Yemenis in Jordan find themselves between a rock and a hard place
Haunted by their past and frustrated by their present, Yemenis have little say in giving shape to their future
Three years after she said goodbye to her family villa in Yemen and moved to Jordan, Balqees Mohammed is filled with frustration.
She remembers her rooftop terrace, the family’s garden of lemon trees and the house’s arched windows overlooking the old city of Sanaa.
Now she spends her mornings scrubbing the floors of homes on the west side of Amman. As she mops balconies and sponges down sandcaked windows, her past life seems almost unimaginable.
Balqees works two cleaning shifts a day, despite chronic back pain she developed one year into her stay in Jordan.
The work earns her about 250 Jordanian dinars (Dh1,285) a month, enough to cover her rent of 220 dinars.
The 34-year-old spends most of her nights deciding which handful of groceries would best feed her two children; an eggplant today, five tomatoes tomorrow, three eggs the next. Once a week, she allows herself an extravagance: chicken.
There is one group more than others that she blames for her current life: the international community.
“I thought the UN would provide us with refuge, housing and assistance because we are escaping war,” said Balqees (not her real name because she works illegally).
Having long been home to Palestinian refugees, Jordan has for years been taking in Iraqis, Sudanese and Syrians. Yemenis, also seeking refuge from conflict, feel like they are the last in a long line of those needing help in Jordan.
“While our country is being torn apart, we are abandoned. There is no help, and no sympathy,” Balqees said.
Caught between a war-torn homeland and an overburdened host country, Yemenis in Jordan say they have been exiled to “the right place at the wrong time”.
With the war in Syria raging and the absorption of 1.2 million Syrians, donor fatigue in the West and budget crises afflicting UN agencies are onerous.
For years, Yemenis have worked, studied and sought medical care in Jordan’s capital. The city carries a few signs of their presence: two Yemeni restaurants cater for those arriving.
When war broke out in Yemen in 2015, many students and patients opted to stay in Jordan, while for those who gathered their life savings to leave found there were only two countries reachable by plane that were accepting Yemenis without a visa: Jordan and Egypt.
As the war stretched on and their savings dwindled, Yemenis started to register as refugees with the UN agency (UNHCR) with the hope of receiving aid and, should the conflict endure, resettlement.
As of August, there were 12,500 Yemenis registered with the agency – the third largest such community in Jordan. But Yemeni and Jordanian community leaders say the number of unregistered Yemenis is equally high and that the real number is more likely 25,000. The signs of a toughening environment are ominous. Recently, Jordanian authorities reportedly stopped renewing Yemenis’ temporary residencies. As of November, most Yemeni refugees in the kingdom will be on expired visas, accumulating a fine of 1.5 dinars for each day they overstay.
The UNHCR, meanwhile, had a 60 per cent budget deficit as of August and recently said that in November it will scale back and suspend cash assistance and health services to more than 500,000 vulnerable Syrian refugees unless it receives $270 million (Dh991.5m) in urgent funds.
Non-UN relief organisations are faring little better.
Since 2013, many international agencies in Jordan have restricted aid and services to Syrian refugees only.
“We wait in the back of the line behind Syrians, and when it is finally our turn and we say we are Yemenis, they point to the door,” said Ahmed Ali, 35, a former banker who left Sanaa for Amman three years ago. “I don’t want to say we are jealous of Syrians or that we wish them ill. It makes us ask: why are we always ignored?”
Yemenis and other non-Syrian refugees are allowed access to only one charitable health centre in East Amman, many waiting seven hours to see a nurse.
With international organisations facing funding shortages and greater pressure to shift their aid efforts into Syrian territory, what little aid is afforded to Yemenis – winter assistance from the UN and NGOs – may not be there in a few months.
With no cash payments, Yemenis trying to make ends meet in the most expensive Arab capital eke out a living.
But work permits are few and costly. Only a few sectors, including bakeries, restaurants, some shops and factories, are open to Yemenis. Even then, Yemenis require a Jordanian sponsor and must pay up to 500 dinars a year for a permit.
“We don’t want aid, we don’t want cash handouts, we don’t want to rely on the UN – we just want to be able to work,” Hisham said. “Give us a chance and we will be productive.”
Refugee employment has become a sensitive political issue in Jordan, which faces its own economic crisis. Unemployment is at 18.7 per cent nationwide and over 30 per cent among Jordanian youth. Economic discontent spurred protests three months ago.
As part of the Jordan Compact agreement, the kingdom has agreed to issue 200,000 work permits to Syrians in return for open access for Jordanian goods to the EU market free of customs and taxes.
As of July, Jordanian authorities said 100,000 such permits had been issued.
Schooling is an issue. While there are UN and NGO programmes assisting the integration of more than 120,000 Syrian children in government schools, no such framework exists for Yemenis.
Some Yemeni children have been scheduled for classes with Syrian students, while others showing up to start the new school year this week were reportedly turned away.
“The biggest thing we are afraid of is our children’s future,” said Mr Ali. “Once your developmental years go by, you can never get them back.”