100 Years Young


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Shamama Oram celebrates a century

By Sarah Kittle

When I first sat down with Shamama Oram, she invited me into her home, served me chai and kulacha, and made me feel welcome without speaking a word. A series of nods and hand gestures conveyed volumes about the character of this woman who had witnessed a century. She speaks little English, and I speak no Arabic, let alone Sureth/Aramaic, but we still had a bond.

She has seen many changes in her incredible life. “The pandemic and its isolation effect were frightening and sad,” she said through an interpreter, “9-11, the Gulf Wars, recession raising such a large family…going to too many funerals of Chaldean party store owners.

“The first man on the moon was something unbelievable to me,” Shamama remembered. “Dial telephone services and touchtone phones, color TV, FM radio, digital pictures…”

A child bride, she was one of the lucky ones who genuinely loved her husband and misses him still. He passed away at the age of 100 in November of 2012. “I enjoyed spending time with my husband,” she reminisced. “Drinking chai daily and chatting about the good old days in the village. He was an amazing storyteller.”

Shamama was just ten years old when she caught the eye of future husband Zia Mansour Oram but may have already looked the part of a woman; she had been helping her mother take care of her siblings, cooking, cleaning, and gathering water for the household in the village of Telkeif for years. She kneaded dough and traveled by donkey to the well several times a day. It was a peaceful and simple existence.

“I was extremely happy,” Shamama said. “It was a hard life, but we were content.”

Nevertheless, ten was too young to be betrothed, and Zia had to wait two more years for his bride, one who would eventually become the mother of his 12 children. “He called them our 12 disciples,” Shamama said with smile. He was her third suitor, but one that was destined to be her husband and partner.

Life in Iraq

“We lived and ate from the land and survived with very little materially,” said Shamama. “When I was young, the farming village was my life…I have beautiful memories of my beloved parents going to church every day, siblings, my marriage at 12 years old. I remember it very well.”

Shamama and Zia were married in Sacred Heart Church by Father Stephan Kallabat, the uncle of Father Stephan Kallabat, who serves today at Mar Addai in Oak Park. “Our wedding celebration lasted seven days,” Shamama remembered. “That was in my memory like it happened yesterday. The most beautiful days of my life.”

Shamama went from the home of her parents to the home of her parents-in-law. “The tradition was that the new bride works/does chores and sleeps at the in-laws’ house but must return to the parents’ house to eat,” explained Shamama. The bride would also continue to bathe 2-3 times a week at her childhood home.

“My mother-in-law would also send me to an area called ‘Teliamtha,’” remembered Shamama, “like a spring river, on a donkey to wash clothes by hand.” She didn’t know what that entailed but improvised and apparently did a good enough job to suffice.

She loved her life in Iraq.  “The weather was beautiful in summer; our entire family would sleep on the upper roof of the house under the stars and wake up to the bright sunshine,” Shamama recalled. “You could see the entire village from our upper roof.”

And as a married woman, she enjoyed her life in the village. Her life was God, and God was good to her. “My world consisted of God, my children and my grandchildren, my parents in the Dickow Mehlee (editor’s note: quarter or neighborhood), who were just like family and a life where we lived day-to-day thanking God for everything,” Shamama said. “I had a full life as a wife and mother and all I really knew was living in the village.”

Some of Shamama’s favorite childhood memories include family trips to visit the monasteries in northern Iraq – Mar Oraha, Mar Matti, Mar Elia, Mar Gorgis, Mar Benham and Mar Rabban Hermiz in Alqosh, too. “These were cherished memories of my days growing up,” shared Shamama.

“In Telkeif, our life was peaceful,” she remembered wistfully. “I would not fear for my children when they went outside and played, went to school or church alone or to boudratha (the fields) to play. Fear was not part of our daily existence. There is fear in the USA.”

There was a time in the village where fear ran rampant; that was when the village school was flooded by torrential rains and walnut-sized hail. “I remember this day so vividly,” Shamama recalled. She had just had her fifth child, but her mind was on the two daughters who attended the school located in a low spot of the terrain.

When the school started to flood, every father ran to learn the fate of his children or save them if he could. “When my husband arrived, he saw his older daughter Amira, 10, hanging on an iron window rail,” recalled Shamama. “He quickly recognized his other daughter, Suham, 8, by the blue head scarf I had placed on her head that morning.”

Not knowing how to swim, nevertheless, Zia saved several children that morning, including his two daughters. Fifty people died in that flood, including one infant. The tragedy left the village in mourning for years.

The Edge of Perfection

“On the edge of perfection.” That’s where Christina Oram, Shamama’s daughter, says her mother has lived for nearly 100 years. Shamama Oram will turn 100 on October 5 and will celebrate with her 12 children; the eldest is 85 and the youngest is 57.

She is extremely proud of all her offspring, and it would take pages to tell of their accomplishments. Her youngest child was the only one born in this country, at Providence Hospital in Southfield. The first 11 were delivered by the same midwife that delivered all the babies in Telkeif.

When asked the secret to a long life, Shamama answered, “Walk the narrow path. I hope and pray that my children will raise their children and all future generations with the same faith, values and morals they had when I raised them. To take their children to church at an early age. To discipline them with love, patience and respect for others. To be a good example to their children by living, not just talking.”

Life in America was very different for the Orams. “At home, I raised my young children in the USA the same way as the village,” Shamama said. “I had to be a strict mother because of all the social influences.”

She didn’t come to the United States until she was in her forties, and it wasn’t because of religious persecution or the dangers that would drive later immigration, it was strictly for the opportunities that the new land had to offer and to avoid sending her 6 sons to fight in the Iraqi army. That plus her daughter lived in the United States, and Shamama missed her terribly.

“America represents the big world,” Shamama explained, “and the village represents the small world.” She feels blessed to have raised her children in the United States, looking back at the turmoil and instability of Iraq over the past few decades. “Iraq has been unstable with wars and internal conflict since 1980. It really saddens me.”

She didn’t necessarily want to leave her home country. Shamama loved Iraq and Telkeif, with its town square and the parade of rooftops, her cousins and extended family all sharing meals and celebrating their faith together.

“I loved to say my daily litany of prayers on the upper roof while the children were at school,” she recalled. “It made me feel close to God.”

And Zia was somewhat of a celebrity in the small town. He was the first to own an automobile, a truck he used to transport goods for fellow villagers. He worked every day but Sunday, reserving that day for the Lord. Unless it was an emergency, and a widow or orphan needed help; Zia was there for that and would forgo his fee as well.

A New Life in America

“I am grateful that America welcomed us with open arms,” Shamama declared.

Zia came first, with two of his sons, to work hard and save money for the family to emigrate from Iraq. It was two full years before he sent for Shamama and the rest of the children. I can’t imagine what that must have been like, traveling to a new country, full of foreigners who spoke a different language, to raise a family in unfamiliar surroundings, where houses had four walls, and nobody slept on the roof.

When asked what was so different for her coming to the United States, she said with a laugh, “First, there was no snow In Telkeif. Lots of snow in Michigan.”

And the language barrier was challenging, she admitted.

In 1966, there weren’t too many Chaldean families in Michigan, but the existing community was remarkably close, she remembered. All that Shamama requested was that her new home be furnished “from needles to thread,” meaning having everything she would need to run a household.

Shamama is pragmatic: “Every 25 years, the world changes, people change, the weather changes. I used to make bread in Telkeif by hand and when I came to the USA, I bought bread at a bakery.”

Zia was working 10-12 hours a day, making the money that would support his family and put a roof over their heads, eventually allowing the family to purchase a store, like most other Chaldeans in metro Detroit. Operating a party store in Detroit at the time was a dangerous occupation, and Shamama worried for her husband and sons.

In 1970, her son-in-law Salim Dickow was shot and killed by an ex-employee at his party store in Highland Park. It was a tragedy for the family. “In 1975, my own son Amir, who worked in our family party store, was shot by a customer who followed him home,” recalled Shamama. “Thankfully, he survived.”

Salim’s daughter is the Honorable Judge Diane Dickow D’Agostini. Speaking of her grandmother, D’Agostini said, “Our family has looked to her as a matriarch who dispenses wisdom to all five generations. I sincerely respect how she has encouraged her grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren of 110 and counting, to pursue higher education even though she did not experience the same opportunities.”   

Her family is growing exponentially. “My granddaughter Maryann is having a baby this November 2024, which will make it 111 grandchildren and I do not know who is pregnant next…” Shamama laughed. “This is what life is all about. God said, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’”

“As a mother to 12 children, she has demonstrated incredible strength and perseverance for her family,” said D’Agostini. “But most importantly, she has lived her life to be a faithful servant of Jesus.”

A faithful servant of Jesus and her earthly family, Shamama took her values with her wherever she went. “While families in America are important, there is more emphasis on self,” Shamama explained. “In Chaldean culture, it is the opposite. One is expected to give up things for the family, family comes first always.

“My beloved husband and I always taught our children that their word was their bond, God gives you your worth and work never killed anyone.”

The most rewarding part of growing older, says Shamama, is growing up with her children and their offspring. “My children and many generations of grandchildren are the greatest joy of my 100 years on earth.”

For now, she enjoys watching Wheel of Fortune on her TV. Modern technology allows Shamama to watch daily Mass from the comfort of her living room. “That is a true blessing,” she shared. She still doesn’t know how to use an iPhone.

“Life is short and not easy, but it is created beautifully,” Shamama shared, “and we must always remember that every decision we make has consequences, good or bad.”

Clockwise from top left: Six of Zia and Shamama’s 12 children.  Back row: Hannah, Amir, and John. Front row: Ann, Randy (on chair) and Gary.  Shamama and family were living the “American Dream” and posed for a photo with Detroit Mayor Coleman Young.  Shamama and Zia with daughter Hannah and son-in-law Salim Dickow (at left) in 1967 in Southfield.  Wedding photo of Shamama and Zia from 1937 in Telkeif.
Shamama celebrates her birthday with her many grandchildren.  Zia and Shamama attend the First Communion of grandson Mansour Oram. Shamama in 1967 standing in her home in Detroit house carrying her twelfth child, the only one born in America - Nancy Mary.