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Adde and other refugees say they fear persecution for the day President Bush said "our nation saw evil." "I have been here four years and people have never looked at me like they have after the bombing," says Adde, one of more than 1,000 Muslims now living in F-M. "They look at me in the supermarket as if, 'Why are you here?'" " ... Now I feel like some angry people might kill me for something I have not done," says Adde, a mother of two and also the elected leader of the F-M Somali community. During the week following the attack on America, police said there were three incidents in Fargo of Muslims being harassed. Indeed, the events of Sept. 11 and the continuing threats of terrorism clamp an unnerving psychological grip on everyone of every race. During such times social tension has a double edge. While the attacks on America have given refugees a sense of distrust for their surroundings, they have also been the cause of apprehension for some of their American-born neighbors. Jamal Sarki, a Kurd who fled from northern Iraq to Fargo, recalls his mother crying on Sept. 11. "'Why would you kill innocent people? It's just like killing your own family.' "On the second day, I went to a dealership to get a car. A guy rolled down a window and said, 'Why did you guys do that to us?' "That hurt." Firmly rooted members of the F-M community today view familiar territory as sometimes foreign territory. Bewildered, they ask radio talk show hosts and newspaper editors for an explanation of why foreign nationals have become new settlers in the High Plains. A group claiming to be "the nation's pre-eminent white nationalist organization" boasts of leafleting Fargo and West Fargo on an August weekend to rally "White Euro-Americans in the Fargo/Moorhead community" against the area's growing cultural diversity. Major refugee area For certain, the F-M population is more diverse than at any time in its history. The Forum estimates Fargo's refugee population to be at least 5,500 -- or 6 percent of the city's population. Moorhead's refugee population is much smaller -- no more than an estimated 500. The estimates are based upon interviews with leaders of various ethnic groups and other gauges, such as statistics kept by Lutheran Social Services, Cass and Clay counties and schools in F-M. The U.S. census doesn't track refugee populations. Some say this diversity, which has grown markedly in the past 10 years, is to the Red River Valley's benefit. Employers, for example, say without refugees they couldn't fill jobs, and that they're a necessity to keep businesses going. Others, especially educators and social service providers, don't fall into the all-out booster category. They speak of the toll resettlement of large numbers of refugees has on their schools and their agencies. During the last nine years, the Red River Valley has become a virtual valley to the world, with 47 different foreign dialects -- from Afar and Amharic to Urdu and Vietnamese -- spoken in the Fargo School District. From 1992 until October, 4,635 refugees arrived in North Dakota, with more than 90 percent settling in Fargo, according to LSS. The agency is the main provider of services to refugees. The swelling immigration is a major reason the entire state of North Dakota showed any population growth during the last decade, according to the 2000 federal census. It also contributed handsomely to Fargo's 22 percent population rise in the past decade. Immigration during the 1990s had Fargo at the beginning of the 21st century with the fourth-highest ratio of refugees to general population in the country, according to the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. During the first eight months of this year -- before the United States virtually stopped the flow of immigrants into this country because of the attack on America -- North Dakota, the nation's fourth-smallest state in population, received more refugees than 17 other states and the District of Columbia. So who are these people? Why did their compasses point to F-M? How do they benefit the community? Are they too much of a burden? How much are they being helped? And, how do people like John Mading, formerly from Sudan, adapt to a sometimes Arctic-like climate after having spent their lives near the equator? In June, a team of Forum reporters and photographers was assigned to answer those questions. After Sept. 11, the project expanded in scope to investigate other issues involving the new immigrants who, in some ways, seem to be living a sort of subterranean existence in F-M: They are neighbors, but strangers -- people of sometimes different appearance and dress, who are here for reasons that are largely unknown to most. This three-part "Valley to the World" series attempts to explain the cultural metamorphosis taking place today in F-M. Protest beating The May 19 beating of 21-year-old Boaz Mumuzi and a friend of his was called a hate crime by Fargo police. "It victimizes more than just the person that was assaulted," Fargo Police Chief Chris Magnus said at the time. "A hate crime sends a message beyond the immediate victim and creates fear and damage to a whole group in the community. It's disturbing and that's something we should all be concerned about." A father and his 20-year-old son pleaded guilty to assaulting Mumuzi and are now serving prison sentences. The beating -- Mumuzi was hit in the face and back of the head with a wooden baton -- left the Sudanese refugee with vision in one eye permanently impaired. Shortly after the attack, four F-M social and religious leaders issued a statement imploring residents to make the area "a place of acceptance and warmth that values its diversity in cultures, colors and different views. We can and will thrive and grow as we respect and honor our differences, our diversity." " ... It is not enough to just react to situations like these. We must ask how we can dismantle the biases we all have. We must teach our children to value the diversity of this world we live in and all its beauty …" That public appeal would become a catalyst for The Forum undertaking the "Valley to the World" project. Escaping oppression Some F-M refugees like Alen Grebovic fought in the war in Bosnia. A fighter for 4½ years, he received injuries to his stomach and leg when a grenade exploded. Grebovic, a Christian, was eventually forced out of the army -- and the country -- because of his religion. Abdul Noor was 13 when his parents were murdered in the family home in Somalia. He saw many of his friends killed while trying to work their way to freedom. Grebovic and Noor have started new lives in F-M. Similar frightening and sad stories spread throughout F-M -- into places like "Little Mogadishu," the area around 21st to 23rd streets in south Fargo, in the "Bosnian Ghetto," north of Innovis hospital, and elsewhere. Refugees, as defined by the United Nations, are people who had to flee their homeland and are unable to return. They escaped fearing persecution based on race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group. Refugees in F-M are here for those reasons. LSS officials say North Dakota is unique for the number of countries represented in its resettlement program, although 72 percent of arrivals in 2000 were from the former Yugoslavia. Other nationalities arriving last year were Cubans, Haitians, Vietnamese, Kurds, Iranians, Somalians, Sudanese and Ethiopians. Refugees also came from Burundi, Djibouti, Sierra Leone, Eritrea, Rwanda and Togo. The list of 2001 arrivals has a similar makeup. Refugees in North Dakota essentially are resettled into four cities: Fargo, Bismarck, Grand Forks and Wahpeton. But more than nine of 10 are in Cass County -- almost all living in Fargo. As of Oct. 2, North Dakota had 343 refugee arrivals in 2001. South Dakota, by contrast, had 244. Montana had 10. The United States accepts a limited number of refugees each year, a figure ultimately determined by the president in consultation with Congress. That total ranged to upward of 132,000 during the Clinton administration. The limit for 2001 was 80,000. It included 20,000 each from Africa and Eastern Europe; 17,000 from the former Soviet Union; 10,000 from the Near East/South Asia; 6,000 from East Asia; 3,000 from Latin America; and 4,000 unallocated. Nearly 75,000 refugees had arrived in the United States as of Oct. 2. Just before Thanksgiving, President Bush authorized 70,000 refugees into the country by Sept. 30, 2002, which is the end of the fiscal year. It is the lowest ceiling in a decade, mainly because of the events of Sept. 11. There is now a moratorium on refugees coming into the country because of world events. Jobs offer appeal The questions come back to: Why Fargo-Moorhead? Employers can't count on home-grown talent staying here. Two of three people leaving the state are young adults, says Richard Rathge, director of the North Dakota State Data Center. So the state needs workers to compensate for a significant drop in its entry-level work force of 20- to 34-year-olds, a group that declined 16 percent in population from 1990-2000. Also, with a state birth rate that has declined every year since 1982, employers must look far outside their back yards for workers -- even oceans away. Add to that one of the lowest unemployment rates in the country -- it was 1.4 percent in both September and October -- and it is no surprise North Dakota business operators roll out welcome mats for refugees. "Our economy is now diversified enough that we've got a variety of jobs available," says David Martin, public affairs director for the Chamber of Commerce of Fargo Moorhead. Without an influx of refugees during the past decade, Martin believes a number of jobs would be left unfilled, a detriment to the economy. He says the location, size and nature of F-M make it appealing to refugees. It's metropolitan enough to offer big-city services but small enough to feel safe and comfortable, especially for refugees from rural areas. FBI crime statistics released in October bear out the security factor: F-M is rated the seventh-safest metropolitan area in the United States. Martin views Fargo as one of the nation's premiere refugee resettlement communities. "However, that doesn't mean we've got it right. But we're becoming real proactive. We're taking a look at the skills-training component so they can become productive, tax-paying citizens as soon as possible." Others take the view that refugees bring diversity to an area, and this gives residents another view of their world. "Understanding and accepting the cultural differences among all of our citizens makes us a stronger, more enriched state," North Dakota Gov. John Hoeven says. 'Glad to be in Fargo' Another explanation to the "Why Fargo-Moorhead?" question is that among refugees waiting to get into the United States, F-M enjoys the reputation for being a good place to live. "They come because there's a culture," says Kathy Hogan, director of Cass County Social Services. "We have such diversity." Take the case of five Sudanese refugees who about three months ago moved to F-M from Jackson, Miss. Although Fargo's refugee resettlement program struggled during the summer months to the point of being virtually shut down, the area is paradise compared to Jackson, they say. "We find the life of Mississippi was too hard," says Abraham Garang Jok, 19. "It was like life in Africa. We were in misery 14 years (as refugees abroad) and we don't wish to be in misery any longer." The Sudanese war orphans, known as The Lost Boys of Sudan, are among 40 now living in Fargo and among 3,600 being resettled in the United States this year. Eighteen years of warfare in Sudan have killed 2 million people and uprooted 4.5 million from their homes. Collectively, the four 20-year-olds and 19-year-old decided to leave their Southern home. "We persuaded the case manager it would be better for us to move," Jacob Angau says. "Even back in Kakuma (the Kenyan refugee camp where they spent nine years) we heard Fargo had good people and good things. When we were in a bad situation in Mississippi we remembered what friends (who'd already come to) Fargo had said and what people in the camp had told us." After receiving help from a church, they made arrangements to leave for Fargo and stay with Abraham's nephew, Chol Mayom, who's lived here six years and attends North Dakota State University. They arrived at Fargo's bus depot on the first Saturday in September. For a while, the five stayed with Mayom and his three roommates. Soon, however, Lutheran Social Services helped them rent their own apartment on 17th Street South. St. John Episcopal Church in Moorhead, LSS and Pat and Kim Gores, a south Fargo couple, have become like surrogate parents to Fargo's Lost Boys. "We are glad to be here," Abraham says. "This area is better. The people who are living here are social -- they are friendly." They come at a cost There is a huge cost to F-M for being home to refugees. No one can give a price tag, although researchers at NDSU are in the final stages of an economic impact study. It is known that about one-tenth of Cass County's approximately 4,000 welfare cases involves refugees. Hogan says fully one-half of the refugees in Cass County aren't able to make it on their own after being here eight months -- and they probably never will. A health assessment study conducted about two years ago found 45.3 percent of working-age refugees in Fargo had full-time jobs. Another study, conducted in the late 1990s, put the public cost of refugee health care at $1.5 million for one month. The education of the new arrivals strains schools. Although employers stand to gain by more new Americans in the work force, at least one school administrator warns about the fallout. "There's a balance between bringing in enough people to meet economic development and work force needs and bringing in the number of people that overburden our capacity to provide basic services to folks," says Chuck Cheney, superintendent of schools in West Fargo. "It puts new burdens on lots and lots of folks. While we are up for the challenge, one of our major jobs is to maintain a high level of educational services to every one of our students, up and down every street of our community." There are 131 English as a Second-Language students in West Fargo schools. Health care for refugees is a monumental issue: - Of the 648 refugees seen at a downtown Fargo health center last year, 273 had latent, but treatable, tuberculosis. Hepatitis B was even more common. - Roughly 50 percent of refugees treated at the downtown health center suffer from depression; virtually 100 percent have some kind of mental trauma. - MeritCare spent $9,250 a month the first six months this year for interpreters -- a cost that almost certainly must sometime be passed along to nonrefugee patients. - Some health-care providers want nothing to do with refugees because of the expense involved. There are so few dentists in F-M willing to take refugees as clients that it takes them six months or more to receive treatment. Social issues dog service agencies and local governments. - There is concern an "urban ghetto" consisting largely of refugees living in deteriorating low-cost housing will form in Fargo within the next five years. - LSS started the Oct. 1 fiscal year with a $30,000 deficit mainly because of damage refugees caused to apartments leased for them by LSS. - Hogan says international screening and background checks need to improve so undesirables with criminal records don't make it into the country -- and Fargo -- as has happened here. - There is doubt among care providers throughout the community about the effectiveness of LSS, and its ability to adequately administer refugee programs and to provide adequate service. - As a result, a fragile network of volunteers cares for many of the newest arrivals, literally holding their hands while they learn the very basics of living in America. Certainly not everyone in F-M embraces their new American neighbors. Some view refugee resettlement as a negative for the community, and not just because of the cost factors. "We … have talked to people who want to close the door," says NDSU professor Kathleen Slobin. "It's called xenophobia -- fear of strangers." So Fargo-Moorhead on this day in December finds itself in this situation: Its doors have opened to 6,000 or so people because they had no place else to go. For them it was become refugees or face death or desolation. Through resettlement, they have made the Red River Valley a valley to the world. In doing so they have created a new world for all the people of the valley to somehow manage -- and come to understand. This story was written by Forum Editor Lou Ziegler based on reports from Deneen Gilmour, Dave Kolpack, Helmut Schmidt, Jeff Baird, Cole Short, Tom Pantera, Gerry Gilmour, Joy Anderson and Erin Hemme Froslie
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