In the face of a dwindling budget and uncertain prospects, Mubarak settled on moving from the pricey University district of Al Rashid to a cheaper neighborhood in the fringes of the capital. As he thought of his urgent decision, he recalled what an Iraqi immigrant at the refugee commission once told him “The cost of living is extremely low in Khrebat, and the people there are affable and tolerant of foreigners. In order to get there take the bus to the Wehdat transit center. Then take the Khrebat minibus and tell the chauffeur to drop you off at Hajja Nima bus station. Once there, ask any passerby about the Sudanese men who live at Hajja Nima lodging. Everybody in that neighborhood knows where they live. They will be happy to show you the community and assist you to find an apartment or a house for a discounted rent. They are very good men. Some of them used to be my neighbors back in Baghdad”
Thus, one temperate Friday afternoon, when Khrebat minibus arrived in the neighborhood and stopped at Hajja Nima stop, Mubarak got off and asked a bystander if he knew where the Hajja Nima's residence, which the Sudanese rented, was. “You are precisely at their house,” said the young man amiably, pointing to a dilapidated one floor building atop a flat hill with a red brick fence so low-set that it almost negated the function it was built for. So Mubarak thanked the man and then walked around the fence until he was squarely in front of the dwelling. When he knocked on the half-open improvised wooden gate, a half-asleep and half-naked young man answered. The man welcomed Mubarak graciously and then ushered him into the verandah of their quarters. One thing that attracted Mubarak’s attention instantaneously was the huge number of people inside the miniature abode. In the first instance, Mubarak, justifiably thought the men had gathered to grieve a loss of a beloved one as is the tradition among Sudanese communities everywhere. About thirty people unbelievably, crammed in the unfurnished three by six living room and two diminutive bedrooms. When the group straightened up and responded to Mubarak’s greetings, one young fellow called Ibrahim evacuated the only one chair that God bestowed on them among a couple of earthly belongings. Then he chivalrously asked Mubarak to take his emptied place. So when Mubarak sat down and inquired how everyone was doing, all chorused Hamdulillah, Hamdulillah, thanks to Allah, in a flawless harmony and exuberance that defied their underling unmistaken misery.
Then Ibrahim, who was apparently the spokesman for the group, instantly waded into a lengthy revelation “We thank God for whatever condition he puts us in. Even so, it is no exaggeration to say that things are extremely horrible for us. All these men you see live in this small space. Besides, when the night falls more would show up for slumber and dinner. Then early morning, most of them will disperse and hide among black Jordanians and Palestinians who sympathize with...
