In the upscale Umm Uthaina neighborhood of Amman, the capital of Jordan, a red-and-green Bangladeshi flag flutters proudly in front of a house on Ibrahim Al Ghozlani Street. This house serves as the headquarters of the Embassy of Bangladesh. Many Bangladeshis living in Jordan stand before it, gazing silently at their national flag with tears in their eyes. On foreign soil, the sight of that flag fills them with pride, making their hearts swell.
But once they step inside the building, their expressions tell a very different story.
The moment they enter, they are met with harassment and discourteous treatment. Those who walk in wearing smiles leave with faces clouded by disappointment.
At this point, readers may wonder why I am writing about the Bangladeshi Embassy in Jordan instead of discussing the many pressing issues currently facing Bangladesh. So let me clarify one thing from the outset: I have never had any personal business at the embassy in Jordan. In fact, I have never even been inside the building. The complaints I am sharing are not my own—they come from the Bangladeshis who live and work in Jordan.
Over the years, my work has given me the opportunity to travel to many countries around the world. Almost everywhere I have been, I have heard expatriate Bangladeshis voice numerous complaints about embassy staff. Many believe that most embassy employees have skins as thick as rhinoceroses—they simply have no empathy for the people they are meant to serve. There are, of course, exceptions. In some countries, embassy staff enjoy warm and respectful relationships with the Bangladeshi community. Jordan used to be one of those places until recently. That is no longer the case, and I will explain why later.
In the middle of last month, I traveled to Jordan with my family. During a gathering at the home of a Bangladeshi friend, I met many other members of the Bangladeshi community. As the conversation went on, they learned that I work as a journalist. That was when the flood of complaints began.
Not just one or two people—many of them shared their experiences. Once I promised that I would write about their grievances, so many complaints poured in that they could hardly be counted. However, many of those who spoke to me requested that I not reveal their identities. They feared that if their names became public, the harassment they already face would only get worse.
Before detailing the complaints against the Bangladeshi Embassy, let me briefly introduce Jordan. Although it is a Middle Eastern country, it is still relatively unfamiliar to many Bangladeshis. I hope that, through this description, readers will enjoy a bit of travel and history without ever leaving home.
In ancient times, Jordan was part of the region known as Bilad al-Sham, or Greater Syria. The territories that now comprise Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel, and historic Palestine were collectively known as Sham. Even the popular dish known in Bangladesh as Shami Kebab traces its origins to this region. The renowned Bengali writer Syed Mujtaba Ali once wrote, “The meat patties of Sham are sold on the streets of Kolkata under the name Shami Kebab.”
Archaeological evidence shows that human settlements existed in different parts of Jordan as early as the Copper Age. Over the centuries, the land was ruled by the Ammonites, Moabites, Edomites, Assyrians, Babylonians, Nabataeans, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, and, during the medieval period, the Rashidun, Umayyad, Abbasid, Ottoman, and Hashemite dynasties.
Although the Hashemite family established its rule here in 1921, the country remained under British authority. Jordan finally gained its independence in 1946.
Historically, Jordan has attracted visitors from around the world throughout the year, and its people are generally warm and welcoming toward foreigners. Jordanians also show great respect for women. During my visit, I noticed that interactions between men and women in Jordanian society are marked by courtesy, modesty, and mutual respect.
Another notable aspect of the country is that alcohol is legal. Liquor stores can be found along the streets, and it appeared to me that smoking is common among both men and women. I even saw many women in traditional Arab attire smoking openly in public.
Jordan also has an industrial trade agreement with the United States under which Jordanian products enjoy duty-free access to the American market. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the country experienced significant economic growth after the period from 1990 to 1996, driven primarily by its garment industry. Today, the apparel sector accounts for 19 percent of Jordan’s total exports.
Among those who have invested in Jordan’s garment industry are several Bangladeshis, including Mohammad Noor Alam. He owns Galaxy Apparels, a large factory located in one of Jordan’s industrial zones. More than 3,000 workers are employed there, the majority of whom are Bangladeshi.
Local residents told me that Bangladesh first began sending workers to Jordan in 2000, when just 95 workers arrived in the country. In 2012, Bangladesh signed a memorandum of understanding with the Jordanian government, and the number of Bangladeshi workers gradually increased thereafter.
Today, more than 125,000 Bangladeshis are employed in Jordan. About 100,000 of them are women, most of whom work as machine operators and in other positions in the country’s ready-made garment industry.
For most women who migrate to Jordan through official channels, their accommodation, meals, medical care, and transportation are typically covered by the recruiting factory or company. As a result, they do not have to spend any money to go abroad. Moreover, compared with many other Middle Eastern countries, Jordan is regarded as a relatively safe and well-regulated labor market for female garment workers. That is why women are able to come here with relative ease.
Yet, despite working safely in Jordan, many of these women find themselves in trouble when they seek consular services from the Embassy of Bangladesh. For many, dealing with the consular section has become a source of overwhelming anxiety.
Under Bangladeshi government regulations, Jordan, along with the six member states of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), falls under a special passport fee structure. Under this policy, workers are required to pay 25 Jordanian dinars to renew a five-year passport and 40 dinars for a ten-year passport. According to the expatriates I spoke with, however, these rules are not followed in Jordan. Instead, they say, additional fees are collected under various pretexts.
One worker told me that all of his official documents identify him as a laborer, except for his residence card, where his occupation is not mentioned. Using that as justification, the embassy charged him 98 dinars, including visa fees. Another worker said that because his residence card had expired, the embassy refused to recognize him as a worker and also forced him to pay 98 dinars. He asked me, “How did I stop being a worker just seven days after my residence permit expired?” He added that different workers had been charged different amounts. To support their allegations, they even handed me several documents.
Another worker said that he had applied for a work permit, but his application had expired a month earlier. The embassy now refused to acknowledge that he was a worker and demanded that he prove his status all over again. Yet if he failed to renew his iqama (residence permit) on time, the consequences for him would be severe.
The most common complaints against the embassy concern passport-related harassment. One worker said that his passport contains an extra dot before his name that does not appear on his National ID card. Although everything else matched, the embassy refused to renew his passport solely because of that punctuation mark.
Another worker complained that having a passport photograph taken at the embassy consumes an entire day. Embassy staff, he said, waste applicants' time with one excuse after another. Parents who come to register the births of their children also face unnecessary harassment.
One worker told me that there is a female consular employee who consistently mistreats workers. Anyone who protests, he said, is threatened with being reported to the police. They also told me that as recently as a year ago, they had been treated respectfully. According to them, the situation changed after the arrival of the current ambassador, when embassy staff began behaving poorly toward workers. Allegations of corruption involving Jordan's current Bangladeshi ambassador, Nur-E-Helal Saifur Rahman, have also appeared in the news. Bangladeshis living in Jordan have raised numerous complaints about him, but nothing has come of them.
I listened carefully to every complaint the workers shared. By the time they finished, I found myself deeply saddened. These are ordinary people with modest expectations.
When they leave Bangladesh, they pack more than clothes in their suitcases. They carry with them the love of their wives, photographs of their children, the affection of their siblings, the blessings of their parents—and a deep sense of longing. Longing for their country. Longing for home. Longing for the fish in the family pond, the creeping grass around the yard, and the days they left behind. That longing never truly lets go of them.
After returning to their workplaces, they carefully set those treasured memories aside and head into the scorching desert, where they toil under the blazing sun. As drop after drop of their sweat falls onto the burning sand, it is transformed into gleaming dinars. Once those hard-earned dinars cross the border, they become what we call remittances. The government celebrates. The finance minister speaks proudly. The central bank reports that the country's foreign exchange reserves are overflowing.
Yet when these same people finally return home—after enduring humiliation abroad—they often face another round of mistreatment at the hands of customs and immigration officials at the airport. Even so, the joy of returning home brings tears to their eyes. And before they finally reach their families, they may endure one last indignity while bargaining with a CNG or taxi driver over the fare. Still, they return home, drawn by their love for the place they never stopped missing. They rarely tell anyone about the hardships they have endured.
The silent tears of Bangladeshis in Jordan are an unseen chapter in Bangladesh's remittance-dependent economy. Countless other expatriates across the Middle East have likely endured similar experiences for generations. Yet their suffering remains largely unknown.
Writer: Acting Editor, Ajker Patrika