ALEPPO, Syria -- Sabbah Zaker had a small, sturdy construction company in the Iraqi city of Mosul, and although he did not agree with the U.S. invasion, he accepted a $10,000 contract last summer to renovate schools and health clinics across his ethnically mixed home town.
A few months later, his name began appearing on the walls of his neighborhood as a warning from insurgents not to cooperate with the Americans.
Zaker, a Christian, had been agonizing over whether to leave Iraq since August, when a series of church bombings shook Mosul and Baghdad. The graffiti made the decision for him, and last September he sent one of his four sons to this city in northern Syria to find a place for the family to settle. Zaker, his wife and their sons now sleep on the floors of a cramped apartment across from a church.
"Our people hated me, and I didn't even know what was in their hearts," said Zaker, 52, who wore a tightly knotted tie on a recent morning despite having no place to go. "If the situation continues like it is in Iraq, more of us will come. And the money is running out."
Although regional and global concerns about Syria's 450-mile border with Iraq have focused mostly on foreign Arabs slipping across to join the insurgency, a growing number of Iraqis like the Zakers are moving in the opposite direction. U.N. officials say they are witnessing the exodus they had expected 22 months ago, when the United States and its allies invaded, and the Syrian government and international aid agencies say they are seeing the first worrisome social effects of the migration.
Syrian officials say 700,000 Iraqis from various ethnic, religious and economic backgrounds have arrived since the U.S.-led invasion, far more than in any other country in the region. The flow has spiked in the past four months.
The first trickle of wealthy Iraqis, who U.S. officials say may now be helping finance the insurgency, has been followed by a larger wave of mostly Shiite Muslims and Christians -- groups targeted by the daily violence. U.N. officials say many are doctors, professors, business owners and recent college graduates, the intellectual core that officials in Washington hoped would rebuild Iraq.
As they settle in the old stone buildings of the Christian quarter here and in the southern slums of Damascus 185 miles to the south, the enclaves are experiencing soaring rents, overcrowded schools, rising crime and health problems.
"We cannot continue like this," said Abdelhamid Ouali, the representative for the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees in Syria. "The situation is terrible, and we are obliged to do something."
Hoping to help the fleeing Iraqis without encouraging their flight, the U.N. agency arranged "temporary protection status" that prevented the Iraqis from being deported but did not trigger the financial aid and relocation assistance that goes to official refugees.
Almost two years ago, the agency set up large tent cities and health clinics for thousands of people. The facilities were mothballed when the mass exodus did not immediately materialize.
"What happened? People have started coming now, and we can do nothing for them. It is a disaster," said Ouali, who is designing a $700,000 program to help the Syrian government assist the Iraqis.
Many Syrians are starting to complain about the effects of the Iraqi arrivals, mostly over the crowded schools and rising rents.
The wealthiest Iraqis have been buying up land in the western suburbs of Damascus, building huge homes and pushing up real estate prices 50 percent over the past year.
A lawyer who works in government circles said President Bashar Assad will soon sign an order barring Iraqis from purchasing property.
"If they are allowed to continue," said a Syrian used-car dealer looking for property to buy in Damascus, "they will buy up half of Syria."
This ancient city, which had churches before the mosques that outnumber them today, has become a sanctuary for about 15,000 Iraqi Christians. Syrian Orthodox and Chaldean churches, which dispense small amounts of aid and tap a Christian business network to find arriving men jobs, are usually the first stop for Iraqi families.
"They may have been rich," the Rev. Joseph Shabo, a Syrian Orthodox priest, said, adding, "When they arrive, soon they have nothing."
Despite their qualifications, Zaker and his two working-age sons have been unable to find jobs.
First Published: February 6, 2005, 5:00 a.m.