DR: I am extremely patriotic. I never thought I took that for granted, but working with individuals from deplorable conditions really makes you appreciate what we have. I have also learned that just because we have done something in our culture for many years doesn’t mean that it is the only right way to do something. There are many ways to be good neighbors. Refugees often have strong connections to their communities. In cultures with limited technology, human connections are more important than I had previously realized.
JASON MAR
GOLIS/PUBLIC RADIO INTERNA
TIONAL
Officer Robinson, right, greets an Iraqi refugee at his small grocery store in Boise, 2016.
CHELSEE BOEHM holds a master’s degree in applied history from BSU. An employee with the Boise City Department of Arts & History, she specializes in oral history and museum work. Todd Shallat contributed to this chapter.
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126 HALF THE WORLD | REFUGEES TRANSFORM THE CITY OF TREES POLICING SOFTLY
not realizing that that it is illegal in the United States and in the state of Idaho.
Over the last year and a half, we’ve had delegations from Europe come to study our program in Boise. They come to learn how we educate refugees, what tools do we use to prevent crimes from occurring. I have even had members from other police departments come up and job shadow for a couple days to learn what we are doing.
What are some of the biggest challenges?
DR: One of the biggest is having refugees understand that they can turn to law enforcement for service and assistance if they’re the victims of crimes. That’s difficult to do because they come with years or generations of seeing family members abused by people in power. It is hard to let that fear and trauma go. We’ve put a lot of positive steps in place to break down those barriers and build trust.
Another challenge is helping individuals learn how our criminal justice process works. Our criminal justice tries to make sure individuals are treated fairly, and that can be slow. It can be confusing and frustrating. We have reassured individuals that something is still happening even if it is not happening quickly.
It takes patience. Different cultures have vastly different beliefs on marriages and family structure. It’s not law
enforcement’s job to force someone to believe in our customs. It is law enforcement’s job to make sure that people follow the rules. We have to allow individuals the freedom to express themselves as long as it falls within the laws.
Can you give an example of something illegal in
Boise that might be legal somewhere else?
DR: Our driving laws are very strict. Other countries may have traffic laws that are not written down or not strictly enforced. In Boise, even if no one is coming, you can’t just drive through a stoplight. How individuals get pulled over for a traffic stop is very different in other parts of the world. We have to teach refugees how to pull a car over and what to do when they get pulled over.
Parenting can also be different in the United States. What is considered child abuse here may be a common form of child discipline in another country.
What have you learned about policing from
working with refugees?
DR: I am extremely patriotic. I never thought I took that for granted, but working with individuals from deplorable conditions really makes you appreciate what we have. I have also learned that just because we have done something in our culture for many years doesn’t mean that it is the only right way to do something. There are many ways to be good neighbors. Refugees often have strong connections to their communities. In cultures with limited technology, human connections are more important than I had previously realized.
JASON MAR
GOLIS/PUBLIC RADIO INTERNA
TIONAL
Officer Robinson, right, greets an Iraqi refugee at his small grocery store in Boise, 2016.
CHELSEE BOEHM holds a master’s degree in applied history from BSU. An employee with the Boise City Department of Arts & History, she specializes in oral history and museum work. Todd Shallat contributed to this chapter.
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VERSE: BLUE
128 HALF THE WORLD | REFUGEES TRANSFORM THE CITY OF TREES
By Ruby McCarter and Daniah Kadhim “What is your favorite color?”
This is a game.
Correctly move the pieces, Correctly arrange the right words In the right order in your foreign mouth, And you’ll get wide grins, baby talk, praise,
And the title of a refugee. But you are not a refugee. That word is broken, used, worn, And reeks of pity.
You are an immigrant,
Forced by parents to abandon the place You once called home.
Referred to as “She”, “That kid”, “It”,
Because your name does not roll Smoothly off the tongue
Like your white sisters, Lucy or Paige. But do not envy them; you are your people’s legacy
And you are more than they know. They stick you in their stereotypical box, Telling you,
It is such a shame that you live in a land of terrorists,
Your women are married off young, You cannot speak your mind.
But that is all they know of your people, That is all they expect.
You itch to tell them the stories of your ancestors,
That they are human too, But your words collide and mix From the journey of your brain to your mouth,
And they watched you with expectant smiles,
Eyes wide with curiosity,
Trying to help, but not knowing how. Your parents led you here,
With promises of going back. Even after seeing your white hot fear, Your quaking anger,
Your tears,
You were still led away
From the generation of your roots. Here, it’s a game.
People bounce you about. Expect you to adapt, To say your words right,
ANGIE SMITH
Verse: Blue
Makiwa Nduwimana, 18, at the Centennial High School prom, 2016.
To know where the bathroom is On the first day of school, When you can’t even remember The teacher’s English name.
You have been gone so long that you are afraid
That when you board that plane to go back
The turbulence of your flight will uproot you with the truth,
That you are no longer sure which place is foreign,
And which place is home.
But you cannot tell any of them this. Your mouth won’t let you.
So instead, you shift your grin, And remember your favorite color. “Blue.”
From Nyumbani Means Home: A Collection of Collaborative Poetry (2015). RUBY MCCARTER, pictured, attends Boise High School.
129
VERSE: BLUE
128 HALF THE WORLD | REFUGEES TRANSFORM THE CITY OF TREES
By Ruby McCarter and Daniah Kadhim “What is your favorite color?”
This is a game.
Correctly move the pieces, Correctly arrange the right words In the right order in your foreign mouth, And you’ll get wide grins, baby talk, praise,
And the title of a refugee. But you are not a refugee. That word is broken, used, worn, And reeks of pity.
You are an immigrant,
Forced by parents to abandon the place You once called home.
Referred to as “She”, “That kid”, “It”,
Because your name does not roll Smoothly off the tongue
Like your white sisters, Lucy or Paige. But do not envy them; you are your people’s legacy
And you are more than they know. They stick you in their stereotypical box, Telling you,
It is such a shame that you live in a land of terrorists,
Your women are married off young, You cannot speak your mind.
But that is all they know of your people, That is all they expect.
You itch to tell them the stories of your ancestors,
That they are human too, But your words collide and mix From the journey of your brain to your mouth,
And they watched you with expectant smiles,
Eyes wide with curiosity,
Trying to help, but not knowing how. Your parents led you here,
With promises of going back. Even after seeing your white hot fear, Your quaking anger,
Your tears,
You were still led away
From the generation of your roots. Here, it’s a game.
People bounce you about. Expect you to adapt, To say your words right,
ANGIE SMITH
Verse: Blue
Makiwa Nduwimana, 18, at the Centennial High School prom, 2016.
To know where the bathroom is On the first day of school, When you can’t even remember The teacher’s English name.
You have been gone so long that you are afraid
That when you board that plane to go back
The turbulence of your flight will uproot you with the truth,
That you are no longer sure which place is foreign,
And which place is home.
But you cannot tell any of them this. Your mouth won’t let you.
So instead, you shift your grin, And remember your favorite color. “Blue.”
From Nyumbani Means Home: A Collection of Collaborative Poetry (2015). RUBY MCCARTER, pictured, attends Boise High School.
131
130 HALF THE WORLD | REFUGEES TRANSFORM THE CITY OF TREES HIDDEN, SILENT, CONFUSED
By Belma Sadikovic with Todd Shallat
On January 7, 1993, a cold Thursday evening, Belma Sadikovic escaped the Bosnian war. She was 9 years old at the time. Her elementary school had been shelled. Her father had been drafted. Fleeing north with her mother via Croatia and Slovenia, she reached Stuttgart, Germany, taking refuge in the home of her aunt. Two years later, the family was reunited. In December 2000, with help from relief agencies and American sponsors, they crossed the Atlantic, reaching Boise by way of New York.
Ethnically, Sadikovic is Bosniak. More fundamentally, in her memory and mind, she is a survivor and a refugee. Sadikovic now teaches education to college students in Boise and Nampa. An emerging scholar, she is a passionate advocate for refugees on a local and global scale. A naturalized citizen, she recently finished her doctoral dissertation in the College of Education at Boise State.