They could not find a sponsor in the city of Chicago, so after two weeks they moved us to another motel in the suburbs, on Route 38. A World Relief caseworker named Beth Raney had agreed to find us a sponsoring church in the area.

The first time we saw Beth, we wondered how such a small woman could exude so much energy.

The first time Beth saw us, she saw trouble. My father lay shivering under a blanket, his head aflame in fever, and Beth, a nurse, realized instantly that he had malaria.

We did not have access to medical care, so she went to a physician friend to obtain the medication that my father needed.

She also met with the pastors of area churches and asked if their congregation would sponsor a refugee family of six.

While she searched for a sponsor, she visited several times a week, talking with my father in his broken English, trying to communicate with my mother through words, but succeeding more through hugs and smiles.

"I still remember looking at Haileab's and Tsege's eyes and seeing the deepest pain," Beth recalls. "The pain of people who have been torn away from their loved ones, from their culture, from their place in society, from everything that has ever given their life coherence and dignity. I tried to help them, talking often with Haileab, trying to get him to talk about his life in his homeland.

"I tried to talk with Tsege, but it was hard because she knew so little English and because she would always retreat to the other room with the children when I came. Her culture had taught her that only men could speak with important visitors. She did not realize that I considered her to be just as important as Haileab and myself."

Beth found a sponsoring church, the Bethel Presbyterian Church. Like the rest of Wheaton, the church was almost all white, and from our standpoint, all haftamat, or crazy-rich. Bethel went to work immediately on finding us an affordable home--no small task in Wheaton.

We lived in the second motel for seven weeks. Then, one day, our sponsors at Bethel told us we had a home.

We had no idea what to expect. We had spent the previous three years living in a one-room adobe, and even then, we were grateful that we had the one room.

So when we saw our two-story house with its huge yard, we could not believe our eyes. ARE THEY RIGHT? IS IT FOR REAL? THIS WHOLE STRETCH OF HOUSE AND YARD OURS? IT'S TOO MUCH.

We could not afford the rent, even when my father had his job, so we rented out the entire upstairs. And then, a few months into our new home, our lives changed forever.

My parents went to the hospital. Our sponsors took us kids to their home. Two days later, my mother returned with a most precious gift. Conceived in Sudan but born in the States, he was a child of both the old and new worlds.

HIS NAME SHALL BE HNTSA-EYESUS, BUT HE WILL ALSO BE KNOWN AS TEMESGEN, OR THANK YOU. FOR WE ARE THANKFUL TO HAVE MADE IT HERE SAFELY, AND THANKFUL FOR OUR NEW LIFE IN THIS LAND.

Info >
From Of Beetles and Angels: A True Story of the American Dream, by Mawi Asgedom (Megadee Books, 2001). COMING SOON: Part two, "Playground warfare."

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In the Forum: "Growing up, I came to know many "habesha" (related ethnic groups in Eritrea, Ethiopia, and neighboring countries) refugee families in the U.S. Like mine, many of the families came from extremely third-world environments and found adjustment hard. Also like my family, many of the families stayed on welfare for more than 10 years. Given that so many families have such a hard time adjusting and that so many families do end up on welfare, should we keep our doors open to unskilled third-world immigrants?" Mawi Asgedom moderates this month's featured discussion, on immigration.

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Of beetles and angels

'Remember us'

A new life

Waiting

'The deepest pain'

Story Index