Ebla's Story
written by Alysia Yates
So that all may thrive: The triumph of local community in a global world
I meet Ebla, a Somali refugee, one sunny morning at the Refugee Hope Partners Welcome Center. She greets me with a broad smile and firm handshake. Ebla’s countenance warm, and a keen intelligence sparkles in her eyes. She is a woman who watches the world, who is an astute observer of people. I have come to hear her story, but I sense that she will also discover mine.
Ebla’s family fled Somalia before she was old enough to understand the violence that simmered around the country. They settled in Kenya and enjoyed the stability and safety of life in a small village. But hardship struck early: Ebla’s mother died when she was 10, so as a young girl she became the caretaker of her younger siblings. Ebla’s role meant that she could not attend school and that she never learned to read or write.
Abdulaziz, the Somali boy next door, proposed to Ebla when she was 16. Three years later she joined Abdulaziz in South Africa and began her married life. The couple moved around the country for his work, from Johannesburg to P.E. (formerly known as Port Elizabeth), and finally to Capetown. After early struggles to conceive, Ebla and Abdulaziz welcomed one child (Khalid) and then another (Samira) in quick succession. Business was good for Abdulaziz, who owned three shops in one neighborhood. The young family was on their way to success and financial security.
Everything changed when their shops were looted in 2009. Neighborhood bandits ransacked and destroyed the shops, wiping out all that Abdulaziz and Ebla had worked to earn. Shattered by this loss, they decided to apply for UN visas to settle elsewhere. They had their sights set on the United States.
It was a painfully slow process. The couple waited for almost a year after their initial interview. They were granted tentative permission to leave, but Ebla’s third pregnancy prevented them from travel and bumped them back to the end of the visa line. After Sumaya’s birth in 2011 they were called again, but once again Ebla was pregnant, so they were told to wait. Salma was born in 2013 and the family was called in to take pictures and prepare final details for departure, but only silence followed. “We were so excited to come to the United States,” Ebla remembers, “but we waited and waited, and we heard nothing.” Finally—after almost seven years—in 2016 they were granted permission to leave.
The family journeyed to the United States all by themselves. “We didn’t have any family to go to,” Ebla recalls, “we came here all on our own.” Volunteers from the U.S. Committee for Refugees and Immigrants (USCRI) had prepared an apartment for them at Cedar Point, giving them a place to land. But transition was hard. “You know,” Ebla reflects, “when you come to the US, you think you will make a lot of money. But that was not our experience. My husband was a small business owner in South Africa, but when we came here, he took the jobs that USCRI found for him. We had no car, no money, and nothing to live on. We knew no one.”
Ultimately, the kindness of strangers helped the family find their way. “I’m a very lucky person,” Ebla grins, “God loves me a lot.” She speaks of the USCRI volunteers and Refugee Hope Partners staff members who looked after them from the moment they arrived.
In the early months, three USCRI volunteers performed a litany of services: they shuttled family members to appointments, provided groceries, washed clothes, and helped Abdulaziz secure a better job. Today, these volunteers are no longer strangers, Ebla observes—but friends: “They are good ladies, and I still talk to them all of the time.”
Refugee Hope Partners also played a critical role in introducing their family to American life. The children were 12, 11, 5, and 2 when they arrived, and Ebla was not proficient in English. Amy, a Homework Help volunteer, visited their apartment and explained about the after-school program. She sent others to register the children at school and show them how to ride the bus. Ebla beams when she remembers, “They helped us a lot with school. They assisted with homework and provided all of our school supplies—everything we needed.”
Ebla has enjoyed many friendships among the Refugee Hope Partners staff, including Rebecca, who lived at Cedar Point at the time. She surprised Ebla with a special gift—a job at TJMaxx, within walking distance of the apartments. Rebecca filled out the application for Ebla, ensured that she had the right paperwork, served as a job reference for her, and watched Salma during the interview. TJMaxx immediately hired her, and they were willing to work around Ebla’s family schedule.
Ebla’s new job was valuable, but it was difficult to coordinate with Salma still at home. Another knock at the door brought a representative from Wake County’s Smart Start program. Ebla’s eyes light up as she tells the story, “I didn’t know anything about her, but she said it was her job to help mothers of small children who wanted to go to school.” After several days of in-home observation, the representative drove Ebla and Salma to Green Elementary School, completed the application for them, and enrolled Salma in full-time 4-year-old preschool. Salma could ride the bus to school with her older sister and Ebla could work full-time during the school day.
Quinn, another Refugee Hope friend who lived at Cedar Point, insisted that Ebla learn to drive. “I told her I didn’t have a car,” Ebla chuckles, “but Quinn said, ‘I don’t care—every two days, I’ll take you driving.’” Quinn taught her for an hour or two every other day, until Ebla was confident behind the wheel. Ebla was ready to earn her license, but she still could not read or write, so she wondered how she could prepare for the written exam. Once again, help came from an unexpected quarter. Abdulaziz met a Somali man who helps people get their learning permits, and he agreed to prepare Ebla for the test. When she was ready, he drove Ebla to the DMV and read the exam out loud in front of an officer so that Ebla could answer the multiple-choice questions. She passed on her first try.
Other community members supported the family, too. When two Hindi women knocked on her door at Cedar Point and volunteered their help, Ebla made a bold request. “We have food and clothes,” she told them, “but we need a car.” Abdulaziz had found a nicer apartment on Capital Boulevard, but without transportation they could not make the move. “Not a problem,” the women replied, “We can help you with that.” One week later they showed up at the door with instructions for Abdulaziz. They had purchased a small car, paid for six months of insurance, and transferred the plates to his name. This generous gift enabled Ebla and Abdulaziz to settle into a more comfortable home and provided Abdulaziz the flexibility he needed to advance to better jobs.
Even though they no longer lived at Cedar Point, Ebla continued to bring her children back to Homework Help three times a week. She enrolled in English lessons on her days off, and developed a special relationship with Marian Wilkinson, the ESL coordinator at Refugee Hope. Marian now tutors Ebla one-on-one twice a week, and Ebla has an ambitious new goal. “I want to read and write and become a citizen,” she declares, “this is my dream.” Marian praises Ebla’s tenacity, her loyalty, and her heart for other people. “She’s a doer,” Marian observes, “when Ebla sees a need, she helps meet it. And when she says she’s going to do something, she will do it.”
When she considers her life in Raleigh today, Ebla expresses both contentment and deep gratitude. “We’ve had people taking care of us from the beginning,” she recalls, “All those strangers—I don’t know what I would have done without their help.” So many of them have become her friends, and Ebla is thankful for the ways they supported and encouraged her family. The word that captures her feelings about them, she reflects, is “blessing—that is the only way I can describe what they have meant to me.”
Here's the wonderful truth about Ebla’s story: just as much as Ebla has received from others, she has given back to them. Just as the lines between stranger and friend have collapsed, so the lines between giving and receiving have become blurry. When we share our lives with others to meet a particular need, we often receive more than we give. To use Ebla’s word, we are blessed by the giving. And that is beautiful indeed.