Former gang members start new lives with West Valley program

by JAIME WINSTON

Gang colors are prohibited at Project 180 in West Valley City.

“During a normal meeting they have to wear a white T-shirt and cover tattoos and any gang markings,” said Kenny Dorrell, director of the gang intervention program.

Project 180 teaches students, who are court ordered or voluntary participants, strategies to leave the gang life. Dorrell and other mentors meet with the youth Tuesday and Wednesday nights at the West Valley Community Center. The group is succeeding in reaching the needs of the former and current gangbangers.

“We’re growing big time,” said Richard Pendarvis, program director at the WVCC. “We’re at 20 active students right now, which is the most we’ve been at in a long time.”

According to Project 180’s mission statement, the program replaces gang components of students’ lives with resources and opportunities for success. The official launch date was summer 2006. Although the group is in West Valley, participants come from all around the Salt Lake area.

The students can play pool or X-Box before a meeting starts and guidance begins. Most members are about 16 and each has to go through an interview process before being admitted. “We like to have a good environment where the kids feel comfortable,” Dorrell said. “But the real strength is in our mentorship. We get involved with them and try to befriend them.”

Dorrell shares his own gang experiences with the students. Growing up in Salt Lake, his friends and older brothers were in gangs. By the time he was 10, he wanted to be in one too. Dorrell’s father enrolled him in a private Christian school to keep him away from that lifestyle. However, it didn’t prevent him from starting a mock gang with friends when he was 15, which eventually developed into a real one.

“I surrounded myself by people who were in that lifestyle and started wearing a color and representing the hood,” Dorrell said. “That lasted until I was about 20.” As time went by, he saw his friends’ lives getting worse and knew he had to get out of it. Some of them still wear the gang color.

“They identify their gangs as their family and I understand that completely because they want to fit in and be involved with something,” Dorrell said. “But just because you do that doesn’t mean you need to do things like stealing and drug dealing.” A student in the program, who asked not to be named, knows all about the criminal activity gangs take part in. “With my situation and what I was facing I would have been on my way to prison when I was 18,” he said.

An older sibling got the student involved with a gang when he was just 8. When he was 11, the student was initiated into the gang by being jumped, or beaten up. Other members of his family also were involved.

He said retaliation is crucial when a rival gang begins to taunt, or “bang” on another. “Usually anytime anybody tries to bang on you or say something, you’ll try to bang right back,” said the student, who is now 17. “If you don’t bang back and one of your homies sees you, you’re going to get banged on at a private meeting.”

Most “banging” is done over what colors a rival gang wears. Whenever an enemy attacked, he felt he had to come back twice as hard, which usually caused violence. Since attempting recently to leave the gang life, he has proudly walked away from fights he would have joined prior to enrolling in the program.

“It’s not worth it for me to deal with them or for them to come at me sideways,” he said. He has told his former gang partners he doesn’t want to be involved anymore and is trying to change his life for the better.

“Misery likes company and they’ll take anyone with them,” the student said. “That’s all a gang is. Misery. Miserable people trying to take anyone they can with them.”

Greg, a mentor who asked that his last name be withheld, left his local gang when he saw the misery he caused his loved ones.

While holding onto drugs for other gang members, Greg was pulled over by police and subsequently arrested. As he sat in his jail cell, he thought about the path he had taken in life. This course led him to join his gang when he was 13. Thirteen years later, he still was immersed in the culture. When Greg got out of jail he found his mother crying.

“I spent half my life doing things to people that shouldn’t be done to another human being,” Greg said. “In my opinion the whole gang lifestyle is ignorant; you’re persecuting and killing people who are just like you for false causes.”

Activities his gang used to do include assaults, robberies, extortion, beer runs and grand theft auto. “You name it, we pretty much did it,” Greg said. “I ruined a lot of people’s lives and now I have the power to make a difference for these youth and the community.”

Former New Mexico police officer Ed Britt worked in the violent crimes division and often encountered gangs like the one Greg was in. “There was always something going on,” he said. “We handled everything from murder, assaults and rapes to child molestation cases.”

From his experience with gang members, he found that the best approach to take was a direct one. “What I used to do is intermingle with them,” he said. “If you get out there as an officer and really touch them and talk to them and get to know them, they’ll be more open to you and they trust that you’ll be there for them when they need some help.”

Britt is no longer a police officer, but he continues to assist youth involved with gangs through Project 180. Lately, he’s been teaching the participants anger management skills and strategies to interact with others. At a recent meeting, the students played basketball to learn teamwork. It’s important for the program to get the participants to work together to show them that their past rivalries are artificial, Britt said.

“They are all just normal kids,” Britt added. “But when I ask them they say they are scared of being in their neighborhoods without being affiliated.”

Another Project 180 member said he became associated with gangs through his friends and was “jumped in” when he was about 12. Four years later, he wanted to leave and was “jumped out” by four or five of his gang counterparts.

“We smoked and we partied,” he said. “You feel like you’re big and bad.”

He was out partying while his parents were home worrying. But when he left the gang, he became the one who was concerned. He was frightened by the possibility a rival would recognize his face when he was with his loved ones. His fears came true recently when shots were fired while he was spending time with his girlfriend.

Levi knew leaving his gang would be dangerous. Nonetheless, he faced his fear and quit. “I was ready to ride or die anyway and now there’s just a little more honor and meaning behind that,” said Levi, a mentor who asked for his last name not to be revealed. After leaving, it wasn’t easy for him to adjust to a normal life.

Levi was initiated at age 12 and dedicated his adolescence to using drugs, committing crimes and being a gangster. “By time I was 16, I was doing time for armed robbery,” he said. A year later he was released, only to be brought back to prison numerous times for gang activity.

When he was 18, he studied the teachings of Jesus Christ while in jail. When he got out, he felt torn between his gang and new-found faith. He decided it was best to separate himself from the gang and devote himself to Christianity.

“I was trying to live for Jesus and do drugs at the same time. That’s not an easy thing to do,” he said. He discovered Project 180 and asked for help with his drug habit. In exchange, he volunteered with the program.

Levi was given the assistance he needed which enabled him to pursue other goals, like becoming a cage fighter. “These guys helped me bring that dream to reality,” said Levi, who is also a father.

“When I was a youngster – slanging and banging – I didn’t listen to nobody with a 9 to 5 and I didn’t listen to nobody who really knew what was going on,” Levi said. “But maybe if a trained fighter came in and said ‘listen I’m someone who knows what’s up’ it might have had a little more impact.”

Although he turned his back on the gang life, Levi said he won’t completely shut out members of his old gang, the ones still stuck in a pit of madness. He knows exactly what he’d tell them if they asked for his assistance. “I’ll be happy to help, but I’m not going to sacrifice my family’s well-being or my personal beliefs any longer to wallow in that pit with you guys,” he said. “It’s nasty down there.”

Levi shares his experiences of faith, fighting and gang activity with the participants to help them make informed choices and avoid the mistakes he made.

Refugee caseworkers work long hours in Salt Lake City

by MICHAEL OLSON

Originally from Rwanda, Africa, Valentine Mukundente and her parents were relocated to Salt Lake City as refugees. Before they came to America, however, Mukundente and her family were sent to a refugee camp in Zambia where she spent her high school years. In Zambia, Mukundente worked as a translator for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees while her family waited to be relocated to America. She had learned French and Swahili as a child in Rwanda and English while in high school.

Mukundente is a resettlement caseworker at the International Rescue Committee in Salt Lake City. She has worked there for more than a year.

“I love working with refugees because I used to be one,” said Mukundente. Armed with experience as a refugee she is able to keep from getting burned out from the extreme demands on her time as a caseworker. Instead, she finds it easy to relate to the refugees she helps because she was a refugee herself.

Life as a refugee caseworker is not easy on family life. Mukundente recently married a man she knew from Rwanda. He came here as a refugee and now they have a 6-month-old baby boy.

“It’s difficult because we don’t have time to go home,” Mukundente said about their schedules. Sometimes they have to pick up a refugee family from the Salt Lake International Airport in the middle of the night.

Caseworkers take them to their new house and show them how to use the stove and other appliances. This is the first time most Africans and Burmese have seen a stove or a light switch, Mukundente said.

Sometimes refugees will visit the IRC’s downtown office on 400 South to ask questions or for help reading their mail, often just as Mukundente is on her way out the door to go home to her family. But she gladly stays late to help them. After all, she used to be a refugee herself.

Seven caseworkers are currently employed at the IRC. Mukundente is responsible for 30 cases, but some caseworkers handle as many as 70 cases at a time.

“That’s too much,” she said. If she were to focus on one of her 30 cases a day, it would take a month to get through them all.

A case may consist of a single refugee, or it could be an entire family, some with as many as 11 members.

Caseworkers at the Asian Association of Utah are just as busy. Lina Smith, the director of Utah Refugee Employment and the Community Center at the Asian Association, supervises six caseworkers, who handle between 50 and 70 cases each.

Smith has been with the Asian Association for eight years. Five of the six caseworkers she employs are currently or were at one time refugees.

“I find the refugees don’t get as burned out,” Smith said. “They have been through what the people in their cases are going through.” That motivates them to get the refugees through the difficult process of adjusting to life in Utah.

Of all the places for refugees to be resettled, Utah is one of the best locations in the nation, said Gerald Brown, director of the Refugee Services Office of the Utah Department of Workforce Services.

“People here tend to be willing to help,” Brown said. Some social workers have a tendency to become jaded, but that seems to happen less in Utah.

Brown said that the perfect workload would be 20 cases for every caseworker. Because of the shortage of caseworkers it is very important that they set boundaries to avoid getting burned out.

For example, caseworkers decide whether to give out their personal contact information.

“I have some caseworkers that give out their cell phone numbers and then they have to choose whether to answer it or not,” Smith said.

The IRC’s Mukundente usually chooses not to give out her cell phone number, but some refugees still find it out from friends who know their number.

When they call they usually just have a question that can be taken care of later. Mukundente asks the refugee if it can wait until during work hours when they can talk about it. If it is a genuine emergency, such as when a child falls and breaks his arm, Mukundente directs the family to call 911 or a person at the IRC who handles emergency situations and can translate for the refugees.

“We tell them when they first get here to call 911 in an emergency, but they forget,” Mukundente said. “The first person on their minds is their caseworker.”

Despite the stress and the long hours, Mukundente loves her job.

“People have something in their blood, something they like to do,” she said. “This is not a job you do for money. You do it because you love it.”

SLC refugee agencies fight for time, money

by BRADY LEAVITT

The flight attendant lifts the microphone to his lips and smiles. He announces that in an effort to cut costs the scheduled pilot has been laid off. Fortunately, a good-intentioned passenger has skimmed a copy of the pilot’s handbook and is volunteering to fly the plane.

It is a metaphor used by Patrick Poulin, the resettlement director of Salt Lake City’s International Rescue Committee, to describe the nonprofit world’s forced dependence on non-professionals in its work.

“Who would stay on the plane?” Poulin asked. “But when it’s poor people we say, ‘Let’s have volunteers do it.'”

The IRC is one of two refugee resettlement agencies in Salt Lake County and works to facilitate the transition of refugees into a foreign society. Locating the right people and the money with which to pay them is a problem that agencies like Poulin’s confront regularly. But progress can sometimes come in small steps.

One step came in February 2008 when Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr. ordered the creation of theRefugee Services Office within the Department of Workforce Services. He ordered the appropriation of $200,000 to assist refugee resettlement efforts. Organizations like the IRC tend to rely primarily on the federal government to support their operations. Huntsman’s executive order marked the first time that state money has gone specifically to the aid of local refugees.

The unprecedented allocation is significant but only in a symbolic way, said Gerald Brown, director of the Refugee Services Office. Brown said the $200,000 represents less than 10 percent of the funding his office receives from the federal government, but it’s a start.

“It shows that the state is willing to invest money,” he said, but “we need a lot more money.”

The Refugee Services Office acts as a coordinator among various agencies and organizations, like the IRC. The office is responsible for routing federal funds to the groups. It also pays the salaries of a handful of social workers at the IRC.

The federal government has agreements with the IRC and nine other national nonprofit organizations to resettle refugees across the country. When a refugee comes into the care of a resettlement agency, the agency receives $425 of direct assistance for that person. An additional $425 is also given to pay for things like office space, utility bills and caseworkers’ salaries, at the organization’s discretion. But, much of the administrative funds end up being used as direct assistance

“$425 doesn’t go very far,” Poulin said. “We face a choice between paying [refugees’] rent or paying staff.”

It’s a difficult choice, Poulin said. According to the IRC’s 2007 financial statement, 90 percent of the funds it received were used in program services — relief, resettlement and others. Seven percent of the funds were for administrative costs. No specific guidelines exist to mandate how the federal money is used, but the IRC provides cash assistance and purchases goods and services on the refugees’ behalf. It creates the dilemma of trying to help more people or giving overworked staff pay raises.

“The problem,” Poulin said, “is that we can’t close our doors and we don’t want to.”

When they arrive in Salt Lake City, refugees who are eligible can enroll in support programs like Medicaid or Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, programs available to the general public. Those who do not qualify can receive cash and medical assistance from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services for up to eight months. However, after the eight-month period is up, they may only receive benefits based on eligibility. That means they could receive nothing.

To complicate matters further, the IRC’s charter only allows enough funding for caseworkers to work with refugees for six months before responsibility for that person is shifted to secondary organization, according to Poulin. This, he said, is where many refugees fall through the cracks.

Keeping refugees out of the cracks, then, is a problem of time and money — six months to help people who come from a foreign country, who may speak little or no English and who often have no family ties on the continent, much less Salt Lake City, become self-reliant.

“It’s not even six months in reality,” Brown said, noting that caseworkers are often overwhelmed by the number of people with whom they work. The IRC resettled 546 refugees in Salt Lake City during the 2007 fiscal year with over one-third arriving in September alone.

“One of the founding principles of the refugee program is, early as possible, self-sufficiency,” Brown said. It is a good idea in theory but is not always the best for the refugee, he said.

“When people come in, there’s a lot of pressure to put them into any kind of job as fast as you can do it,” Brown said.

However, it is difficult to focus on helping people be successful in a job when they are still grappling with a completely foreign environment. Poulin described a group of Burmese who were afraid to leave their homes in Salt Lake City homes after spending years in refugee camps in Thailand, not allowed to wander more than a few hundred yards from their compound. Volunteers and caseworkers struggled to help people feel comfortable doing every day tasks like going to the grocery store, riding public transportation and finding their way to and from school.

Working in such sensitive circumstances requires having people with the language capacity and professional training to do the job well, Poulin said. The IRC maintains a workforce of between 50 and 60 volunteers and a handful of paid employees, Poulin said. They cannot handle many more than this and still provide adequate support to the volunteers. What are needed, he said, are professionals.

“We’re trying to build our capacity to serve but we don’t want to just throw volunteers at refugees,” Poulin said.

The Refugee Services Office is working with resettlement organizations to build a trained volunteer network to assist in case management. It is working to secure additional funding for caseworkers’ salaries.  Both the IRC and the Refugee Services Office are working to extend the time they work with refugees from six months to 24 months, hopefully guiding more people to what Poulin calls the IRC’s ultimate goal: a person’s becoming a citizen of the United States.

“It’s going to be huge when we pull it off,” Brown said.

Salt Lake City IRC assists refugees

by REED NELSON

Refugee. According to the Immigration and Nationality act, a refugee is described as: “Any person who is outside any country of such person’s nationality or, in the case of a person having no nationality, is outside any country in which such person last habitually resided, and who is unable or unwilling to return to, and is unable or unwilling to avail himself or herself of the protection of, that country because of persecution or a well-founded fear of persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion.”

It is a term that is tossed around, but is seldom acknowledged by the majority of the population. As with all jobs that require a strong stomach, and an even stronger will, the people who work with refugees experience similar turmoil, similar angst. It takes a different kind of person to deal with the same issues as their clientele, and a still more unique person to be able to smile before, during, and after a hard days work. 

Cue Patrick Poulin.

It is Patrick Poulin’s job to make the difficult road that lies ahead for those refugees as seamless as possible. He is the resettlement director for the International Rescue Committee a private non-profit organization. As director he oversees about 400 to 500 placements a year. 

“We do a couple of things, first we try to get legal status, then we deal with the social and psychological issues,” Poulin explained, choosing his words carefully and thoughtfully. “We deal with a lot of people who have miserable existences, so we try and hook them into the resources available.”

There are plenty of resources available, such as help with bills, educational opportunities, and living situations, but the literature and general information about them does not always reach the necessary audience. Refugee Sean Keranovic of Prijedor, Bosnia, never met Poulin, but wishes he had. “My family and I didn’t have access to any of the things we needed,” he said. “Education, I missed nearly a year of school when I moved here, and only because we didn’t understand how to get me registered.”

To ensure something like this cannot happen under his watch, Poulin now has forged relationships with the right people, those with access to funding and information, to help his clients with the most amount of help possible. These resources, not only were not readily available to his clientele, but when he started, Poulin was not all that wired into the system himself.

He began his humanitarian tendencies by joining the Peace Corps, which sent him to Mali. After his experiences over there, he knew had a career in helping those people who could not always help themselves.

Following his Peace Corps stint, he never looked back. “I enjoy helping out supplanting the real support people need,” Poulin said, smiling. It is his caring nature that has driven him to keep with his career. 

That career has even brought him all the way overseas again, to places in Western Africa, where he is needed as much as he is stateside. “When I went over to the Ivory Coast and Liberia, I found that the refugees were very appreciative,” Poulin recalled. “There wasn’t enough, Liberia feels like they are the 51st state, and that we [the U.S.] would save them.” 

And while there might not be the sufficient funds overseas, Poulin has enough trouble accounting for the cost of programs stateside. With a group as small and isolated as refugees, not a lot of attention can be called to individuals. By working for an organization like the IRC, he has sacrificed material gain for moral gratification.

The IRC has now brought over 800 refugees successfully into Utah, and they all have to go through Poulin. And the goal for the organization is to successfully settle 12,000 refugees in the United States. 

Poulin understands that it is a lofty goal, especially when the word successful is  included in the goal. But he does have a plan for each of them, and cares for them individually, not as a lump sum.

When asked about his goals for each refugee, he does not have lofty aspirations, and would rather see them succeed than anything else. “In two years, I want to get them out of poverty, that’s our goal,” Poulin said, stressing the time it would take. “The more independent they are, the more successful we are.”

“We’re not in it for the personal gain. We are a group of humanitarians,” Poulin said. “We’re just stretched thin, we probably have one-third of the programs and amenities we should. But either you burn out or you find yourself very dedicated.”

As with all public programs, funding is not only an issue, but also the prevailing one on Poulin’s mind right now. The IRC does include charity events in its calendar, such as the Chili Affair and the nationally held First Thanksgiving, to try to make the lives of the refugees and Poulin alike, easier. When Poulin has the funds to work with, he can provide not just emotional and psychological help to the refugees.

The jobs that require a little bit of emotional elasticity, possessing a good spirit always helps. Sometimes the work can get a little disheartening, but he always has a positive outlook on his line of work.

Even when it gets heavy, he understands the emotional and work related lines that can be crossed. “You have to be able to smile,” Poulin said.

Mormon church lends help to refugees

by BRETT PERFILI

Every year people throughout the world come  to the United States for something better, whether it’s opportunity, a place to live or lifestyle. Some of these people are refugees who have fled from their native countries to seek better chances in their lives.

According to the United States Department of State a refugee is a person that may be fleeing from their country to get away from war or persecution on account of race, religion, or nationality.

A refugee must first go through the requirement process to get into the United States. The process is not a short task. It can take foreigners years to gain permission to get into the United States, said Patrick Poulin, resettlement director of the International Rescue Committee in Salt Lake City.

Typically, refugees making the jump to the United States ride a bumpy road to success.

Elissa McConkie, resettlement operations officer for IRC, said over a telephone conversation, they usually can’t speak English. They are typically poor and most likely have little working experience. 

Seventeen IRC locations stretch across the United States. The Utah location at 231 East and 400 S. receives major help from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which takes a heavy load off for the organization.

“There are several levels of support from the LDS church,” McConkie said. “If we didn’t have support from the LDS church our job would be much more difficult. It contributes so much.”

IRC takes in refugees and attempts to start the newcomers on the right foot throughout the first few months of their stay. The agency makes the arrangements allowing the refugees to obtain food, jobs and shelter. Staff members and volunteers contribute to the committee by helping make these necessary accommodations, and by personally working with the refugees.

Every year fluctuates on the amount of refugees from countries around the world coming into Utah. McConkie estimates there are approximately 900 that come to Utah a year. Out of those, 450 come through IRC. Catholic Community Services, a different agency located in Salt Lake City assisting refugees, receives the rest.

McConkie said the money from the government is not sufficient for what the refuges need. The federal government gives the IRC $425 for each refugee who comes in.

“That is not a lot of money,” McConkie said. “It [the church] helps us stay within our budget.”

The church grants vouchers to the refugees to Deseret Industries. The vouchers go directly to the newcomers so they can go shop themselves, McConkie said. Most of them are not used to Utah’s weather, thus, with these vouchers they can make sure they are seasonally prepared.           

“We would be purchasing these items if it wasn’t for the church,” McConkie said.

The government requires that refugees contain certain necessities in their homes, such as hygiene and basic foods. The church provides these products at cheaper costs through theWelfare Square mini store, which offers these certain goods at cheaper costs.

Most importantly, the LDS church offers jobs to the refugees through Deseret Industries stores, the LDS Humanitarian Center and the manufacturing center.

“They get a sense of work,” said Poulin, IRC’s resettlement director. “It’s a great opportunity.”

When the refugees begin work, they learn a trade they can take with them when they move on. The employment received for the refugees through the church is not permanent. It lasts only a few months. They are being trained.

Not only do they receive working experience, but are assigned a mentor that works with them. The mentor follows up with the individual once the training is over.

“Our goal is for everyone in our training to have a mentor,” said John Yancey, LDS Humanitarian Center assistant manager, during a telephone conversation. “That person is not only helping to look for jobs after training here, but housing and other things in life.”  

McConkie said the church hires people on a monthly basis, but it does depend on the time of year. She also said the training grounds for the refugees are very supportive environments.

“They can learn what’s expected of them,” McConkie said. “They are so excited to be working.”

A certain goal the IRC wants to achieve is not to see refugees return once they have gone through the program.

“When a refugee gets a job we don’t hear from them as much because they don’t need us as much,” McConkie said.  

And for the refugee’s sake this can happen more often than not due to the support from the LDS church.

IRC Salt Lake City extends its care

by MICHAEL OLSON

It all started with an idea, Albert Einstein’s idea.

As a German refugee, Einstein came to America to escape the tyrant Adolf Hitler. Einstein used his influence and money to help others escape from Germany.

Thanks to Einstein an American branch of an already existing European relief agency was founded in 1933. This branch later grew to become the International Rescue Committee.

The IRC is a nonprofit organization that helps refugees around the world rebuild their lives. Their local offices are located in downtown Salt Lake City, with other offices spread across the U.S. from New York to Los Angeles.

Refugees are people who had to flee their homelands because their lives were in danger. They cannot return to their homes so they need new ones, and that is where the IRC comes in.

“The U.S. is by far the largest humanitarian provider,” said Patrick Poulin, resettlement director for the IRC. “In Salt Lake City we receive between four and five hundred refugees a year.”

This year, its 75th anniversary, the Salt Lake IRC is increasing its ability to help with the beginning of the extended case management program. This will lengthen the time IRC has to help refugees from six months to 24 months.

The program is starting small out of necessity, according to Stacey Shaw, the caseworker who was hired at the beginning of 2008 to develop the new extended program. Of the seven caseworkers employed at the IRC, Shaw is the only one currently handling cases in the new program.

Eventually the IRC would like to give extended care to all of the refugee families it helps, but without state funding it will not happen.

“It is a matter for the state, if they decide to do it or not,” Shaw said.

Right now the 26 cases Shaw handles are the only ones in the 24-month program due to lack of funding. In fact, the only reason the program exists at all is because of a private grant made to the IRC.

It takes five years before refugees can become U.S. citizens. Before this year the IRC could only help them during the first six months, just enough time to get families on their feet by setting them up in a place to live, and providing them with the funding to feed and clothe themselves.

Currently the IRC’s new program can only accommodate the families that will benefit most from the extended care. These families are usually chosen because of mental or physical health issues.

Casemanagers pick refugee families up from the airport, help sign the lease on their home and help find them jobs. They also provide refugees with transportation to and from doctor’s appointments for health checks.

Many of these refugees have a difficult time understanding and speaking English. One of the IRC’s roles is to provide caseworkers and volunteers to help them break through the language barrier.

“Some people need a ton more dental or doctor appointments,” Shaw said. “We are here as a safety net to make sure they don’t fall through the cracks.”

The IRC also helps refugees get health insurance and register their children in school. It also teaches them skills some people take for granted, such as using public transportation, budgeting their income and sorting important mail.

Sometimes refugees will get confused by a piece of mail, Shaw said. It could be anything from an important bank statement to a doctor’s bill.

“We can do these little kinds of prevention before it becomes something big,” Shaw said.

Usually after six months the IRC hands off care of refugee families to the Asian Association of Utah where they continue to receive assistance.

“It is not necessarily a seamless switch,” said Poulin of the IRC. What happens when it comes time to renew the lease, or if a refugee loses a job and needs help to find a new one?

The Asian Association, like the IRC, is a nonprofit organization and helps refugees in any way it can. However, switching agencies during the refugee’s adjustment period can be difficult because they have to get used to a new agency.

“Six months is not enough time to become self-sufficient,” said Gayane Manukyan, a volunteer coordinator for the Asian Association. Refugees tend to get lost when switching caseworkers and agencies. “If you stay with the same family from the first day it is easier.”

The ultimate goal of the IRC is to empower refugees to support themselves. Shaw and the extended case program are a means to reaching that goal.

“Since we’ve been working with the families, we feel we have a unique opportunity to continue helping,” she said.

By taking care of little problems refugees have now, their transition into life in America will be made easier, Shaw said. “Having a contact like me can prevent a crisis from happening.”

IRC helps Salt Lake City refugees enjoy local culture

by BRETT PERFILI

On a warm fall Saturday morning a handful of Burmese refugees gather outside of the International Rescue Committee building in downtown Salt Lake City.

They are meeting to catch the light rail system of public transportation, TRAX, across the street on 400 South to go to a University of Utah football game. The university donates the tickets to the IRC. This is just one example of an activity refugees experience when arriving in Utah.

Throughout refugees’ first few months of resettlement in the United States the IRC provides activities and recreation for the foreign families and individuals for a number of reasons.

“When people are spending time with Americans and feeling comfortable it avoids the awkwardness or fear rather than giving them a sense of an outsider,” said Jonathan Codell, acculturation PORTAL coordinator at the IRC located in Salt Lake City.

Located at 231 E. and 400 South, the IRC, is an organization that provides refugees with aid throughout the resettlement process. The IRC works with refugees for the first six months of their residency and helps to offer essentials such as food, shelter and employment.

According to the United States Department of State a refugee is a person who may be fleeing from their country to escape from war or persecution on account of race, religion or nationality.

Codell said the IRC brings certain cultural groups to at least one activity per month, but typically it is more than that. Other activities the IRC offers to the groups is trips to the parks, mountains, and bringing them to the library for educational purposes.

A piece of the big picture the IRC wants to reach by providing these outings is to relieve some stress of the movement procedure for the refugees.

“The resettlement process is dramatic,” Codell said.

Nyaw Paw, 33, a Burmese refugee who has been in Salt Lake City for two months feels getting out and being with Americans helps the process.

Paw said through Han Win, a Burmese speaking IRC interpreter, that she feels happiness, a sense of freedom, stress relief and enjoys just being part of the American culture.           

Paw grew up in Burma, but moved to Thailand with her family when she was 6. There she was not allowed to get out and be involved with the activities like the IRC provides.

Paw finds the freedom she has discovered in the United States lets her do anything that she wants. 

Within the activities the IRC reaches out to makes sure the refugees feel more welcome and feel home in the United States.

“The more someone feels comfortable the more likely they’ll return and be more integrated into our society,” Codell said. “They won’t be so marginalized.”

A key for resettlement is introducing places around the homes of refugee is a key for resettlement, Codell said. Even something as small as a park close to home where they can go have a picnic will help he said. He feels showing the refugees places to go does help, especially, when he sees a refugee doing this on it own.

This is what the IRC is aiming for.

“One big thing is it shows them what is out there,” said Emily Fishbein, education program coordinator for the Salt Lake City IRC. “It shows what they can do on their own.”

An American football game is something many refugees have never seen.

The only football game they are familiar with is soccer. Codell admitted that seeing American football can be strange and maybe confusing to the refugees. However, it allows them to be out there with the public, which benefits the resettlement process.

“This is a way for them to see what being in the U.S. is all about,” Fishbein said.

Bringing activities and recreation is only a small part of what the IRC does, Codell said. However, it does show where the refugees can access resources when they want them. It also brings camaraderie throughout the groups.

“A main aspect is just bringing them all together so that they can be in a social setting and get to know the other refugees,” Fishbein said. “It’s sort of nice for them all to be in one place together.”