By J.D. Long-García | November 6, 2008 | The Catholic Sun

BEIRUT, Lebanon — Shalhah Tabiya escaped the persecution of Christians in Iraq, but she didn’t escape her husband.

Her husband had been working for an American contractor in Iraq and received many threats because terrorists associated him with the American military.

“In the mosques we heard ‘flight of the Christians’ and ‘do not buy anything from Iraqi Christians’ and ‘killing them is an honor,’” she said. They left Iraq for Lebanon in 2004.

Tabiya and her sister married two brothers. One day they had a big disagreement, and the two men beat their wives together.

“My husband tried to burn me while my son was watching,” Tabiya’s sister, Nada Hikmat Tobia, said.

All the children now suffer from nightmares.

A year ago, the sisters left their husbands with the help of a migrant center run by Caritas Internationalis. The center, supported by Catholic Relief Services, runs a house for abused migrants and refugee women and their children.

 Caritas social workers conduct group therapy sessions and a priest volunteers his time to offer moral and spiritual support. Guests at the house also receive Arabic and English lessons.

“We want the families to live as if they were in their house,” said Nancy Chéhade of Caritas. “Some families stay for two days, others for two years.”

Presently there are 21 children and 15 women living at the shelter. They come from Iraq, Sri Lanka, the Philippines and Ethiopia. At times, the shelter accommodates 50 guests.

“Women come here with a tired physical character,” Chéhade said. “They now have a strong character. They want to tell us how to run things around here.”

That’s the case with Anwar Kathem, a Muslim Iraqi who also found shelter from her husband.

Kathem’s family left Iraq seven years ago. Her husband, who worked in law enforcement, was accused of losing an important file in an ongoing medical investigation.

The high-profile case involved a prestigious woman who was suing a well-known doctor in the aftermath of a botched surgery. The operation had cost the woman her fertility. Kathem’s husband, who worked in law enforcement, was caught in the middle, accused of losing the investigative file.

“Even prison might not mean prison,” she said, adding that her husband’s life was at stake. Within two days of being accused, the family snuck into Syria and then Lebanon. Iraqis generally didn’t have passports under Saddam Hussein’s regime.

Even in Iraq, with both of their families close by, Kathem’s husband insulted, threatened and beat her.

“When we came here, no one was there to keep him in check,” she said. “So he did much worse.”

Her husband beat her, even in the streets. He beat her so badly that she lost sight in her left eye. The neighbors spoke with some other Iraqi women, who eventually broke down Kathem’s door and took her away from her husband.

Caritas paid for an eye operation, which did not restore her sight, and is providing a shelter for her.

“Most women don’t know they are being mistreated by their husbands,” Chéhade said. Culturally, Middle Eastern men tend to believe it’s OK to beat their wives. “We are working on women’s character, to help them get their own personality.”

It certainly worked with Kathem.

“Now I am coming back to life. I want to live,” she said. “I’m willing to work anywhere to support myself and my daughter.”

“When we arrived, we were still scared of saying what we wanted to say,” she said. Now it’s different.

“America has become our mother. Only a mother can reach out to her children and bring them to her bosom,” she said. “Only a mother would open her heart to them.”

The couple, who attend the Mar Abraham Chaldean Catholic Church, are part of a growing number of Iraqi refugees in the Valley through the work of Catholic Charities. Once resettled, Iraqi refugees will stay.

“America is a dream come true for us,” Marygret said. “If you reach your dream, why would you ever go back?”