English Language Center of Cache Valley, Inc.

Editor’s note: The Herald Journal is following some of the more than 100 Burmese refugees who now live in Cache Valley. Watch for this series, called “New Neighbors,” which introduces readers to the refugees.

By Karen Lambert staff writer for The Herald Journal

Kur Ra Ban Bi winced slightly when she received four immunization shots Wednesday at the Bear River Health Department. Her mother, Ma Htwe Hla, stood nearby rubbing Bi’s arm protectively. But, when Bi left the room, the 19- year-old put on a brave face and shared a lollipop with her energetic four-year-old brother, O Ba Du La, whose turn was coming. That night the family spent almost $700 to purchase shots they need before they can apply for green cards. They’re among approximately 100 refugees from Burma — also known as the Union of Myanmar — who have moved to Cache Valley over the last year after receiving asylum from the U.S. government. Bi handed cash for her shot over to the receptionist, who handed her change with a friendly smile. Bi and her father trim fat from dead cows at JBS, the meat-packing company in Hyrum, to earn money to support the other family members. Still, Refugee Specialist Alex Mortensen, who works for the English Language Center, said expenses like shots can be a huge drain to those on tight budgets. At the clinic, Mortensen moved back and forth quickly helping to translate between the health department receptionists and the family from Burma. “Thank goodness for Alex,” one of the employees said. One woman said they’d just been talking at their staff meeting about the importance of his work bridging the language gap with the refugees. Mortensen, the women at the health clinic and numerous other volunteers, government workers and nonprofit agencies work to aid the refugees. More help is needed. When Mortensen showed up at the home of the nine members of the Ma Htwe Hla and Ba Hlaing family, Melissa Spencer, community coordinator with the Cache Valley Refugee Organization, was already there letting Hla know she had found a washer the family could purchase for $50, if they wanted. Theirs had broken, and though Spencer’s husband had tried to fix it, he suggested they simply needed a replacement. Spencer tries to visit each of the refugee families every other week. Most of the refugees are single men who work in Hyrum, while their families live in Salt Lake until leases and the school year end. Then they hope to move north. After one of the girls brought Spencer an overdue DVD from the library, Spencer explained that you have to pay money when you don’t return items on time. Spencer had just quit her job to be a full-time mom when she attended a community meeting last year about a large number of Burmese refugees finding homes in the valley. While many were willing to help, no one offered to lead the effort. So, Spencer volunteered while wondering how she’d find the time. When Spencer worked as a coordinator of the Perpetual Education Fund for the LDS Church in Argentina and the Philippines, she said she saw the importance of helping people become a successful part of communities. Too often, she said, it’s those who fail to integrate who become delinquent. “The more we can help, not just refugees — but that’s the group I’m working with specifically — but in general the more we help our fellow citizens to survive within our community, we enrich our community, and we have lower crime rates and we have higher educated people and we have people who take pride in where they live,” Spencer said. The Ma Htwe Hla and Ba Hlaing family are a long way from the Thailand refugee camp where they previously lived and from the Muslim village where the older family members lived in Burma until they fled for their lives. Now instead of a bamboo hut they rent a clean, simply furnished apartment in Logan. They’re learning to pay their bills with the paycheck Hlaing, the father, and Bi, the oldest daughter, earn at JBS. They’re learning what a bank account is, so they can set one up later this week. They’re tasting new foods, experiencing new lives and making new friends. The family, made of a mother and father, 22- year-old son and his wife, and five other siblings ages 4 to 19, arrived in the U.S. from Thailand more than a year ago. At first they lived in Illinois, but the $8 an hour job didn’t cover rent and so they took the advice of a friend in Logan who told them good paying jobs were to be had. That’s when some of the learning that had already taken place became important. Two of the daughters, 13-yearold Sha Kya Har and 12- year-old June Mar Bi, had teachers in Illinois who stayed after school for 2 to 2½ hours each day to help them learn English. When the family decided to move they hopped on a bus and their girls translated on the trip from Illinois to Utah. In Cache Valley, parents have organized play days to give the Burmese children an American experience, including sledding and indoor soccer. The Logan City Police Department has provided seminars on community laws and Wells Fargo Bank has taught refugees basic money skills. The English Language Center offers language classes. Last Tuesday, Bi attended an English class at River Walk apartments, along with several other Burmese refugees. She recited the American alphabet. With a yellow No. 2 pencil she wrote the capital and lower case letters in a workbook. Her mother usually attends but was ill that evening. Recently, their family was learning to fill out the application for a driver’s license, although in their former country they’d never owned a car. Mortensen, who learned Thai and Cambodian while serving an LDS mission in Thailand, and former refugee “Joe,” or Kyaw Eh, assisted with translations. When Mortensen, with help from Joe, asked Hla how tall she was, the matron of the family didn’t know. When he asked her weight, she guessed 35 kilos or 77 pounds. “That seems a little low,” said Mortensen, adding they’d check later. Then Mortensen asked Hla if she wanted to be a donor. Joe tried to explain in Burmese that means if she’s in an accident and dies they could give her organs away to help someone else. “They’re probably like, ‘What the heck,’” Mortensen said in English, as he thought about the request. Then Joe told Mortensen that Hla wanted to be marked a donor on her driver’s license. “Does she understand if she dies they can use her body?” Mortensen asked. The woman lifted her little head up and laughed as Joe asked her again, and then the translator turned back to Mortensen and said, “Yes, she understands.” She smiled as she watched from the large couch where she sat with her feet curled under her. Her older daughter sat by her side, and three younger children sat on another couch next to her and giggled and watched. A little later in the evening the father came downstairs, blurry eyed. The refugees often begin work very early in the day and tire early in the evenings. Years in the refugee camps have left them not used to long work days. But, Hlaing said through Joe that he likes life and his work here. “The people here are friendly, they help each other. He doesn’t have to carry heavy loads,” translated Joe. For the Hla and Hlaing family, every day is a new experience, in a quiet town of new found safety.

Read the full article originally printed on Sunday, March 8, 2009 in The Herald Journal