I took my seat in the makeshift meeting room around a big table, preparing to give a health talk to the refugees supported by Umoja.
This organization was founded by Chantal Muhumure to empower refugee women, and is housed by St. Timothy’s church. Umoja (meaning “unity” in Swahili) offers vocational training, drivers education, English classes and health/wellness support.
On my side, the room continued to fill up with men, while a
colleague prepared to speak to the women. Due to many of the attendees using
public transportation, arriving on time was not as easy for them as it was for
me, using my car.
Nothing was easy for these men, as I came to appreciate
through their stories.
Introductions came first.
Countries around our table: Syria, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Venezuela,
Guatemala, Rwanda, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Languages spoken: Persian, Pashto, Arabic, Swahili, Kinyarwanda,
Thai and Spanish.
Escaping from war and ethnic violence, each of these men had
an incredible story of how they got to be here in New Mexico.
“We have the entire world at this table,” I reflected to
them, as translators amongst us and Google translate did the work to get my
message to each of them.
“What a beautiful thing, to look around this table and see
how each of you have come to be here.”
I paused.
“I hope that our country shows you a welcome, a path toward
being successful here, toward feeling a part of America.”
They shared openly and honestly about their fear in this moment. One shared that it was akin to being in someone’s house but fearing that the initial welcome wasn’t the reality.
Unsure whether this country wants
them or simply wants them deported.
The U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program, abruptly suspended in
a matter of weeks. (Lawsuit
challenging this was filed February 10th.)
These men were years and even decades into working through programs
and processes to get to right here, at this table.
And the door was slamming shut on the support we promised to
provide.
I looked around the table again, a glimpse of “the world”
right here at America’s doorstep.
Dreams and hopes of escaping violence and genocide. Dreams
and hopes of being a part of the American fabric.
Turning inward, I felt a deep sadness in thinking about the “welcome” we are providing our refugees and immigrants.
Suddenly, my health talk didn’t seem all that important.
It's the same story with our own indigenous population. Promises made and broken. Except in this case we are the immigrants oppressing the origional people.
ReplyDeleteThose of us long-time, lifelong citizens can only imagine the fear that some of our neighbors are experiencing! As a retired federal worker, I have some idea of the fear my former colleagues must be feeling during this unsettling time, and even I am wondering, will they come after my pension, my health insurance? What else? It reminds me of the poem penned by Martin Niemoller...
ReplyDelete"First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me"
Let's speak up for our most vulnerable neighbors! Blessings...JR.