By Lauren Rudser and Brittney Johnson/ Oakland North

Last week, the Obama administration reversed bans, put in pace under President Bush, on Stem Cell research using federal funds. See how this is affecting one local couple.

Last month, a youth curfew ordinance was voted down by the City Council’s Public Safety Committee. And while the ordinance failed to become law, it did succeed in rousing the voice of Oakland’s youth.

Farm Fresh Choice, a food justice and youth empowerment project of the Berkeley-based Ecology Center, works with youth of color in West Berkeley to educate the community around nutrition and access to healthy eating. On Tuesday afternoons, they run an organic produce stand outside Bahia, a bilingual after-school program. Listen to some of the youth as they discuss their work in the community.

By Samson Reiny/510 Report

Jason Witt is an Olympian of recycling—he can recycle up to 800 pounds of bottles and cans a day.  “He’s the captain of his ship,” said Amir Soltani, a writer and activist who has been following Witt for the past year as part of his upcoming documentary on West Oakland recyclers.  Soltani said there is a lot of physical effort and finesse involved in manning a cart the size of Witt’s, which, at the end of each day, is stacked with overstuffed bags protruding several feet into the air.  “He has to read the road, know every pothole and how to maneuver around them,” Soltani said.  “He has to be able to turn his cart without tipping it.  It’s not pretty if it tips.”

Witt is one of the characters in Soltani’s upcoming film debut, “Redemption: Stories of the West Oakland Recycling Community,” which focuses not only on the lives of recyclers—running the gamut from those who sell cans for residual income to others whose livelihoods are dependent on collecting the trash of others—but on the community’s varied reactions to them and to Alliance Metals, the recycling facility that keeps them in business. The Graduate Theological Union’s Justice Collaborative will be hosting a director’s cut preview of the film next Thursday at the First Christian Church in Oakland.  Recyclers featured in the movie will be on hand to offer further testimony about their experiences, and staffers from Poor Magazine and the Homeless Action Center, along with various representatives from the community, will also hold discussions to promote public dialogue about poverty. 

The first-time filmmaker became especially interested in exploring this issue after meeting a recycler. He vividly remembers meeting Miles Jefferson, a regular who makes his rounds near Soltani’s West Oakland home. Jefferson is partially paralyzed on one half of his body as the result of a stroke, but still manages to gather his bottles and cans.  “I was stunned and mesmerized by him,” Soltani said.  “He had this tremendous dignity.”

Indeed, that is one of his film’s main messages—for those to whom recycling is a way of life, there is tremendous discipline involved.  Jason Witt, the Olympian recycler, not only has to balance his cart with finesse; there is other strategy involved because of the intense competition out there for recyclables. Recyclers must be good at cultivating relationships with businesses and residents, and at establishing a route.  Witt knows when and where to be at a certain place, usually to collect before someone else does. Sometimes he is deft and camouflaged because he doesn’t want to draw public attention.  Soltani said people often don’t think of recyclers as productive.  “There’s this tendency to want to criminalize them,” he said, “but many of these people don’t want handouts, and they’re not waiting for them.”

The presence of recyclers, and of Alliance Metals, is a contentious one in West Oakland.  For many, including immigrants that speak little English and those without the skills to be competitive in an already beleaguered job market, cashing in on the recyclable goods is their only means of survival.

But some residents and business owners want Alliance Metals shut down. They say some recyclers urinate in their yards and bring drugs to the area—others say the lack of public restrooms leave them no choice.  Another faction argues that closing the company will only increase crime in West Oakland because recyclers who suffer from drug addictions, left with few alternatives, will find more nefarious ways to support their habits.  Some from both sides of the spectrum blame Oakland city councilwoman Nancy Nadel for not reducing blight in the area.  Fingers are sometimes pointed at developers and tenants of new condos like Magnolia Row—maybe the reason why poor people have no where to go is because affordable housing is disappearing.  “Besieged is the best word that describes the community,” said Soltani.  “Everyone is a little bit stuck.”

In addition to portraying the daily lives of recyclers, Soltani interviewed Nadel, Metal Alliance owner Jay Anast, and several nearby residents, all with varying points of view.  “There are all kinds of barriers that prevent us from seeing each other,” Soltani said.  “This film is not an art form but a life form where a community can reconnect and solve a problem none of us can solve alone.”              

The recycling controversy is just a segment of the greater plight that has ravaged the historic district.  Soltani said that many of West Oakland’s problems today—poverty, poor health, and high crime, to name a few—represent the residual effects of a long, tumultuous, and yet proud struggle for justice.  “There’s a long history of fighting poverty and inequality,” Soltani said. 

West Oakland is a well-known incubator for social change movements.  The Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters established their West Coast office at Fifth and Wood Streets and became the first African American-led group to sign a contract with a national company.  After World War II, the 16th Street railroad station became synonymous with the African American escape from segregation in the south.  In the 1960’s, the Black Panthers used West Oakland as their base of operations.             

But these notable efforts are, in large part, the work of a community that has been prompted into bravery and resourcefulness in order to survive.  “Racism, poor public planning, a weak political base, capital flight…there are so many aspects to this that I can’t do it justice,” Soltani said.  Yet through all of the challenges, Soltani is amazed that people, like the recyclers, are still managing to survive.  “Without trying to sound crass, there’s a magic to West Oakland that’s not lost,” he said.  “It’s beautiful that people are finding a way to make a living out of nothing.”

Thursday’s screening of the preview of “Redemption” will be open to the public, but Solatani says he’s still not sure when the final version of the film will be ready.  He’s shot most of the footage, but there are issues he wants to delve into more deeply.  “I’m looking into more funding.  There’s so much more that could be explored.  If I could go on forever, I would,” he said, smiling.  But what is certain is that he wants the movie to evoke a change in awareness.  “Redemption doesn’t just mean redeeming cans and bottles,” Soltani said.  “It’s about redeeming people’s lives.”                

The GTU Justice Collaborative Presents: Redemption: Stories of the West Oakland Recycling Community. Thursday, March 5th, 4:30-8:00pm. 111 Fairmount Ave. Oakland, CA.Suggested donation for admission $10.  Groups of 10 or more $5 per admission.  No one will be turned away.  Child friendly. For more information, call Tyson at 510.525.7587 or email justice.collaborative@yahoo.com

Samson Reiny/510Report

It’s an overcast Friday afternoon at Golden Gate Fields, the last remaining racing track in Northern California.  The on-and-off drizzle and chilly air have left the bleachers nearly empty as people flock into the clubhouse-a heated room with greasy ballpark-style foods being sold by vendors and closed-circuit television access to the races.  It isn’t quite a standing-room-only crowd, but it seems like a decent weekday turnout-a good number of seats are filled and the walking space is taken up by several anxious television watchers, their heads cocked toward the multiple screens above as they pace side to side, their hips swaggering in-between shuffles.  Scattered on the floor beneath the hubbub of enthusiasts are numerous, almost confetti-like, white betting tickets.

Charlie Medeiros, 64, is holding one of them at the betting kiosk, ready to pick his winning horse. These thin paper slips are used much like the modern Las Vegas slot machine tickets: Money is deposited into a kiosk, and a ticket with the equal dollar amount is printed.  That ticket then can be used at another kiosk to place wagers for races at Golden Gate Field, and at upcoming races all over the country, for that matter.  They can be converted back to cash, but for how much, of course, depends on how successful the bets are.  The abandoned tickets scattered across the floor are probably not winners.

Just a minute ago, Medeiros was leaning over the front bleachers near the paddock trying to get a last up-close look at the horses before the race.  “You’ve got to look at how shiny the fur is,” he said while smiling broadly.  “That tells you how healthy he is.”

Medeiros is a heavy-set man who has been coming to the track regularly for the past fifteen years, since he first moved to the Bay Area.  He often comes on Sundays, but sometimes, like today, he makes the weekday trek.  “When I get into a fight with my wife, I come here,” he says with a hearty laugh.

Over the years, he’s read many books on what to look for in a potential winner, like strong hind legs and perky and alert ears.  He looks at the expert picks on the scoreboard and compares them to what the general public is saying.  So with all of his assessments mentally tallied, he’s found his winning horse for the sixth race of the day.  He clicks on a series of options on the kiosk screen that narrow in on his choice: Golden Gate Fields, 6th race, 6th horse.  “Number six is it,” he says triumphantly with a broad smile.  “Alight in Darkness is my winner.”  The ticket is processed, and Medeiros, a lover of the live race, is one of the few that heads into the cold of the exposed bleachers.

***

The allure of the horse race-and the prospect of winning-has made Golden Gate Fields a premier entertainment venue since its opening in 1941.  After the closing of Bay Meadows in San Mateo last year, the West Berkeley fixture is now the only horse racing venue in Northern California.  The racetrack is having to adapt both to the increased competition within the gambling industry as well as to the major drop in betting in the wake of the recent economic crisis.  In order to increase its revenue, the nearly 70 year old institution is luring in a new generation of visitors, who, though not yet enthralled with the pure aesthetic of the race like Medeiros, are looking to have a good time.  

The race track has paid witness to several history-making events and rivalries, most notably one between the great Triple Crown champion Citation and the Irish-bred Noor, who in 1950 bested his more illustrious combatant for the fourth time that year at Golden Gate Fields.  There was Silky Sullivan, the horse whose come-from-behind style made him a fan-favorite when he won the Golden Gate Futurity in 1957.  (Silky was the first horse to by buried on the infield.)  John Henry, the Horatio Alger of thoroughbreds, who was once criticized for his inferior pedigree, sprinted through the 1984 Golden Gate Handicap in record time at the ripe old racing age of nine.

Today, the infield still has its genteel elegance, with fountain streams rising from large ponds, delicate shrubs rounded into simple design, and rich manicured grasses layered in contrast.  The quiet park holds the bustle of the rest of Berkeley at bay-a nearby jammed highway overpass snakes precariously near the far fence, and the imposing bulls-eye of a new Target store juts out from the urban sprawl.

Like the changing Berkeley landscape, the 1990′s saw the entertainment industry diversify, much to the detriment of the once-glorified track.  Horse racing, long California’s sole gambling enterprise, saw its monopoly hobble with the sudden emergence of Native American gaming casinos, state lotteries, and online wagering.  The capital flight hasn’t eased since; over the last decade the racing fields have had to stare down a ten percent decline in betting.  Some former racing fans have forsaken the hullabaloo of a flash-photo neck-and-neck finale for the sterile lights of triple 7′s on a slot machine or the shotgun repetition of online poker.

And the strain of the last few decades has only been exacerbated by the current decline of the economy.  Standing in the clubhouse, shuffling through her big stack of betting tickets, is Lucia, a short, older woman with a round cherubic face wrapped with librarian’s glasses.  Having come nearly every day for the last four years, she’s made horse race betting her career. “I’ve made about $300 today,” she says, “and not to boast or anything, but it’s normally more than that.”  But surely, not everyone is winning.  Can even the stalwart groupies bet with the same ease they did when the economy was better?  “The people here, they would never tell you if they were betting less,” Lucia says earnestly.  “They have too much pride.”

Indeed, several other gamblers at the track share her outlook. “I’ve been coming here for 30 years,” says Butch Coyoca, 62.  “I spent my college education here…I don’t bet a lot like I did when I was younger, but the economy hasn’t affected my betting now.”

“People are going to bet big no matter what,” another older man mumbles, barely looking up as he fumbles through his tickets.

But these statements belie the overall reality of gambling in this economy: The amount of money being wagered on races across the country is dropping.  “People are betting maybe $20 instead of $30,” says Sam Spear, media relations director at Golden Gate Fields.  “It’s just a sign of the times.”

And it’s not the just betting numbers that have gone down-the horses themselves are disappearing.  “Normally, there’s about eight horses on a race like this,” Spear says while pointing to a lineup of steeds posted at the starting gates.  “There are only six competing here.  That’s a potentially major problem since people need horses to bet on.”

Horse owners, who finance the grooming, training, stable rentals, and the horses’ riders expenses, are also feeling the strain.  “Many of these horse owners own businesses, and they might not be doing too well right now,” Spear says.  “A lot of owners are on the sidelines.”  Spears notes that some owners don’t make money, some break even, and others reap a profit-but then again, he points out, owners don’t fund racehorses for the money.  “It’s about seeing your horse on the track and seeing your personal colors and logo on the horse and the rider.  They do this because of the passion and love of the sport,” he says.

***

A few days later, the weather at the track is even worse-on this stormy Sunday, the whipping wind is pulling the rain in all directions, and the cold is biting and relentless.  But the weather hasn’t kept people away from the fields.  A steady stream of traffic is heading into the stadium from Gilman Avenue even though the first race is already finished.   

That’s because Sundays are now Dollar Days at Golden Gate Fields.  General admission, parking, programs, hotdogs, beer, and soda are all just a buck each.  The track’s motivation for starting Dollar Days last year was simple: the racetrack needed to increase attendance to offset both the general drop in horse racing attendance over the last few decades and the recent decline in betting among those who still gamble.  “On-site attendance and betting is the biggest piece of the pie,” said Spear.  “It helps our bottom line.”  The first of these bargain days were put on sporadically last year to see if attendance increased, and it did; now Dollar Day is a weekly event.

And it’s paying off.

Comparing this winter to the last one, attendance is up six percent and betting is up seven percent.  “It’s because we’ve enhanced our marketing of the Dollar Day promotions,” said Robert Hartman, the track’s general manager.  Golden Gate Fields has been on an advertising blitz in the last few months, hitting newspapers, television, and radio waves to reach as many people as possible. Spear attributes the increase to reeling in newcomers and, particularly, a younger audience.

“Young people are looking for entertainment on a day-off,” he says, “and Dollar Days provides that for them.”

But the buck doesn’t stop there.  The race is no longer the only showpiece on some racing days.  Golden Gate Fields held its first Chinese New Year’s Celebration a few Sundays ago, complete with lion dancers, acrobats, and a fortune teller.  This past Saturday, there were free t-shirts being handed out to celebrate El Camino Real Derby Day.  The week after next Saturday, it’s Snow Day-over forty tons of the white fluffy stuff will blanket an area of the complex and a sledding hill.

The Bay Area landmark, no longer able to rely solely on its rich history as a center for one of America’s great past-times, is trying to do what it must to thrive in the future-change with the times and attract new customers who come here for very different reasons than veteran gambler Charlie Madeiros does. Dollar Day Sunday is noisy, loud, and smelly. The crowd is very young, some attendees are very buzzed, and many are clueless about horse racing’s finer aspects.  Maybe most fans start off this way, not quite sure what to make of anything except the cheap beer and the euphoria of crowd dynamics.

Inside the stadium, on the covered lower grandstand level, droves of twentysomethings are standing huddled in cliques.  They’re chatting and laughing and giggling and yelling for others standing far away.  Their reasons for being here are the same: “It’s Dollar Day,” says Hugh McDowell, 21, whose warm breath smells of recently-eaten hot dog.  “It’s entertainment.”

“Basically just for fun,” adds Chelsea Kadota, 21, while drinking a beer.  “I’ve been here about four times, all on Dollar Days.”

“Are you winning?,” I ask.

“I haven’t been very lucky,” she says.

Near the paddock, the horses up next are taking their perfunctory mini-laps near the bleachers so the spectators can examine them.  Families are out in full force today.  Children are admiring the steeds that are standing so close to the perimeter one can hear the distinct glottal wheezes only a horse can make. A little girl with a pink jacket points to one.  “I like that one,” she says while half-hopping eagerly.

“You sure now?” says her father, Rene Cage, 50, who is also looking for his winner.  Cage smiles as she confirms her choice.  “This is her day,” he says.  “She likes to see the horses up-close.”

Nearby, a trio of middle-aged women is also making last-minute picks.  “I like that one because he smiled at me,” says one of them.

“Who, the rider?” I ask.

“No, the horse, who cares about the rider!,” she says playfully.  They erupt in laughter, and the beer each woman is holding almost splashes over the brim. “But I also like the name of the other horse, Peace Accord,” she continues while trying to contain herself.  “I love the way that sounds.”

“These two are from out of state,” her friend adds.  “I’m just bringing them for the entertainment.  I’ve been only a couple times myself.”

Just a minute later, the race begins, the one involving the smiling horse and the horse with the cool-sounding name.  One half of the crowd is outside cheering from the bleachers-the other is indoors, where some are watching the race casually on the television, and others, mostly twentysomethings, are huddled in circles sipping their beers and laughing and chatting with each other.  Some of them will eventually find out that number 2, Defensive Move, won the thrilling race, holding off a late rally by Peace Accord.

***

In the midst of all this change at Golden Gate Fields, there are still weekdays with no gimmicks, no dollar deals, not even decent weather.  On Fridays, one is more apt to find someone like Tony Ferreira, who loves the sport and has been coming since 1991.  He’s found gazing at the paddock where all the horses are being primed for the race. “I started with $10, and I’m up to $200.  It’s been a good day,” he says.

The sixth race of the day is underway, and Charlie Medeiros is leaning over the front bleachers.  He’s confident his pick, number 6, Alight in Darkness, will make the top finish. The stall doors open, and the six horses whip out with such speed and fury it’s as if they had been caged with a swarm of bees.

“Come on 6, you’re in the right place 6!” Medeiros shouts as his feet anxiously tip-toe up and down in place.  Number 6th is in fourth place a nearly a third of the way through, but Medeiros isn’t worried.  “The other horses get tired at the end. Mine is at the right place,” he says, half-shouting over the hollering crowd that has formed along the front railings.  “Darn it!”  “Keep it up!” and “Crap!” find their way into the milieu of audibility while the announcer on microphone spills out the play-by-play in an urgent, almost panicked tone.

As the horses make their way around the bend toward the finish line, the intensity of the crowd goes up another notch.  People have forsaken the holler for all-out screams.  A man repeatedly slams his program onto the railing while pleading for number 4 to pull ahead; a woman flails her arms while wildly demanding that number 5 keep its lead.

And number 5 does keep it’s lead-A Daisy Field dashes through the finish line and wins the race.  Medeiros’ pick, Alight in Darkness, placed second to last.  “Well, I lost that one. Let’s see who’s next,” he says, shrugging off the loss.  Asked what his win-loss ratio is for the day, he says, “I don’t really know until I go home.”  He looks up at the sky for a moment and thinks.  “But it doesn’t matter,” he says.  “I just like to smell the grass and see the horses … it’s my passion.”

Medeiros heads back near the paddock where the horses for the next race are being prepped.  The drizzle has picked up and he’s the only one there, scribbling notes in his program guide.

When I knocked on the door of an apartment building in East Oakland, a woman’s voice nervously asked who I was. The voice belonged to a 45-year-old woman who wishes to be identified only as S. Mohamad because she fears prosecution in her native Iraq; she is a former radiologist who came here as a refugee three months ago along with her husband and their three children. She hid behind the door because she was without a headscarf; Muslim women usually wear one to cover their hair when they are around anyone but family or other women.

When we met, she had just arrived home. Her brown hair, which had been under a scarf, was tousled. She immediately went to the kitchen and put food on the stove, then came into the living room and collapsed into a chair. She wiped the sweat off her warm face with both hands as though to erase the tiredness of the day and refresh herself. Then she put her hands in her lap as if to surrender to rest.  “Forgive me for being messy,” she said. “I have just arrived from a job workshop in San Francisco. I had to take two buses to get home because we can not afford the BART.”

Mohamad, her husband, and their three children left their home in Baghdad shortly after her brother-in-law was assassinated by insurgents. He was a well-known academic figure in Baghdad, and insurgents also targeted and killed funeral-goers. Mohammed’s extended family scattered and sought safety in other places.

Mohamad, her husband and children left everything behind and at first found refuge in Jordan. They lived in Amman for two and half years before applying to the United Nations refugee program to obtain legal papers and avoid deportation. They were accepted into the program and granted refuge in the United States. The International Rescue Committee (IRC), a nonprofit group that works with the U.S. State Department to help refugees resettle in the United States, relocated Mohammad’s family to East Oakland because of its affordable rental houses.

The IRC, which is linked with the State Department, was founded in 1933 and is headquartered in New York.  The main task of the agency is to create a viable living situation for refugees. It is required to provide airport pick-up, locate furnished accommodations, help refugees apply for Social Security cards, enroll in schools and find health care, and advise them about immigration services.

There were 13,000 Iraqi refugees admitted to the United States in 2008, according to the State Department’s resettlement program, and the IRC says it expects that number to increase to 17,000 this year. The records do not break down the number of refugees in each state because the State Department stopped tracking them more than a decade ago. “I think they stopped tracking the refugees in the States because it costs a lot of money to do the job,” said Don Climent, the regional director of the IRC’s office in San Francisco.

****

Iraqi refugees face huge challenges adjusting to life and work in the United States. The most obvious of these is language: Refugees vary in their language ability, but all must quickly learn to speak well, so they can search for work and begin to be part of society. Complicating matters for families like the Mohamads, many refugees are resettled to neighborhoods where they are surrounded by others for whom English is a second language.

There is the also the problem of security. Many Iraqi refugees feel shocked and frustrated when they realize that they have to deal with security-part of the reason they had run away from home-again. Mohamad’s 21-year-old son made his own security, buying pepper spray and a knife to protect his life. “I only felt safe in Jordan and all I did is to focus on my study,” he said. “But here, I found the United States similar to Baghdad. I changed my old nice clothes into saggy ones to blend in. I avoided passing any young men group standing in a corner of the street. I tried to put my wallet, phone and my ID in different places in my clothes. I have to struggle to stay safe in Oakland.”

In addition to fears about their security, refugees have to deal with the American healthcare system, which is totally different from back home. In Iraq, the health system is free and patients have easy access to medicine from any pharmacy, except for few restricted prescriptions.

On top of these concerns, refugees also have to find jobs quickly. It’s not easy, particularly with the U.S. economy in recession. Some Iraqis try to look beyond Oakland and go as far as San Jose. Some may get lucky, and some have to keep looking and wait for the phone to ring. “The economy is not so good in regards to employment,” said Climent at the IRC. “It is a reality that refugees have to compete with the Americans for work. Of course there is an impact. In such time you do not have to be picky, you should take any job is offered to you.”

Climent acknowledges that refugees face a difficult situation in the United States, trying to blend in with the society in a short period of time, even when they have the help of the IRC. “There are a lot of things going into this and it is certainly less than perfect,” he said. “It is not easy to be a refugee, even under the best circumstances. Overall it is incredibly positive program but when you get into details, you can see how hard it is for some people to make it through the process and to start over and to learn all the stuff they have to learn to operate in the society in short time. It is a lot, it needs time but it really works.”

****

It hasn’t worked yet, though, for the Mohamads. The family struggles against the loss of their money, jobs, security, and education. They use a temporary monthly stipend from the social services to pay for rent, and rely on social services for food stamps. Mrs. Mohammad said she has submitted roughly seven resumés since she came to U.S. three months ago, with no luck. She said does not want her children to work because they are still in school, and they do not have any job experience.

Her eldest son, now 21, takes advanced courses in English language and CSEE courses (environment and green jobs training) at the community college so he may find a temporary job.  He was once an engineering undergraduate student who had to drop out of school in Baghdad to go with his family to Jordan. He managed to resume college in Amman, but again had to leave in the middle of his studies to come to Oakland with his family. Now he wants to apply for school again, but must first wait for a year or two to be a California resident so the family can afford the college tuition.

“My eyes are dry of tears,” his mother said as she considered her family’s situation. “I cannot see well because I cried so hard. I just wish I could go back home but I could not. I have no family left there, my house is rented and I can not just ask the residents to leave because I will have to go through the court and that means many papers and time and money. It is not safe yet for us to go back and I’m torn between longing to go back and my children’s safety and future. ”

The family’s apartment has three bedrooms, and as Mrs. Mohamad talked, her husband came out of the bedroom, interrupting his wife to fact-check their story. He is a tall man who used to have his own business as a heavy machines contractor. Now he is unemployed, and spends half of the day searching Web sites to fill out online applications. It’s frustrating, he said, and pointless, because almost employers ask for a license and references.

“Wherever we find a job application, they ask for a license and a reference, and I just came from Iraq,” he said. “How am I supposed to have a reference or a license, which [requires] us to get back to study for few months or years to match our degree from Iraq? I cannot even work as a bus driver unless I get a reference and a license.”

Mrs. Mohammad said she and her husband go to the social services program “job club” daily, and attend every workshop and lecture on job-hunting that they can. She wiped her face with her hands. “I do not want my son lose another year,” she said. “Education is very precious to me.”

At that moment, her son entered the house holding heavy books to his chest like a child clutching a precious toy. He called for his younger brother and sister to come out from their rooms. He was happy that he had bought the books for $1 each at a private sales event at the Barnes & Noble bookstore in Jack London Square. The books included a history book about the U.S. Marines and their battle in Iraq. “I bought this book because I wanted to learn their history and what they say about us,” he said while flipping the pages showing images of soldiers posing in different positions in Iraq and Kuwait.
Iraqis of all education levels are known for their passion for reading; it was one of their only ways, other than TV, to access to the outside world for knowledge during Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship. Mrs. Mohammad watched her children and sighed as they read the new books. “I do not know what to do,” she said. “We are an intellectual family and all our siblings are doctors and engineers. We do not know any other profession.”

Mrs. Mohammed’s troubles are complicated by health issues; she has a bad back, an ulcer, and high blood pressure. She wants to work, but doesn’t want to give up her 20 years experience as a radiologist in Iraq. “I cannot just trash 20 years of experience behind my back,” she said. “I want to work, but in what I know-as a radiologist or even a nurse, but for both I need to match my degree and study again for few years. I can not do that because I do not have time. I need a job quickly to support the family and save for my son’s education. This is my problem.”

“We did not leave our country for fun-all my concern was my children’s safety and their future,” she continued. “We struggle to learn the American system here by ourselves and it is very hard. How am I supposed to learn all this and get a job in a month? Why [did the] U.S. bring big numbers [of refugees here] if they are not ready to host them? I do not have any relatives in the United States like some have to rely on. I cannot go home now. I sold everything I have in Jordan, and I can not go back to Baghdad because we will be targeted.”

She broke into tears.

January 20, 2009
Presented in part by Alameda County Board of Supervisor’s Keith
Carson, District 5 Supervisor.

“This is a call to action,” says Supervisor Carson, “We are blessed to
have scores of hard working service organizations here in Alameda
County.  We want to ensure our communities have opportunities to be
engaged in community service and know that they have a place to go for
help during these difficult economic times.”