure enough. My friend died and her family couldn’t go back to Iraq to be with her. When Sadam was there, we knew what would get us killed and now we don’t know. We are always at risk. Almost everyday my family has close calls (situations where they are nearly caught in the line of fire or where they are near an explosion). When I call them, they will let me know that they are “almost dead.” On days when they have more hope, they report that they are “still alive.”

SKS: What would you like Americans to know about Iraqis?

MS: If Americans can know that we are people, I will be happy. I’m not sure if it’s in the American people’s hands, because I know a lot of people are not in support of this war. If (American) people are free to talk and are saying no to the war, why isn’t anyone listening?

We are not becoming more free. Our country is not more democratic. It is worse, not better. (I’d ask the rhetorical question..) if you’re a mother or a father, would you like to raise your own children and seek the advice of others or would you prefer for someone else to come in and take over? That is what happened in Iraq. You, as a person, can do a lot. I, as an Iraqi person, can meet an American person and find things that we have in common. We share humanity, we both have eyes, just realizing that will make a difference.  

SKS: Based on what you’ve learned and experienced, what piece of advice would you offer others?


MS: Never lose hope. War happens to so many countries. People are dying everyday, but at the same time people keep smiling everyday. One day I will go back to Iraq. My friends and I used to say that we would go back in one year or two years, and now we say ten or twenty years. We don’t know when it will happen, but we are hoping for a better future. Always have faith in yourself and in others?

SKS: What is your source of strength?

MS: God, my family, my belief in the possibility of change. I know I was created to do something positive in this world. I wake up everyday and say I can make change, because God is with me. I have friends from AISEC around me who believe in being proactive, who believe in change. I thank God everyday for that.  


SKS: What is your dream?  


MS: I want to start a cartoon company. Cartoons reach children and can inspire them from a young age. Children are still fresh and innocent. Children are creative. Give them information and leave them on their own and they will come up with a positive solution on their own. My religion teaches that children are pure souls. It is circumstances that change them. My grandfather also believed in the power of children and dreamt of creating a cartoon company. He wasn’t able to fulfill his mission before he died, but I will carry on his vision. I want my own children to change the world.  Back >>