The autumn of 2022 was different for Umm Mahmoud, after she found out her monthly income had more than halved.
At first, she didn't understand what had happened. She told The New Arab she received a bank letter which shocked her, stating that only 102 Jordanian Dinars (JD) had gone into her account that month.
"I called my daughter and told her that they had deducted a lot from me, but she told me what I had received was correct according to the law. Then she apologised, saying she was busy and had to go. I hung up the phone with the words 'correct according to the law' ringing in my ears," she shares.
Pension reforms
Umm Mahmoud's loss stemmed from Jordan's Social Security Law, enacted in 2014 after a temporary 2010 rollout. Under Article 84b, divorced daughters can claim a share of their deceased parent’s pension — regardless of financial status — alongside the surviving widow or widower. In these cases, a daughter would split the inherited pension with her mother and sometimes siblings if they were unemployed.
Even though according to Jordanian law, an unmarried daughter is generally not entitled to share in her parent's pension payments if she is employed, the same principle doesn't apply to a daughter who has retired from her job, even if she receives a work pension exceeding 350 JD, as she may still share or take a portion of her father's pension along with her widowed mother, according to Article 84b – combining two pensions.
Before her pension payment was slashed, Umm Mahmoud was living with another unmarried daughter in a house she partially owned. They would use the amount received from her deceased husband's pension to cover their monthly needs.
"While the amount [we got] was small compared to the high cost of living, I managed the 270 dinars carefully so our life remained dignified until the end of the month," she explains.
"During that year, my [other] daughter separated from her husband, and lived in a house he rented for her and her children. She asked me to go with her to the Retirement Directorate in Abdali, and I signed a paper."
She says she only realised what had happened later, as she assumed that they would provide her daughter with a pension without this affecting her own income.
Reduced income amid rising costs
The following month, the gravity of her situation became clear when she drafted her monthly shopping list: rice, sugar, oil, chicken, and some vegetables, before tearing it up after realising she was desperately short.
"For a long time now, my grocery bill has been modest — between 80 and 120 dinars — with the high prices, so I could ensure there was enough left to pay our water and electricity bills, and to save some money for emergencies, like medicine, or a taxi fare."
She says she has deprived herself of foods and fruits she was advised to eat every week by the doctor to lower fat and sugar levels and reduce the risk of her osteoporosis worsening. However, she can no longer afford half of what she used to buy. Umm Mahmoud's divorced daughter did not want to speak about the story.
Nearly 15 years have passed, and widowed mothers have still not taken action to demand their rights. Nor has any civil society organisation in Jordan made an effort to shed light on their situation. Moreover, according to a source from the Social Security Corporation, there are no official statistics on cases like Umm Mahmoud's.
However, The New Arab did find several cases confirming the existence of a group which the new law has harmed.
Hajj Ruqqaya is a widow in her seventies who lives with her divorced daughter, who is also a retiree, in east Amman. A year ago, her daughter applied for a share of her father's pension, which was then split between them.
"By God," laments Ruqqaya, "someone with high blood pressure and diabetes doesn't even have enough to pay for her trips to the doctor and back — all I get is 136 JD."
She is silent before adding that she has shares in some remote plots of land, valued at 20,000 JD, and her neighbours told her that, due to this, she wasn't eligible for financial assistance from Jordan's National Aid Fund (NAF).
"This means that they remove what is my right, and expect me to plead for aid. Who deserves support more than me? I won't accept aid," she exclaims.
Umm Mahmoud feels similarly about asking for help: "Nothing eases my worry except that I have a home to live in — at least I don't rent. How would I survive if I were renting? I could never ask people for a piece of bread, even if I were hungry."
Exhaustion of the elderly
As the months went by, Umm Mahmoud realised help was not coming. She decided to start a small home business making jams, cheeses and raising chickens, selling her products to neighbours and acquaintances.
While the project helped her "cover some expenses," after two years, she was exhausted from standing for long hours and carrying cooking pots up and down.
"Whenever I pick up a pot, I remember my doctor warning me not to lift heavy items, as my joints can't cope," she said.
In Jordan, around 32,000 widows received financial assistance this year, according to the NAF. While Umm Mahmoud could apply to the NAF for help, which stipulates conditions like chronic illness and a lack of family support, as well as not owning over 10,000 JD worth of assets, she refuses to on principle. However, she could receive between 50 and 100 JD per month if her application was successful.
"What would force me to do that? I was able to live, thank God – but now they take my income from me and I must apply for aid," she tells The New Arab.
Psychological impact
While Umm Mahmoud and Hajj Ruqayya are technically above Jordan's official national poverty line (100 JD per person per month), from the perspective of quality of life, the amount they receive today is insufficient to cover their basic needs.
Jordanian economist, Hussam Ayesh, says: "When talking about financial aid or combining pensions, the important thing is to focus on whether an individual's income can cover minimum living standards, such as food, housing, health, education, and transportation, while maintaining a basic level of human dignity."
He points out that the cost of a decent standard of living in Jordan for one person is approximately 300 JD per month.
Sociologist and consultant Dr Maysoon Al-Atoum commented on the Social Security Law of 2010: "From a sociological perspective, this law has had a deep psychological and social impact on elderly widows. When a widow's income — her sole source for covering basic necessities — decreases, her sense of security declines, and feelings of anxiety and fear of the future increase."
Dr Atoum highlights that the law has also damaged relationships within the family unit itself. Instead of the relationship between widows and their divorced daughters being one of solidarity and mutual support, it has become a competition over a limited financial resource, sowing seeds of tension and estrangement within the family, and weakening social support networks.
She believes the underlying problem is that legislation is often drafted purely from a financial perspective, without psychological and social repercussions being taken into account, adding that this law needs periodic review to take inflation and rising living costs into account.
Dr Atoum said policy-making should involve sociologists, psychologists, and civil society groups, as in France, to ensure laws protect rather than harm the most vulnerable.
Elderly widows remain vulnerable despite recent measures to improve living standards for Jordan's seniors. While the constitution and national strategies call for greater protection, no action has addressed the widows impacted by this law.
Huda Alhanayfah is an independent investigative journalist from Jordan specialising in human rights and environmental issues. She is the founder of the Kayf? podcast and a member of the Marie Colvin Journalists' Network. She previously worked at ARIJ and Free Press Unlimited, and has received several local journalism awards