For the first time Since WWII there are more than 50 million refugees worldwide, and the number is climbing. The media has shown many
heartbreaking images of refugee sufferings. This summer, I tutored some refugees in an English as a Second Language class. Here are glimpses of my experiences with people from the Congo, Burma, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Cuba–all who had been in the U.S. less than a month.
“I like KFC. It–it is good,” says the middle-aged Iraqi woman, when asked her favorite American foods. “Oh, and cheesecake is very delicious,” she adds. She tells me she spent four years in Jordan after fleeing Iraq. She wants to work as a chef. One of her adult sons is with her in the U.S., but she worries about the other one still in Iraq. “It is very dangerous,” she says. When her U.S. son picks her up from class, he asks me how his mother is doing. His English is good. I suggest he might help her with homework. He frowns, “I want her to learn to do it herself.” I gently say she might learn faster if he helps. But there’s silence. I don’t think my idea is going to fly in their entrenched cultural roles.
“I like ice cream,” smiles the petite, shy twenty-year-old from Burma, who wants to be a tailor. She draws a picture of her former home—a thatched hut on stilts. Now she lives in a city apartment with her sister and brother-in-law. She enjoys listening to Christian music on her iPhone. She is always on time to class with her homework completed.
“My father is old. My mother is happy. My girlfriend is beautiful.” These are the sentences using adjectives that the two Afghani brothers come up with in a practice session. They have only been in the U.S. a few days. Their English is poor, they say, because they have spent five years in Hungary, followed by four in Turkey. They yawn a lot and are reserved. After asking their ages, I realize they were ten and eleven years old when they left Afghanistan.
As summer progresses the Congo family from a refugee camp in Burundi is a joy and a mystery. During their first time to class, they have only been in the U.S. about 10 days. They look weary and sad, and speak only French and Swahili. I notice the depressed mother and 22-year-old daughter have several scars on their arms; the mother has scars across her throat. The son, about 21-years-old, seems healthy, but he misses classes because of sickness and doctor appointments. From the start, the family members are willing learners and attend when possible. The daughter tells me she has seven brothers and sisters. And sure enough, about a month later, the daughter reports her three middle school brothers have arrived at the airport the prior evening. She shows me their pictures on her new cell phone. (Refugees need cell phones for job calls.)
My tutoring also includes encounters with a beefy mechanic from Cuba, who I help understand the Craigslist classified jobs. A sad Cuban woman comes to class only twice—she is grieving the eight-year-old son she left behind with her mother for better economic opportunities in the U.S. She says it is never possible for her son to come to the U.S. I don’t know if that is true, but it is true for her at this moment.
Most of the refugees I meet seem motivated to work and make money. Sometimes they are disappointed they cannot have the job they dreamed about when they thought of America’s opportunities. Most have to start out with beginning jobs like valet parking, janitorial work, household and kitchen service. As soon as they get employment they quit coming to ESL classes. In my community, Lutheran Family Services shepherds a refugee for about a year before he or she is expected to be independent. Volunteers and sponsors help with the process, and the U.S. government provides some funds for rent and other necessities. Salvation Army is a great resource for furnishing apartments.
Through tutoring this summer, I met Vicki Witte, an experienced volunteer, and asked her two questions: 1) What should an average American know about refugees coming to the U.S.? Her answer: “Don’t be afraid of them. They’re regular people; they love their families; and they’re generally very kind and hospitable.” And, 2) What has surprised her in this work? “Refugees are survivors. I’ve been surprised at the degree to which they are adaptable and resourceful.”
While tutoring, I am curious about so many topics I would like to ask the refugees I meet. But it is not possible. We smile a lot and use hand gestures. Teacher Cameron uses the time wisely to get as much information covered as possible. I learn too. For example, I never thought about how foreigners must discern that even though a dime is smaller than a nickel, its value is twice as much. Initially, a quarter may get confused with a nickel.
And, how about when we “read” 1:00 p.m. we say, “one o’clock”—not zero o’clock. Some of the refugees do not comprehend our mail system or banking, because they did not have access to these systems in their countries. During one class session Teacher Cameron goes over the basics of a health clinic and pharmacy. When one doesn’t speak or read English how can one understand what “running a fever” is? Do they understand the meanings of such words as constipation, diarrhea, or indigestion. Will they give the proper dosage of a medicine to a sick child? Can they accurately tell the doctor which body part hurts? So many acts we take for granted must be learned.
In my short time as an ESL tutor, my greatest reward was seeing several refugees become less stressed at summer’s end. Their body language was more relaxed, and there were genuine smiles and some joking. I enjoyed the young, confident Iraqi whose wife was expecting a baby any day. He was proud that he went to the gym and lifted weights to stay in shape. “I eat only chicken and fish,” he declared several times. He loved playing competitive class games to learn English.
A teacher will sometimes say he or she gets more out of teaching than the students get from the learning. In my encounters as a volunteer tutor this seemed to hold true.
For example, do you know the difference between an immigrant and a refugee? I didn’t think about definitions before this summer. An immigrant has more choices in migrating to another country and can usually pick the timing. A refugee is more a victim of circumstances. Because of war or natural catastrophe, a refugee will not go “home.” Living in a refugee camp for nine years is not uncommon. Refugees must wait for someone–some country–to adopt them, one by one. Children and women are not very safe in many of these camps. I learned the U.S. is one of the few countries that will take refugees who are not in good health. There are approximately 70,000 refugees per year currently admitted to the U.S.–this number is down from the 100,000 per year that came to the U.S. under President Clinton. The government decides which refugees to take and from which countries. Why some countries and not others? A refugee worker I heard at a training session answered, “Who knows. But it is no secret that the government doesn’t do anything for free.”
When writing this blog I recalled an airplane flight from Chicago to Fargo that I took several years ago. Aboard were about six people, most likely refugees, some dressed in traditional Asian garments. Their faces showed the stress and weariness of a long journey. Unfortunately, the elderly grandpa, had soiled himself, and the smell was horrible as I sat in the back of the plane with this family. There was nothing that could be done, but I remember thinking the plane looked and smelled like a third world country. My attitude was not hospitable.
After we walked through Fargo’s terminal security, to our right stood about 20 family members and friends waiting for the smelly group of “refugees.” There was much excitement—lots of chatter and big smiles.
To my left, waiting for me as a surprise, were my two beautiful, blond nieces, Nicci and Katie. My greeting party wasn’t as big as the Asian group, but the joyful feelings seemed similar. There is nothing like experiencing the smiling presence of loved ones in reunion. It is a slice of love, in the homeland of the heart. This can overcome distance, disaster, and war.