The Middle of Everywhere (32 page)

Another day we invited the family to tour our house, only a moderately successful experience. Abraham hit his head on a lintel. Martha was afraid of our cat. We served hot chocolate with marshmallows, which the family disliked heartily. I asked if the food in Africa was spicy and Abraham said angrily that Africa was many countries.

Joseph kept commenting on how big our place was. They were all interested in our automatic fireplace. I switched it on, and then they switched it on and off many times. They asked about the wood, the heat, the lack of smoke of this "fire," and they held out their hands to see if they warmed up. We also had a greeting card from the Audubon Society with a computer chip inside that made bird sounds. All of them regarded the card as magic. Paul kept lifting the card and holding it to his ear and smiling as he heard the birds.

During our first few months of friendship, I wish I could claim I was always confident and patient. But I had many self-doubts. I wondered if the family even liked us, if they thought we were pushy, weird, or crazy. Sometimes, I felt they took us for granted. Once I got angry when I heard that on the same day that Abraham had told me everything was fine, he had cried in class. I told him I wanted to know how he was feeling and when he had problems. He was upset by my reprimand and I felt guilty later that I had troubled someone who had so much to cope with.

One day Joseph reminisced about grazing cows with his father along the Nile. He said he could recognize his father's cows in a herd of five thousand cattle. There were twenty words to describe the color of a cow and many other words to describe the shape of its horns, etc. Cattle were the currency of life, used to establish status, for bride prices, and for barter. Milk was considered the best food. Cattle were not commodities, but rather the Dinka's perfect partners.

Just as Dinka social and economic life in Africa was organized around cows, in America it was organized around cars. Holtzman quoted a Nuer man as saying, "A car is a bad cow." Nuer and Dinka men in America wanted cars. Cars turned a supplicant into a patron. Men helped each other get money for down payments for old beaters.

Unfortunately, many Sudanese men drove their cars before they obtained driver's licenses, insurance, or registration. They were ripped off by used-car dealers all too eager to exploit their lack of sophistication. And they didn't understand much about car maintenance or mechanics. Holtzman reported that within three years of buying a car, over 84 percent of the Nuer had an accident, abandoned their car because it didn't work, or had it repossessed.

The second day Joseph worked, he asked us to help him buy a car. We told him it was better to wait until he had a license and a little money. We made up our own slogan, "A bike is a good cow."

We stressed that bikes are cheap, easy to maintain, and don't require having a license, paying taxes, or buying gas. Also a person is unlikely to get in trouble with the law on a bike. We found two bikes for the family and bought helmets.

But, by the next week, Joseph had bought a car with the help of Sudanese friends. He now had the extra financial burden of a monthly car payment. In spite of his poverty, Joseph was a responsible car owner. Insurance cost him almost a thousand dollars every six months, but he bought it. And he passed his driver's test. He became one of the main drivers for people in the Sudanese community. Jim taught him how to check the oil.

A couple of weeks later Joseph proudly showed us a pay stub. Jim taught him basic bookkeeping and stressed he must never write more checks than he had money to cover. We helped him formulate a budget. Joseph was making $1,100 a month. Abraham had lost his job when the spring semester ended and the sorority women went home. Joseph's salary supported four people and his car, and soon he would need to pay our government $200 a month to repay the cost of four plane tickets to America. The government no longer helped with food stamps and there was barely enough money for food. Joseph said, "We do not eat much."

I was angry when I looked at the numbers. Joseph had been deprived of a childhood and now he was locked into an adulthood working difficult jobs for less than a livable wage. I wished our country would make it a little easier for him and his family. At the very least, we shouldn't be charging them for their plane tickets. If they paid that bill, they would go hungry for many months. And they had to pay it, or their refugee status could be compromised.

Postscript

Eight months after their arrival, the family is adjusting to Nebraska. They are leaders in the Sudanese community and they help newcomers from Kakuma fit in. Their apartment is often filled with people who have stopped by for a visit or to ask for help. I am honored to be their friend.

Joseph works long hours, drives many Sudanese to their job interviews and dental appointments, and pursues his GED. I have yet to see him angry, rude, or upset with anyone. He has, however, taken up smoking.

Abraham has successfully completed a year of high school. He is popular at school and in the Sudanese community. He wants to go to college and become a policeman. Right now he is looking for a summer job.

Martha is learning to read. Her English has improved greatly and she is the star of her sewing class. She has developed a fondness for fried chicken, red soda pop, and orange "lemons." We have a close relationship. Martha said to me, "I am always happy with you. I pray to God all the time that He will make you happy."

Paul plays basketball and loves to swim. He had one bike stolen but was given another one by Mad Dads. He likes pizza, Pepsi, and Zesto ice-cream cones. He recently worked a day for a neighbor and was paid his first American money. He immediately spent the twenty dollars on a video game.

I worry the most about Paul, who is young and easily influenced. His older siblings are busy and he has too much un-supervised free time. The family lives next door to a halfway house for registered sex offenders and men recently released from prison. Paul spends his days wandering around the neighborhood. He might as well be wearing a T-shirt with
VULNERABLE
written on it. I am worried bad company will find him. This summer he is in summer school and day camp. I hope that is enough structure to protect him until he returns to school in the fall.

The Kakuma refugees are wonderful people with almost all the attributes of resilience. They are survivors on a level I can hardly imagine. However, even as I admire and cherish them, I worry about their future. They have been terribly traumatized and their history is one of physical and developmental deprivation. They are young and have missed many of the lessons that parents teach their children. They come from a culture as different from ours as is possible. Most of what they do know about the world isn't useful here.

Furthermore, their external environment in Nebraska is harsh. The bleak situation is that a twenty-two-year-old, utterly
unprepared for modern life, with limited education and skills, is supporting four people and paying off travel debts on a minimum-wage job. Joseph recently told me, "In America we are protected from animals and people who want to kill us, but it is very hard to stay alive."

"
Sierra Leone is the worstest place on earth.
"

I picked Mohamed and Bintu up at their basement apartment, which was in the same building as the Kakuma family's apartment. Their place was sparkly clean and African-style in arrangement with several couches and a small television tuned to cartoons. They had been in America about two weeks and already colorful stuffed animals were on display and library books were piled up on their coffee table.

This was a gentle couple, clear-eyed and kindhearted. Mohamed had a wise, respectful demeanor. He was formal and unfailingly polite. Bintu was small, round, and effusive. She smiled and hugged easily. Bintu wore her hair in tight braids laced with colored beads. They spoke English, but Sierra Leone English is different from Nebraska English and there were times we had trouble understanding each other. Still, we muddled along on our mutual goodwill. I gave Bintu some jonquils and she laughed and put them in a juice glass.

We drove to a small coffee shop not far from the employment office. I bought us hot tea and we settled into a corner table. I asked where they were from and what brought them to Lincoln. Mohamed was born in a village in 1970, which made him one year older than my own son. Bintu was born in Freetown in 1973, which placed her age between that of my son and daughter.

Mohamed said he had a happy peaceful childhood. Many people remember their lives before a war or tragedy as a sort of Eden or Camelot, a time of innocence and happiness, and Mohamed was this way. He remembered that at dusk all the people in his village would gather and tell stories. He said softly, "They were very good stories."

He described his school without any irony as "built by our colonial masters for the sons of chiefs." He said it was an expensive school and his parents worked hard to pay his tuition there.

Bintu also had a happy family with four sisters and three brothers. Her mother stayed home to care for the family and her father ran a shop. She attended a private school, but what she remembered with a smile was how much her family liked soccer. She said, "I grew up watching soccer."

Then the war came to Sierra Leone, first to the rural areas, then to the cities. The war was started by outsiders who wanted to destabilize Liberia and Sierra Leone. At first, the people accepted the rebels. They'd had twenty years of a dictatorship and were ready for a change. The military overthrew the dictatorship and they invited the rebels to join them. But later there was a split between the military and the rebels. Civil war broke out. Sierra Leone became, to quote Bintu, "the worstest place on earth."

Mohamed explained that he had encouraged people in his little hamlet to vote and work for democracy. Thus, he was targeted early as someone to be killed. When the soldiers came to his house he was away at a meeting. Perhaps his family would have fled earlier but they were waiting for him. He had heard that if the family didn't stick together they could lose each other forever, so he had warned them to wait until he returned.

Mohamed wasn't there when two of his brothers were stabbed with machetes and his two sisters were "raped to death" in front of his father, who was forced to applaud while this happened. It took Mohamed three months to get back home. First he heard everyone was dead, then he discovered that one brother had survived. He said, "I tried to focus on my joy about that brother."

Mohamed escaped to Freetown where he met Bintu. She was lively and pretty and had her own fabric business. They decided to marry and later they had three children.

Bintu told me what happened next. As part of her business she traveled in the provinces to sell and buy cloth. She said, "One day my car was ambushed. I was abducted by the rebels and taken into the bush. I was kept for eight months and guarded all the time so that I couldn't escape."

She said softly, "I had to cook. I had to do whatever they told me to do."

Finally the rebels went into Freetown. When they entered the city they used children as human shields. This tactic worked for them, as the other soldiers had a hard time shooting innocent kids. There was a great battle between the rebels and the West African Intervention Force. During the chaos Bintu escaped. She said, "I was totally naked. I ran and ran until I came to the houses of my friends." These friends were afraid to open their doors, but eventually someone did help her. She was able to escape to the camp in Ghana.

Bintu lifted the shirt from her back and her arms and showed me the deep scars she had from being beaten by the rebels. She said her faith helped her survive. She had been Muslim but was now a born-again Christian. She was deeply grateful that "God kept me safe" and that Mohamed remained her husband after she had been kidnapped by rebels. She said, "Many men in my culture wouldn't have stayed."

Meanwhile Mohamed was in a terrible situation. In the chaos of the war, he had been separated from their children. There was an attack on Freetown, one of the bloodiest attacks in the history of the world. Hundreds of houses were burned. Six thousand people, including children, had their limbs chopped off. Mohamed said, "We are a nation of amputees."

During the war, Mohamed heard that someone had seen his brother with the children. But almost immediately afterward the area where his brother and children were seen was bombed. He hasn't been able to find out what happened to them. Mohamed also heard that Bintu had been killed. Later he heard she was alive. He had no real idea, just rumors.

Eventually Mohamed escaped to a refugee camp in Ghana. As the war raged on, refugees with terrible stories flooded into Ghana. Sierra Leone was out of control. The rebels abducted five hundred United Nations peacekeepers. For almost a year there was no government at all. The illiterate rebels closed all the schools. If people went to work, they risked being shot by one group; but if they didn't go to work, another group would kill them. There was no way to be safe or stay out of trouble. If people were on certain lists they could be killed by some groups, but if they were not on those lists, others would kill them. No one knew how to stay alive.

Many of the survivors of the disasters in Sierra Leone arrived at the camp in Ghana. Mohamed escaped Freetown and made it to the camp where he was elected to the executive council. He showed me pictures of a communal cleanup to prevent cholera, of women cooking, and of a party at the camp with feasting and dancing. But it was a hard life; the huts were filled with snakes and scorpions; many girls became pregnant because they gave themselves to men for food.

Mohamed helped people who were traumatized. He said that people avoided anyone who had seen them tortured or raped in Sierra Leone. They felt humiliated around people who knew what had happened to them. When people first arrived they trusted no one, but gradually they would trust again. Mohamed talked people into eating, joining a work group, and registering to look for family members. He felt the cures for all the pain were love, work, and communal events. Food and laughter were important to healing.