TWIN FALLS -- In darkness, the man pulled two suitcases out of the white van and the woman unloaded two children. Curtains dimmed the windows of nearby houses. Overhead, a tree shook as cold wind whipped through its leaves.
Somewhere in the darkness lay the family’s new home, in an unfamiliar country.
Barely able to see the sidewalk, refugee Kanegamba Mulabwe carried his family’s bags — everything he owns — toward the steps of an apartment building. Following a College of Southern Idaho Refugee Center employee, and trailed by an interpreter and a community volunteer, Mulabwe lugged his suitcases to the top of the stairs and stopped at the door marked B.
Resettlement manager Chandra Upreti unlocked the door, flipped on the lights and immediately took Mulabwe and his wife, Beatrice Bahati, to the refrigerator.
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Their orientation had begun: a crash course in American living for a couple accustomed to washing their clothes in buckets in a crowded, hungry refugee camp.
Upreti pointed out the list of emergency numbers tacked to the refrigerator door: fire department, police. He identified items inside: milk, orange juice and the grapes he pulled from the bottom drawer. Interpreter Akembe Bilombele repeated the names in Swahili.
“Hopefully you have something similar back home?” Upreti asked.
Home was the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where Bahati’s family disappeared and Mulabwe’s parents were killed.
After three years of awaiting approval, Mulabwe, 26, Bahati, 22, and their children, Sarah, 3, and Daniel, 1, passed security checks and were approved to come to the U.S. The family left the Dzaleka Refugee Camp in Malawi, a country in southeastern Africa, and arrived in Twin Falls on Nov. 16 — eight hours after Gov. C.L. “Butch” Otter sent a letter urging President Obama to halt refugee resettlement.
That night, Mulabwe and Bahati knew nothing about the anti-refugee backlash that followed Nov. 13 terrorist attacks in Paris which killed 130 people. Their midnight orientation took all their attention.
That night was the first act in a rapid, scripted series of lessons meant to introduce refugees to life in America and prepare them for self-sufficiency. More than 300 refugees made that transition in Twin Falls last year, but today’s new arrivals build new lives in a community where opinions on refugee resettlement are deeply divided and opponents are vocal.
That night, the Times-News launched a special project: following Mulabwe and Bahati for a year. The couple silently took it all in as Upreti rattled off appliances and groceries on the kitchen counter. Now and then, Mulabwe muttered, “Hmm, OK.”
He recognized a package of dry beans. Other things were not completely strange. He and his wife had seen apartments with electricity and showers before, but only from afar. Those places were used by United Nations guests or other officials, not by refugees.
Now Mulabwe would learn to use a vacuum cleaner inside an apartment that was to be his new home.
As Upreti showed her parents the vacuum, Sarah squatted to take a closer look. She didn’t flinch when it whirled to life, and she watched mesmerized as Upreti made a few swipes across the carpet.
When it was Mulabwe’s turn, he copied Upreti’s motions. Bahati smiled as her husband pushed the machine across the floor.
• • •
Mulabwe and Bahati traveled for two days to reach their new home in south-central Idaho.
They flew from Malawi to South Africa on Nov. 15, arriving in New York City the next morning. They boarded a flight to Salt Lake City and reached Twin Falls at about 10:40 p.m. Nov. 16.
Walking through the glass doors of the terminal, they recognized a smiling face: Bilombele, a fellow DR Congo refugee who lived in the Dzaleka camp and relocated to Twin Falls in August.
Bilombele didn’t know Mulabwe and Bahati were the refugees scheduled to arrive in Twin Falls until that moment. They’d been only data on a page.
Grinning, Bilombele turned to Upreti, telling him he knew the family.
They were only acquaintances in Dzaleka. But in a new country of strangers, any acquaintance matters.
• • •
The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees established the Dzaleka camp in 1994 in response to a wave of people fleeing genocide, violence and wars in Burundi, Rwanda and the DR Congo. About 23,000 refugees live in the camp.
Living in a makeshift shelter among those thousands, Mulabwe and Bahati started the relocation process before Sarah’s birth. While they waited for security screening, Daniel, too, was born. Now Bahati is about six months pregnant. Their third child will be the first U.S. citizen in the family.
The young couple’s priority is to provide their children a safe environment to grow up. In the refugee camp, they were given food, but never enough. They made homes with scraps of wood.
“It’s very difficult to live like that with a family,” Mulabwe said, speaking through an interpreter.
Mulabwe was apprehensive to fly because it was his first time. However, he felt at peace as the airplane descended and he saw the twinkling lights of Twin Falls. He would finally be able to provide safety for his family.
“For real, God has brought us from a place of war to a place of opportunity,” he said.
Arriving in Twin Falls meant his children would not have to experience the things he saw. The things he tries to forget. The ones that still give him nightmares from which he wakes up crying.
• • •
The last time Mulabwe was in the DR Congo, he was running away as fast as he could.
Mulabwe grew up in the city of Uvira. Life was good before the war, he said. He lived with his mother and father and went to school.
Then rebels came to the teenage Mulabwe’s house and killed his parents. He ran. He saw other people being killed, and he ran faster.
His story is like that of thousands of others from the DR Congo who fled across the borders to neighboring countries.
“It’s a sad experience because you are not even thinking of grabbing anything,” Mulabwe said in Swahili as Mary Lupumba interpreted.
Initially, he considered a long walk to South Africa to find a job. But in Malawi, after passing through Tanzania, he met others who had fled from the DR Congo. They told him about a refugee camp.
Mulabwe told the bare facts of his story in answer to a reporter’s questions, with Lupumba explaining the questions to him and giving short answers in English.
That Nov. 27 interview, Mulabwe said, was the first time anyone except resettlement officials and fellow refugees had asked about his painful past. He told Lupumba to say that he didn’t like answering those questions. But he and his wife spoke more openly with the Times-News during later visits, and more of their story emerged.
Mulabwe lived in the Dzaleka camp for seven years. That’s where he met Bahati, a refugee from the DR Congo with a similar story — except she doesn’t know where her family is. They disappeared five years ago. Does she think they are dead? She doesn’t know, she answered. They just disappeared.
When Mulabwe and Bahati met, they shared their stories of tragedy. They have been married for four years.
“She is beautiful. I can’t explain,” Mulabwe said, waiting Nov. 18 for his next orientation at the CSI Refugee Center.
Bahati smiled, bringing her hand — the one with her silver wedding ring — to her face as she laughed. The simple band matches the one on her husband’s left hand.
“They went to Malawi as refugees to look for where they can live in peace,” interpreter Bilombele said, “and by chance, they came to America.”
• • •
The family’s first-night crash course was just the beginning of a long string of orientation sessions. There’s a lot to learn.
“This is laundry detergent to wash the clothes,” Upreti said that night, pointing to a bottle on the kitchen counter.
“This is the time,” Upreti said, picking up a clock still in its box. “Right now it’s 11:34.”
In another 12 hours, in daylight, he would be back at the apartment to finish his spiel and go over any questions.
“I know it’s a lot of information and you are tired,” he said, then turned to the interpreter. “I’ll come tomorrow after some time and we will teach them again to use everything.”
Every refugee family settled by CSI arrives to an apartment furnished simply: a couch, paid for by a federal grant. A table. A chair for each person.
On the afternoon of Nov. 16, Upreti readied the apartment for the family, with the help of his wife and father.
They unpacked boxes of new cookware — plates, bowls, silverware — and lined up the dishes on the counter. They hung blue towels, with tags still attached, on the bathroom rack. They assembled metal bed frames and covered the mattresses in sheets, pillows and comforters.
“When I came here, I did not know how to make a bed,” Upreti said. “It depends on where they are coming from. So I make the bed just to be safe.”
The apartment is furnished according to U.S. Department of State guidelines. The refrigerator and cabinets are stocked with culturally appropriate food to last for three days. A hot meal is prepared for the family’s arrival — in this case, fried chicken.
Upreti was born in Bhutan and lived most of his life in a Nepalese refugee camp. His family, like many ethnic Nepalis, fled Bhutan during a government campaign of discrimination and detainment against them. In 2008, Upreti and his family were granted refugee status and relocated to Twin Falls. In 2013 — five years after arriving on American soil — Upreti and other members of his family became U.S. citizens in a Boise ceremony.
Now, Upreti takes the lead on preparation for the CSI Refugee Center’s new arrivals. He took pictures as he went from room to room in the apartment meant for Mulabwe and Bahati.
“We take pictures because we are charging” the federal grant account, he said. “It’s proof we give to them.”
The Refugee Center buys everything in bulk and has about 200 mattresses in storage. A mattress costs $45, and the box spring is $20. Rent, also funded by the federal grant, is $600 a month, including all utilities except electricity. Upreti puts receipts in each family’s folder.
For the first couple of weeks following refugees’ arrival, they are busy with orientations, appointments to apply for Social Security cards and food stamps and enrolling in English classes. In their newcomer orientation, they are told to watch their children at all times and to pay for things they pick up at the store.
• • •
The only identification documents Mulabwe and Bahati have are I-9’s, forms that authorize refugees to work because of their immigration status. For now the parents carry laminated yellow cards with their address and the Refugee Center’s number in case they get lost in town.
Upreti gave Mulabwe and Bahati their yellow cards on their second day in Twin Falls — the day CSI’s board and administrators issued a statement saying they support Otter’s call for a federal review of the refugee vetting process. As soon as Upreti slid the cards across the table, Sarah took one and started off to play with her brother. Bahati grabbed her before she could get far.
That card is important. So is the mail they’ll find in their mailbox, Upreti explained.
“If you do not understand, bring it to the Refugee Center,” Upreti said.
The day after arriving, a refugee family is allowed to make a short call back home to let friends or family know they arrived safely, and they are given their first pocket-money check. Each adult gets $200 per month and $40 per child for the first three months.
“It’s not a lot of money if you have to buy diapers and wipes,” Upreti said.
The Refugee Center will pay the family’s rent and electricity bill for the first five months. They qualify for food stamps and Medicaid at first, but Upreti said many refugees don’t stay on them for long because they start working quickly.
“The goal is get them to work so they don’t rely on the system,” Upreti said. “We have people here one month and they are to work.”
Within five months, refugees must be completely on their own and start paying back the cost of their airplane tickets on a 36-month payment plan. Before then, it is their responsibility to learn English as quickly and as well as they can. It’s not optional. If they don’t attend classes, they will lose their funding early.
“English is very important in this country, so you can be self-sufficient,” Upreti told the couple.
• • •
Two weeks after their arrival, Mulabwe and Bahati settled into a schedule: Four days a week, he rode the Refugee Center van to take English classes for two hours in the morning, then she went in the afternoon while he watched the children.
On Nov. 30, the first day of his English as a Second Language class, Mulabwe was given a packet of papers to fill out — a language evaluation. He was asked to write his name, address and date of birth. Another paper asked him to fill in missing letters from the alphabet. In the room where he sat, other refugees worked on computers, wearing headphones.
The next page asked him to choose crayons to identify colors. Mulabwe tested several shades before deciding on a crayon for the “green” space on his worksheet.
“What color is it?” ESL teacher Hawng Lum Tangbau asked, looking over his shoulder and pointing to another space.
“Red,” Mulabwe replied.
“What do you speak? Swahili, French — and English?” Tangbau asked.
“Ah,” Mulabwe said, putting his fingers together to convey “a little.”
• • •
On Thanksgiving Day, in a Twin Falls living room large enough to hold two long tables and a piano, only Mulabwe and Bahati sat at a table as other adults mingled in the kitchen and children ran around the living room, screaming and playing.
Sarah stood nearby watching the other children play, then started off in their direction. Bahati told her in Swahili to sit down, but Lupumba encouraged her to let the girl play.
Mulabwe and Bahati had been invited to Thanksgiving dinner by their assigned mentor, Allison Bangerter, a Twin Falls volunteer. Bangerter’s job is to help them acclimate to their new home. She was at the airport to greet them Nov. 16, armed with the Swahili words for “welcome to America,” a fruitcake wrapped in plastic and pictures that her four children drew for the family.
“I just thought they needed help, and it sounded like a great opportunity,” Bangerter said. “I wanted to do something that involved my family, so my children could meet people from another culture and learn how to serve.”
On Nov. 26 — five days after 1,000 protesters and counter-protesters on opposite sides of the refugee resettlement issue demonstrated in front of the Idaho Capitol — Bangerter was in the kitchen preparing a feast as members of her extended family milled around the room.
Sarah found a kaleidoscope and held it to her face. A young woman asked her if she could see anything and showed her how to look through it out the window. Sarah disappeared down a hallway, toward children’s bedrooms, then re-emerged with a red balloon. Balloons are her favorite thing, her dad said.
The two long tables were set with paper plates decorated with fall leaves and plastic cups filled with pink punch.
Outside, snow fell softly and steadily in clumps. Before Idaho, the newcomers had never seen snow. When they touched it, it was wet, a surprise to the children.
“During cultural orientation they were told when it gets cold, it snows,” said Lupumba, invited to her first Thanksgiving dinner to interpret.
Lupumba and 10 relatives arrived in Twin Falls in October from Zambia, an English-speaking country in Africa. This winter was Lupumba’s first snow, too.
• • •
Bahati never took off her heavy coat during Thanksgiving dinner.
That coat was only a week old. She and her husband arrived in Twin Falls wearing coats that weren’t heavy enough for the Idaho cold. Two days later, Upreti took Mulabwe and Bahati to Walmart to shop for winter coats and shoes. At first, Mulabwe unknowingly shopped in the women’s section, choosing a navy blue coat with fur trim. Redirected toward the men’s section, he found that many of the coats were too large. He selected a lightweight coat but put it back after Upreti told him he would need something heavier.
As Bahati looked through racks of coats, she left her shiny black purse on the floor. She picked out matching polka dot coats for her daughter and son.
The day of the shopping trip was cold and windy. Before Thanksgiving at the Bangerter house, Sarah would trade in her sandals for socks and shoes.
Bangerter had heard about the mentor program on the radio.
“If I was a refugee, that is what I would like,” Bangerter said. “If I were going to Malawi and I didn’t know Swahili, and I didn’t know anything, how helpful would it be if someone there welcomed me? I think it’s like the Golden Rule. That’s how I would want to be welcomed.”
As everyone lined up to fill their plates, Bangerter pointed out different foods on the table.
“So in America, we have turkey,” she said. “Do you have turkey in Africa? No? It’s like a big chicken.”
Mulabwe added familiar items to his plate, such as corn and bread, but paused when he got to the bowl of gelatin.
“What’s this?” Lupumba asked.
“It’s Jell-O with whipped cream,” Bangerter replied, as Lupumba repeated in Swahili. Mulabwe decided not to sample it and placed the spoon back in the bowl.
In Malawi, the family ate dishes made of cornmeal, beans, beef, chicken and pork. As Mulabwe described the “white corn” they ate, Bangerter left the table and went downstairs. She returned to hand him a huge can of hominy. It was the white corn he was talking about.
When Bangerter’s husband, Joel, explained that farmers in Twin Falls use irrigation to water their crops, Mulabwe seemed surprised.
Back home, Mulabwe said, people are preparing to plant their crops for the rainy season. They plant corn, sweet potatoes, potatoes and tapioca.
He feels lonely sometimes because he misses home.
• • •
With the holiday break approaching, the ESL classes Mulabwe and Bahati are required to take were put on hold for two weeks. There would be no orientations, either. Bangerter left town to spend the holidays with family.
Mulabwe and Bahati do not have family in the U.S., so they would spend most days inside their apartment. Mulabwe expected to be busy with the new cellphone he got at the mall — the phone he put to heavy use taking photos of his family at a Dec. 11 Christmas party for refugees organized by Lighthouse Christian Church. A woman in a Santa hat offered to take a photo of the whole family at the table. Another photo shows Daniel posing in front of a lighted Christmas tree.
“I think they are doing great. They are doing OK,” Upreti said earlier that week. “They speak some English, and they keep their house clean. The goal of the Refugee Center is to help you adapt to your new environment. The longer you stay, the more you will feel comfortable here.”
Bilombele and his wife, Zaina Kirirwa, live a couple of blocks away, and the two families quickly began visiting each other. Mulabwe and Bahati, who are Christian, got rides to Sunday church services from a church member. But during the holidays, they wouldn’t have anyone to drive them to the grocery store and the mall like Bangerter did.
Bangerter took Bahati to a laundromat Dec. 8 and taught her how to insert dollars into the change machine and start the washing machines. It was their first outing without an interpreter.
“Do you want to practice English?” Bangerter asked Bahati. “Yeah? OK.”
While the clothes washed, Bangerter pointed to her hand, nose, shoulder and mouth, naming them in English. Bahati repeated the words.
“Teeth,” Bangerter said. Bahati pointed to her front teeth.
“Ah, yes, good,” Bangerter said.
Mixed with the sounds of sloshing water, the voice of a Fox News reporter drifted from a television in an attendant’s nearby office. The on-screen reporter talked about Obama allowing terrorists to come into the country.
On Dec. 2, Syed Farook and Tashfeen Malik opened fire at a holiday party at the Inland Regional Center in San Bernardino. The following weekend, someone spray painted the Islamic Center of Twin Falls with the words “Hunt Camp?” — probably a reference to the internment camp north of Eden where the U.S. government moved some 13,000 Americans of Japanese descent after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in World War II.
As Bangerter and Bahati practiced English vocabulary, both women’s children snacked on bananas and oranges. Again and again, Bangerter’s youngest daughter redirected Daniel away from the door that led to the parking lot.
Bahati began to count: “1, 2, 3, 4 ...” When she got to 21, she fumbled a little and said “23” instead.
“Twenty-two,” Bangerter corrected.
“Ah,” Bahati said, throwing back her head in embarrassment.
“No, you did good,” Bangerter said, leaning forward and looking into her face.
She visited the family later in December, bringing an old VCR and movies. A tiny tube television from the Refugee Center sat on plastic drawers in the corner of the living room. But without an antenna it doesn’t pick up any channels. Now the children can watch the “The Lion King” and “The Jungle Book.”
After the holidays, Bangerter planned to attend mentor meetings she’d just learned about and — despite the language barrier — invite Bahati and the children to library and community activities.
• • •
In mid-December, the pregnant Bahati was waiting on a Medicaid referral to establish a family doctor so she could start checkups, and she said she felt tired and lazy because of her pregnancy. Soon, her husband will begin searching for a job — after an orientation class that teaches the expectations and rules of employment. In April, the month they expect their baby to be born, he will have to start paying the rent and the electricity bill that comes to his house. In May, the two must start repaying their plane tickets.
Mulabwe was exhausted when he arrived home Dec. 8 after a six-hour orientation. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy as he joined his wife at the dining room table, where she peeled potatoes for their meal of fried potatoes and eggs.
That night could resemble nights to come: Mulabwe coming home late from a long day of work. His wife preparing supper as the children play. Perhaps she’ll be returning from work, as well. They may even keep attending ESL classes, the ones held on nights and weekends.
But that stress is tomorrow’s problem, and Mulabwe relaxed as Daniel found his usual spot on his father’s lap.
Soon after supper, Daniel fell asleep in his father’s arms, and the quiet man dressed the sleeping boy in pajamas.