Both in Charlotte and in college, I tutored refugees fleeing homelands in Africa and the South Pacific. Among the many interesting perspectives these people aspired, one lady stands out in particular. She came only once since she had “graduated” from the typical emergency English-as-a-Second Language classes my program offered only recently arrived refugees, and I admittedly do not remember her name. Similar to the newly entering refugees, she told heart-wrenching of the past, but unlike the others, she also explained the great changes in her new life in America.
Soldiers were deployed by her own government because of lingering anger about her tribe’s unpopular support in a war more than thirty years ago. They raided her secluded, rural village and shot at her and her then-infant son. Climbing a tree to escape the fire; she was eventually able to come to America where she dramatically improved life for herself and her son. Not only was she able to flee such unjust persecution, but she cheerfully talked about the opportunities in America such as the public school her son attended and even more happily, she described the new house built with Habitat for Humanity. This allowed her to resign from one of her jobs. (Previously, she worked in a fast food restaurant during the day and as a custodian at night.) She could also spend more time with her son and taking care her lifelong injury from the government’s attack – a bullet lodged in her skull which often gave her throbbing headaches. Up to this point in my life, I had done minimal work with affordable housing organizations but her story allowed me a glimpse of the enormous impact Habitat for Humanity could have in someone’s life.
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