Refugees still dream of homes they left
For Izzeldin Abdel Rahman, the hardest part is watching his people suffer.
Millions of them, displaced and living in refugee camps.
“What about the children who are in the camps, malnourished, without an education?” the 52-year-old said, shaking his head. “We have lost a generation.”
Nearly as painful is how much he misses his father, his 10 siblings and his culture.
“You’re always thinking about them,” he said. “The family, the tribe, the customs.”
But Abdel Rahman feels he can’t go home, yet.
The Darfur region of his native Sudan is embroiled in a brutal conflict between African rebels and pro-government janjaweed militia.
More than 200,000 people have been killed and 2.5 million forced to flee their homes. Fighting has continued despite a year-old peace agreement.
Even if he were to return to the relative safety of the Sudanese capital, Abdel Rahman says, he would find few job opportunities and little hope for a prosperous future.
In the seven years since his arrival as a refugee in Las Vegas, Abdel Rahman has built for himself a full life.
He speaks English and is now a U.S. citizen.
His Sudanese wife was able to join him in 2001, and the couple started a family; they have an 18-month-old daughter, Minna.
Still, something is missing.
“I wish I could go home,” Abdel Rahman said, expressing the ambivalence common to refugees who resettle outside their home countries. “But nothing has changed in Sudan.”
Abdel Rahman’s experience makes him particularly well-suited for his current job: He works as a case manager with the Ethiopian Community Development Council’s local African Community Center, helping to resettle in the Las Vegas Valley refugees from countries around the world.
Nearly 1,200 such refugees have resettled here since 2003, according to Catholic Charities of Southern Nevada, another local organization that helps refugees.
They come from Rwanda, Somalia, Laos, Cuba, Iraq, any country in which they can prove a well-founded fear of persecution based upon race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group.
The resettlement process is complicated and can be lengthy.
Potential refugees are usually referred to the United States Refugee Program by officials from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees or a U.S. embassy. Their cases are then submitted to Citizenship and Immigration Services.
An immigration officer interviews the applicants, who must meet medical and security criteria and be assigned to a sponsor such as the African Community Center in Las Vegas.
If approved for relocation, the applicant gets a refugee admission number, and the International Organization for Migration arranges their travel to the United States.
Refugees are expected to reimburse travel costs once they are established in the United States. They may apply for legal permanent resident status after a year in the United States.
Sponsor groups work to help refugees become self-sufficient within three months of their arrival in the U.S.
“That’s fast,” said George Ossavou, director of the African Community Center. “We couldn’t do this without the help of the community.”
Ossavou, an immigrant from Gabon, Africa, said the center depends on limited federal grant funds and private in-kind and other donations.
Ossavou said he is concerned that with the national immigration reform debate going on in Congress and anti-illegal immigrant sentiment on the rise, refugees will be lumped together with millions of illegal residents who have come to the United States for economic opportunities.
“These are people who need help,” he said of the refugees.
Some refugees arrive in Las Vegas with nothing, he said.
Sometimes it’s because they had so little in their home countries. Other times, it’s because they have the wrong idea about America.
“People believe we have tons of money,” he said. “They’ve been told that they’ll be handed everything they need when they get here.”
Instead, they are met at the airport by case managers like Abdel Rahman. He helps arrange modest housing and gives them a small amount of money for groceries and other expenses.
Later, he’ll help with job searches.
“They work everywhere,” Ossavou said. “They’re taxi drivers, work in hotels, at dry cleaners. They often do menial jobs.”
Abdel Rahman’s first job in Las Vegas was driving a taxi. Now, he spends a lot of time at the airport.
One afternoon earlier this month, with 18-month old Minna perched atop his shoulders, he strolled into baggage claim to oversee the reunification of two Cuban refugee families.
Smile De La Cruz, a young father, was awaiting the arrival of his wife and 4-year-old daughter Elizabeth.
“I last saw her (Elizabeth) two years ago,” the construction worker said, anxiously searching the faces of arriving passengers. “She was so small.”
Maylin Paz dressed up to meet her aunt and uncle from Cuba, who she hasn’t seen in three years.
Paz said she fled the communist dictatorship, because “it gets more difficult every day. The political situation. The economy.”
De La Cruz’s family arrived first. He embraced his daughter and wife and they quickly left the airport. They had no luggage.
Paz’s aunt, Aurora Arencibia, and uncle, Vasilio Toledo, arrived looking exhausted.
Paz cried as she hugged them and welcomed them to the United States. The travelers carried nothing but a purse and a small satchel.
“No bags?” Abdel Rahman asked them.
They shook their heads.
The new arrivals will live with family members already established in Las Vegas. Abdel Rahman will help them apply for Social Security cards and jobs.
The African Community Center continues to monitor refugees until they apply for U.S. citizenship, or for about five years.
A few days after his latest airport trip, Abdel Rahman reflected on conflicts around the world that produce refugees. Inevitably, he came back to Sudan. He’s grateful that his family lives in the comparatively safe capital.
But, “they are frustrated because there are no job opportunities,” he said. “We’ll never get to the end of the tunnel. There is no light at the end.”
Such situations around the world mean Abdel Rahman won’t be out of a job anytime soon.
“We have to stop the production of refugees through wars, hunger, political and ethnic conflicts, economic problems,” he said. “If we manage to halt the sources of the production of refugees, we will live in a very peaceful world.”