American dreamers

The Kesbeh family were called the Palestinian Cleavers when they were deported to Jordan after 9/11. Now living in dire conditions, they are determined to get back to the U.S., the only place they call home.

Editor's note: This article continues a Salon series exploring the impact of 9/11 five years after the attacks.

By Katharine Mieszkowski

Read more: Politics, News, Jordan, Katharine Mieszkowski, 5 Years After

Salon photo collage

Noor Kesbeh, foreground, with her family gathered in back.

Sept. 10, 2006 | Noor Kesbeh dreams of returning to America every day. A mature 23-year-old, by turns serious and cheerful, she is convinced that she will one day get out of Jordan. She and her family were deported there in 2003, caught up in the anti-Arab tide that swept across the U.S. after 9/11. For a decade, Noor and her parents, four sisters and two brothers, had been living in a modest house in Houston. Their father, Sharif, ran a successful wholesale flag business, and the kids were honor students in school. In 1997, they applied for green cards based on their status as Palestinian refugees. But when they were denied them, they remained in the country illegally. Noor went on to graduate from public high school in suburban Alief in west Houston, and enrolled in community college, hoping to study medicine.

Today, Noor and her family live in East Amman, a rundown and dangerous area of the capital, where they are crammed into a two-bedroom apartment. At age 57, Sharif is unable to find work. The family can afford to heat only one room in the winter. The concrete walls and floors aren't insulated, so some of the younger girls suffer from frostbite in the winter. Most of the older children, who have graduated high school, remain out of work, and can't afford to continue their studies. The younger children, whose Arabic was first-grade level when they came to Amman, go to expensive English-language private schools the family struggles to cover with loans.

Yet Noor, the oldest child in the family, is not one to be deterred. Speaking on the phone last week, her voice full of hope, she explains that she is her family's main breadwinner. After working for a year as a secretary in a jewelry factory, where she made about $200 a month, she now holds an administrative job at the American Embassy and earns $700 a month. Her new job, she hopes, will be her stepping stone back to America. "I can later join the U.S. government foreign service, and if I work for 15 years, I can get a green card."

The Kesbehs, as first reported in Salon by Michelle Goldberg, do not fit anybody's idea of terrorists. Sharif Kesbeh was born near Ramallah in the West Bank, but fled with his family during the 1948 war. The six-day war in 1967 caused his family to flee again and settle in Baqaa, a refugee camp north of Amman. Sharif trained as an agricultural engineer in Jordan and later at Texas Tech in Lubbock. In the '80s, he and Asmaa, now his wife, went to Saudi Arabia, where he worked for an American defense contractor and a Saudi prince. But when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait, the family traveled to the U.S. on a sixth-month tourist visa.

The Kesbehs settled in Houston, where Sharif took over the flag business from his brothers. He sold American, Confederate and even Israeli flags. Sharif's stay was extended into a one-year work permit, which was annually renewed. In 1998, after being denied green cards, a warrant was issued for the deportation of the parents and six of the seven kids. The seventh, Afnan, the youngest daughter, born in the United States, was already a legal citizen.

"After six or seven years working hard to stand on our feet, if we leave the U.S., our family life will be destroyed," Sharif told Salon. "To leave your only source of income, to take the kids from an American school to an Arabic system school, means the destruction of the family." They decided to stay illegally.

The Kesbehs didn't have any problems living under the radar in Houston until after 9/11, when the U.S. Justice Department, headed then by John Ashcroft, launched the Absconder Apprehension Initiative to crack down on the 314,000 immigrants who were under deportation orders, but hadn't left the country. While most of those immigrants were from Latin American countries, the initiative focused on 6,000 immigrants from countries considered al-Qaida strongholds. That focus, eventually, found the Kesbehs.

"On March 2, 2002, we received a phone call that made my wife almost die," Sharif explained. Asmaa's mother, father, younger sister and 3-year-old nephew had been killed in an accident on Jordan's Dead Sea Highway. As word of the deaths spread throughout the Kesbehs' community in Houston, friends rallied to the family's side. The family believes the large gathering of Muslims and Arabs caused the feds to notice them.

On March 29, 2002, eight armed agents burst into the family's home before dawn. Asmaa thought they were being robbed. The officers left Noor at home to look after the two youngest daughters. The other two girls, their mother and the younger son, Muhannad, were taken in, fingerprinted and released on probation pending deportation, while Sharif and his eldest son, Alaa, were held in jail six months.

In Houston, their plight became a cause célèbre. Consumer advocate Marvin Zindler, one of the city's best-known news personalities, took up their cause after Noor called him asking for help. The Houston Chronicle profiled "the Palestinian Cleavers." Texas Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee publicly voiced her support for the family. "The family had nothing but patriotism, respect and love for their adoptive country; they were victims of our tragic incident of 9/11," she says.

In the House of Representatives, Jackson Lee introduced a resolution that would have granted the family legal residency. Sen. Edward Kennedy used his influence to have Alaa and Sharif released, while the legislation was under consideration. But the bill foundered, failing to find support in the Senate. A year after the raid on their home, the family was ordered to surrender for deportation. The night before, as the Kesbehs frantically packed their possessions, supporters rallied on their front lawn. One held a sign that read: "Houston Loves the Kesbeh Family." At the last minute, Alaa fled to stay with a friend, becoming a fugitive. A year later, he'd been captured, and was finally sent to Amman, too.

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