A voice whispered in my mind at the end of a long, frustrating day: “Just push.”
It was a voice from the past. I was visiting Nairobi, on a packed bus, flustered because I couldn’t figure out something as simple as making it to the door to exit the bus. Not until a voice behind me said, “Just push.”
Fast forward to the beginning of this particular day. I was with two young women: excellent students in their home country, newly arrived to the U.S. from Africa in one of the snowiest winters any of us could remember. They had just been reunited with their mother after an 8 ½-year separation.
Now, they had to navigate the U.S. bus system to get from the suburb where they now lived to their new school in St. Paul. I never take buses, and in far-flung suburbs, they run infrequently. I left at 5:30 a.m. so the three of us could make the 7:06 a.m. Metro Transit bus to make a connection to their school bus in St. Paul. The girls had never taken a bus or crossed a busy street, so I first asked the older girl to scale a mountain of snow to push the “Walk” button. After we safely crossed, we waited for the bus, standing close to the street so the driver could see us over mounds of snow.
Once on the Metro bus, I heaved a sigh of relief and asked the driver to shout
out, “Hoyt Street,” when we got there. That’s where our trouble began – it never occurred to me he would not know where Hoyt Street was. We got off at the wrong stop and started walking the wrong way, relying on directions in French from one of the girl’s phones. Finally, we found a gas station to get directions, but by this time, we had missed the school bus. Thankfully, I had the Uber app on my phone, and we arrived at school just a few minutes late.
At the end of the day, I met their school bus. Lots of school buses stop at this corner – only one marked – and I spotted the girls walking up the street. A passerby helped us find the correct Metro bus stop. I put the girls on the Metro bus and told them to call me if there was any problem, not realizing they did not understand what I just said.
I later heard from their mother that the girls had gotten off at the wrong stop and were hysterical.
At first, I was aggravated because my best laid plans had failed both going and coming. That’s when the voice from the bus in Nairobi came to me: “Just push.”
Belatedly, I realized the girls were suffering from serious culture shock. I somewhat experienced this my first weeks in Africa, but I had a longtime friend with me and was there for a visit. These girls had been separated from their mother for a very long time and had moved to a new country where they didn’t know the language or systems – including things like how to safely cross a busy street, deal with winter, or navigate the local bus system. No wonder they were upset.
Over these last several years, this family has become more resilient and found strength grounding themselves in relationships with caring individuals. What an honor it has been to accompany this family through their challenges and opportunities. Please consider joining the Immigrant Support Ministry to welcome and accompany refugees and asylees new to this country and Minnesota weather. You can be that helpful voice guiding: “Just push.”
Learn more about how you can help at mary.org/refugee-immigration-ministry/.
Written by: Kathy Clarkson, education and advocacy volunteer with the Immigrant Support Ministry. As part of this work, she has led parishioners to our southern border to experience what actually happens to migrants and their children. Baptised, confirmed and married at the Basilica, she feels she’s been a parishioner her entire life. She has also been involved with the hospitality ministry of St. Vincent de Paul, RCIA and taught the confirmation class. She has accompanied our first asylee family for the past ten years. One member of this family is preparing to take his citizenship test.