When Iraqi Christians Vanish, Locals Pay the Price
By Kelly Thornton
San Diego Union-Tribune
Sept. 18, 06
B.E. was hoping for a call about a house-painting job. Instead, the Iraqi immigrant living in El Cajon heard his sister's voice, with terrible news from Baghdad.
A family member had been abducted by masked gunmen demanding a $30,000 ransom.
Kidnapping is nothing new in Iraq since the fall of Saddam Hussein's regime, but lately there's a new twist: Some of the targets are Iraqi Christians likely to have family members in the United States or Europe who can pay to save them.
B.E. -- who insists on anonymity because of concern for his family -- began frantically seeking help from relatives and friends in El Cajon. Family members in Chicago, Detroit and Europe did the same.
One cousin donated $5,000. Another cousin, $2,000. An uncle, $4,000, and so on. B.E., who was mostly unemployed and has children, managed to contribute $1,000 from what he had and from his circle in El Cajon.
Two days later, after the full ransom had been paid in U.S. dollars, B.E.'s brother-in-law, Albert Anderious, was released.
On that day in March, the 45-year-old father of five was transported in the trunk of a car to a road near the infamous Abu Ghraib prison, west of the Iraqi capital, and released by a masked gunman who told him to leave Baghdad or be killed. Anderious is a member of the Chaldean Church, a branch of the Roman Catholic faith. A substantial number of Iraqi families in California, Michigan, Arizona and Europe have been extorted in this manner, according to Iraqi-Americans and immigrant-rights activists.
"This started shortly after the American invasion, but now it's increasing," said John Kalabat, an Iraqi-American who immigrated to the United States in 1979 and became a language professor at Cuyamaca and Grossmont colleges. "For the mafias, it's a nice business, kidnapping someone and getting $20,000 to $50,000."
Christians in Iraq make up perhaps 3 percent of the population and include Chaldeans, Assyrians, Armenians and Syriacs.
The Chaldean community is mushrooming in El Cajon, where the group has a larger presence than anywhere else in the country except Detroit. The Chaldeans, who number about 25,000 in San Diego County, have been vocal supporters of the U.S.-led invasion.
Probably less than 800,000 Christians still live in Iraq. They have been leaving for places such as the United States for decades, to find economic opportunity and to flee political persecution under Hussein.
Iraqi immigrants in El Cajon said they suspect Sunni and Shiite Muslim insurgents are choosing Christian victims for two reasons: Because they are more likely to have relatives with cash, and to accomplish the bigger goal of driving them out their homes and the region.
B.E. and his family are just one story: Many Iraqi immigrants living here know of a relative or friend from their home village who was abducted for ransom. Family members scramble for funds; sometimes the hostage is released, sometimes not.
Anderious' family was overwhelmed with relief when he came home, but the experience has made B.E., and others, bitter and broke.
"This thousand (dollars), it was for me -- it was a big money, because I need it more," B.E. said. "But what (do) you do if there's someone in trouble? You have to help him. You have to cut it from your wage, from your bills, from your kids, from your food, and pay for them. I feel anger here. These bastards, they get this money for nothing. It's not right."
As security in Iraq disintegrates, B.E. said, there is no one to call for help and the kidnappers exploit that. "These people, they know there's no power of law there. Therefore, they do what they want. They know the police (are) very weak. They do nothing."
The sectarian violence raging in Baghdad prompted U.S. commanders in recent weeks to send more soldiers to the capital in a renewed bid to curb the surge of killings and kidnappings.
There's even a market among criminal groups who buy and sell hostages to each other to maximize profits, said Farouk Gewarges, a Chaldo-Assyrian who owns an insurance business in El Cajon.
"Some people, they want to get money the easy way. All they know is how to kidnap and use their guns," said Gewarges, who knows Anderious and many sad stories about other kidnappings.
"They are thugs who don't know how to work, they have no brain. It's an easy job -- put a gun to (a) head, kidnap him, ask for money and release him," Gewarges said.
Anderious called B.E. in El Cajon after his release, thanking his brother-in-law and asking for financial help to come to the United States.
Anderious, who works as a taxi driver, told B.E. he was chauffeuring two Iraqi engineers when he was boxed in by two cars. Masked gunmen jumped out, pulled the three men from the taxi, blindfolded them and shoved one man in the trunk of each of the vehicles.
After a couple of hours, they arrived at their destination. The abductors proclaimed that the two engineers had been working with the Americans. Then they were shot to death in front of Anderious.
Anderious got lucky. He had not been observed helping Americans. If his family paid, he would live.
The kidnappers used Anderious' cell phone to call his family. Anderious was forced to live in darkness and wear a blindfold -- even for eating or trips to the bathroom.
Once he was freed, Anderious wasted no time in heeding the kidnappers' warnings to leave Baghdad. The day he was released, he took his family to northern Iraq, where most Chaldeans have settled. But there is no money left for his family to escape the country.
"He called me when he got out," B.E. said. "He wants to leave Iraq. He called me for help. I said, 'I'm sorry I can't. Because I need now help because I'm new in America. Jobs not too much good.' "
There are many similar stories of violence and suffering.
For Ramzi Marcus' 17-year-old nephew, Fadi Marcus, it was a different outcome.
The Chaldean boy was snatched from the street while walking to school. He was a high school senior. A quiet, shy kid who liked reading, swimming and soccer. The kidnappers used the boy's cell phone to ask for ransom.
Marcus and his family scraped together the $20,000 and then followed directions. The kidnappers sent them to 10 places before finally allowing them to leave the money under a rock. The kidnappers said the teen would be released within two hours, but he was not, said Thaira Sako of El Cajon, the boy's aunt.
That was a year ago.
The boy's parents remain in Iraq. His mother is "crazy" with grief. His father is "looking for bodies constantly," said another aunt, Janet Namo of El Cajon. Every time there is news that corpses have been found, Fadi's father rushes to view them, not knowing what to hope for.
It is just the latest of many tragedies for the family. When Ramzi Marcus was 27, he became a political prisoner in Iraq. He was held for eight years. While he was imprisoned, his 23-year-old brother was hanged by Hussein's regime because he was a Chaldean activist.
To get to the United States, Marcus, who is now 50, walked from Iraq to Turkey to Greece. He made his way to Frankfurt, Germany, then to Mexico City and then to Tijuana, where he was among a group of about 130 Chaldeans who made news when they were temporarily detained at a Tijuana hotel before being allowed to cross the border in September 2000.
He received political asylum June 20, 2001. But he and his wife worry and grieve for the family members they left behind.
Sako, his wife, puts it this way: "We pray a lot."
By Kelly Thornton
San Diego Union-Tribune
|
