Last weekend my wife and I drove our daughter to a camp in up-state new york (Saranac) where she will be volunteering for the month. Dropping her off was a bittersweet parental moment: our daughter growing up… enough for a full month away from home—and in a relatively remote location (with a no cellphone policy! ouch!) We knew she’d be homesick. She might even have a few moments of missing us as much as we miss her. Plus--sadly--this is just the beginning. She starts college this fall.
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The other day, I spoke with Erneste Ntahondereye, one of the pillars of the 200-plus strong Burundian refugee community that has made Providence home. Erneste complained about all the Burundians moving to Amarillo, Texas, to work in the meat-packing factories. He’d gone to visit recently and was appalled. Parents were working, but refugee children were staying home or dropping out of school. There were minimal social services. He thumped his skull. “Their heads,” he said, “empty, empty!”
Read MoreRefugees are among the hidden people in our communities. While the countries they come from—like Syria—make the news, they usually don't. One family I've been visiting recently arrived from Damascus. They are clearly glad to be here. They're glad to be safe. They talk about Syria as if they dodged a bullet.
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