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Journey ends — and begins — for Somali Bantu refugees
By Thomas Abraham
May 30, 2003
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Jean Firman, from St. Francis Cabrini Church, offered Ismael
Mugoya a star-spangled teddy bear.
Two-year Ismael screamed.
Jele Mohando, his father, laughed.
It was the first laugh that the church volunteer from Littleton
saw on the 50-year old Somali Bantu's face as she greeted the family at Denver
airport May 22. It may have been Jele's first laugh on US soil. The tired
lines of his face lifted and a gleam touched the dull red of his bloodshot
eyes.
The Denver five were among the first of two families of Somali
Bantu refugees being resettled in the US. On the same day a second family
of nine landed in Phoenix, AZ. Both groups are being resettled with the help
of Church World Service, its affiliates and co-sponsors from faith communities
in the two cities. In Denver, the affiliate responsible for the family is
Ecumenical Refugee Services.
The Bantu family's arrival marks a journey's end. It is also
a beginning. They are the first of some 12,000 stepping out of a world of
near-slavery, through a portal in time, to start new lives in 33 states in
the US, plus the District of Columbia over the next few years.
These future citizens face formidable challenges—literacy,
cultural adaptation, new roles within the family, self-sufficiency, self-esteem—but
they come with the skills and resilience of survivors. And they are aware
that unlike the many who will not be resettled, theirs is a chance of a lifetime.
Jean, whose church is co-sponsoring the family, handed the
teddy bear to Ismael's sister Fatuma. With a nod, the five-year-old agreed
to give it to her baby brother later. She must have decided her own red-and-blue
teddy—also a gift from Jean—was female, since she quickly covered its head
with a piece of cloth like the head-scarf her mother, Mugenei Musa, wore.
Fifteen-year-old Mohamed asked Abdirashid Adan, a case manager
who speaks his language, if there was a mosque near their new home. He wanted
to pray.
All 13 CWS affiliates preparing to receive Somali Bantu families
are looking for translators and interpreters who can speak the Af Maay or
Af Maxaatiri languages. Some speak Zigua, Kiswahili and Somali. (The group
may be misnamed, according to some anthropologists: they are not ethnic Somalis
and they don't speak Bantu.)
To Jean's great relief, Mohamed spoke some English. “School,
yes, I was grade six,” he said when she asked.
Paul Willner, the family's case manager, got to know Mohamed
a little better on the drive into town. In the next few days, Paul and his
colleagues at ERS will shepherd the family through the maze of medical tests,
social security applications, English lessons, and job hunts. He is already
preparing a laptop computer for the family, one of several donated by churches
and businesses in the community. “It won't be long before they're back complaining
it's too slow,” he said, smiling.
Back at its downtown offices, ERS director Patricia Vorwerk
takes a break from typing out checks to share the excitement. “It's like
a breath of fresh air when you get a new group,” she said. “It pulls you back
up and makes you want to get going again.” The US refugee program has been
in the doldrums since admissions were cut back after 9/11.
Paul, a former stock-broker, pointed out the snow-capped Rockies
in the distance. “You're free, now,” he said, catching Mohamed's eye in the
rearview mirror. “This is America.”
Jele and Ismael went with Adam in the taxi that Adam drove
for a living. Mugenei and Fatuma went with Jean. The girl made no complaint
about the child seat into which the church volunteer had strapped her. In
the days to come they would encounter, in everyday life, the many norms and
regulations drummed into them over ten days of orientation before their departure
from Nairobi, Kenya.
At the Mercy Housing apartment that Jean and her church team
have readied, there was even a dollhouse for Fatuma. But she gave the house
within a house barely a glance before going into one of the three bedrooms
with her mother, who turned out to be pregnant, and whose first priority
was sleep. Jean showed Mohamed around the kitchen. There was bread and cereal
in the closets, milk and chicken and water and some pre-cooked food in the
fridge. But what he wanted was Fanta, the orange soda known worldwide by
its brand name. Jean hurried out to get some.
Soon Adam arrived with Jele and Ismael, a doughnut in the now
smiling child's hand. They had stopped at the 7/11. Mother and daughter also
emerged from their nap. The family was joined by Sharif Amin, a Somali who
works at the Rocky Mountain Survivors' Center, one of 22 in the country treating
torture and trauma victims. He is a member of Denver's refugee network and
has helped ERS with other refugees.
Somali communities all over the US, many recently resettled
refugees themselves, are gearing up to usher the Bantu into their new lives.
There are concerns about the role Somalis in the US will play; some of them
may have been involved in the oppression of the Bantu when Somalia was embroiled
in civil war. But many Somalis here have expressed readiness to help. “I
don't think clan divisions will be repeated here,” says Sharif.
Now the newly arrived family gets a more detailed tour of the
kitchen. The microwave needs the most explaining. “You'll see sparks if you
put anything metal in it,” Paul warns. He repeats instructions on how and
when to call 911 and how to buzz visitors in the downstairs door. But there's
only so much you can learn in your first few hours in a new world. Besides,
little Ismael is having an emergency of his own. It's taken care of when
Jele pulls a diaper from the luggage.
At last father and daughter sit down. National Public Radio
reporter Jennifer Ludden holds out her microphone and asks Jele what he would
do now that he was in America. (Her story can be found at http://discover.npr.org/rundowns/segment.jhtml?wfId=1272465
)
“I know I'm aged,” Jele answers, with Sharif translating. "I've
done what I could. But at the shop where we stopped,” he adds, referring to
the 7/11, “I saw corn. Outside there was a tractor. At 15, I used to work
on a farm. I've driven a tractor in Kenya. All this is familiar to me. I
can do this here also.”
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