Four mornings a week Yasmin winds her way down Whipple Ave. to the Albany Park Community Center. The second floor classroom is a global village of 26 students from 13 countries. Class starts promptly at 8:30 a.m. The diverse tongues quiet down and the teacher steps from behind her desk to give the class its first assignment. “Talk about the time that you moved.”

Yasmin grips a yellow pencil and spreads her red Nikes wide across the floor. She drags her desk across the blue and gray tiles to sit by a classmate, a polite refugee from Afghanistan. The wall a few feet away is lined with the English alphabet. K stands for King, a reminder of the preacher who once spoke in Africa about justice’s triumph. Sunlight beams in from a window overlooking Kimball Ave.

Yasmin’s first memories are of Kakuma, a refugee camp in northwest Kenya. It’s about 600 miles west of the Somali capital of Mogadishu. Yasmin says the camp was violent.

Roaming gangs and ripping bullets might rule the night. “I don’t remember Mogadishu. I remember Kakuma,” Yasmin says.

Warring Clans ruled the Somali capital. “Mogadishu all of the time fighting. No peace,” Yasmin said. The past is heartbreaking, it’s “sad,” she added.

Yasmin came to the United States on April 5, 2007 at age 21. Four days later she enrolled in English class.

One journey ends another begins

When a voyaging refugee arrives in Illinois, they’ve prevailed through humankind’s darkest nights. For Yasmin, and more than 1,400 other Somalis, the land of Lincoln offers safe harbor from the storms of famine and violence.

As Yasmin prepares for the Midwestern winter, turmoil persists in east Africa. A September report by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees says 530,000 Somalis are refugees, and another 1.5 million have been displaced from their homes. Public resources in the U.S. might be unimaginable to hundreds of thousand of African refugees, but Yasmin’s life will forever be linked to them, and to Somalia’s history that has forced millions to flee their homes.

Challenges

As coffee brews and break time approaches, teacher Lindsay Crammond paces between conversation groups. Yasmin understands how important education is, Crammond says. Yasmin’s life is a perseverance lesson. “This person spent 13 years in a refugee camp, you don’t learn job skills there. You learn life skills,” adds Crammond.

While the classroom is warm and welcoming, the U.S. economy is not. Like so many who have made it to the United States, Yasmin remains challenged by economic insecurity.

Yasmin met her husband in Africa, and they came to Chicago together. For Yasmin finding employment was challenging in her new country. “I looked for a job everywhere,” she said. Her husband found work pushing wheelchairs at O’Hare Airport. Trouble came when he lost his job.

The two decided to move. At one point she was in Minnesota looking for a job while he pursued meatpacking work in Nebraska. They talked on the phone but longed for each other. When Yasmin landed a part-time janitor’s job they reunited. “When I got this job I rent apartment so I told him to come back Chicago, and he come back, and he’s here right now,” she said.

“I am cleaning the offices,” said Yasmin, who has balanced work with school. She had to miss class once for work. Like a trustworthy friend, she came by class to let Crammond know the reason for her absence.

Many of her co-workers are Mexicans; she likes them, but wants more opportunities. She cooks at her apartment and finds sanctuary in study. “I want to write complete sentences,” she says.

She walks confidently through the school, wearing a brightly colored hijab, the traditional Muslim headdress. Occasionally she smiles, and in that expression a united and peaceful Somalia seems possible. “I think I will be a good writer; I think I will be able to speak English very good,” added Yasmin.

Fractured Somalia

David Shinn, former U.S. ambassador to Ethiopia, said Somalia had no central government. He said the country, located 200 miles south of Yemen, had a U.N.-backed temporary government controlling a tiny part of Mogadishu. Two other militant Islamic groups control a larger part of the country, he said.

Scant media attention makes it difficult to understand what is happening in the country. “The problem, of course, is it’s very difficult to get into Somalia right now,” says Shinn, an associate professor of international affairs at George Washington University.

Shinn said relief agencies consider Somalia the world’s greatest humanitarian crisis.

He said the U.S. greatly reduced its humanitarian assistance after 18 soldiers were killed in October 1993. The “Blackhawk Down” incident led Western governments to shift troops and resources away from Somalia.

War, drought and exile continued. Attention shifted back after 9/11, and particularly since the anti-western Islamic Courts Union came to power in 2006. A recent food shortage might have made the inhumane living conditions into the grossly inhumane.

Hope for peace

Each new refugee brings personal sadness and heartache to the U.S. But, they may find hope, just as Yasmin did when her anchor dropped in a Chicago English class.

“When I come here I didn’t speak English well. But now I’m better. I hope I will be better than this,” said Mohamed.

The refugee who now has friends near the shores of Lake Michigan said, “I would like to go back someday and see my people.”

She hopes to see her homeland.

“If it’s peaceful.”

MORE ON THE BROADER REFUGEE EXPERIENCE

What it means to be a refugee

By Christopher Pratt

Pirates and warlords don’t rule in the U.S. but money matters in a big way. One refugee challenge is paying rent with a relatively meager sum they typically get from the government. “Refugee cash assistance is $243. And that refugee is facing $550 to $650 rent,” said Ed Silverman, the state’s refugee coordinator.

Last year the non-profit community in Illinois raised $1 million to ensure adequate services for refugees, said Silverman. Funding refugee resettlement is a constant challenge, but particularly in this recession, he added. Support from organizations like World Relief is important to the resettlement process, and their staff work is critical.

Silverman said more than 50,000 African refugees live in Illinois.

Most U.S. refugees depend on public aid to resettle. The Refugee Act of 1980 directs the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services to work with non-profits and states to resettle refugees — people that the U.N. says have well-founded fears of persecution in their homeland.

Silverman began working in refugee assistance more than 30 years ago. “We are in a global community. People have a right to earn a living and provide adequate education for their children,” said Silverman.

The 1980 law was one of the late Sen. Edward M. Kennedy’s legislative accomplishments, added Silverman. Kennedy once said the country had a humanitarian- and a foreign policy-interest in welcoming refugees. In 1981 over 150,000 refugees resettled in the U.S. By 2006 it was just 42,000. The refugee law allowed the president to determine, on an annual basis, how many refugees could immigrate, and left Congress to decide how to fund the program. In recent years the refugee ceiling rose but funding decreased.

April 23, 2009 – Five days a week Dr. Anna Bunploog steps aboard a mobile home designed to function as a pediatric clinic. The interior of the massive white vehicle is plastered with colorful prescription drug posters, memorable hints about respiratory health and a basket of breathing devices, spacers.

Most days the van travels to neighborhoods with high poverty rates where asthmatic children often have respiratory attacks spurred by things like polluting factories, busy expressways and idling school busses.

On a typical morning, Bunploog, nurse Marcia Smith and driver Rodger Peck park the unit outside of a school. Children have to be accompanied by a parent in order to see the doctor.

There are more than 100,000 asthmatic children in Chicagoland. Bunploog says she sees about 200 patients per month

Since 1999, Chicago’s Mobile CARE Foundation has screened more than 45,000 kids for asthma, according to Stephen Samuelson, the program’s executive director.

If all three of Mobile CARE’s vans were operating this year, the program could treat an estimated 3,900 kids in 62 private and parochial schools, Samuelson said.

Legislation (S.B. 1496) introduced by Sen. Mattie Hunter (D-Chicago) would give money to this asthma program for five years through the Illinois Health Department. But differences in legislative priorities combined with an economic downturn has made her bill difficult to move through the statehouse.

The bill would provide funding for “initial respiratory health screenings; diagnosis and follow-up medical care from pediatricians specializing in asthma management; bilingual, individualized family education sessions; in-home asthma trigger assessments.”

Hunter said she didn’t know what the program would cost taxpayers each year, but she said, “The human cost [of asthma] is astronomical.”

Maureen Damitz, executive director of the Respiratory Health Association of Metropolitan Chicago, an organization affiliated with the mobile health unit’s staff, said the mobile program has been funded through private donations and currently does not receive government money.

She said, like most non-profit organizations, the current economic downturn posed funding challenges for Mobile CARE, but that fundraisers and private donations would keep the two mobile units operating.

A similar program in Philadelphia cost about $200,000 per mobile unit. Based on that conservative estimate, which only accounted for personnel, a grant funding three vans for five years would cost Illinois $6 million.

Hunter and Damitz said they want the legislature to find money for the mobile asthma program this year. Both said if asthmatic children weren’t treated through appointments during school hours on Mobile CARE, then some would go to emergency rooms for treatment and the cost to taxpayers would be higher.

Hunter’s bill said minority children had difficulty accessing primary care because of socioeconomic disparities. According to a 2008 report by the Kaiser Family Foundation, African-American children were hospitalized at a rate four to five times higher than white children.

Hunter said asthmatic children in her district would have their respiratory health improved if her legislation became law.

Allowing families to access primary care physicians like Anna Bunploog is part of a long-term solution for cutting back on asthma attacks, Damitz said.

Improving indoor and outdoor air quality would decrease asthma attacks for children, Bunploog said, adding that if asthmatic children were treated properly then they would have longer and more active lives.

“I think it’s sad when we say kids are going to have a short life, and that’s just the way it is,” she said.

The bill is currently in the assignments committee.

Hunter said that her legislation would cut back on money spent at emergency rooms, but she said many of her colleagues didn’t see it the same way.

Oct. 23, 2008 – Lena Taylor came to the Englewood farmer's market for the second straight week to buy what some in her neighborhood might equate to manna from heaven — fresh produce.

"Are these organic?" Taylor asked the young farmer selling kale, cucumbers and tomatoes. They were, and as she continued to delicately clutch the cucumbers, she compared the colors of the red and yellow tomatoes.

After a little more discussion about prices, the South Side senior twisted her black handbag around her shoulder, gently unzipped it and gave the clerk a white and blue check with an Illinois Seniors Farmer's Market logo.

Taylor got the check from a neighborhood senior program. Since the market's opening June 19, some organizations like Teamwork Englewood and a local co-op that grows organic produce, Growing Home, Inc. conducted outreach to help bring business to the city-sponsored market. The market opened at noon and closed at 5 p.m.; most of the shoppers were seniors like Taylor.

The farmer's market was opened to enable more people in Englewood to buy fresh produce, but the market will close Oct. 23. When it shuts down for the year, many will lose a much-needed oasis in this "food desert."

Englewood and poor areas all over the country face what research has defined as a paradoxical situation; it's expensive to be poor. The limited access to fresh produce drives the consumption of unhealthy foods that lead to poor eating habits and that can affect the overall economic health of the family. Also, the high price of gas makes travel more difficult for poor people in a "food desert."

A 2006 study by LaSalle Bank defined many areas of the city's South and West Sides as "food deserts" because they lacked access to grocery stores that supplied fresh fruits and vegetables. The market in Englewood and other grocers in the area have brought a few more options to neighborhoods like Englewood. Ald. Toni Foulkes (15th) and Mayor Richard M. Daley called for more "mainstream" grocers like Jewel or Dominick's to consider putting more stores in underdeveloped areas.

Meanwhile, as Lena Taylor placed her plastic bags of peanuts and cucumbers in her Pontiac SUV, she said the Food 4 Less, just north on Ashland, kept raising prices. Same goes for the nearby Aldi supermarket.

As for Dominick's, "It's too expensive," said Taylor.

The residents of Englewood didn't need weeks of national headlines to understand the economy was struggling.

Foulkes, a former baker at the 95th Street Jewel, and a 36-year resident of Englewood, said the closing of the farmer's market this month will leave residents — who are already hit hard by the economic downturn — even worse off. In the "food desert," many will have no access to affordable, high-quality produce.

Tracing her finger across her ward map, Foulkes talked about people who had come to depend on the church parking lot's market for fresh produce over the summer. She wondered where they would turn during the winter drought.

When she was growing up in Englewood, Foulkes said there were competing grocery stores, like Jewel, Hi-Lo and A&P. In recent years, many have relied on convenience food at small corner stores for groceries.

"It's all people," she said, explaining that most of her ward is residential. Foulkes pointed to the challenges of bringing a large commercial development into Englewood.

She pinpointed the intersections of 66^th Street and Ashland Avenue and 59^th Street and Ashland Avenue as difficult to develop because some neighbors might have to be relocated. Asking for a re-zoning or negotiating with an owner or landlord might bring a contentious neighborhood debate.

Yet as a former grocery store employee and someone who is trying to change her own eating habits, the "food desert" issue is one she spoke passionately about. "We do need another large grocery store in the area." Foulkes said grocers like Aldi and Food 4 Less get a lot of business and other grocers should look to those stores as proof that Englewood can support another "mainstream" store.

Growing Home Inc., a co-op that grows organic produce, has a long-term vision for making fresh fruits and vegetables more accessible to Englewood. Growing Home's Executive Director Harry Rhodes said, "What people need is a choice of where to get their food."

Rhodes said Mayor Daley has been supportive of Growing Home in Englewood. In 2006, the city helped Growing Home establish a one-acre site at 58th Street and Wood Avenue. At the Englewood market the group sold lettuce and red bell peppers for one dollar and kale, scallions and Swiss chard for just fifty cents more. The co-op made $77 one week, which was about average for the summer.

Teamwork Englewood has been an important player in the neighborhood and worked with the city to coordinate this year's market. Doris Jones, of the neighborhood organization, stopped by to buy some pound cake and talk with vendors. She said that after the last market there would be an evaluation period to see where and when a site would be set up for next summer.

Chicago isn't the only city in the country that the LaSalle Bank study classified as containing "food deserts." Mari Gallagher, the author of the study, said Chicago, as opposed to Detroit where virtually the entire city is a "food desert," has the "research and strength" to deal with this issue. Her research also indicates that food deserts exist in rural, suburban and urban places.

On Sept. 24, Gallagher partnered with the City of Chicago, the Polk Street Group and the National Center for Policy Research to host a food expo. The city also released six potential sites for grocery stores in the "food desert." One was city-owned land at 63rd and Halsted. Gallagher said that the mayor and executives of Kroger, SuperValu and Roundy's dined together after the expo.

That location and prospect might be too distant for a woman like Ernestine Kelly, who doesn't have a car and walked a few blocks down Ashland to buy a watermelon at the Englewood market.

"I can't carry a watermelon," she said.

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