Again, I apologize for the delay in story updates--we had to go do JVC which means no access to technology for the better part of a week. So allow me to catch you up on a few gems:
The suspicious Nepali family: I got to do my first airport pickup on my own. I was sent to meet three Nepali siblings and deliver them to their sponsor family (cousins) in the states. The sponsor had my cell number and we agreed to meet outside of security [side note: we don't normally have to go to the airport to meet someone if they have family willing to go for us. The sponsor family was settled by another volunteer agency, however, and my supervisor's competitive streak kicked in--she wanted us "to look good in comparison" so I was sent] I got to security and was looking around for a nepali family but couldn't find anyone who fit the part. I called the cell number and realized I was standing next to the sponsor--he was a punk-looking twenty-something yr. old with a smart phone (someone has been doing some acculturating). The three siblings arrived without incidence and we managed to get them back to the sponsor's apartment--where there was an AK-47 made out of cardboard and tape hanging on the wall above the couch with a pair of handcuffs (no accounting for decorating taste). It only got weirder when the family started hinting they wanted me to leave--before we ate anything! I usually have to beg a Nepali family to stop feeding me and these guys wanted me to go without even a cup of tea....weird. It got even weirder when I picked them up for an appointment two days later and they were eating lunch with spoons and forks (not their hands). This family perplexes me.
The missing I-94: [background info necessary to appreciate this story--the I-94 is a 4"x6" piece of cardstock that serves as a temporary passport that every refugee is given that says "Refugee" and gives them permission to be in the United States. It is their ticket to social services and is what allows them to cross borders] So I picked up the three Nepali siblings to go get social security cards (this is the same day I saw them eating with silverware and was really thrown off). It seemed to be our lucky day because we got a great parking space (right by the door), the office was completely empty when we got there (we still had to wait fifteen minutes, because, you know, it was the social security office) and we had all the correct paperwork so it was no problem to get the cards. We got back in the car and started driving home when one of the brothers said "I lost the little paper." I swerved to the side of the road and we started checking pockets, folders, seats, etc. After a thorough check we didn't find it so I returned to the social security office. There I searched the entire waiting room, combed the parking lot, watched the security guard search behind the counter through all of the papers, and finally dug through the trashcans just in case someone threw it away. The siblings walked 2-3 blocks up and down the street in case the wind blew it away. It was NOWHERE to be found. The Nepali guy was (understandably) freaking out--his sister kept repeating "very bad, very bad." I finally put a stop to the search when they started stripping his clothes off (it was unlikely to be in his pants--and he couldn't afford to get arrested for public indecency since he now did not have ID). I reassured the guy that he was not going to be sent back to Nepal and I finally called the case manager to break the bad news (she then asked me "well did you look in the car or in the waiting room?"). Crazy thing is, it turns out that the only thing he absolutely needed the original I-94 for was applying for a social security card--everything else can be done with copies (which we have). As long as he stays in the state of Oregon for the next year (till he can get a green card) it's okay he literally lost it 2 seconds after it didn't completely matter. We never did find that I-94--it was literally 40 feet from the counter to the car and it completely vanished .
Afghani family-- This one was a tougher story. An Afghani family was just referred to us for school registration and since there were five kids, I got to help. These kids are so stinkin' cute! And they are really polite and have just enough english to completely charm you. I was so happy to get them into school but there were a few heart-breaking moments. First, when we remarked how responsible and self-confident the 11yr old boy was we were told that it was because when they lived in Iran he was the "man of the household" (Dad was killed in the war) and so he was the one who had to earn a living for the family--so he worked in a store for several years (which would make him 7 at the time). I made paper airplanes with him while his mom was filling out paperwork and I decided that I wanted to make a special effort of helping him to remember how to be a kid again. The second sad moment was when the 18 yr. old tried to register for highschool. Amazingly, the local school agreed to take her and she was thrilled to continue her studies. But then the case manager had to break it too her that if she enrolled in school she would automatically drop out of the job-placement program and her family would lose $300/mo in cash assistance. Since they could not afford their bills without that she had to make the really tough decision to not enroll in school and instead pursue a job. Another tale of kids having to grow up too fast....
The really lucky Iranian man: We just resettled an Iranian man who used to be a woman before surgery in Thailand (primary reason he is now a refugee). He is joining his partner in portland--a woman who used to be a man. He is really sweet and polite and every time I see him I think "man, is he LUCKY he got settled in Portland and not Utah or the midwest." That feeling was underscored when one of the case managers reported that she is pretty sure she smelled weed at their apartment (we aren't doing anything about it--we are case managers, not baby sitters). Again, it is hard to think of a better place for this couple to have landed than in Portlandia--they will fit right in.
BONUS STORY: I did my second airport pickup today--a somali mom and son. Time was tight so I had to pick up groceries and a few appliances for their apartment on the way to the airport. I figured that we could squeeze in their two or three IOM duffel bags into the backseat with the kid. Turns out they had SEVEN bags, six of which were large roller-bags that were 40lb+. I did not see that one coming (and I had to bust out my amazing tetris skills in the honda once again).
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