From Afar to Home: Vermont Journeys

Someone from our community of new Vermonters was struck by the mirror of a passing vehicle last evening. They were coming back from work, it was dark, raining and there wasn’t a sidewalk at that location. Either they veered into the road a bit or the driver did – or both – but the incident happened. The driver stopped and called Rescue and the individual received the care they needed and has no long-term injuries. Thank goodness. Thank the gods and goddesses.

Meanwhile, we know that our life on earth as humans is one of a state of fragility. We don’t know the date of the end of our life nor how it will end. Our new Vermont neighbors carry that same fragility. AND. They are already in a more fragile state than I am, for example, having come through whatever experiences, trauma, loss, change, uncertainty and more that they have already faced.

How do we hold that fragility while, at the same time, lifting up their courage, resilience and willingness to grow into this new life that they have been offered? This is a question that I’ll be holding now and going forward.

This post was submitted by Marti Anderson in November 2024.

Our new Vermont neighbors arrive with very little in terms of belongings. Most of them were limited to what they could bring and so are in need of almost everything on the physical level including furnishings for an apartment, dishes and cooking tools and winter clothes.

Meanwhile, they come with a whole life of experiences, some of which we’ll never hear. They come with hope or at least a desire to establish themselves and make this their home.

Our new neighbors and friends need rides to school, shopping and medical appointments. They need help in navigating our medical system (which, even if you grew up here, can be challenging.). They need help with internet and phone systems. They need to learn how to drive and obtain a license and then, hopefully, buy a car.

They might need help making sense of the resettlement process and an orientation to their rights and responsibilities as new arrivals in Vermont. They need to be reassured, from time to time, that they are going to be able to make this new life work.

All of these things take time, energy and help from volunteers. It seems that the need for volunteers never flags and the efforts of volunteers cannot be underestimated.

Meanwhile, some of the people resettling really do not want much help at all. They prefer to take care of their own needs as much as humanly possible. And this is to be respected as well.

I continue to admire and stand in awe of what human beings are capable of in the most positive sense. My grandparents made similar sacrifices as they came across in the early 1900’s. I have new respect for what that must have felt like and the sacrifices and strength it took to resettle. I see examples of this regularly in our new neighbors.

This reflection was written by Marti Anderson, November 2024.

7:40. I wait for my 3 pre-k passengers to come out from their temporary dorm housing at SIT.  It’s the second week of school and I am the designated chauffeur. Each of my passengers appears from a different dorm.

A shows up first with her mom. Grinning and chatting between bites of a banana. B next with his mom. Not chatting and certainly not looking enthusiastic. In fact he scampers over to the bike rack, grabs a bike and takes off. Very competent biker at age 4 by the way. B and A are Eritrean. We wait. And wait. B rides. A chats. Finally S and his dad appear. S is Afghan.

I have tried to explain that car seats are required, but no one speaks English so even with my best pantomiming there are blank looks. 

Of course, I think. Car seats?  What in the heck are these, and why are they necessary?  S is the only one with a car seat. Accept and move on. If I were to refuse to take A and B they wouldn’t go to school. What is more important?  That’s how I’d explain it if I were stopped. Maybe my elderly status would help. At least once. 

Getting three of them into the car, pulling and stretching the seat belts – (mind you, they were wearing their backpacks) is, in itself, a challenge. At the best of times finding the middle seat buckle takes poking and prodding. It’s a challenge. And if you have never had seat belts and are wearing a backpack, and the chauffeur is, should we say, elderly…well,  it’s a challenge.

7:55 OK.. buckled up and ready to go. Sure, wails or tears…and yet, barely a minute on they stop. Ah, say I. No problem for the 10 minutes it takes to go to school. I sing a song, ask questions. No response. Then the back window rolls down. A is hooting with laughter. We’re on the interstate. I close the window and put on lock. Thank goodness it’s the window and not the door which locks automatically. 

8:10 Arrive at school. Reverse the routine. While I’m unbuckling B, A starts across the street. She has no clue about looking. I have to speak sharply to get her to stop. Even after a week they seem puzzled about looking for traffic before crossing the street.

We walk to the classroom. The teachers greet them with a cheerful welcome and a hug and off they go.

Pick up is the reverse. The difference is that they are wired and ready to push, shove, unbuckle, try to open the doors, windows, turn on the overhead lights, screech. They bolt out of the car when we arrive at SIT giving their parents a hug.

So much to learn and yet what supple minds! On the ride home on Friday there are smatterings of English. They get the seatbelt routine. They don’t try to open the windows or doors. They know where to put their backpacks and how to say good morning to the teachers.

They are launched.

And I take with me what how much they have to learn and how resilient they are.

This contribution is from Tonia Wheeler, October 2024

Begin the Beguine*

By Bea Fantini

It is hard to imagine that in calendar terms, it was so long ago, but in emotional terms, it seems that it was only last week.

Thinking back to January 2022, when we received the first group of Afghan refugees and began working with them, what comes to mind is individuals and families arriving to Rotch building at SIT to go to classes. It was a challenging time. We had to find out their names, yet, because they did not know English they could not respond. Sometimes they would show us a piece of paper that had their names, other times, we had to find someone to translate for us.  We also asked them to write their names, however, this was challenging as they did not know the Roman alphabet and they could not write even in Dari or Pashtu. So we did the best we could to get their names.  Mustafa, Ali, Mitra, Abdul, Marwa…After about a week we could remember their names, in spite of the fact that there was more than one Mustafa, Abdul, Farah, etc.

We learned a lot in those first days. We learned a few words, however we relied on our phone translators to communicate when we could not get someone to translate. During the three months of the program, they felt comfortable with us and tried their best to communicate using the little English they knew. Those who spoke English were always willing to help. Looking back to those initial days, we have to recognize that we were living the essence of SIT. Experiential learning it was, the daily meetings  of teachers and staff after classes were over,  gave us an opportunity to reflect on what was happening. It was -and still is- a great learning experience  for everyone, there was excitement, drama, comedy, romance, culture, history and lots of love.

Today, living in town, still maintaining a friendship with the first Vermont families they met, getting to know more people, they are ‘at home’. They are still learning English, and every day they feel more and more comfortable using the language. Their situation reminds me of my own adjustment to life in Vermont. Whatever  happens during the process is worth it.

*I find  certain  analogy between the lyrics of this song and the refugee situation.

Shared by Bea Fantini, October 2024

I was taking a friend driving – she is getting ready to take her driver’s test in mid-October. I have student-driver signs on my car when we drive together.

We decided to go through downtown Brattleboro and to the roundabout at Exit 3. As we were approaching the roundabout (she was doing a good job!) she noticed that there was a police car behind us. I said to just keep going and doing her driving work. We made it through the roundabout and just after, the police car’s lights went on. I instructed her to pull over safely and keep her hands on the wheel – as a practice that is good when you are pulled over to ensure that you don’t make the officer nervous.

She rolled down the window and the young officer leaned forward and said “I want you to know that you’ve done a great job driving through these lights and through the roundabout. I’m not pulling you over because of your driving; I’m pulling you over because one of your rear signal lights is burned out.”

What a good cop! She was happy with his comments and she learned to have a bit more trust, hopefully, in our community.”

As told by Rich Talbot, September 2024

Newcomers to our community have made the School for International Training (SIT) campus their first home here. While this is a beautiful spot which I was happy to call my work home for many years, it is not ideal. SIT is in the middle of the woods where public transportation of any kind has traditionally been rare (although improving through the MOOVER organization). The dormitories are old and were never anything fancy, even when first built. The winters are cold and icy and so getting down the hill for groceries at Hannafords or Aldis is a dangerous trek. And the nights are long and dark so it’s hard to see folks as they make their way up and down the hill. A kind local neighbor made reflective vests available.

Still, to visit the campus is to witness community in action. Instead of being barren, as SIT was after most of the on-campus programming was moved to virtual, is is a vibrant place. Children running around and playing with bikes and scooters, teasing, fighting, laughing in a full melange of cultures and ages. People gathering at the laundry site, chatting. Women chopping vegetables together in the dorm kitchens and holding each other’s babies. It is a full-on supportive community full of life and help for one another.

Then, the time comes to move off of the hill into their homes somewhere in town which is something everyone yearns for. But, there is a sense of loss as their new home might not have the support of friendly, understanding neighbors that is present at the SIT campus. Of course, just like the students who came through SIT over the years, no one can stay there forever. And, it’s a loss that I know many of our new neighbors feel.

This post was written by Marti Anderson in September 2024.

Our new Vermont friends need to drive; it’s a given in this rural state with limited public transportation options. I thought it would be relatively easy to teach someone to be a safe driver because I consider myself a good driver. But teaching and supporting another person to drive is not obvious at all. I didn’t take into account that some of our new neighbors may have spent very little time in cars growing up. You cannot diminish the importance of observing and experiencing others driving safely. I didn’t take into account my own nervousness about having someone else in charge of my car. I didn’t take into account the language lapses where “pull over” has no meaning or “make sure to signal” wouldn’t register. Eventually, I realized that I’m not the right person to teach someone to drive. There are other things that I can contribute.

This post is written by Marti Anderson, September 2024

In helping to support folks newly arrived to Brattleboro, I have found myself in a growing relationship with an Afghan family. They have been here about six months.

Z,  the father, is about 35. He and his wife, M, have an infant son. They are expecting another baby come March.  Back in Afghanistam, Z. was a psychologist and M. was a lawyer. 

They now live in downtown Brattleboro. Z. works at Lactalist in Guilford.

Before Z. got his driver’s license and car this past week, I would sometimes take him to and from work.

During these rides we would talk about many things. In becoming friends we have given each other permission to ask many questions. (Do you change your son’s diapers? Yes.) We have learned a lot from each other.

The other day Z. tells me that a very elderly man living next door to them had fallen and that there was no one there to help him up. He asks me “Why do you let this to happen? That would ever happen in my country.”

I replied that his question was a good one and we should talk more.

Taking Z home from work a few nights later, we made our usual small talk. As he was about to get out of the car, he says to me, “I am so happy my son will be growing up in this country.”

Post submitted by Whitman Wheeler October 2024