ROBERT SIEGEL, host:
Many of the more than 2 million Iraqi refugees now in Jordan and Syria hope to build new lives elsewhere. And for young artists forced to flee Iraq, talent is one way out. Invitations from Europe are the prize, an opportunity to perform and, perhaps, find a new life.
From Damascus, NPR's Deborah Amos has this story of one young dancer.
DEBORAH AMOS: The Iraqi refugee community in Damascus is a haven for young artists - filmmakers, painters, dancers. They say the country they left behind has no place for them, not now anyway. And like most refugees, they have time on their hands, which they spend developing their talents.
Mr. MUHANAD RASHEED (Dancer): We don't have a dance culture in Iraq. So I feel responsible that I make dance inside Iraq, a dance culture.
AMOS: 23-year-old Muhanad Rasheed joined a contemporary dance company in Baghdad in 2003. But when the company fled the country, he quickly founded his own group in Damascus called Iraqi Bodies. The dance group combines Western, Japanese and Iraqi folklore dance styles. During a break, he says all the hours of rehearsal, all the hard work have finally paid off - an invitation to perform in Holland.
Mr. RASHEED: I will perform there in dance festival. You should do something good because you are from Iraq, you know?
AMOS: What does that mean?
Mr. RASHEED: It's like, you should go there and tell the world that there is artists in Iraq. Not all the Iraqis carry guns on the streets.
AMOS: Rasheed is evasive when asked if he'll return to Damascus after the festival. European visas are highly prized by the refugee community because an invitation to one capital opens the door to all of the European Union and a host of asylum opportunities. But Rasheed knows to announce an intention to stay for good could jeopardize the invitation.
Now, he's focused on the dance performance in Damascus — perhaps his last in the Arab world for a while — where he debuts his dance, the "Crying of My Mother."
(Soundbite of music)
AMOS: The theater is in an old stone building, cold and damp, but there's a good turnout — Syrians and some Iraqis. The performance is both beautiful and violent. Two brothers who love each other turn on each other, die in each other's arms. It is everything Muhanad Rasheed wants to say about his country, a message, he believes, too dangerous to deliver inside Iraq.
Mr. RASHEED: We are the main problem, we as an Iraqi people. I mean, we have a lot of problem in our culture, and that's why they killed each other. I understand there is American military and there's a lot of bad hands from outside Iraq, but I think it's in our hands. We can fix the problem or we can make the problem a huge problem.
(Soundbite of applause)
AMOS: The performance is a hit with this audience, including two Iraqis, Yaser and Miriam Rahim.
Ms. MIRIAM RAHIM: It's very beautiful. I like it.
AMOS: Did it speak about Iraq, do you think?
Ms. RAHIM: Yes. I love it. It was very, very beautiful.
Mr. YASER RAHIM: It's very fantastic, very brilliant.
AMOS: A few days later, Muhanad and his brother are packing their few belongings in their one-bedroom basement apartment in Damascus.
Mr. RASHEED: (Speaking in foreign language).
AMOS: Muhanad is saying goodbye to his family.
Mr. RASHEED: So I think I will go to Holland. And I try to find my future there. And if I succeed, I will stay there. And if I will not, who knows? Maybe I will come back to Iraq.
AMOS: Muhanad Rasheed did dance at the Dutch festival, then was accepted for asylum when he applied a week later. His success has been telegraphed throughout the Iraqi arts community in Damascus, where young dancers and filmmakers and composers are working harder than ever.
Deborah Amos, NPR News, Damascus.