ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Saturday, February 15, 1997 TAG: 9702170021
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: A Cuppa Joe
SOURCE: JOE KENNEDY
Suppose something terrible happened and you and your family had to move to another country, a place as alien as Kurdistan in northern Iraq.
Suppose that only you knew the language, but you and your relatives were expected to set up a household, find jobs and quickly fit into the community.
Suppose that for a little while an agency would help you with employment leads and language tutoring and cover your household expenses, and the government would give you food stamps and a Medicaid card.
How long would it take you to become established? One month? Two? Six? More?
The answer would depend on the sort of person you were and the goals you wanted to pursue.
I've kept this in mind since my recent visit with Khachik Daneyelian and his family at their house off Lafayette Boulevard in Northwest Roanoke.
In October, they came as refugees to Roanoke after fleeing invading forces in Kurdistan. Khachik had been a security officer who escorted international visitors when they toured the country - a prestigious, well-paid position.
Back then, he already was trying to size up his new country and eager for things to fall into place.
A family in limbo
When I dropped by the other day, I hoped to find an inspiring story of rapid advancement in a new world.
Instead, I found Khachik in limbo, trying to decide whether to hunker down and take an entry-level job in a factory or warehouse here, or wait for back pay and possibly other money from home and then move his family - himself, his wife, his father and his four sisters - to the huge Arab community in Detroit.
Unshaven, he met me at the front door of his stucco, one-story house wearing jeans, a casual shirt and slippers. He said he hadn't started working yet, but knew the time was nigh. Refugee and Immigration Services was paying his rent and local telephone charges, but that would end in March.
One of his sisters had enrolled in a three-month training program at Maid Bess Corp. in Salem, he said, but she was let go after five weeks for sewing too slowly.
Khachik had been offered a job at Home Shopping Network, but turned it down, to the dismay of Barbara Smith at the refugee office.
"They tell me, `You must work,''' Khachik said. "I know I must work."
But he worries about leaving his family at home while he works; it's mostly for them, he said, that he wants to move to the enclave in Detroit.
He also has friends there, and he has a credo: "Don't be any place you don't know someone" - someone who can explain things, maybe even help you set up a business of your own.
The power to decide
In January, Khachik and his uncle rode a bus to Detroit. Despite the brutal weather and higher rates of unemployment and crime, he envisioned opportunities there. But how can he move? He has no income, and resettlement funds can't be transferred.
So he is waiting for his back pay, waiting for more information, waiting and pondering his options. It is waiting of the worst kind.
Khachik's cousin, Misak, lives with his family on Chapman Avenue and works for a furniture refinisher. Some of Misak's sisters work at Maid Bess. The two youngsters are in school, Scouts and tutoring at West End Center.
"You should be like him," I wanted to say to Khachik. "Plunge in. Get started. Move later, if you still want to. Just begin."
But I'm not Khachik, who lost nearly everything he had, except the power to decide for himself.
What's your story? Call me at 981-3256, send e-mail to joek@roanoke.com or write to P.O. Box 2491, Roanoke 24010.
LENGTH: Medium: 74 linesby CNB