Unseen America, a project that gives cameras to people from all walks of life for a few weeks and asks them to tell their stories through the pictures, is working with the refugees in Utica.
I attended one of the classes and it was wonderful to see the pictures. Many were portraits, some were of the food they cooked, yet all photos reflect their dilemmas, struggles and travails of the life they live here - a life so different from the one they had been living.
The new life has credit cards...plastic money, washers and driers and insurance problems among other things. And it is baffling. Most have not seen electricity, many lived in jungles and almost all have not used credit cards ever...
The links to the articles on unseenamerica NYS and its work with the refugees in the area that were published by Utica Observer-Dispatch Sunday March 18, 2007
http://uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070318/NEWS/703180323/1001
http://uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070318/NEWS/703180315/1001
http://uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070318/NEWS/703180317/1001
I am also copying the text of the articles that appeared in Observer-Dispatch. There is also a photo gallery of the pictures clicked by two refugees and a narrative by a Bosnian refugee who talks about her refugee experience.
Refugees capture new lives through a camera (link to slideshow)
Photos reflect life in Utica and hint at their homelands
March 18, 2007
By CHINKI SINHA
UTICA — As a child growing up in Bosnia, Tatjana Kulalic climbed her country's mountains, looked at the city in the distance and felt free. In the civil war that later ravaged her country, she lost that feeling and was forced to remain within the city limits for four years.
She recently revisited her past through photographs of Utica she took as part of the unseenamerica NYS project. She climbed up the hills in Roscoe-Conkling Park, took out a camera and started clicking pictures of Utica's horizon.
"It has a connection with Bosnia," she said, pointing at a picture of the city in the distance, silhouetted against the gray sky. "That picture ... gives me a feeling of freedom, peace and connection. That picture is home."
Kulalic is one of 15 refugees who attended a photography workshop organized by unseenamerica NYS, a project that gives cameras to working-class people so they can document their lives through photographs and be creative as a subject and photographer.
The organization is working with the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees to schedule an exhibition of the photographs for April 20.
The refugees are asked to answer various questions such as "Who are you?" or "What is home?" through their pictures. In doing so, they tell their stories and feelings about living in a different country, said Zoeann Murphy, the regional coordinator of unseenamerica NYS.
Peter Vogelaar, the executive director of the refugee center, said the project will help showcase Utica's diversity.
"It is wonderful," he said.
Connie Frisbee Houde, a photographer who helped refugees with the project, said she was surprised with the pictures' variety and storytelling.
Her favorite is a photograph of a curtain and a wall defining public and private space, she said. Many refugees belong to vastly different cultures and notions of what is private and public differ greatly.
Curtains divide the inner sanctums of the house from what is considered public space where guests can be ushered in, Murphy said.
"Refugees have a very different relationship to the concept of home," she said.
Many pictures describe the experience of being a refugee. One of Kulalic's pictures show an African man dressed in traditional clothes sleeping in the waiting room at the refugee center. It is a contrast of old and new and also of the eternal wait for refugees, she said.
"As refugees we are always waiting for something to happen — some good news, some money," she said.
The refugees enrolled in this program are from Sudan, Myanmar (formerly Burma), Bosnia and Somalia. The pictures, whether of traditional fish curry or snow banks, somehow tie into their experiences and impressions as a refugee.
Sudanese refugees Chambang Mut and Abdelshakour Khamis brought out the contrast in their lives by capturing the snow and the city's buildings, which are starkly different from what they experienced in Africa.
"I clicked pictures of the snow because we don't have that in Sudan," Mut said.
Another picture showed his co-worker at Price Chopper dancing and laughing with a broom.
"Sometimes the work is exhausting," he said. "He was just happy at work. It was good."
Abdelshakour Khamis, a Sudanese refugee, remembers when he woke up on his first morning in Utica and saw the city engulfed in fog.
He was transported back to his country where sandstorms blurred the skyline of the city. Many of his pictures are of Utica's skyline.
"I took them because they remind me I am here and reminds me of home," he said. "The hills at the back reminded of old home but the foreground was new."
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
Tatjana Kulalic shuttles between two worlds.
March 18, 2007
UTICA — Tatjana Kulalic shuttles between two worlds.
Her roots are in Bosnia, which she left in 1999 after a civil war divided the country. But her house and job are in the Mohawk Valley.
"I am somewhere in between," she said. "I belong but I don't really belong. There is a conflict."
Kulalic's photographs as part of the unseenamerica NYS project capture some of the nostalgia and dilemmas of a refugee and immigrant.
She drives around the area trying to find places that resemble Bosnia, she said. In the seven years, Kulalic has been to Bosnia only once and found it was different.
It wasn't the only thing she noticed was different.
"I found myself changed," she said. "You take influences from here with you. It becomes different."
Despite living here for years, buying furniture and creating her own space, she still doesn't have the feeling she's here to stay.
"It seems temporary. I feel I am waiting for something," she said. "I could be somewhere else."
Like many immigrants, coming into a different culture was stressful. Adapting to it took time.
The credit cards, the insurance and the family system — everything was different. Although she learned English at school, the language was still a barrier.
The culture was different, too. The emphasis on individualism did not match with her experience. In Bosnia, families are tied together, she said.
Kulalic spends as much time as possible with her son Isak, going on trips, taking him fishing and just hanging out with him.
But outside home, things were new and different. But she learned.
Now, she works at the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees in the immigration department and helps sort out immigration and visa issues.
The connections with her past life are important to her. She cooks Bosnian food, reads Bosnian books and talks to Isak in Bosnian to keep the bonds intact. Her house has many artifacts from Bosnia that are still her prized possessions, she said.
"We talk about our country, we look at photographs," she said. "I don't want to lose touch."
— Chinki Sinha
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
Sudanese refugee enjoys freedom
March 18, 2007
UTICA — Sudanese refugee Chambang Mut would like to call himself an American — he holds an American passport and is living the American dream. But when people classify him, there's always a hyphen attached.
"I am always African-American or Sudanese-American," he said. "Here in American culture, they put people in categories."
But he's not complaining. He likes America and his freedom here.
"Nobody can tell me 'shut up' here," he said.
His photographs, part of the unseenamerica NYS project, capture new experiences for him such as the snow, the work culture and his used car.
Mut, who came to the United States in 1995 from Uganda where he was studying, misses home. Like many others, though, he has little left to go back to.
His parents have died and there aren't many opportunities in Sudan, where rival factions are still waging war. Two civil wars have already ravaged Sudan, making millions flee to neighboring countries for safety.
Mut, who left his village in November 1984, never saw his family again. He could just talk to them on the phone, he said.
"I do miss home very bad," he said. "But I like it here. Things are easy here if you want to work. Getting jobs is difficult at home."
Adapting to America was not easy for Mut, who had to re-learn English because the accent was difficult to understand. Even now it is frustrating trying to get himself understood, he said.
One example: Mut ended up paying a lot to a car mechanic because both had a problem in understanding each other, he said.
A Sudanese flag shares the space with an American flag on his desk in his room. Like many Americans, Mut is studying and working at the same time. He has taken out loans, works odd jobs and is determined to make it big here.
"Maybe I will become a counselor or maybe a politician ... or a teacher ... something," said Mut, who is a sociology student at SUNYIT.
— Chinki Sinha
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Article on Utica's refugee in Christianity Today
Finally, after New York Times, other publications are waking up to the diversity in a small town such as Utica. The article focuses on Karen people who fled the oppression and ethnic cleansing in Myanmar and are helped by the Tabernacle Baptist Church in resettlement process. The church has helped them with household items and other things. Hopefully, this will raise lots of questions and highlights the strengths of the refugees and the local community and be a model for others.
Below I have copied the link to one of my article that appeared in Observer-Dispatch that I wrote on how the Karens were donated bicycles by a local so that they don't have to walk to class in the harsh winters.
The Town that Loves Refugees
Christians in Utica, New York are resettling the world one displaced soul at a time.
Denise McGill | posted 2/15/2007 08:49AM
Like many Christians moving to a new town, Say Wah Htoo made finding a new place to worship a top priority. So one Sunday morning shortly after arriving in Utica, New York, she attended a nearby church. It had familiar theology, a few songs she knew, and the obligatory smiles and handshakes after the service.
But Htoo (pronounced "Too") needed more. She had been raised in a Christian home deep in the jungles of Myanmar (Burma), a member of the Karen people, persecuted by a brutal regime. Her perilous escape from Myanmar brought her to central New York State through a refugee resettlement program.
Walking through the ornate doors of Tabernacle Baptist Church, she was a penniless, war-scarred single mother. Her faith had taken a severe beating during her travails.
"When I arrive here, I am safe. Everything is safe," Htoo explains. "I got free when I arrived here."
Tabernacle's members swung into action when Htoo showed up. On a typical Sunday, 300 people attend, and nearly one-third of them are Karen refugees. A welcoming committee delivered a free rice cooker to her apartment. They offered to drive her to job interviews and met many other day-to-day needs. This American Baptist congregation's outreach has become so renowned that the denomination holds up Tabernacle as a national role model. Tabernacle volunteer Gwen Deragon says, "God had a reason to put the Karen here. They needed a place to go, and we needed them."
Tabernacle's church spire is an established fixture in the skyline of Utica, once bustling with blue-collar, manufacturing jobs. But the mills started closing in the years after World War II, and Tabernacle's fortunes fell with those of the surrounding community. In 1960, Utica's population peaked at 100,000 and then began to shrink.
Tabernacle's wood-beamed sanctuary started to resemble an empty ark turned upside down. Members considered rebuilding in the surrounding suburbs, but they prayerfully decided to stay downtown and minister to the remnant community there. When the first Karen family showed up in 1999, welcoming them to Utica seemed a natural way to help stem the city's 40 percent population loss.
According to Human Rights Watch, the Karen, a Burmese hill-tribe people numbering 7 million, suffer greatly as they fight for independence. Abuses include "executions, rape, torture, the forced relocation of entire villages, and forced labor," Human Rights Watch reported. Congress has imposed its strictest sanctions against Myanmar for abuses including violations of religious freedom and human trafficking. At least 30 percent of the Karen in Burma and Thailand are Christians.
As Tabernacle's congregation researched the Karens' situation, they uncovered an unusual story. In 1812, the first Protestant missionaries ever sent from the United States went to Burma. From Burma, Adoniram Judson wrote home asking for help. In 1828, Tabernacle Baptist Church in Utica sent printer Cephas Bennett and his family.
For more than a century, Tabernacle had at least one church member serving in Burma, many in direct ministry to the Karen. But generations passed, and missionaries retired and passed away. The connection was all but forgotten.
Today, Tabernacle's pastor Mark Caruana says, "Distant cousins are being reunited with us. We marveled at the providence of God. Who would have thought that in Utica, New York, Americans would find this long-lost connection with people halfway around the world?"
Tabernacle's outreach to the Karen mirrors the entire city of Utica's outreach to refugees from around the world. People from 31 countries have made harrowing journeys to Utica, a town where bumper stickers once read, "Last one out of Utica, please turn out the lights."
The situation in Utica is ideal for refugees. Cheap housing and abundant low-wage jobs mean newcomers quickly find places to live and work. Utica's population is now around 60,000, including 8,000 former refugees.
Officially, refugees are persons displaced from their home countries because they were caught in armed conflict or were at risk of persecution based on race, religion, nationality, ethnicity, or political opinions. Every year, the U.S. accepts up to 70,000 of the 14 million refugees worldwide and resettles them, legally and permanently, across the nation.
Ray Bakke, head of the Bakke Graduate University of Ministry in Seattle, has spent his career developing a theology of urban ministry and immigrant outreach. He says in the Bible, refugees prove to be a blessing to their host nations—one example is Egypt, where Mary and Joseph fled with Jesus after Herod's threats.
"We ought to be saying, 'They're coming to restore our faith,' and rejoice," Bakke says.
Bakke points to Psalm 107 as a promise of divine care for refugees: "[T]hey cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He led them by a straight way to a city where they could settle."
Beginning with Boat People
After the Vietnam War, a group of Utica citizens, including leading pastors, were deeply moved by the suffering of Southeast Asians and by their valiant efforts to survive and flee the war.
The group decided to help Asian refugees migrate to Utica and created the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees (MVRCR). This non-sectarian organization partners with the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service, which resettles immigrants nationwide. Much of the credit for MVRCR goes to Peter Vogelaar, executive director. The center offers a wide spectrum of services to help refugees adjust to American life. It receives $1.5 million annually in federal aid.
Last summer, about 40 recent immigrants crammed themselves into an MVRCR classroom without air conditioning. Cambodian monks sat in saffron robes. Somali Muslim women were draped in yards of boldly patterned cotton. Pentecostals from Belarus were outfitted in conservative, European-style attire.
Chris DeSanctis, a local bank executive, taught them the fundamentals of American life, such as the importance of establishing a credit history. Her lesson was translated into four languages. Many refugees had lost money in homeland banks, so they typically carried cash. But they were curious about the credit card offers they kept getting in the mail.
These programs are one reason the refugee center succeeds in integrating immigrants into Utica's life. If people build a credit history, they can eventually buy a home. If they own homes, they tend to fix up their houses and yards, so they buy supplies at the local hardware store. At some point, they may hire a local plumber. They pay property taxes, so they may also have an interest in the school board and voting and U.S. citizenship. In short, they invest in the community.
Utica's diverse faith community forms another pillar of support for refugees. Mosques, temples, and churches address the physical and spiritual needs of refugees. Up to 10 percent of Utica may be Muslim, due to the influx of Bosnian refugees. The local mosque is one of the most ethnically varied in the nation.
The Catholic and Seventh-day Adventist churches are teeming. A Slavic Pentecostal church has a new building on the edge of town, filled with 1,000 members who fled religious persecution in the former Soviet Union.
Vogelaar says the benefits of religious harmony in Utica may ripple beyond the town's borders. "We can say Christians and Muslims don't need to be fighting. We don't need to vilify each other."
"Many people perceive refugees to be a problem people," Vogelaar says. "But they have overcome problems. They are survivors."
Urbanologist Bakke says Christian hosts and migrants alike need to stop looking at refugees as victims who have nothing to contribute.
"God's people tend to think of themselves as victims, but the motif of Scripture is they're on mission," Bakke says.
He encourages new immigrants and refugees to live out Jeremiah 29:7: "Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper."
Bakke says the home front is a new mission field. "Churches at home must begin to model with integrity that which they have sent missionaries abroad to do. By sending them abroad in the first place, the church was confessing a transcultural commitment to the oneness of Jesus Christ."
Caruana, pastor at Tabernacle Baptist, has empathy for locals who resist deep involvement in resettlement outreach. Longtime church members admit to being uncomfortable with unfamiliar people.
Nevertheless, his church contributes heavily to the physical needs of refugees and recruits churches across the state to adopt a refugee ministry as well. The result is a powerful transformation across the board.
"The Karen on the whole are probably more sacrificial in their giving patterns than many, not all, but many of our long-term American friends," Caruana says.
"The Karen also bring a whole different set of gifts with them. They've opened up the church to a world beyond itself, which is an incredible gift."
Often, Karen families send funds to struggling relatives in Asia with little means of subsistence. One Karen family with two low-skilled workers and three children has managed to buy a home and send thousands of dollars to Asia to build a church, all within five years.
In Myanmar, Christians have long functioned under their own leadership. So finding ways to integrate Burmese Christians into Western churches poses a great challenge.
Along the modern Myanmar-Thailand border, where refugees hide, "You will find Bible schools, you will find churches, you will find pastors being trained and being ordained and doing ministry and being sent out into communities," Caruana says.
In the end, refugee ministry success comes down to Americans who are willing to reach out. Tom Deragon, a lay leader at Tabernacle Baptist, provides a powerful example.
An American Indian, Deragon suffered as a child under government-mandated assimilation. But Deragon also received foster care from devout believers whose faithful words and deeds drew him toward Christian faith. To him, the current wave of refugees is no different from waves of previous generations—bringing with it a mix of good people and daunting challenges.
Tom Deragon and his wife, Gwen, found they could help most by focusing on one family at a time. Their assistance tends to involve lots of late-night phone calls and emergency plumbing projects. But the investment has its rewards. The first Karen baby born in Utica was named Tom.
No Easy Button
Not all refugees live happily ever after. Down the street from Tabernacle is Trinity Lutheran Church. This congregation has also invested much time, talent, and treasure into refugee outreach.
Lutherans created a Bible study at the home of John Kweh especially for African believers. Kweh and his family of 14 lived in a large house in need of repair. Originally from Liberia, they had fled certain death in civil war.
Now safe from gunfire, John's son Juty, 23, has become discouraged by the trap of materialism. "America is kind
of bittersweet," Juty Kweh told CT in an August interview. "In Africa, we lived without things. But at least we lived freely. No bills! What we do now is so tedious."
Last summer, John, Juty, and two other sons, Samson and Phillip, drove an hour or more each way to work a night shift. Their top prayer request at the time was for jobs close to home.
Then, tragically, a few weeks after the Kwehs were interviewed by CT, they were involved in a horrific crash during their commute. Three people—Juty, Samson, and another friend—lost their lives. Badly injured, John and Phillip were hospitalized for months.
This devastating loss was magnified for surviving family members who realized that the deceased had survived the horrors of ethnic cleansing only to die in an accident.
But the event galvanized all of Utica. Vogelaar says, "Through the tragedy, the refugee community and the church community are coming together to support this family." It was a raw reminder of life's fragility.
God Didn't Forget
Around 1980, when Say Wah Htoo was nine years old, marauding government forces attacked her village of Karen rice farmers. Their church and all the homes were burned. Her family scattered to the four winds.
She followed her father, a middle-school teacher, to a rebel camp of the Karen National Liberation Army. She managed to attend a makeshift school there and took classes in Bible, math—and combat. She joined the army at age 15. Two years later, her father died in battle. Government forces slaughtered thousands and forced the rest to flee to the jungle wasteland between Myanmar and Thailand.
Htoo joined the exodus and snuck into Bangkok, hoping for a chance to further her education. But the big city got the best of the Christian girl from a backwater village. Without documentation or means of support, she lived in persistent fear of arrest and deportation. Soon, she became one of the millions of Asian women trapped in sexual exploitation.
"I arrived in Bangkok, and it's a big city, and I've never been in the big city," she explains. "That's why I didn't know anything. I can do nothing. I tried to continue my education, and I found one guy, and he said he's going to help me."
"But he lied to me, and he persuaded me, and he—I don't know how to say that—he has his wife and his children, but he has me like a wife."
Htoo hangs her head and softly weeps. "I have to live with him, and I got a baby."
Htoo remained in touch with surviving family members in Burma. But they were scandalized by the news of her out-of-wedlock child. Htoo says, "Every night, every day, I prayed to God to give me a better life."
Somehow, Htoo and her daughter escaped from the man's house. She found people to help her apply for asylum through the United Nations.
"I knew that American country is a big country," Htoo says. "That's why I believed that maybe my daughter can go to school, and it will be good for her education and her life."
Eventually, U.S. officials took her case. In time, she and her daughter landed in Tabernacle church in Utica. Today, Htoo has an apartment and a minimum-wage job, and through Utica's Christian community, she is aware that a merciful God will meet her deepest needs for forgiveness and security.
Poe Kee, a Karen single man, immigrated to the United States about the same time that Htoo did. With her aunt in Utica acting as a traditional Karen matchmaker, Po Kee married Htoo within six months. They met the week of their wedding and were never alone together until their wedding night. Theirs was the first Karen wedding at Tabernacle. Tom Deragon walked the bride down the aisle.
Htoo turns giddy when talking about Po Kee. Now married five years, they have two daughters in addition to Htoo's first child, Pa Suda.
"Po Kee accepts Pa Suda like a daughter, and he loves her like a daughter," says Htoo. "He never jokes about my life before."
But last year, Po Kee was diagnosed with leukemia. Htoo wept and doted over him at the hospital. At home, he lay silently in her lap for hours on end. Miraculously, the cancer has now gone into remission—after just one round of chemotherapy.
"When I lived in Bangkok, Thailand," Htoo says, "I felt problems. I wanted to blame God. I said, 'God is not taking care of me.' " She felt kinship with the biblical Joseph—a victim of injustice in a foreign land.
But like Joseph, Htoo discovered God had not abandoned her. "Later, I humbled myself, and I knew that God planned everything for my good."
For generations, residents of Utica had christened their troubled town "the city that God forgot." But Utica's immigrant Christians are writing new chapters in the city's history about how God didn't forget them—one resettled life at a time.
Pastor Caruana says, "We have children in this congregation, all of them growing up thinking that it is absolutely and perfectly normal to be part of a church where there are people from literally around the world—together."
Denise McGill is assistant professor of visual journalism at Palm Beach Atlantic University.
Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.
A small piece I wrote on Karen refugees, who have recently arrived in Utica
Link - http://www.uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070113/NEWS0101/701130314/1001
Bikes give Burma refugees a lift
Getting to English classes was difficult for local newcomers
Saturday, Jan 13, 2007
By CHINKI SINHA
Observer-Dispatch
csinha@utica.gannett.com
UTICA — Burma refugee J.C. Hter Nay Clay used to walk in the freezing cold to the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees for his English language classes.
Starting Monday, he won't have to.
Clay joined about eight other Karen refugees from Burma Friday at Welch's Bicycle Shop in repairing old bikes, which they then received.
With winter setting in, the donation could not have been timelier for the refugees. Clay reflected Friday on the ordeal he used to face in just trying to get to class.
His children go to school at 8:10 a.m., which barely gave him time to get to the refugee center by 8:30 from his Elizabeth Street home. He usually made it on time, but other times he didn't.
"I'm running ... almost. It is bad. Cold," he said.
It was the first vehicle in the United States for all the refugees. They couldn't wait to get on their bikes and ride to their homes.
"That's my first bicycle in the family," said Nay Say Ban, who came here three months ago from Burma. "I am really happy."
Shop owner Howard Welch has been donating bikes to residents for years, often through his "Bikes for Kids" program. The bikes generally are donated to him by police or other residents, and the effort Friday was done in conjunction with the Tabernacle Baptist Church's refugee ministry's efforts.
"I love to do it. It is giving back to the community," said Welch, a former Utica Common Councilman. "These new people...they are so good. Very polite."
The Karen population in Utica has grown in the last few months after the U.S. government waived a provision for refugees coming from Myanmar, another name for Burma. The Tabernacle Baptist Church helps these refugees settle in and provides them with household items, clothes and other things.
Edith Davison of Tabernacle Baptist Church's refugee ministry had asked Welch if he had extra bikes to give to refugees. Several Karen refugees had told her how long they had to walk to attend classes.
"They live far because the low-cost apartments are far," Davison said. "Bicycles are not for recreational purposes. They are required for school."
The Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees has resettled thousands of refugees in the area. While the center works toward helping them with housing and employment, it is financially difficult for the center to address refugees' transportation needs.
Peter Vogelaar, executive director of the resource center, said transportation for refugees is always a challenge and the center has no program to help refugees find means of transport.
"We help them, encourage them. Whatever assistance is given is greatly appreciated," he said.
Now that he has a bike, Thaw Htu Htoo won't have to walk the half-hour-plus in the snow each morning.
"I am so happy," he said, as he gripped the bike's handle. "This is my first bike here."
AT A GLANCE
Many refugees who settle in Utica can't afford their own cars, and often must walk long distances to get to their destinations. On Friday, recent Karen refugees from Burma helped refurbish bikes at Welch's Bicycle Shop on Whitesboro Street in Utica. They then received the bikes.
Edith Davison and her husband, the Rev. James Davison, of Tabernacle Baptist Church helped arrange the event. Many of the refugees will use the bikes to get to early-morning English language classes at the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees. Shop owner Howard Welch said he'd like to do the program again.
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
Below I have copied the link to one of my article that appeared in Observer-Dispatch that I wrote on how the Karens were donated bicycles by a local so that they don't have to walk to class in the harsh winters.
The Town that Loves Refugees
Christians in Utica, New York are resettling the world one displaced soul at a time.
Denise McGill | posted 2/15/2007 08:49AM
Like many Christians moving to a new town, Say Wah Htoo made finding a new place to worship a top priority. So one Sunday morning shortly after arriving in Utica, New York, she attended a nearby church. It had familiar theology, a few songs she knew, and the obligatory smiles and handshakes after the service.
But Htoo (pronounced "Too") needed more. She had been raised in a Christian home deep in the jungles of Myanmar (Burma), a member of the Karen people, persecuted by a brutal regime. Her perilous escape from Myanmar brought her to central New York State through a refugee resettlement program.
Walking through the ornate doors of Tabernacle Baptist Church, she was a penniless, war-scarred single mother. Her faith had taken a severe beating during her travails.
"When I arrive here, I am safe. Everything is safe," Htoo explains. "I got free when I arrived here."
Tabernacle's members swung into action when Htoo showed up. On a typical Sunday, 300 people attend, and nearly one-third of them are Karen refugees. A welcoming committee delivered a free rice cooker to her apartment. They offered to drive her to job interviews and met many other day-to-day needs. This American Baptist congregation's outreach has become so renowned that the denomination holds up Tabernacle as a national role model. Tabernacle volunteer Gwen Deragon says, "God had a reason to put the Karen here. They needed a place to go, and we needed them."
Tabernacle's church spire is an established fixture in the skyline of Utica, once bustling with blue-collar, manufacturing jobs. But the mills started closing in the years after World War II, and Tabernacle's fortunes fell with those of the surrounding community. In 1960, Utica's population peaked at 100,000 and then began to shrink.
Tabernacle's wood-beamed sanctuary started to resemble an empty ark turned upside down. Members considered rebuilding in the surrounding suburbs, but they prayerfully decided to stay downtown and minister to the remnant community there. When the first Karen family showed up in 1999, welcoming them to Utica seemed a natural way to help stem the city's 40 percent population loss.
According to Human Rights Watch, the Karen, a Burmese hill-tribe people numbering 7 million, suffer greatly as they fight for independence. Abuses include "executions, rape, torture, the forced relocation of entire villages, and forced labor," Human Rights Watch reported. Congress has imposed its strictest sanctions against Myanmar for abuses including violations of religious freedom and human trafficking. At least 30 percent of the Karen in Burma and Thailand are Christians.
As Tabernacle's congregation researched the Karens' situation, they uncovered an unusual story. In 1812, the first Protestant missionaries ever sent from the United States went to Burma. From Burma, Adoniram Judson wrote home asking for help. In 1828, Tabernacle Baptist Church in Utica sent printer Cephas Bennett and his family.
For more than a century, Tabernacle had at least one church member serving in Burma, many in direct ministry to the Karen. But generations passed, and missionaries retired and passed away. The connection was all but forgotten.
Today, Tabernacle's pastor Mark Caruana says, "Distant cousins are being reunited with us. We marveled at the providence of God. Who would have thought that in Utica, New York, Americans would find this long-lost connection with people halfway around the world?"
Tabernacle's outreach to the Karen mirrors the entire city of Utica's outreach to refugees from around the world. People from 31 countries have made harrowing journeys to Utica, a town where bumper stickers once read, "Last one out of Utica, please turn out the lights."
The situation in Utica is ideal for refugees. Cheap housing and abundant low-wage jobs mean newcomers quickly find places to live and work. Utica's population is now around 60,000, including 8,000 former refugees.
Officially, refugees are persons displaced from their home countries because they were caught in armed conflict or were at risk of persecution based on race, religion, nationality, ethnicity, or political opinions. Every year, the U.S. accepts up to 70,000 of the 14 million refugees worldwide and resettles them, legally and permanently, across the nation.
Ray Bakke, head of the Bakke Graduate University of Ministry in Seattle, has spent his career developing a theology of urban ministry and immigrant outreach. He says in the Bible, refugees prove to be a blessing to their host nations—one example is Egypt, where Mary and Joseph fled with Jesus after Herod's threats.
"We ought to be saying, 'They're coming to restore our faith,' and rejoice," Bakke says.
Bakke points to Psalm 107 as a promise of divine care for refugees: "[T]hey cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He led them by a straight way to a city where they could settle."
Beginning with Boat People
After the Vietnam War, a group of Utica citizens, including leading pastors, were deeply moved by the suffering of Southeast Asians and by their valiant efforts to survive and flee the war.
The group decided to help Asian refugees migrate to Utica and created the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees (MVRCR). This non-sectarian organization partners with the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service, which resettles immigrants nationwide. Much of the credit for MVRCR goes to Peter Vogelaar, executive director. The center offers a wide spectrum of services to help refugees adjust to American life. It receives $1.5 million annually in federal aid.
Last summer, about 40 recent immigrants crammed themselves into an MVRCR classroom without air conditioning. Cambodian monks sat in saffron robes. Somali Muslim women were draped in yards of boldly patterned cotton. Pentecostals from Belarus were outfitted in conservative, European-style attire.
Chris DeSanctis, a local bank executive, taught them the fundamentals of American life, such as the importance of establishing a credit history. Her lesson was translated into four languages. Many refugees had lost money in homeland banks, so they typically carried cash. But they were curious about the credit card offers they kept getting in the mail.
These programs are one reason the refugee center succeeds in integrating immigrants into Utica's life. If people build a credit history, they can eventually buy a home. If they own homes, they tend to fix up their houses and yards, so they buy supplies at the local hardware store. At some point, they may hire a local plumber. They pay property taxes, so they may also have an interest in the school board and voting and U.S. citizenship. In short, they invest in the community.
Utica's diverse faith community forms another pillar of support for refugees. Mosques, temples, and churches address the physical and spiritual needs of refugees. Up to 10 percent of Utica may be Muslim, due to the influx of Bosnian refugees. The local mosque is one of the most ethnically varied in the nation.
The Catholic and Seventh-day Adventist churches are teeming. A Slavic Pentecostal church has a new building on the edge of town, filled with 1,000 members who fled religious persecution in the former Soviet Union.
Vogelaar says the benefits of religious harmony in Utica may ripple beyond the town's borders. "We can say Christians and Muslims don't need to be fighting. We don't need to vilify each other."
"Many people perceive refugees to be a problem people," Vogelaar says. "But they have overcome problems. They are survivors."
Urbanologist Bakke says Christian hosts and migrants alike need to stop looking at refugees as victims who have nothing to contribute.
"God's people tend to think of themselves as victims, but the motif of Scripture is they're on mission," Bakke says.
He encourages new immigrants and refugees to live out Jeremiah 29:7: "Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper."
Bakke says the home front is a new mission field. "Churches at home must begin to model with integrity that which they have sent missionaries abroad to do. By sending them abroad in the first place, the church was confessing a transcultural commitment to the oneness of Jesus Christ."
Caruana, pastor at Tabernacle Baptist, has empathy for locals who resist deep involvement in resettlement outreach. Longtime church members admit to being uncomfortable with unfamiliar people.
Nevertheless, his church contributes heavily to the physical needs of refugees and recruits churches across the state to adopt a refugee ministry as well. The result is a powerful transformation across the board.
"The Karen on the whole are probably more sacrificial in their giving patterns than many, not all, but many of our long-term American friends," Caruana says.
"The Karen also bring a whole different set of gifts with them. They've opened up the church to a world beyond itself, which is an incredible gift."
Often, Karen families send funds to struggling relatives in Asia with little means of subsistence. One Karen family with two low-skilled workers and three children has managed to buy a home and send thousands of dollars to Asia to build a church, all within five years.
In Myanmar, Christians have long functioned under their own leadership. So finding ways to integrate Burmese Christians into Western churches poses a great challenge.
Along the modern Myanmar-Thailand border, where refugees hide, "You will find Bible schools, you will find churches, you will find pastors being trained and being ordained and doing ministry and being sent out into communities," Caruana says.
In the end, refugee ministry success comes down to Americans who are willing to reach out. Tom Deragon, a lay leader at Tabernacle Baptist, provides a powerful example.
An American Indian, Deragon suffered as a child under government-mandated assimilation. But Deragon also received foster care from devout believers whose faithful words and deeds drew him toward Christian faith. To him, the current wave of refugees is no different from waves of previous generations—bringing with it a mix of good people and daunting challenges.
Tom Deragon and his wife, Gwen, found they could help most by focusing on one family at a time. Their assistance tends to involve lots of late-night phone calls and emergency plumbing projects. But the investment has its rewards. The first Karen baby born in Utica was named Tom.
No Easy Button
Not all refugees live happily ever after. Down the street from Tabernacle is Trinity Lutheran Church. This congregation has also invested much time, talent, and treasure into refugee outreach.
Lutherans created a Bible study at the home of John Kweh especially for African believers. Kweh and his family of 14 lived in a large house in need of repair. Originally from Liberia, they had fled certain death in civil war.
Now safe from gunfire, John's son Juty, 23, has become discouraged by the trap of materialism. "America is kind
of bittersweet," Juty Kweh told CT in an August interview. "In Africa, we lived without things. But at least we lived freely. No bills! What we do now is so tedious."
Last summer, John, Juty, and two other sons, Samson and Phillip, drove an hour or more each way to work a night shift. Their top prayer request at the time was for jobs close to home.
Then, tragically, a few weeks after the Kwehs were interviewed by CT, they were involved in a horrific crash during their commute. Three people—Juty, Samson, and another friend—lost their lives. Badly injured, John and Phillip were hospitalized for months.
This devastating loss was magnified for surviving family members who realized that the deceased had survived the horrors of ethnic cleansing only to die in an accident.
But the event galvanized all of Utica. Vogelaar says, "Through the tragedy, the refugee community and the church community are coming together to support this family." It was a raw reminder of life's fragility.
God Didn't Forget
Around 1980, when Say Wah Htoo was nine years old, marauding government forces attacked her village of Karen rice farmers. Their church and all the homes were burned. Her family scattered to the four winds.
She followed her father, a middle-school teacher, to a rebel camp of the Karen National Liberation Army. She managed to attend a makeshift school there and took classes in Bible, math—and combat. She joined the army at age 15. Two years later, her father died in battle. Government forces slaughtered thousands and forced the rest to flee to the jungle wasteland between Myanmar and Thailand.
Htoo joined the exodus and snuck into Bangkok, hoping for a chance to further her education. But the big city got the best of the Christian girl from a backwater village. Without documentation or means of support, she lived in persistent fear of arrest and deportation. Soon, she became one of the millions of Asian women trapped in sexual exploitation.
"I arrived in Bangkok, and it's a big city, and I've never been in the big city," she explains. "That's why I didn't know anything. I can do nothing. I tried to continue my education, and I found one guy, and he said he's going to help me."
"But he lied to me, and he persuaded me, and he—I don't know how to say that—he has his wife and his children, but he has me like a wife."
Htoo hangs her head and softly weeps. "I have to live with him, and I got a baby."
Htoo remained in touch with surviving family members in Burma. But they were scandalized by the news of her out-of-wedlock child. Htoo says, "Every night, every day, I prayed to God to give me a better life."
Somehow, Htoo and her daughter escaped from the man's house. She found people to help her apply for asylum through the United Nations.
"I knew that American country is a big country," Htoo says. "That's why I believed that maybe my daughter can go to school, and it will be good for her education and her life."
Eventually, U.S. officials took her case. In time, she and her daughter landed in Tabernacle church in Utica. Today, Htoo has an apartment and a minimum-wage job, and through Utica's Christian community, she is aware that a merciful God will meet her deepest needs for forgiveness and security.
Poe Kee, a Karen single man, immigrated to the United States about the same time that Htoo did. With her aunt in Utica acting as a traditional Karen matchmaker, Po Kee married Htoo within six months. They met the week of their wedding and were never alone together until their wedding night. Theirs was the first Karen wedding at Tabernacle. Tom Deragon walked the bride down the aisle.
Htoo turns giddy when talking about Po Kee. Now married five years, they have two daughters in addition to Htoo's first child, Pa Suda.
"Po Kee accepts Pa Suda like a daughter, and he loves her like a daughter," says Htoo. "He never jokes about my life before."
But last year, Po Kee was diagnosed with leukemia. Htoo wept and doted over him at the hospital. At home, he lay silently in her lap for hours on end. Miraculously, the cancer has now gone into remission—after just one round of chemotherapy.
"When I lived in Bangkok, Thailand," Htoo says, "I felt problems. I wanted to blame God. I said, 'God is not taking care of me.' " She felt kinship with the biblical Joseph—a victim of injustice in a foreign land.
But like Joseph, Htoo discovered God had not abandoned her. "Later, I humbled myself, and I knew that God planned everything for my good."
For generations, residents of Utica had christened their troubled town "the city that God forgot." But Utica's immigrant Christians are writing new chapters in the city's history about how God didn't forget them—one resettled life at a time.
Pastor Caruana says, "We have children in this congregation, all of them growing up thinking that it is absolutely and perfectly normal to be part of a church where there are people from literally around the world—together."
Denise McGill is assistant professor of visual journalism at Palm Beach Atlantic University.
Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.
A small piece I wrote on Karen refugees, who have recently arrived in Utica
Link - http://www.uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070113/NEWS0101/701130314/1001
Bikes give Burma refugees a lift
Getting to English classes was difficult for local newcomers
Saturday, Jan 13, 2007
By CHINKI SINHA
Observer-Dispatch
csinha@utica.gannett.com
UTICA — Burma refugee J.C. Hter Nay Clay used to walk in the freezing cold to the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees for his English language classes.
Starting Monday, he won't have to.
Clay joined about eight other Karen refugees from Burma Friday at Welch's Bicycle Shop in repairing old bikes, which they then received.
With winter setting in, the donation could not have been timelier for the refugees. Clay reflected Friday on the ordeal he used to face in just trying to get to class.
His children go to school at 8:10 a.m., which barely gave him time to get to the refugee center by 8:30 from his Elizabeth Street home. He usually made it on time, but other times he didn't.
"I'm running ... almost. It is bad. Cold," he said.
It was the first vehicle in the United States for all the refugees. They couldn't wait to get on their bikes and ride to their homes.
"That's my first bicycle in the family," said Nay Say Ban, who came here three months ago from Burma. "I am really happy."
Shop owner Howard Welch has been donating bikes to residents for years, often through his "Bikes for Kids" program. The bikes generally are donated to him by police or other residents, and the effort Friday was done in conjunction with the Tabernacle Baptist Church's refugee ministry's efforts.
"I love to do it. It is giving back to the community," said Welch, a former Utica Common Councilman. "These new people...they are so good. Very polite."
The Karen population in Utica has grown in the last few months after the U.S. government waived a provision for refugees coming from Myanmar, another name for Burma. The Tabernacle Baptist Church helps these refugees settle in and provides them with household items, clothes and other things.
Edith Davison of Tabernacle Baptist Church's refugee ministry had asked Welch if he had extra bikes to give to refugees. Several Karen refugees had told her how long they had to walk to attend classes.
"They live far because the low-cost apartments are far," Davison said. "Bicycles are not for recreational purposes. They are required for school."
The Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees has resettled thousands of refugees in the area. While the center works toward helping them with housing and employment, it is financially difficult for the center to address refugees' transportation needs.
Peter Vogelaar, executive director of the resource center, said transportation for refugees is always a challenge and the center has no program to help refugees find means of transport.
"We help them, encourage them. Whatever assistance is given is greatly appreciated," he said.
Now that he has a bike, Thaw Htu Htoo won't have to walk the half-hour-plus in the snow each morning.
"I am so happy," he said, as he gripped the bike's handle. "This is my first bike here."
AT A GLANCE
Many refugees who settle in Utica can't afford their own cars, and often must walk long distances to get to their destinations. On Friday, recent Karen refugees from Burma helped refurbish bikes at Welch's Bicycle Shop on Whitesboro Street in Utica. They then received the bikes.
Edith Davison and her husband, the Rev. James Davison, of Tabernacle Baptist Church helped arrange the event. Many of the refugees will use the bikes to get to early-morning English language classes at the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees. Shop owner Howard Welch said he'd like to do the program again.
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Link to a piece I wrote on refugees and the new year's day
I wrote the piece when I had just started my job as a reporter at Utica O-D in December of 2006. For many of us the English New Year's is not something very significant. It is just a change in the way we write the date...and I thought it would be interesting to look at how refugees in Utica celebrated the New Year's or whether they did not. Turned out many had their own new year's days. It also hints at integration and how for many of us coming from vastly different societies, we are living on the border...we never let go of things that we know as ours and yet we try to become familiar with the strange...it is very interesting to see how integration for immigrants works at multiple levels. It is complex.
http://www.uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061231/NEWS/612310331
New Year's Day — with a twist
Sunday, Dec 31, 2006
By CHINKI SINHA
Observer-Dispatch
csinha@utica.gannett.com
UTICA — Jan. 1 will be just another day for many people in the Mohawk Valley.
For some of the diverse communities in Utica, New Year's Day will fall in months of the year other than January.
During the past several decades, Utica has seen an influx of refugees from all over the world, from Belarus to Myanmar, after the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees started welcoming and resettling them in 1979.
The refugees brought their own cultures and beliefs and have held fast to the traditions, celebrating them and preserving their heritage. New Year's celebrations are one part of their heritage. Here's how some communities and families celebrate:
Cambodians
Chandara Pros will sit at home and celebrate New Year's Eve like many traditional American families. He probably will watch the ball drop at Times Square in New York City on television, eat dinner with family and go out.
But in April, he will join many other Cambodians in visiting the Wat-Sotheathek-Uticaram temple on 1552 Steuben St. and celebrating the Buddhist New Year.
"That is my culture," said Pros, who came to Utica in 1985. "We do a lot of things. We clean the temple, cook a lot of traditional food and pray."
In Cambodia, Khmer or Cambodian New Year is the biggest traditional festival and lasts for four days. Cambodians prepare traditional food to welcome the angels who bless their house and take care of them the whole year.
They also exchange gifts and show respect to elders. This year, the New Year celebrations will start April 14.
Many Cambodians came to Utica as refugees in the 1980s and have since built their temple and contributed to the diversity in the city. Most of them are Buddhists and follow the lunar calendar.
Burmese-Arkanis
At 109 Addington St., 2007 also will be welcomed in April. January is just the 10th month of the year, and there's three more months before the start of the Buddhist New Year.
Khaing Ray Linn Aung's family is from Burma, now Myanmar. They are Arkanis Burmese and are mostly Buddhists.
Because of the military regime and ethnic cleansing in their homeland, many Burmese people came to the United States under refugee status. Many of them made Utica their home. Among them are Karen, Arkanis and Burmese people.
Their New Year's, which is called Maha Thingyan, is also celebrated for three days and is spent fasting, praying and throwing water on each other.
Khaing Oo said she will not do anything on Dec. 31 or Jan. 1.
"It is not our culture," she said.
But come April, Oo will celebrate New Year's with her community. They will make traditional rice balls with sugar cubes, powdered with coconut, and other food such as chicken curry and rice. The Burmese New Year will begin April 15.
"We will go to the temple. The monk will tell us stories about god. We will pray and spend time with family," she said.
In Utica, the weather will not allow for a water festival such as they are used to in Myanmar. But Oo said they will wait until July to do it.
"It is so much fun," she said. Last year, community members went to New York City for the water festival.
Throwing water on each other is done to welcome the rains in Myanmar. It also symbolizes the cleansing of soul and body so that people may start the New Year with a purified soul.
Muslims
Kashif Qureshi still remembers the halim, dish of chicken, which his mother used to make for Muharram, the first month in the Islamic Calendar. The first day of this month, which will be Jan. 31 in 2007, is the start of the Islamic New Year.
"She used to cook halim and we distributed it to families. It is a holy month for us," he said. "The day is meant for prayers, lots of it."
Qureshi came to the United States about 15 years ago from Pakistan. There is a large Muslim population in Utica, including about 6,000 Bosnian Muslims who came to the city in the 1980s.
Many Muslims now exchange cards and gifts for New Year's, he said.
Muharram is also the most sacred of all the months. It commemorates the death of Hussain, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad. On the tenth day, also called the Ashurah, many Muslims fast.
Many Muslims in Utica, who are from different parts of the world, will spend their New Year's Day on Jan. 31 praying and doing charity.
For Arbai Majeni, a Somali Muslim, Dec. 31 and Jan. 1 will be just holidays.
"I will do nothing," she said. "During Muharram I will pray and spend time with the family."
Majeni is from Somalia and came to Utica about four years ago.
Burmese — Karen
The Christmas tree at Saw Chit's house is still lit brightly, but the lights are not on for New Year's Day.
A Karen Burmese refugee, Chit is Christian. But unlike many others who will herald the New Year on Jan. 1, he will celebrate the Karen New Year with about 500 Karen people at Westminster Presbyterian Church.
"It is not the same every year," Chit said. "It is different from the English New Year's because we, the Karen people, came before Christ from other lands."
The first Karen New Year was officially celebrated in 1939. In 1938, the Karen leaders demanded that the British administration in Burma recognize their New Year and declare it a national holiday.
The Karen New Year's fell on Dec. 19 this year, but because it was not a weekend and the holidays, the Utica Karen Organization will celebrate it on Dec. 30 so that people can enjoy the celebrations on a weekend.
The Utica Karen Organization started organizing Karen New Year's celebrations two years ago. Karen people from Buffalo, Albany and Syracuse come down to Utica to celebrate the New Year.
"We have traditional clothes, traditional dance and music on that day," Chit said.
The families will cook food, which will consist of sticky rice and curry, and carry it to Tabernacle Baptist Church before moving to the other church for prayers and entertainment programs, Chit said.
The Karen came to Utica as refugees to escape the military regime in Myanmar.
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
http://www.uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061231/NEWS/612310331
New Year's Day — with a twist
Sunday, Dec 31, 2006
By CHINKI SINHA
Observer-Dispatch
csinha@utica.gannett.com
UTICA — Jan. 1 will be just another day for many people in the Mohawk Valley.
For some of the diverse communities in Utica, New Year's Day will fall in months of the year other than January.
During the past several decades, Utica has seen an influx of refugees from all over the world, from Belarus to Myanmar, after the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees started welcoming and resettling them in 1979.
The refugees brought their own cultures and beliefs and have held fast to the traditions, celebrating them and preserving their heritage. New Year's celebrations are one part of their heritage. Here's how some communities and families celebrate:
Cambodians
Chandara Pros will sit at home and celebrate New Year's Eve like many traditional American families. He probably will watch the ball drop at Times Square in New York City on television, eat dinner with family and go out.
But in April, he will join many other Cambodians in visiting the Wat-Sotheathek-Uticaram temple on 1552 Steuben St. and celebrating the Buddhist New Year.
"That is my culture," said Pros, who came to Utica in 1985. "We do a lot of things. We clean the temple, cook a lot of traditional food and pray."
In Cambodia, Khmer or Cambodian New Year is the biggest traditional festival and lasts for four days. Cambodians prepare traditional food to welcome the angels who bless their house and take care of them the whole year.
They also exchange gifts and show respect to elders. This year, the New Year celebrations will start April 14.
Many Cambodians came to Utica as refugees in the 1980s and have since built their temple and contributed to the diversity in the city. Most of them are Buddhists and follow the lunar calendar.
Burmese-Arkanis
At 109 Addington St., 2007 also will be welcomed in April. January is just the 10th month of the year, and there's three more months before the start of the Buddhist New Year.
Khaing Ray Linn Aung's family is from Burma, now Myanmar. They are Arkanis Burmese and are mostly Buddhists.
Because of the military regime and ethnic cleansing in their homeland, many Burmese people came to the United States under refugee status. Many of them made Utica their home. Among them are Karen, Arkanis and Burmese people.
Their New Year's, which is called Maha Thingyan, is also celebrated for three days and is spent fasting, praying and throwing water on each other.
Khaing Oo said she will not do anything on Dec. 31 or Jan. 1.
"It is not our culture," she said.
But come April, Oo will celebrate New Year's with her community. They will make traditional rice balls with sugar cubes, powdered with coconut, and other food such as chicken curry and rice. The Burmese New Year will begin April 15.
"We will go to the temple. The monk will tell us stories about god. We will pray and spend time with family," she said.
In Utica, the weather will not allow for a water festival such as they are used to in Myanmar. But Oo said they will wait until July to do it.
"It is so much fun," she said. Last year, community members went to New York City for the water festival.
Throwing water on each other is done to welcome the rains in Myanmar. It also symbolizes the cleansing of soul and body so that people may start the New Year with a purified soul.
Muslims
Kashif Qureshi still remembers the halim, dish of chicken, which his mother used to make for Muharram, the first month in the Islamic Calendar. The first day of this month, which will be Jan. 31 in 2007, is the start of the Islamic New Year.
"She used to cook halim and we distributed it to families. It is a holy month for us," he said. "The day is meant for prayers, lots of it."
Qureshi came to the United States about 15 years ago from Pakistan. There is a large Muslim population in Utica, including about 6,000 Bosnian Muslims who came to the city in the 1980s.
Many Muslims now exchange cards and gifts for New Year's, he said.
Muharram is also the most sacred of all the months. It commemorates the death of Hussain, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad. On the tenth day, also called the Ashurah, many Muslims fast.
Many Muslims in Utica, who are from different parts of the world, will spend their New Year's Day on Jan. 31 praying and doing charity.
For Arbai Majeni, a Somali Muslim, Dec. 31 and Jan. 1 will be just holidays.
"I will do nothing," she said. "During Muharram I will pray and spend time with the family."
Majeni is from Somalia and came to Utica about four years ago.
Burmese — Karen
The Christmas tree at Saw Chit's house is still lit brightly, but the lights are not on for New Year's Day.
A Karen Burmese refugee, Chit is Christian. But unlike many others who will herald the New Year on Jan. 1, he will celebrate the Karen New Year with about 500 Karen people at Westminster Presbyterian Church.
"It is not the same every year," Chit said. "It is different from the English New Year's because we, the Karen people, came before Christ from other lands."
The first Karen New Year was officially celebrated in 1939. In 1938, the Karen leaders demanded that the British administration in Burma recognize their New Year and declare it a national holiday.
The Karen New Year's fell on Dec. 19 this year, but because it was not a weekend and the holidays, the Utica Karen Organization will celebrate it on Dec. 30 so that people can enjoy the celebrations on a weekend.
The Utica Karen Organization started organizing Karen New Year's celebrations two years ago. Karen people from Buffalo, Albany and Syracuse come down to Utica to celebrate the New Year.
"We have traditional clothes, traditional dance and music on that day," Chit said.
The families will cook food, which will consist of sticky rice and curry, and carry it to Tabernacle Baptist Church before moving to the other church for prayers and entertainment programs, Chit said.
The Karen came to Utica as refugees to escape the military regime in Myanmar.
Copyright ©2007 uticaOD.com All rights reserved.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Link of an article on a Sudanese refugee that was published in Utica Observer-Dispatch Feb 14, 2007
http://www.uticaod.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070214/NEWS/702140313/1001
Here is the full text
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted: February 13. 2007 11:06PM
Sudanese refugee adapting to life in Utica
UTICA — When Abdelshakour Khamis boarded a plane to the United States in 2005, laundry was one thing that was certainly not on his mind, he said.
But it quickly became a concern. In Khamis' homeland of Sudan, residents wash clothes by hand and hang them on wires to dry, he said.
"We were wondering where and how to do laundry," he said.
Slowly, Khamis and his family got used to life and some modern amenities in Utica. They are among about 100 Sudanese refugees who have been resettled here by the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees.
Through June, the refugee center will hold an occasional lecture series on various refugee groups. Khamis, a genocide survivor, will speak Thursday about Darfur, where armed conflict between rebel groups has led to genocide and has put the region in the spotlight for ongoing killings and ethnic cleansing.
Peter Vogelaar, executive director of the refugee center, said the Sudanese refugees have adapted well and the British legacy there is a plus because of their knowledge of the English language.
"Many have gone on to colleges. Others are working," he said. "Many Sudanese are quite conversant in English. That gave them a leg-up."
Khamis, who works at the refugee center as an information system coordinator, is one of the last Sudanese to make Utica home.
Whether more Sudanese refugees will come to Utica is difficult to predict because of a peace agreement between the government and the rebel groups, but some who have fled to Chad may come, Vogelaar said.
Two civil wars already have occurred in Sudan, the largest country in Africa. It was during the second, which began in 1983, that Khamis left his country for Cairo, Egypt. In 2005, he left Egypt for Utica.
He still remembers the life he had before the war broke out and everything had to be left behind — the connections, the family, the farms, the gardens and home itself.
"It was so nice....," he said, his voice trailing off and his eyes moistening. "I miss everything."
Khamis lived in Jebel Marra, which had mountains, green trees and sprawling farms. Life there was simple, he said.
And then the troubles began. His father and an older brother were killed in the war in 1988, and he could not go home, he said.
Khamis did not want to fight. He saw no other option but to escape.
In April 1990, Khamis left his country forever and took a boat to Egypt where he lived and worked before coming to United States.
"I left everything behind," he said.
He kept in touch with his family with letters and a few phone calls to his uncle.
"They said 'Don't come back,'" he said.
By the time Khamis landed in Utica, he was ready to start a new life, he said.
"There were mountains, it was summer," he said. "My immediate reaction was 'I went back home.'"
By CHINKI SINHA
Observer-Dispatch
csinha@utica.gannett.com
Here is the full text
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted: February 13. 2007 11:06PM
Sudanese refugee adapting to life in Utica
UTICA — When Abdelshakour Khamis boarded a plane to the United States in 2005, laundry was one thing that was certainly not on his mind, he said.
But it quickly became a concern. In Khamis' homeland of Sudan, residents wash clothes by hand and hang them on wires to dry, he said.
"We were wondering where and how to do laundry," he said.
Slowly, Khamis and his family got used to life and some modern amenities in Utica. They are among about 100 Sudanese refugees who have been resettled here by the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees.
Through June, the refugee center will hold an occasional lecture series on various refugee groups. Khamis, a genocide survivor, will speak Thursday about Darfur, where armed conflict between rebel groups has led to genocide and has put the region in the spotlight for ongoing killings and ethnic cleansing.
Peter Vogelaar, executive director of the refugee center, said the Sudanese refugees have adapted well and the British legacy there is a plus because of their knowledge of the English language.
"Many have gone on to colleges. Others are working," he said. "Many Sudanese are quite conversant in English. That gave them a leg-up."
Khamis, who works at the refugee center as an information system coordinator, is one of the last Sudanese to make Utica home.
Whether more Sudanese refugees will come to Utica is difficult to predict because of a peace agreement between the government and the rebel groups, but some who have fled to Chad may come, Vogelaar said.
Two civil wars already have occurred in Sudan, the largest country in Africa. It was during the second, which began in 1983, that Khamis left his country for Cairo, Egypt. In 2005, he left Egypt for Utica.
He still remembers the life he had before the war broke out and everything had to be left behind — the connections, the family, the farms, the gardens and home itself.
"It was so nice....," he said, his voice trailing off and his eyes moistening. "I miss everything."
Khamis lived in Jebel Marra, which had mountains, green trees and sprawling farms. Life there was simple, he said.
And then the troubles began. His father and an older brother were killed in the war in 1988, and he could not go home, he said.
Khamis did not want to fight. He saw no other option but to escape.
In April 1990, Khamis left his country forever and took a boat to Egypt where he lived and worked before coming to United States.
"I left everything behind," he said.
He kept in touch with his family with letters and a few phone calls to his uncle.
"They said 'Don't come back,'" he said.
By the time Khamis landed in Utica, he was ready to start a new life, he said.
"There were mountains, it was summer," he said. "My immediate reaction was 'I went back home.'"
By CHINKI SINHA
Observer-Dispatch
csinha@utica.gannett.com
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
In Exile or Refuge - why america is not home? The challenges of refugee resettlement
Around fifteen percent of Utica's population is composed of refugees from alll over the world. As a summer intern at Utica Observer-Dispatch, I wrote on refugees and their resettlement in the town. In the process, in those three months, I stumbled upon many things and this extract is from a series that I wrote in those sweltering summer months.
It is a collection of interviews, thoughts and analysis...veering from one point to another just as how our thoughts do. But everything is as I saw it, through my eyes...through the eyes of an immigrant who could relate with the fear, the language barrier and the color and the isolation.
A shorter version of this piece was published in the newspaper later on.
REFUGEE RESETTLEMENT- the roadblocks
It was a hot Saturday afternoon. Brazil was playing Australia in soccer world cup. Five of them huddled in front of the small TV in the two-bedroom apartment at 109 Nielson St. The Somali Bantus were hooked to the game. The year was 2006 and it was summer in Utica.
Two more came in to watch the game. And while the players kicked and the audience cheered, Jeylani Hassan and Amjad spoke about their lives in Utica.
“We hang out together…the Somalis. This is a strange country. We have heard people have guns here,” said Hassan, who came to St’ Louis in 2004 from a refugee camp in Kenya.
The Somali Bantus stick to each other.
Utica is home to many such ethnic groups fleeing the war in their countries. The Mohawk Valley Refugee Resource Center, since its inception in 1979, has resettled around 11,000 refugees in Utica.
The refugees from at least 23 different countries in 27 years that the refugee center has been in existence have changed the social fabric of Utica.
UTICA - the downfall and the revival
When the city of Utica got onto its feet, it did so because the refugees stayed.
At one point the bumper stickers read, “Would the last person to leave Utica please turn out the lights”. 65,000 remained in the city to turn on the lights every evening.
Out of these, 15,000 had come from all over the world through the refugee center. Thousands of the city dwellers had migrated to the south. The population had already halved when the revival began. Slowly, the economy felt the surge of blood. The new hair salons, coffee shops and Bosnian restaurants pumped energy into the staggering economy. These refugees pumped new blood into the staggering economy.
With all this Utica’s identity too underwent a cosmetic change. From being a manufacturing town that was an important contributor to the American industrial growth, it became a town of refugees.
Already, it was home to many immigrants who arrived in the 19th century from Europe and parts of Middle East. Germans, Poles and Italians had all been living here before the new groups came in. These came from all over the world, bringing in their own experiences, cultures and identities.
The town changed. Life changed. Refugees kept pouring in...at least till the twin towers were struck.
The shards from 9/11...barriers to integration
It changed a lot of things. It shut off people. The task became uphill for the refugee center. There were substantial cuts in funding.
The definition of resettlement changed and it demanded the community became open to the newcomers and the newcomers shed their inhibitions too.
Attitudes changed and the fear introduced by 9/11 if the 'others' seeped in peoples' minds and they started closing in. On part of refugees too, there was a fear of the strangers and they stuck to each other. There were language issues, there were cultural barriers, there was the color factor and there was the 'others" factor fueled by 9/11 and added to by the outsourcing debate and peoples' ideas that refugees were a drain on America's resources.
9/11 made things difficult not just for the people but for the refugee center. There were massive staff cuts because funding was reduced considerably because of new security acts. Also, the refugees were too different in their ways. The local community did not how to interact with some of them.
One other development took place. Refugee center started getting a diverse range of refugees at this time. In a small town ravaged by unemplyment and economic decline, the city was not equipped to handle such varied groups such as Somalis and Burmese refugees.
Bosnians, who had come in earlier, were a different case. They were familiar with the western way of life, wore the same clothes and had the same habits and looked similar...white, blue-eyed. The refugee center, despite its efforts, felt the pressure. This meant it had to provide interpreters, get counselers, get more help in fact. And the biggest challenge lied in integrating these people who looked different and came from vastly different cultures with the local community that was still not able to forget 9/11.
But these people were there. Interactions outside these groups are limited to waving at others or a curt greeting at the workplace. America sacers them too. What if they are deported to the war-torn countries that they fled from. No more nightmares, they must have thought and so played it safe. And there was another side to it too. They did not want to forget their heritage so clung to it with all that they could.
Not just the Somali Bantus but other refugee groups too such as the Arkanis Burmese who feel that in order to retain their identities, culture and language they must be with their own people.
Integration is a desirable goal for the refugee center, one that its mission statement encompasses - "Many Cultures, One Community". But there are too many hurdles.
The numbers of refugees coming into the city dropped suddenly after the government passed the Patriot Act and the Material Support Provision, which makes screening very strict and thus limits the number of refugees coming into United States.
Branching out into providing different services and exploring new opportunities for generating revenue for its survival became imperative for the refugee center. The focus of the refugee center changed too.
Now, they were not just concerned with bringing in refugees and resettling them but fostering a dialogue between various groups and with the local community in order to bridge in the divide.
“We are moving into a new phase. We have redirected our efforts at starting conversation. We have begun to look at our relationship,” said Peter Vogelaar, executive director of the refugee center. “They are struggling to deal with the demons of the past, the horrific experience of their lives.”
Vogelaar said it was essential for the local community to understand where these people were coming from and how important it was to integrate them with the society. Fear, introduced by 9/11, could build barriers to conversation, to understand and to live side by side.
“That conversation got stunted after 9/11,” he said. “Often times the responses come from fear. We have to try to build awareness,” he said.
The refugee center started various fee-based programs to reach to the local community and make them aware of their new neighbors and their backgrounds. For example, the culture competency program that tells people at workplace how to interact with refugees and to make them understand why these groups act the way they do.
“Every new refugee group has its own set of challenges. They have different concepts.
“We have to be more creative as we go on,” Vogelaar said, referring to various changes that are changing the refugee center’s role in the community.
One of the new strategies toward generating revenue is to provide interpreters to hospitals. Having as much as 15 percent of the population that is just refugees, all the organizations have to gear up to the challenges of servicing such a large and diverse client base. Language is one big barrier and also an opportunity for the refugee center to keep the money flowing and the work continuing.
Staff cuts were normal. Once, the first floor of the old school building on Clark Street housed three employment offices and even then they could not deal with the number of refugees who required placement. Now, Brian Couzelis, Shelly Callahan and Sidi are the only three fulltime employment officers and yet there isn’t enough work to keep them on their toes.
Couzelis said the refugee center underwent some massive undercuts as a result of the less number of refugee arrivals.
“The pot of money is smaller,” Callahan said.
But the challenges are more. The Bosnians and the East Europeans that came in during the 1970s did not require special attention. They were used to a life that was westernized and were already familiar with certain way of living.
But Somalis lived in huts and had never seen electricity. They lived nomadic lives. The Burmese have an entirely different culture. They are not used to the life as it is lived here.
A new life and getting used ot it
When Khet Khet, a Burmese refugee, first saw a girl and a boy kissing on the street in Utica, she was shocked. She said how it seemed strange to her. That was just the beginning.
For Burmese, who recently arrived in Utica to escape the persecution at the hands of the military junta that took control of Myanmar, adjusting to the new environment where live-in relations are not uncommon is difficult.
In the living room at 109 Addington St., men sat in the main hall, while the women sat in the other section, clearly demarcated from the hall by a half wall. They speak but only from where they sit. At intervals they come into the main hall but only to pour tea or drinks for the men, who are discussing the issues that concern the Arkanis Burmese refugees in Utica such as jobs and language.
Myanmar has at least 135 ethnic groups. When the situation in Myanmar became dangerous, people started fleeing to neighboring countries such as India and Thailand. It took a long time for the refugees to get approval to apply for resettlement in United States that accepts just one percent of the total world refugee population. Sept. 11 made things difficult and in case of this nationality, the material support provision that came into effect just after the twin towers were struck, made it near impossible to get to America till Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice intervened.
Khet Khet, who lived in New York City before coming to Utica, said it was dangerous living in the country. Her grandfather was involved in the political movement.
“It is really difficult to survive for a young girl. They rape women, do forced labor nd kill people,” she said about the SPD.
Her parents are still in Myanmar. “They live in the jungles. It is not safe,” she said.
It has not been an easy task to forget their country. And songs of loneliness and longing, of isolation and the love for the green fields bring
At the refugee day celebrations at the refugee center, Muka Paw sang about the green fields, the beautiful country and the need for the displaced people, the refugees, to not forget their language and culture. The urgency is her voice was hard to miss.
Over the years, the community has warmed up to the idea of new neighbors. But bitterness in some is not unusual. Integration remains a challenge still in the face of so many difficulties. And the refugee center is still figuring out what is the best way to make these newcomers feel at home or at least feel comfortable.
The following is the version published in the newspaper, Observer-Dispatch
It is a collection of interviews, thoughts and analysis...veering from one point to another just as how our thoughts do. But everything is as I saw it, through my eyes...through the eyes of an immigrant who could relate with the fear, the language barrier and the color and the isolation.
A shorter version of this piece was published in the newspaper later on.
REFUGEE RESETTLEMENT- the roadblocks
It was a hot Saturday afternoon. Brazil was playing Australia in soccer world cup. Five of them huddled in front of the small TV in the two-bedroom apartment at 109 Nielson St. The Somali Bantus were hooked to the game. The year was 2006 and it was summer in Utica.
Two more came in to watch the game. And while the players kicked and the audience cheered, Jeylani Hassan and Amjad spoke about their lives in Utica.
“We hang out together…the Somalis. This is a strange country. We have heard people have guns here,” said Hassan, who came to St’ Louis in 2004 from a refugee camp in Kenya.
The Somali Bantus stick to each other.
Utica is home to many such ethnic groups fleeing the war in their countries. The Mohawk Valley Refugee Resource Center, since its inception in 1979, has resettled around 11,000 refugees in Utica.
The refugees from at least 23 different countries in 27 years that the refugee center has been in existence have changed the social fabric of Utica.
UTICA - the downfall and the revival
When the city of Utica got onto its feet, it did so because the refugees stayed.
At one point the bumper stickers read, “Would the last person to leave Utica please turn out the lights”. 65,000 remained in the city to turn on the lights every evening.
Out of these, 15,000 had come from all over the world through the refugee center. Thousands of the city dwellers had migrated to the south. The population had already halved when the revival began. Slowly, the economy felt the surge of blood. The new hair salons, coffee shops and Bosnian restaurants pumped energy into the staggering economy. These refugees pumped new blood into the staggering economy.
With all this Utica’s identity too underwent a cosmetic change. From being a manufacturing town that was an important contributor to the American industrial growth, it became a town of refugees.
Already, it was home to many immigrants who arrived in the 19th century from Europe and parts of Middle East. Germans, Poles and Italians had all been living here before the new groups came in. These came from all over the world, bringing in their own experiences, cultures and identities.
The town changed. Life changed. Refugees kept pouring in...at least till the twin towers were struck.
The shards from 9/11...barriers to integration
It changed a lot of things. It shut off people. The task became uphill for the refugee center. There were substantial cuts in funding.
The definition of resettlement changed and it demanded the community became open to the newcomers and the newcomers shed their inhibitions too.
Attitudes changed and the fear introduced by 9/11 if the 'others' seeped in peoples' minds and they started closing in. On part of refugees too, there was a fear of the strangers and they stuck to each other. There were language issues, there were cultural barriers, there was the color factor and there was the 'others" factor fueled by 9/11 and added to by the outsourcing debate and peoples' ideas that refugees were a drain on America's resources.
9/11 made things difficult not just for the people but for the refugee center. There were massive staff cuts because funding was reduced considerably because of new security acts. Also, the refugees were too different in their ways. The local community did not how to interact with some of them.
One other development took place. Refugee center started getting a diverse range of refugees at this time. In a small town ravaged by unemplyment and economic decline, the city was not equipped to handle such varied groups such as Somalis and Burmese refugees.
Bosnians, who had come in earlier, were a different case. They were familiar with the western way of life, wore the same clothes and had the same habits and looked similar...white, blue-eyed. The refugee center, despite its efforts, felt the pressure. This meant it had to provide interpreters, get counselers, get more help in fact. And the biggest challenge lied in integrating these people who looked different and came from vastly different cultures with the local community that was still not able to forget 9/11.
But these people were there. Interactions outside these groups are limited to waving at others or a curt greeting at the workplace. America sacers them too. What if they are deported to the war-torn countries that they fled from. No more nightmares, they must have thought and so played it safe. And there was another side to it too. They did not want to forget their heritage so clung to it with all that they could.
Not just the Somali Bantus but other refugee groups too such as the Arkanis Burmese who feel that in order to retain their identities, culture and language they must be with their own people.
Integration is a desirable goal for the refugee center, one that its mission statement encompasses - "Many Cultures, One Community". But there are too many hurdles.
The numbers of refugees coming into the city dropped suddenly after the government passed the Patriot Act and the Material Support Provision, which makes screening very strict and thus limits the number of refugees coming into United States.
Branching out into providing different services and exploring new opportunities for generating revenue for its survival became imperative for the refugee center. The focus of the refugee center changed too.
Now, they were not just concerned with bringing in refugees and resettling them but fostering a dialogue between various groups and with the local community in order to bridge in the divide.
“We are moving into a new phase. We have redirected our efforts at starting conversation. We have begun to look at our relationship,” said Peter Vogelaar, executive director of the refugee center. “They are struggling to deal with the demons of the past, the horrific experience of their lives.”
Vogelaar said it was essential for the local community to understand where these people were coming from and how important it was to integrate them with the society. Fear, introduced by 9/11, could build barriers to conversation, to understand and to live side by side.
“That conversation got stunted after 9/11,” he said. “Often times the responses come from fear. We have to try to build awareness,” he said.
The refugee center started various fee-based programs to reach to the local community and make them aware of their new neighbors and their backgrounds. For example, the culture competency program that tells people at workplace how to interact with refugees and to make them understand why these groups act the way they do.
“Every new refugee group has its own set of challenges. They have different concepts.
“We have to be more creative as we go on,” Vogelaar said, referring to various changes that are changing the refugee center’s role in the community.
One of the new strategies toward generating revenue is to provide interpreters to hospitals. Having as much as 15 percent of the population that is just refugees, all the organizations have to gear up to the challenges of servicing such a large and diverse client base. Language is one big barrier and also an opportunity for the refugee center to keep the money flowing and the work continuing.
Staff cuts were normal. Once, the first floor of the old school building on Clark Street housed three employment offices and even then they could not deal with the number of refugees who required placement. Now, Brian Couzelis, Shelly Callahan and Sidi are the only three fulltime employment officers and yet there isn’t enough work to keep them on their toes.
Couzelis said the refugee center underwent some massive undercuts as a result of the less number of refugee arrivals.
“The pot of money is smaller,” Callahan said.
But the challenges are more. The Bosnians and the East Europeans that came in during the 1970s did not require special attention. They were used to a life that was westernized and were already familiar with certain way of living.
But Somalis lived in huts and had never seen electricity. They lived nomadic lives. The Burmese have an entirely different culture. They are not used to the life as it is lived here.
A new life and getting used ot it
When Khet Khet, a Burmese refugee, first saw a girl and a boy kissing on the street in Utica, she was shocked. She said how it seemed strange to her. That was just the beginning.
For Burmese, who recently arrived in Utica to escape the persecution at the hands of the military junta that took control of Myanmar, adjusting to the new environment where live-in relations are not uncommon is difficult.
In the living room at 109 Addington St., men sat in the main hall, while the women sat in the other section, clearly demarcated from the hall by a half wall. They speak but only from where they sit. At intervals they come into the main hall but only to pour tea or drinks for the men, who are discussing the issues that concern the Arkanis Burmese refugees in Utica such as jobs and language.
Myanmar has at least 135 ethnic groups. When the situation in Myanmar became dangerous, people started fleeing to neighboring countries such as India and Thailand. It took a long time for the refugees to get approval to apply for resettlement in United States that accepts just one percent of the total world refugee population. Sept. 11 made things difficult and in case of this nationality, the material support provision that came into effect just after the twin towers were struck, made it near impossible to get to America till Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice intervened.
Khet Khet, who lived in New York City before coming to Utica, said it was dangerous living in the country. Her grandfather was involved in the political movement.
“It is really difficult to survive for a young girl. They rape women, do forced labor nd kill people,” she said about the SPD.
Her parents are still in Myanmar. “They live in the jungles. It is not safe,” she said.
It has not been an easy task to forget their country. And songs of loneliness and longing, of isolation and the love for the green fields bring
At the refugee day celebrations at the refugee center, Muka Paw sang about the green fields, the beautiful country and the need for the displaced people, the refugees, to not forget their language and culture. The urgency is her voice was hard to miss.
Over the years, the community has warmed up to the idea of new neighbors. But bitterness in some is not unusual. Integration remains a challenge still in the face of so many difficulties. And the refugee center is still figuring out what is the best way to make these newcomers feel at home or at least feel comfortable.
The following is the version published in the newspaper, Observer-Dispatch
Refugee center enters 'new phase'
With fewer new arrivals since 9/11, staff shrinks and services adjust
By CHINKI SINHA
Syracuse University Capstone Program
UTICA -- Five Somali Bantu refugees huddled in front of the small TV in a two-bedroom apartment on Neilson Street, watching a soccer game.
As people came and went, Jeylani Hassan and Amjad spoke about their lives in America, their lives in Utica.
"We hang out together, the Somalis," said Hassan, who initially came to St. Louis from a refugee camp in Kenya. "This is a strange country."
The Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees, which celebrates its annual gala tonight, is working to make this country and city a little less strange for Utica's newest arrivals. This approach is borne not only out of a sense of mission but a sense of financial necessity.
Over the past 27 years, the refugee center has resettled about 11,000 refugees in Utica and has come to redefine the Mohawk Valley's identity in the process. Around the world, Utica is known as "the town that loves refugees," as a United Nations human rights publication put it last year.
But five years after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, the flow of refugees to America has been cut drastically. The refugee center has been forced to trim its budget and cut its staff as a result.
Fewer refugees means smaller per-capita funding totals from the U.S. government. Today, the center focuses less on resettlement and more on achieving integration and cultural connections among Utica's myriad refugee groups and with the larger community.
"We are moving into a new phase," Executive Director Peter Vogelaar said. "We have redirected our efforts at starting conversation. We have begun to look at our relationship."
It's essential for the larger community to understand where refugees came from and what experiences they endured, he said. Fear, introduced by 9/11, can build barriers to conversations that could help people to understand each other, he said.
"That conversation got stunted after 9/11," Vogelaar said. "Often times, the responses come from fear. We have to try to build awareness," he said.
Because of language barriers, it's been difficult for communities arriving from various countries in Asia and Africa to interact with each other or even adopt the culture and the country they now live in. They've became closeted, Vogelaar said.
That's led to newer strategies toward generating revenue such as providing interpreters to hospitals and promoting cultural competency programs.
"We have to be more creative as we go on," Vogelaar said.
Changing times
In 1997, a few thousand refugees arrived in Utica. By 2002, the year after the attacks, only 240 refugees came. Numbers since then have been at a similar level.
Once, the first floor of the old St. Francis De Sales school building housed three refugee center employment offices. Even then, they could not deal with the number of refugees who required placement. Now, Brian Couzelis, Shelly Callahan and Sidi Chivala are the only three full-time employment officers and yet there isn't enough work to keep them on their toes.
"The pot of money is smaller," Callahan said.
Daniel Sergant of the refugee center said the number of refugees is smaller, but the challenges still loom large. He said it was easy to resettle the Bosnians because they were already familiar with the Western way of life and the work culture.
"They knew," he said. "Somali Bantus, they come from a nomadic tribe. Integration is difficult," he said. He described how challenging it was to hire staff to help refugees from Myanmar (Burma) settle in the area.
Hamilton College professor Judith Owens-Manley, who sits on the refugee board, said refugees are important to Utica's economy because they are mostly young and bring in a future workforce. And so the community needs to welcome them with open arms, she said.
Yet many concerns have affected the local community's attitudes toward newcomers. Fear and the insecurity of losing jobs to the new arrivals are the biggest barriers to complete integration besides differences in culture and language, officials said. Those could be overcome in time like in the case of Cambodians, who after 20 years, exhibit a high degree of integration. A Cambodian wedding over the summer was attended by both Cambodians and long- time Uticans.
Rare moment of unity
But in the short term, refugees are often isolated other than within their core group. Bosnians and Bantus might all be refugees, but not ones with common ground.
A rare exception came during this year's Utica Boilermaker Road Race, which in cooperation with the refugee center introduced the International Mile on Culver Avenue.
The thousands of competitors ran past refugees gathered to sing and dance to cheer the participants.
Later, the refugee center staff distributed doughnuts to the case workers, mostly refugees, and to the refugees.
Ioana Balint of the refugee center gathered the Bosnians and the Somali Bantu to pose for a photograph. All smiled and put their hands around each other.
But as soon as the flash died, the two groups drifted toward their own members, and the integration became just a moment, perfectly preserved in the camera if not yet in Utica itself.
ABOUT THIS SERIES
The number, size and scope of nonprofit agencies and services are growing rapidly in the Mohawk Valley, reflecting both the region's degree of need and a continuing change in the structure of our economy. This article is part of a continuing series produced by 14 Syracuse University Capstone Program master's students who collaborated this year with the O-D.
UTICA AND REFUGEES
--Refugees have arrived from at least 23 different countries in 27 years, changing the social fabric of Utica and redefining Utica less as a manufacturing town and more as a haven for newcomers. A United Nations human rights publication last year devoted an entire issue to Utica, which it called "The town that loves refugees."
--As Utica's long-term population left or died off, refugees have helped stabilize the population. Today, about 1-in-10 Uticans is a refugee.
--The population had already halved when the revival began. Slowly, the economy felt the surge of blood. The new hair salons, coffee shops and Bosnian restaurants pumped energy into the staggering economy.
-- This followed a pattern seen a century earlier when immigrants arrived in the 19th century from Europe and parts of the Middle East. Germans, Poles, Italians and Lebanese all made their mark in ensuing decades.
With fewer new arrivals since 9/11, staff shrinks and services adjust
By CHINKI SINHA
Syracuse University Capstone Program
UTICA -- Five Somali Bantu refugees huddled in front of the small TV in a two-bedroom apartment on Neilson Street, watching a soccer game.
As people came and went, Jeylani Hassan and Amjad spoke about their lives in America, their lives in Utica.
"We hang out together, the Somalis," said Hassan, who initially came to St. Louis from a refugee camp in Kenya. "This is a strange country."
The Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees, which celebrates its annual gala tonight, is working to make this country and city a little less strange for Utica's newest arrivals. This approach is borne not only out of a sense of mission but a sense of financial necessity.
Over the past 27 years, the refugee center has resettled about 11,000 refugees in Utica and has come to redefine the Mohawk Valley's identity in the process. Around the world, Utica is known as "the town that loves refugees," as a United Nations human rights publication put it last year.
But five years after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, the flow of refugees to America has been cut drastically. The refugee center has been forced to trim its budget and cut its staff as a result.
Fewer refugees means smaller per-capita funding totals from the U.S. government. Today, the center focuses less on resettlement and more on achieving integration and cultural connections among Utica's myriad refugee groups and with the larger community.
"We are moving into a new phase," Executive Director Peter Vogelaar said. "We have redirected our efforts at starting conversation. We have begun to look at our relationship."
It's essential for the larger community to understand where refugees came from and what experiences they endured, he said. Fear, introduced by 9/11, can build barriers to conversations that could help people to understand each other, he said.
"That conversation got stunted after 9/11," Vogelaar said. "Often times, the responses come from fear. We have to try to build awareness," he said.
Because of language barriers, it's been difficult for communities arriving from various countries in Asia and Africa to interact with each other or even adopt the culture and the country they now live in. They've became closeted, Vogelaar said.
That's led to newer strategies toward generating revenue such as providing interpreters to hospitals and promoting cultural competency programs.
"We have to be more creative as we go on," Vogelaar said.
Changing times
In 1997, a few thousand refugees arrived in Utica. By 2002, the year after the attacks, only 240 refugees came. Numbers since then have been at a similar level.
Once, the first floor of the old St. Francis De Sales school building housed three refugee center employment offices. Even then, they could not deal with the number of refugees who required placement. Now, Brian Couzelis, Shelly Callahan and Sidi Chivala are the only three full-time employment officers and yet there isn't enough work to keep them on their toes.
"The pot of money is smaller," Callahan said.
Daniel Sergant of the refugee center said the number of refugees is smaller, but the challenges still loom large. He said it was easy to resettle the Bosnians because they were already familiar with the Western way of life and the work culture.
"They knew," he said. "Somali Bantus, they come from a nomadic tribe. Integration is difficult," he said. He described how challenging it was to hire staff to help refugees from Myanmar (Burma) settle in the area.
Hamilton College professor Judith Owens-Manley, who sits on the refugee board, said refugees are important to Utica's economy because they are mostly young and bring in a future workforce. And so the community needs to welcome them with open arms, she said.
Yet many concerns have affected the local community's attitudes toward newcomers. Fear and the insecurity of losing jobs to the new arrivals are the biggest barriers to complete integration besides differences in culture and language, officials said. Those could be overcome in time like in the case of Cambodians, who after 20 years, exhibit a high degree of integration. A Cambodian wedding over the summer was attended by both Cambodians and long- time Uticans.
Rare moment of unity
But in the short term, refugees are often isolated other than within their core group. Bosnians and Bantus might all be refugees, but not ones with common ground.
A rare exception came during this year's Utica Boilermaker Road Race, which in cooperation with the refugee center introduced the International Mile on Culver Avenue.
The thousands of competitors ran past refugees gathered to sing and dance to cheer the participants.
Later, the refugee center staff distributed doughnuts to the case workers, mostly refugees, and to the refugees.
Ioana Balint of the refugee center gathered the Bosnians and the Somali Bantu to pose for a photograph. All smiled and put their hands around each other.
But as soon as the flash died, the two groups drifted toward their own members, and the integration became just a moment, perfectly preserved in the camera if not yet in Utica itself.
ABOUT THIS SERIES
The number, size and scope of nonprofit agencies and services are growing rapidly in the Mohawk Valley, reflecting both the region's degree of need and a continuing change in the structure of our economy. This article is part of a continuing series produced by 14 Syracuse University Capstone Program master's students who collaborated this year with the O-D.
UTICA AND REFUGEES
--Refugees have arrived from at least 23 different countries in 27 years, changing the social fabric of Utica and redefining Utica less as a manufacturing town and more as a haven for newcomers. A United Nations human rights publication last year devoted an entire issue to Utica, which it called "The town that loves refugees."
--As Utica's long-term population left or died off, refugees have helped stabilize the population. Today, about 1-in-10 Uticans is a refugee.
--The population had already halved when the revival began. Slowly, the economy felt the surge of blood. The new hair salons, coffee shops and Bosnian restaurants pumped energy into the staggering economy.
-- This followed a pattern seen a century earlier when immigrants arrived in the 19th century from Europe and parts of the Middle East. Germans, Poles, Italians and Lebanese all made their mark in ensuing decades.
P.S. I changed one of the names to protect the identity of the person.
For refugees, many adjustments ahead
Observer-Dispatch
Observer-Dispatch
UTICA - When Khet Khet, a refugee from Burma, first saw a girl and a boy kissing on the street in Utica, she was shocked. She said how it seemed strange to her.
That was just the beginning.
For refugees who recently arrived in Utica to escape the persecution at the hands of the military junta that took control of Myanmar in the late 1980s, adjusting to the new environment where live-in relations are not uncommon is difficult.
In a living room on Addington Street, men sat in the main hall, while the women sat in the other section, clearly demarcated from the hall by a half wall. They speak, but only from where they sit.
At intervals, the women come into the main hall but only to pour tea or drinks for the men, who are discussing the issues that concern the Arkanis Burmese refugees in Utica- mostly jobs and language.
Myanmar has at least 135 ethnic groups. The two dominant groups in Utica are the Arkanis and the Karen, both of which have arrived in Utica.
The Tabernacle Baptist Church in Utica plays an important role in resettling Karen refugees. The Karen are Christian, and about 100 of them are members of the Tabernacle church.
It is the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees that's played a major role in resettling the Arkanis, who are mostly Buddhists.
That was just the beginning.
For refugees who recently arrived in Utica to escape the persecution at the hands of the military junta that took control of Myanmar in the late 1980s, adjusting to the new environment where live-in relations are not uncommon is difficult.
In a living room on Addington Street, men sat in the main hall, while the women sat in the other section, clearly demarcated from the hall by a half wall. They speak, but only from where they sit.
At intervals, the women come into the main hall but only to pour tea or drinks for the men, who are discussing the issues that concern the Arkanis Burmese refugees in Utica- mostly jobs and language.
Myanmar has at least 135 ethnic groups. The two dominant groups in Utica are the Arkanis and the Karen, both of which have arrived in Utica.
The Tabernacle Baptist Church in Utica plays an important role in resettling Karen refugees. The Karen are Christian, and about 100 of them are members of the Tabernacle church.
It is the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees that's played a major role in resettling the Arkanis, who are mostly Buddhists.
Link to an article that clears some myths such as the common feeling that refugees are a drain on the social security and public assistance and America takes in a lot of refugees.
http://www.brookings.edu/metro/pubs/20060925_singer.htm
here is the full text
From 'There' to 'Here': Refugee Resettlement in Metropolitan America
by Audrey Singer and Jill H. Wilson
September 2006
Though comprising only 10 percent of annual immigration to the U.S., refugees are a distinct component of the foreign-born population in many metropolitan areas. Using data from the Census and the federal Office of Refugee Resettlement, this report examines where refugees come from—documenting significant region-specific flows tied to various overseas conflicts—and where they land, finding that refugee destinations have shifted away from typical immigrant gateways housing large foreign-born populations to newer, often smaller, places.
Findings
Although refugees only comprise approximately 10 percent of annual immigration to the United States, they are a distinct part of the foreign-born population in many metropolitan areas. Using data from the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR) on the location of initial settlement of refugees arriving between 1983 and 2004, this paper finds that:
More than 2 million refugees have arrived in the United States since the Refugee Act of 1980 was established, driven from their homelands by war, political change, and social, religious, and ethnic oppression. These flows were marked first by refugees primarily from Southeast Asia and the Soviet Union in the 1970s and 1980s during the Cold War period, followed by Europe in the 1990s during the Balkans period, and now a growing number from Africa in the 2000s during the civil conflict period.
Refugees have overwhelmingly been resettled in metropolitan areas with large foreign-born populations. Between 1983 and 2004, refugees have been resettled across many metropolitan areas in the United States, with 30 areas receiving 72 percent of the total. The largest resettlement areas have been in established immigrant gateways in California (Los Angeles, Orange County, San Jose, Sacramento), the Mid-Atlantic region (New York) and the Midwest (Chicago, Minneapolis- St. Paul), as well as newer gateways including Washington, DC; Seattle, WA; and Atlanta, GA.
In medium-sized and smaller metropolitan areas, refugees can have considerable impact on the local population, especially if the total foreign-born population is small. Refugees dominate the overall foreign-born population in smaller places such as Utica, NY; Fargo, ND; Erie, PA; Sioux Falls, SD; and Binghamton, NY helping to stem overall population decline or stagnation. Medium-sized metropolitan areas like Fresno, CA; Des Moines, IA; Springfield, MA; and Spokane, WA also have a strong refugee presence.
The leading refugee destination metro areas have shifted away from traditional immigrant gateways over the past two decades, while newer gateways are resettling proportionally more refugees. While New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago still accommodated large numbers of refugees in the 1990s, other metropolitan areas such as Seattle, Atlanta, and Portland (OR) have taken in increasing numbers. Furthermore, different groups of refugees have become associated with different metropolitan areas: Nearly half of Iranian refugees were resettled in metropolitan Los Angeles, one in five Iraqi refugees arrived in Detroit, and nearly one-third of refugees from the former Soviet Union were resettled in New York.
Unlike other immigrants, refugees have access to considerable federal, state, and local support to help them succeed economically and socially. Affordable housing, health care access, job training and placement, and language learning dominate the local service needs that need to be built and maintained. Ultimately though, metropolitan areas are the critical context for refugees as they settle into communities and become active members of their neighborhoods, schools, and workplaces.
from Somalia to a new land
Somali Bantus - their journey and their life in America...from a hut to an apartment
They killed Jeylani Hassan’s mother after they raped her. And then the soldiers raped his sister and shot his younger brother, seven at the time, because he happened to offend them. As Hassan recalled the days of terror that made escape from Somalia the only option, his eyes seemed to reflect the horror that he witnessed.
Hassan had stood there, petrified, he said. The soldiers from Mogadishu, who roamed around killing and raping, had guns. One wrong reaction and he too would have been dead.
“You could not even cry. They (soldiers) were scary,” he said. As he spoke, his friend Amjad, folded his pants to show bullet marks on his right thigh. He saw his seven brothers being shot at the same time by the soldiers. They had left him for dead in a carnage that left around 5,000 dead in his village. Ahmad, bleeding, crawled 500 feet to safety where people rescued him.
The soldiers were everywhere. There was no escaping them but by traveling to Kenya. And the travel would take days. They had to walk through the deserts, the swamps and fields – without food or water.
“It took seven days. No food, no water. We had like one gallon and 700 people,” he said.
Sidi, another refugee from Somalia, said he had no choice but to drink urine as that was the only way to survive.
When the time to leave came, there were no goodbyes. Hassan’s family members ran in different directions. He lost his father and siblings, he said. And like thousands of other displaced people, he walked to what he thought was safe haven. In some ways the refugee camp in Kenya represented what they had always sought – security. But the refugee camp was mid-way between heaven and hell. They could not go out. They had rationed food, had to live in one-room tenements with many people, and had no work. There were around 50,000 refugees in the camp from Sudan, Somalia, Uganda and other African nations that had been ravaged by dictatorships and civil wars.
Hassan lived in the refugee camp in Kenya for 12 years. It was bad in Kenya, he said, “We could not go out. We did nothing,” he said.
He met his uncle and aunt in the refugee camp and now after 14 years, he has finally found his father, who is still in the refugee camp.
Now Hassan lives in Utica, works as a cleaner at Planet Fitness and dreams of going to school. Eventually, he wants to go back to Kenya to help and meet his own people. Also, he thinks he has better opportunities in Africa now that he knows English. Some of it he learned at the refugee camp in Kenya.
“I will be a big manager there. If I know little English, I can get a good job in Africa,” he said.
But the option of returning to Somalia does not exist. “I don’t think Somalia is going to be fine. There are many tribes and there is in-fighting. Everybody is killing someone,” he said.
There are around 236 refugees in Utica from Somalia. Most of them are Somali Bantus. A few arrived in 1996 but the bulk started coming in 2003 and after.
Somali Republic gained independence in 1960. However, things got worse with in-fighting between various tribes. There is no national government in place to control the civil war and parts of Somalia are controlled by rebel groups and military. This has resulted in mass starvation and displacement of thousands of people over the years. Even after years of intervention, order is yet to be restored.
Life is tougher in America than what they thought. First there are the differences in culture and then there are bills to pay.
“In Africa you take the money and keep it in your pocket,” said Hassan. Here, he has to worry about insurance bills, phone bills, rent, and electricity bills. In his village, they did not have electricity. Last month he received a phone bill for $500 and he just threw the phone out of the window. Nine dollars an hour and 38 hours a week is not too much money even in Utica, where housing is cheap. And he has to send money to his friends and family, who are still in the camp.
“It is hard. Sometimes, they don’t eat for two days, often nothing from morning to evening,” he said.
Insurance is another issue. Hassan has been suffering from back pain but he does not go to the hospital. “I buy medicines at the store. I don’t have Medicaid,” he said.
There are myths too to deal with. There are many expectations to counter. “They say you have a good life. We explain but they do not believe,” Hassan said, referring to the constant calls from friends and relatives in Africa asking for money. “With $100, a family of eight people can live in Somalia comfortably for two months,” he added.
Hassan works from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. He wants to get the other shift so that he can attend college but it is difficult. Some of the men live together in a dorm-like setting with 2-3 mattresses thrown in a room. It is cheaper this way, they said. And till their families arrive, they live a shared life to save up enough to get a house and support them.
If life in Africa was hard and dangerous, American way of life intimidates Somali Bantus. Hassan and many like him, who now Utica their home lived in huts and were farmers. Some of them had never seen fans or even electric bulbs. They burned oil lamps and mostly lived on the farms.
The flight that took Hassan from Kenya to Nairobi was a small carrier and Hassan said he was terrified and felt lumps in his throat when there was turbulence. The bigger plane that brought him from Nairobi to United States was better, he said. And then he saw snow for the first time.
They are not used to the culture and way of life here.
When Hussein, another Somali Bantu who lives with Amjad, got his picture with his newly-wed wife taken at a studio in Somalia against the backdrop of Statue of Liberty and the skyline in New York City, he thought America would be a cure to all his problems. Now he is here and his two wives are still in Africa.
For them it is a huge shift in cultural and traditional roles, ways of work and even eating habits. They stick to each other, watch Indian movies, smoke and eat together.
“We meet other people but not like this,” said Hassan referring to their interactions with other African people, refugees and the local community.
Hassan just broke up with his fiancée, who he met here. He does not like American girls. “They make trouble, they talk too much. They get drunk and wear little clothes,” he said.
They are Muslims and their women are covered. Another thing that bothers Ahmad is how he will get his three wives here. They are all in the refugee camp still. Polygamy is common for Somali Bantus and it is not uncommon to have four wives.
“We follow Prophet Mohamed. He had four wives,” said Hassan, hiding away his cigarettes. Did Prophet Mohamed smoke too? He smiled and said no.
For Amjad it is the costs involved with bringing up his four children here. “In Somalia we have no child support system after you separate from your wife. It is different here,” he said.
Even here they have to fight the myths associated with being a refugee in the Promised Land, the United States. No. They do not just receive money from the government. They have to work hard for it.
The phone rang and Amjad pointed to the number flashing on the cell phone and said the call was from Africa. May be it is one of his wives calling. Amjad pays for their phone.
Suddenly, all six of them started laughing. Hassan said his wives are asking for money. “They always call for money. That is the only thing,” he said.
The struggles remain. Many of the Somali Bantus like Utica but have no attachment.
“Everything is somehow,” said Hassan, summing up what many Somali Bantus feel. They are waiting for things to get better. Maybe it will be too long before they settle down and call Utica home.
NOTE- Some names have been used in part to protect the identities of people
This was written as part of series on refugees and integration in America that I worked on during summer of 2006.
They killed Jeylani Hassan’s mother after they raped her. And then the soldiers raped his sister and shot his younger brother, seven at the time, because he happened to offend them. As Hassan recalled the days of terror that made escape from Somalia the only option, his eyes seemed to reflect the horror that he witnessed.
Hassan had stood there, petrified, he said. The soldiers from Mogadishu, who roamed around killing and raping, had guns. One wrong reaction and he too would have been dead.
“You could not even cry. They (soldiers) were scary,” he said. As he spoke, his friend Amjad, folded his pants to show bullet marks on his right thigh. He saw his seven brothers being shot at the same time by the soldiers. They had left him for dead in a carnage that left around 5,000 dead in his village. Ahmad, bleeding, crawled 500 feet to safety where people rescued him.
The soldiers were everywhere. There was no escaping them but by traveling to Kenya. And the travel would take days. They had to walk through the deserts, the swamps and fields – without food or water.
“It took seven days. No food, no water. We had like one gallon and 700 people,” he said.
Sidi, another refugee from Somalia, said he had no choice but to drink urine as that was the only way to survive.
When the time to leave came, there were no goodbyes. Hassan’s family members ran in different directions. He lost his father and siblings, he said. And like thousands of other displaced people, he walked to what he thought was safe haven. In some ways the refugee camp in Kenya represented what they had always sought – security. But the refugee camp was mid-way between heaven and hell. They could not go out. They had rationed food, had to live in one-room tenements with many people, and had no work. There were around 50,000 refugees in the camp from Sudan, Somalia, Uganda and other African nations that had been ravaged by dictatorships and civil wars.
Hassan lived in the refugee camp in Kenya for 12 years. It was bad in Kenya, he said, “We could not go out. We did nothing,” he said.
He met his uncle and aunt in the refugee camp and now after 14 years, he has finally found his father, who is still in the refugee camp.
Now Hassan lives in Utica, works as a cleaner at Planet Fitness and dreams of going to school. Eventually, he wants to go back to Kenya to help and meet his own people. Also, he thinks he has better opportunities in Africa now that he knows English. Some of it he learned at the refugee camp in Kenya.
“I will be a big manager there. If I know little English, I can get a good job in Africa,” he said.
But the option of returning to Somalia does not exist. “I don’t think Somalia is going to be fine. There are many tribes and there is in-fighting. Everybody is killing someone,” he said.
There are around 236 refugees in Utica from Somalia. Most of them are Somali Bantus. A few arrived in 1996 but the bulk started coming in 2003 and after.
Somali Republic gained independence in 1960. However, things got worse with in-fighting between various tribes. There is no national government in place to control the civil war and parts of Somalia are controlled by rebel groups and military. This has resulted in mass starvation and displacement of thousands of people over the years. Even after years of intervention, order is yet to be restored.
Life is tougher in America than what they thought. First there are the differences in culture and then there are bills to pay.
“In Africa you take the money and keep it in your pocket,” said Hassan. Here, he has to worry about insurance bills, phone bills, rent, and electricity bills. In his village, they did not have electricity. Last month he received a phone bill for $500 and he just threw the phone out of the window. Nine dollars an hour and 38 hours a week is not too much money even in Utica, where housing is cheap. And he has to send money to his friends and family, who are still in the camp.
“It is hard. Sometimes, they don’t eat for two days, often nothing from morning to evening,” he said.
Insurance is another issue. Hassan has been suffering from back pain but he does not go to the hospital. “I buy medicines at the store. I don’t have Medicaid,” he said.
There are myths too to deal with. There are many expectations to counter. “They say you have a good life. We explain but they do not believe,” Hassan said, referring to the constant calls from friends and relatives in Africa asking for money. “With $100, a family of eight people can live in Somalia comfortably for two months,” he added.
Hassan works from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. He wants to get the other shift so that he can attend college but it is difficult. Some of the men live together in a dorm-like setting with 2-3 mattresses thrown in a room. It is cheaper this way, they said. And till their families arrive, they live a shared life to save up enough to get a house and support them.
If life in Africa was hard and dangerous, American way of life intimidates Somali Bantus. Hassan and many like him, who now Utica their home lived in huts and were farmers. Some of them had never seen fans or even electric bulbs. They burned oil lamps and mostly lived on the farms.
The flight that took Hassan from Kenya to Nairobi was a small carrier and Hassan said he was terrified and felt lumps in his throat when there was turbulence. The bigger plane that brought him from Nairobi to United States was better, he said. And then he saw snow for the first time.
They are not used to the culture and way of life here.
When Hussein, another Somali Bantu who lives with Amjad, got his picture with his newly-wed wife taken at a studio in Somalia against the backdrop of Statue of Liberty and the skyline in New York City, he thought America would be a cure to all his problems. Now he is here and his two wives are still in Africa.
For them it is a huge shift in cultural and traditional roles, ways of work and even eating habits. They stick to each other, watch Indian movies, smoke and eat together.
“We meet other people but not like this,” said Hassan referring to their interactions with other African people, refugees and the local community.
Hassan just broke up with his fiancée, who he met here. He does not like American girls. “They make trouble, they talk too much. They get drunk and wear little clothes,” he said.
They are Muslims and their women are covered. Another thing that bothers Ahmad is how he will get his three wives here. They are all in the refugee camp still. Polygamy is common for Somali Bantus and it is not uncommon to have four wives.
“We follow Prophet Mohamed. He had four wives,” said Hassan, hiding away his cigarettes. Did Prophet Mohamed smoke too? He smiled and said no.
For Amjad it is the costs involved with bringing up his four children here. “In Somalia we have no child support system after you separate from your wife. It is different here,” he said.
Even here they have to fight the myths associated with being a refugee in the Promised Land, the United States. No. They do not just receive money from the government. They have to work hard for it.
The phone rang and Amjad pointed to the number flashing on the cell phone and said the call was from Africa. May be it is one of his wives calling. Amjad pays for their phone.
Suddenly, all six of them started laughing. Hassan said his wives are asking for money. “They always call for money. That is the only thing,” he said.
The struggles remain. Many of the Somali Bantus like Utica but have no attachment.
“Everything is somehow,” said Hassan, summing up what many Somali Bantus feel. They are waiting for things to get better. Maybe it will be too long before they settle down and call Utica home.
NOTE- Some names have been used in part to protect the identities of people
This was written as part of series on refugees and integration in America that I worked on during summer of 2006.
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