Visiting a Syrian Refugee Family

Helping refugees assimilate means helping them pull together all of the pieces of their new lives. Can you imagine the all changes?

This family arrived from Turkey. They had lived in a refugee camp for four years after fleeing Syria. The youngest boy was born in Turkey, he'll be three years old May 1 (Will he like the same toys as my boy did at 3??)

The first month included beginning English class, understanding how the home functions from lights, stoves, and refrigerators. How public transportation works, U.S. currency and grocery shopping in oversized stores. This Syrian family of seven that arrived in January (2017), are full of smiles and have a genuine desire to learn (a fourth) language and get involved in working and new opportunities.

Their duplex home is probably 700 square feet and their front door is five feet from a busy, four lane, south St. Louis street. The front, living room is sparse of decorations, nothing on the walls except one of those mirrored pictures of a mosque. The few couches and end tables were donated. It's very tidy or maybe empty is a better description.

The oldest of the five children is 23 years old. She seemed so excited and curious about my visit. She had a lot of questions and having a common language was our barrier. By the way, Google translate works best in short, simple sentences. For example, "I would like to meet you on Friday." "I will be here at 12:00." Seems to work versus "In order to get your driver's license, you first need to take a written exam." Too many words and a more complicated concept, seems to not translate so well.  I spent several hours using simple words to describe myself and my life, where I was from, refugee work done in the U.S. and Europe, and describing my family as well as showing pictures of my kids.

After several hours of "communicating" I had the privilege of meeting the other children as they came home from school. One by one they extended their hand to me and in heavy accents said: "nice to meet you", each of them had a big smile. When the youngest, an eight year old girl, shook my hand and smiled, a part of my heart began to melt, she's adorable and seemed so happy. She took off her coat and observed me talking to the older three. I felt so honored to be the one in their home. The one trying to be a bridge, a friend. I was amazed at how quickly the afternoon flew by. When I emerged out of their little home, into the bustling traffic, my surroundings seemed a bit surreal. The last four hours could have been spent in another country.

"God bless them in their journey." As I left they said God is with me. I agreed. For all of us, language learning and helping each other grow takes time. Just like a good friendship does.