Refugee Spotlight

Spotlight on Iraqi Refugees:
An Iraqi Physician’s Story

At his request, for security reasons, I have changed the name of the subject of this story and omitted many details, so as not to endanger his family in Iraq.

One day in 2006 Ali’s boss in a government department called him into his office and told him he’d better leave the country as soon as possible for his safety’s sake. Some 300 Iraqi physicians had been killed, others had been kidnapped; Ali had been attacked numerous times, despite his bodyguards. Working closely with U.S. forces, he was a high-ranking official who supervised thousands of employees.

Ali arrived in the United States in autumn 2006 on a diplomatic passport to represent Iraq at an international medical conference. He applied for asylum and received it about 18 months later. In the meantime he became a member of his specialization’s professional society, but he was not allowed to practice medicine in the United States.

Determined to reclaim his career in the United States, he began the recertification process with the Educational Commission for Foreign Medical Graduates (ECFMG). At the onset, he faced a roadblock—ECFMG wanted an original of his medical diploma, which he had had to leave behind in Baghdad. “In Iraq a diploma is something you hang on the wall,” he told me. He offered the ECFMG his medical school transcripts and letters from U.S. doctors, including an admiral, who had worked with him in Baghdad since 2003. The ECFMG wanted letters from U.S. doctors who had witnessed his graduation from medical school in 1983, but no U.S. doctors attended his graduation.

Ali’s brother risked his life to travel from Baghdad to another city to pay $2,000 for an official copy of the diploma in English. But the ECFMG wanted the diploma in Arabic, so Ali’s brother made the perilous trip again. Finally Ali was allowed to register for the medical society’s qualifying examination, paying a hefty fee. To prepare for the exam he took a one-year preparatory course from a private company at a cost of $8,500. At great sacrifice his father in Iraq sent money to cover these expenses.

Meanwhile the resettlement agency in Baltimore was trying to help him find a place to live and a job—any job. It wasn’t easy. Eventually he found a job as a medical interpreter at a prestigious hospital. He is scheduled to take the medical qualifying exam in autumn 2008.

At 48 Ali feels almost too old to start over. He is distracted by worries about his wife and children, still in Baghdad. The U.S. Embassy first told him that background checks would not be necessary for his children, all under age 18; then the embassy changed its mind. As he waits for the checks to be completed he worries about being able to support his family on a limited income. Under the circumstances, he says, it is hard to concentrate on studying.

Despite his preoccupations and a certain weariness, Ali seems resolved that one day he will return to the practice of medicine. He’s one step ahead in his research, already inquiring about medical residency programs after he passes the qualifying exam. “I’m very optimistic, so I don’t give up,” he says.