As promised, a few stories

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).

An up-beat preview

That last post was kind of heavy.... I have some great stories to balance it but I have to leave for our JVC social justice retreat in ten minutes (because we don't spend enough time focusing on social justice). So I will give you a taste of what is to come:

--The suspicious Nepali family.......
--The case of the missing I-94 and the stripping Nepali man......(might be same family)
--School registration with the Afghanis
--The Iranian man who is REALLY lucky that he was resettled in Portland

Sorry that there is no time for the full tales now--but stay-tuned!!

Hoping for Results....

I often try to just focus on the funny, the positive, or the real learning-moments of my work for this blog. But to be honest, sometimes it is really overwhelming and tough. I will pour my heart and soul into trying to help a family and will get nowhere, things will fall through and forces beyond my control will foil plans. This week has been particularly tough. In the interest of honesty about my experience I would like to share these things with you. I also want to share a quote I have taped to my desk.
--I have spent dozens of hours trying to get this kid into basketball with the hope that participating in sports will help boost his performance in school (which has been dismal due to attitude problems). I got him in, convinced someone to pay for it, and gave him instructions to take the bus to practice. Then, inexplicably, his brothers and mother all signed up for an English class exactly when his practice would be so there is no available bus pass for him to use to get to practice. That same day I also got and email from a teacher saying that he is not paying attention in class and has been repeatedly late.
--I am having a serious disagreement with one of my coworkers about how to best approach a case. My coworker thinks one member of the family is being selfish and should be pressured to translate for/help the other; I think that this is not our place and that we need to back off. Meanwhile this family member burst into tears in front of me in our office, no one in the family is moving even close to self-sufficiency and their benefits end in two months.
--We just got informed that the state of Oregon is experiencing a budget shortfall and so is looking to cut DHS spending by 3.5%. To accomplish that, they want to cut the state refugee budget by 10%. But they counted all of the state refugee budget in that math (including, I think, federal money) even though the cuts would only come from the monthly benefits (TANF) pot. Much complicated math later (courtesy of yours truly) that means that refugee benefits could be cut by 48% (giving families only 4 months instead of 8 months to learn english and get a job--when only 17% of families are managing to do that on the current schedule). The alternative proposal is to cut overall DHS spending by 10% which, as proposed would equal a  97% cut in monthly benefits (i.e., 1 week of support to learn english and get a job). If this happened we would pretty much just have to end the current resettlement program.....

So, yeah, it has been rough. As promised, here is the quote:
(courtesy of Thomas Merton's "Letter to a young activist")
"Do not depend on the hope of results.  When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect.  As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the truth of the work itself.  And there, too, a great deal has to be gone through, as gradually as you struggle less and less for an idea, and more and more for specific people.  The range tends to narrow down, but it gets much more real.  In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything. "