Strangers in their Homes: the Stateless Ask, “How can I not be a Bahraini? I was born here!”

by Suad Hamada
– Bahrain –

Most of them came by sea through tough journeys, seeking better lives. They loved their new homelands both before and after the oil era that brought wealth beyond anyone’s expectations. Many of them fought for independence and development in their new countries. But what did they get in return?

They didn’t get awards or national recognition, instead they were just marked with an unbearable word for the rest of their lives: Bidoon or stateless. Even their children and grandchildren, who have never known another homeland, are counted as stateless. Most of the young men who came to the Gulf states in the 1920s and 1930s are long dead and buried under the soil of countries that never accepted them as citizens.

Denying the stateless their citizenship rights can be attributed to tribal and political factors, but can hardly be justified when most arrived to their new lands before the existence of passports or other travel documents.

Stateless individuals are basically invisible and forced to live in the shadows, as most Gulf governments refuse to acknowledge their existence to avoid international criticism. They are worse than even foreigners as they don’t have the documents that enable them to lead ordinary lives. The stateless problem is at its worst mainly in Kuwait, but is followed by the UAE.

Most of those stateless families who originally came from Iran have proof that they have been living in the UAE for more than fifty years. There are more than 10,000 stateless individuals in the UAE and many of them have expired copies of passports that weren’t renewed for unknown reasons in the seventies. The Bidoon in the UAE cannot attend public schools or receive health care; they live under the poverty line while ironically living in one of the richest places in the world.

Although the stateless in Kuwait are luckier than those in the UAE (they can study at government schools and universities and work in public organizations), they suffer the pain of social rejection. Bidoon issues have been highlighted more in Kuwait than in other parts of the Arab world, simply because of Kuwait’s press freedom that gives journalists the ability to write whatever they want.

The problem of the Bidoon in Kuwait began in 1959 with the ratification of the country’s Nationality Law but started to be noticed in the sixties when their numbers began increasing. Kuwait’s Bidoon were the country’s main freedom fighters during Iraq’s invasion as many of them refused to flee their homeland. Despite their sacrifices and international criticism, the Kuwaiti government still refuses to give them their full citizenship rights.

In Bahrain, the stateless was a big issue before democracy, but no one dared address it as most lived in fear of a state security law that gave the government the right to detain anyone for years without just court trials. When His Majesty the King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa took over in 1999 after the death of his father, he nullified the state security law, released all activists from prison and gave full citizenship rights to thousands of stateless who were originally from Iran.

Although Bahrain has moved in the right direction in its handling of the Bidoon, not all who need them have been given Bahraini passports. According to Alekha National Society, there are 250 individuals living without official documents or even identity cards in the country. Board member Shaikh Ali Suffar calls upon the leadership of Bahrain to solve the problems of stateless families. He says that, with or without passports, they are Bahrainis – Arabic is their mother tongue and most have never been outside the country.

“I fear that I will die before fulfilling my dream of being considered a real Bahraini,” says Musa Amrallah Abdulkareem. He speaks of the agony of being a stranger in his own country. “How can I not be a Bahraini? I was born here and never left the country. Foreigners are better than me as they have been living in Bahrain legally and benefiting from various services because they have the required documents.”

Although his wife and children have received passports, Musa has not because he was convicted of a crime. He says that without the identity card (locally named CPR), he and others like him can do nothing. “The CPR has to be presented at health centers, schools or other government offices. I feel hurt when I am asked to pay BD3 (around $7 USD), like an expatriate, at the health center.” Fees like this are high for the stateless who work in low paying jobs and don’t receive assistance from the government.

Similar to Musa, 40 year old Ghuloom Mohammed Ali’s citizenship application was rejected because of a crime he committed. Ghuloom has never been able to secure a job of his choice. He fears injustice and rejection by employers and has changed jobs frequently. He says he is the only one in his family without a passport and though he wants to get married, all of his proposals are turned down because women feel insecure about marrying a Bidoon.

Thuraya Ishaq’s brothers and sisters all have Bahraini passports, but she does not because her father died before he could apply for her passport. “In the seventies, the procedures were simple. But not now,” Thuraya says.

The youngest in her family, Thuraya lost her father when she was seven. “I feel I have never been treated on par with my brothers and sisters.” For reasons unknown to her, Thuraya was not covered by the Royal gesture to issue passports to thousands of stateless citizens during Bahrain’s political reforms in 2002.

Thuraya has just one option: the mother of two can obtain a passport through her husband. “But why should I depend on my husband? I am a ‘Bahraini’ and shouldn’t be treated like a foreigner who is seeking a passport after marrying a citizen.”

Mentally ill Ismaeel Hassan Abduljawad was “cheated” by his half brothers. When Bahrain started issuing passports to the stateless, they took him to the passport directorate but left him in the waiting room. His brothers got their passports but Ismaeel did not. When his mother discovered what his brothers had done, it was too late. The directorate said Ismaeel was 30 years old and thus his case needed to be dealt with separately. But it is a complicated problem. Ismaeel’s neighbor Salwa says, “It is very difficult for Ismaeel to get his passport. He cannot complete the paperwork. His mother is originally from Iran and cannot do it for him.” And his brothers refuse to help. They are still sore that their father married a non-Bahraini.

“Ismaeel cannot get social assistance from the government because he doesn’t have a CPR and has to pay for each visit to the health center. His father and brothers offer no support.” Ismaeel’s mother has citizenship from a previous marriage and he is now the only member in the family without a passport. Ismaeel might not even understand the difficulty of his situation as his mother struggles everyday to meet his needs.

Sakina Mashallah Mohammed has to deal not only with the loss of her husband, but the problem of her children not having passports as well. She says everyone in her husband’s family have passports but her husband died in 2001 before getting his. She has two sons and one daughter. “I have a passport but cannot give my nationality because according to the nationality law, only male citizens have the right to pass citizenship on to their children,” she says. “My children are young now and need to work, but cannot find it. Once my daughter was asked to leave her job out of fear that labor inspectors would charge her employers for hiring illegal workers.” Sakina lives on charity as she doesn’t receive social assistance from the state for her children.

There are no signs that the Bidoon problem will be solved any time soon in the region, especially because of the more pressing political conflicts in the Middle East that make this issue less of a priority. Though many stateless continue to be unrecognized by government, Bidoon like Thuraya are determined to fight for their legal and civil rights.

After getting into a heated argument recently with an employee at a health center when she was asked to pay for services, Thuraya says, “I shouted at her and told her that I wouldn’t pay. I am not an expatriate. I should be treated like a citizen.”

About the Author
Suad Hamada has been a journalist in Bahrain since 1997. Her writing focuses on politics and women’s empowerment in both Bahrain and the larger Arab region. She has participated in national campaigns for the elimination of discrimination against Bahraini women, seeking to give them a voice in a society – that while liberal in comparison to its neighbors – still marginalizes and oppresses its female citizens.