The
spire of St. Andrew’s is like a beacon in a sea of brick, rust, and pavement. I
reserve my judgment, open to the possibility that economic development is not
the only way to measure the wealth of a neighborhood. I run through the
freezing air to the main office of Catholic Charities and find myself smiling
at all the new faces. I’m told to walk to the corner through the parking lot to
the school. I walk briskly wondering if refugees from Africa and Cuba came
prepared for daytime temperatures in the teens. I find Amy and we walk up the
stairs after checking in with Chris. I feel warm and comfortable amidst the
bustle of all the different people, all the different languages. I overhear a
Catholic Charities employee explain to a group of women that before they do
anything else they’ll walk downstairs to get each of them a pair of gloves. The
women are visibly relieved.
The
classroom is full of long tables on rollers and chairs. The other students from
my class arrive with lemonade and tea. We set out the snacks and wait for the
class to begin. Originally we were supposed to meet from 12 to 1 but I ask and
employee who tells me that the students arrive at 12:30. I am grateful for that
half hour. I was able to sit and ground myself and remind myself of all the
mistakes involving privilege and racist/classist assumptions that I strive to
avoid making. I notice a man who has come to class early. He smiles and says
hello to me but, to me, his face registers anxiety. He paces back and forth
along the lockers on the short wall of the room. He repeatedly picks up and
puts down his notebook. He leaves and reenters the room. I begin to wonder just
how much stress and anxiety refugees feel as they come to Louisville. I may be
projecting, but it seemed as if the man’s face and physicality expressed a
state of constant coping with despair. Later in class, he would smile, even
laugh, but then return to this state, rubbing his eyes, looking around sadly,
and lowering his head. Of course, again, this could all be projection on my
part. A week later I asked him about his pacing and he confessed that he had
quit smoking cigarettes.
Once
most of the students were in the room we offered them snacks and drinks. I started
to serve drinks to people and had the ideas of juggling some oranges to lighten
the mood. Another man juggled with me. Finally the class began. We introduced
ourselves and then did a cultural mapping exercise wherein people are asked to
assemble into different groups based on basic questions like, “How may
languages do you speak?” or, “Do you like sweet, sour, salty, or fried food the
most?” Once assembled, the groups are assigned with the task of finding three things
they all have in common. A fondness of travel, a dislike of cold weather, and a
love of music all seem to be popular answers. As I facilitated this exercise
and found myself acting out a lot of the words I was using, like ‘grumpy’ or ‘perky’,
which one of the students asked me to explain to him later so that he would
remember them. Overall, I found the five senses exercise the most interesting
and affective. When asked to relate a sight or smell that reminded them of
home, the student’s answers were so moving and transporting! Mountains, the
smell of dust, the river through Baghdad, dancing, food and spices from
Pakistan, and perfume were some of the sensual cues they shared. One man from
Somalia spoke of the gun violence that he is reminded of when he sees similar
images on television in the U.S. This was a sobering reminder of the tenuous
existence many of the refugees led prior to coming to Louisville, an existence
that may still be tenuous as they navigate a new country, culture, and
language.