We Are All Refugees: The radio soap about displaced Syrians inspired by The Archers
The world's longest-running radio soap is one of the models for the everyday story of refugee folk, says its co-producer Charlotte Eager
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.A man and a woman are screaming at each other in Arabic, rehearsing a scene from We Are All Refugees, a six-part radio soap about the lives of Syrian refugees in Jordan, due to be broadcast throughout the Middle East this month. The project reflects life in a country where three-quarters of the population are now estimated to be refugees, and to which more than half-a-million Syrians have fled in three years.
The actors doing the shouting in a rehearsal room in Amman are Nawar Bulbul, a Syrian TV matinee idol; 26-year-old Azmi al-Hassany, a young Syrian amateur actor; and Raneem Ibraheem Aga, 23, a Syrian refugee. Bulbul's character, Fadi, is trying to marry off his 15-year-old sister, Reem (played by Aga), to a young Jordanian suitor against her will, to get her out of the refugee camp and off his hands. Fadi's younger brother, Firas, the drama's hero (played by al-Hassany), has returned to the camp from Amman to support his sister. He is scraping a living working illegally as a valet parker in the capital.
"This story is happening every day with Syrians in Jordan, they just don't have much choice," says Aga during a break in rehearsal. "But Reem is strong. She comes up with a way to help her family solve the problem. I hate the idea of a young girl being forced to marry. I was 17 when I did, but I loved my husband."
Aga fled a bombardment in Damascus two years ago with her husband and two sons, aged three and five, to find a new life in Syria. A delivery driver in Syria, her husband now hustles for work on the Jordanian black market as a metal worker. He did not want Aga to act in the soap. "But I nagged and nagged and nagged him until he said yes! I'd always wanted to act, but I never had the chance. And it's paid," she says, smiling, before being summoned back to work.
Our Jordanian driver, Ossama – gripped by the scene – says that the plotline is compelling and truthful: Syrian women are thought to be beautiful, clever and great cooks. "There's a saying in Jordan: 'Marry a Syrian wife; have a good life,'" he says, a little sheepishly.
The idea for the soap, of which I am a co-producer, was born a year ago, when Oxfam took me to Zaatari, the UN's tent and Portakabin city where more than 100,000 of Jordan's half-million Syrian refugees are corralled. Unfortunately, Jordan, a tiny, desert country of 8 million people, with no oil, not much water and 12.6 per cent unemployment, was already feeling the strain of being the most politically stable country in the Middle East and therefore a magnet for exiles.
The Syrians are just the latest wave of refugees. The Palestinians came in 1948 and again in 1967; Iraqis in 1991, 2003 and again this summer, as they fled the medieval barbarism of Isis. There are even Armenians, well-established now, who filtered down through the wreck of the Ottoman Empire after the genocide against them in 1915.
At the time, I was visiting the camps looking for a place to stage The Trojan Women, Euripides's great anti-war tragedy, as a drama therapy project for refugees. Syrian women talked in the tents and white corrugated plastic boxes they now called home. One girl was about to be married; she was just 15. Her mother, a country woman from a village near the Syrian town of Deraa, explained that marriage was the best solution for her daughter. "There's so much gossip here," she said. "No one has anything to do in the camp; we all know each other's business. People say terrible things about unmarried girls. They call them flirts or sluts."
"And there's no security in the camps," said another woman. "Some girls get attacked or molested when they are going to the bathrooms at night, and then no one will marry them."
"I just want my daughter to be safe," said the first woman. After her mother left, the girl burst into tears, saying: "I don't want to get married. I don't want to leave my family." She was to marry a Jordanian and move out of the camp. "A Jordanian husband will look after her; her children will have Jordanian citizenship," her mother later explained to me, desperately.
We Are All Refugees was partly funded by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) agency, which suggested the themes it wanted covered. Forced early marriage was one, since there's been an epidemic of arranged marriages for Syrian refugee girls – to other Syrians, to Jordanians, even to Saudis and Gulf Arabs, who come to the camps to find a bride. Other themes were domestic violence, water shortages, unemployment, the exploitation of young Syrians who are not allowed to work legally in Jordan and the tensions of two communities forced to live side by side.
The drama was co-written by Wael Qadour, a young refugee Syrian playwright and theatre director, and two Jordanians, Majd Hijjawi, a writer and filmmaker, who also worked on The Hurt Locker, and Ahmad Ameen, who wrote the award-winning film Transit Cities.
Originally, it was to be a TV soap. But radio is much cheaper to produce, and most of the money had to be raised privately. One inspiration was The Archers, the world's longest-running radio soap, broadcast on Radio 4 and a daily addiction for 5 million listeners. It was created in 1951 with an educational purpose: teaching new farming techniques.
There were other models. In 1994, the BBC World Service had enormous success with its Afghan soap Naway Kor, Naway Jan ("New Home, New Life"). Dealing with the problems of Afghans returning from the refugee camps in Pakistan to a then-peaceful Afghanistan, its message was, "Don't tread on the land mines, or grow opium, however much the drug lords pay." It now has more than 35 million listeners and has been running for 20 years. The Taliban tried to take the soap off the air, but the ban was blocked by a mutiny by its own troops.
We Are All Refugees, set partly in a camp and partly in Amman, is to be broadcast on Radio Souriali, the best-known Syrian independent émigré radio station, which broadcasts in the Middle East (including Syria and Jordan), the US and online, and also on the UNHCR website.
In the soap, Yara, a naive, middle-class Jordanian heroine who works for a non-governmental organisation, is played by Shereen Zoumot, a Jordanian-Iraqi actress and producer. Zoumot's mother's family fled Mosul, Iraq, for the relative safety of Baghdad, where her uncle was wounded in a car bomb last month. "Yara's exactly like I used to be," says Zoumot, 26, who acted in When I Saw You, the Palestinian entry for the best foreign-language film Oscar in 2013. "She's an airhead for the first three episodes, then she gets real. I know she'll get together with Firas in the end. Loads of Jordanian girls are going out with Syrian guys now."
The long-term ambition is to turn the radio pilot into a TV soap. "Although my husband might actually divorce me if it goes on TV," says Aga, laughing. µ
Charlotte Eager is a filmmaker and a contributing editor at Newsweek Europe. Last year she co-produced Euripides's 'Trojan Women' in Arabic in Jordan, and she is a co-producer for 'We Are All Refugees'.
© Newsweek
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments