Newcomers grab lifelines

Koffi Djagba is known by refugees to be a tough caseworker. He rides his refugees to get jobs, to learn English. He does not coddle them, and he doesn't give anything away.

"I am very tough on them, because I have to be," said Djagba, who is himself a refugee from the African country of Togo.

He visits their homes and pays close attention to the way the children progress. He watches the way they dress, how the house looks. He takes note of whether family members are at home when they should be and gone to school or work at appropriate times.

Without close supervision, Djagba says, young refugees especially get snared in all the same bad behavior that challenges Westerners. "This will not help them on the road to the future," he said.

It is the job of Koffi Djagba, and many others in positions like his, to help refugees navigate these "American ways."

Caseworkers at Catholic Community Services, the International Rescue Committee and Jewish Family Services are the lifeline for refugees for months when they step off the plane in Utah.

Even before the plane touches down, these caseworkers have rented apartments and arranged for furniture for refugee families. They meet the plane, introduce newcomers to their homes, buy food for the first few nights, and depending on the education and history of the refugees, walk them through living skills from the obtuse to the obvious.

How to use the bus. How to use the stove. How to use a key. How to learn to drive. How to get food stamps. How to shop at the grocery store. Caseworkers take refugees to get their Social Security cards, to health screenings, to ESL classes and to job training workers.

They know the lay of the land because most are refugees themselves.

Galena Bakina followed her son here as a refugee from Uzbekistan in 1992.

After the breakup of the Soviet Union and individual nations gaining independence, they lived in Uzbekistan. "It became very dangerous for anyone who wasn't Muslim."

Some were persecuted or humiliated in public. Other Jews were beaten or threatened in their homes.

Galena Bakina's son left the country first. Dmitri, his wife and 18-month-old son were granted refugee status after a laborious wait, and they came to the United States from Moscow in 1990.

Now Bakina works with Jewish Family Services helping Russians gain citizenship and learn English.