Community Relations and Marketing Director Julie Reynolds Picot works with Refugee Services of St. Vincent Catholic Charities by educating the community through outreach. Here Reynolds Picot is in the Lansing office, located at 2800 W. Willow St., which has maps and items from countries around the world on display.
When the family stepped off the plane and into the airport, dazed after a flight halfway across the world, Alphonsine Busabusa was there waiting, smiling.
If there had been words, Busabasa might have said “Can I carry the baby?” and the tired mother might have said “Oh, please.” But instead, in the way only two women can communicate, the exchange was wordless.
The mother handed the baby to Busabusa, a case manager for St. Vincent Catholic Charities, one of many resettlement organizations within the U.S.
In the next six months, the family — refugees from Congo — will begin to build a new life in Lansing, with the support of Busabusa and many others. The nine members of this family are among many who travel to Lansing from countries across the world in search of refuge.
In 2009, about 600 refugees were relocated to Lansing, where they were provided a new house and found new jobs miles from home. And beginning from the first time they step off the plane in Lansing, a support network of community members will strive to make the transition easier, to make Lansing feel more like home.
“I say, ‘Oh, I’m here, I was waiting for you, wake up,” Busabusa said.
“And you’re right there. You hold their hands and they say ‘Oh, finally, we are with family.’”
“Winning the lottery for hope”
An estimated 42 million people in 2008 had fled their country because of a well-founded fear of persecution based on their race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group or political opinion, said Julie Reynolds Picot, the community relations and marketing director for St. Vincent.
They’re refugees, many of whom for years live in refugee camps with poor food and sanitation in an estimated 110 countries, she said. The United Nations checks these camps and designates people for resettlement, Picot said.
People are asked what the situation is, if they’re really refugees, if they really need to leave. Extensive interviews and background checks follow.
Of the world’s refugee population, 5 percent of refugees are resettled. One percent are resettled in the U.S., she said. They often are not given a choice of where they’re sent.
But the chance of being selected for resettlement again are slim, she said.
“It’s kind of like having lightning strike,” Picot said.
“It’s kind of like winning the lottery for hope and survival, so you don’t say no.”
In 2009, 3,600 refugees were relocated to Michigan, said Al Horn, director of Michigan’s Office of Refugee Services.
Lansing is welcoming. It has affordable housing and an effective form of public transportation.
For these reasons, Lansing has been one of several areas designated for refugee resettlement since the 1970s, Picot said.
Since that time, more than 15,000 refugees have been relocated in Lansing, she said.
They come as families or as unaccompanied minors. They come from Congo, Bhutan, Iraq.
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A refugee can be a pregnant woman, a 16-year-old child, a married couple.
“The trouble is, with history, so much is left in attics and memories,” Picot said.
“I think there are a lot of people who don’t realize how long we’ve been doing it. (Refugees) are our neighbors, you know?”
Arrival
They’re tired and scared when they first enter the airport, Busabusa said. They’re confused and don’t know what to do. They’ve likely just tasted American food for the first time on the plane and they probably didn’t like it.
Although the refugees won’t know who they are looking for, case workers know to look for the blue and white bags they carry.
“(The refugees) just follow the people, follow the light,” Busabusa said.
“They don’t know where to go. They’re coming slowly.”
During the last two weeks, 12 refugees came to Lansing as unaccompanied minors, said Sallie Campbell, a caseworker for Lutheran Social Services, which relocates refugees under age 18 who come without guardians.
“Sometimes they come in really late at night,” Campbell said.
“Most of the time, it’s during the day and we get to go out and meet them. They get off the plane and we show them around a little bit, take them to their new home.”
Children under the age of 18 are placed with foster families who volunteer to take them in, Campbell said. About 100 children typically come to the Lansing area in a year, but it varies by year, she said.
“Right now, things are pretty tight in Michigan and that certainly affects us because when people are worried about not being able to feed their families, pay their own mortgage, pay their own rent, they are not as interested in bringing a child into their home,” Campbell said.
A mentorship program connects the children with people — some of them MSU students — who show them around, help acclimate them to American culture, take them bowling, ice skating and to movies, she said.
“These are things these kids have never experienced before,” Campbell said.
A fresh start
Families that come into the U.S. have to start from scratch, Picot said. They are expected to be self-sufficient six months after they arrive — living independently of government subsidies.
After a family is picked up from the airport, they are taken to their new home, Harris said. Houses or apartments are arranged through landlords and furnished by St. Vincent.
Case workers walk the refugees through the home, Busabusa said. They show them how to use the stove and the toilet. They tell them not to open the door to strangers. They tell them to call 911 if there’s an emergency.
“And then you tell them, ‘OK, we’ll see you tomorrow,’” Busabusa said.
“And then in the morning, they’re waiting for you.”
For most families, it’s a difficult transition, St. Vincent resettlement director Judi Harris said. They worry about finding jobs and learning English, she said.
“Most people come to save their lives — they don’t have a choice,” she said.
“Most refugees, when they flee, it was either come here or we don’t know what’s going to happen to you, so they’re happy to be here. They’re happy to be alive.”
There is “incredible” support in the community, said Shirin Kambin Timms, executive director of the Refugee Development Center, which provides educational and social support to refugees.
About 375 people, many from MSU, volunteer each year to work with the about 350 refugees who utilize the services, she said.
Volunteers find motivation in the strength shown by the refugees, Timms said.
“You see what they’ve been through and it gives you hope and energy to keep going because they do,” she said.
“They keep on going and so we have to keep on going.”
For their part, case workers try to make the transition as easy as possible by connecting the refugees with support services and taking care of the little things, said Jeff Miles, an MSU graduate student and intern at St. Vincent. It’s the little things people don’t think about, he said.
“It’s how it is when you get someplace and you have a toothbrush and toothpaste waiting,” Miles said.
“Sometimes it’s just as simple as smiling, giving them the idea of, ‘Hey, you’re in a safe place now and we’re here to help,’ because with the language barrier, it is such a good thing if you can convey the fact that we’re here, we care, we’re going to take care of you. That goes a long, long way.”
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