Opinion by Bonnie Henry: Becoming Americans
Afghan family embraces U.S. opportunity
Opinion by Bonnie Henry
Tucson, Arizona | Published: 06.08.2008
When the Nabi family arrived in Tucson a little more than five years ago, they knew almost nothing about America.
Today, Nargis Nabi and her eight children easily shift between two cultures — that of America and that of Afghanistan, their native land.
They speak English and Pashtu. They watch American soap operas on television — and soccer games broadcast from Kabul.
They wear their native dress — and blue jeans and flip-flops.
But all have one goal: to become Americans. Read how far they've come inside in today's cover story. — Bonnie Henry
So much has changed. • Five years ago, an Afghan widow, Nargis Nabi, and her eight children arrived in Tucson after being granted asylum in America. • Our language, our music, our stores, our culture — all were incomprehensible to them. • No more.
Everyone speaks English. Three of them have jobs — one at the mall. Four of them drive. Three have applied for U.S. citizenship.
A couple of them yak on their cell phones. Oldest daughter Sara Nabi, 16, also has a laptop and an iPod that she bought with her own money, doing chores around the house.
"My favorite singer is Shakira," says Sara as her mother sitting next to her rolls her eyes.
It's a gesture a million American moms can identify with.
But there's more than a generational chasm here. Mom Nargis wears the traditional flowing clothing of her native country, including the scarf.
Daughter Sara does not, her long, black hair falling below her shoulders. She wears the typical teen uniform: jeans, long-sleeved tee, flip-flops.
Next week, she, along with students from all over the country, will fly to Washington, D.C., to take part in a week's worth of programs sponsored by the Close Up Foundation, which exposes youth to American government.
"We had five students go last year from Catalina. This year it's two," says Julie Kasper, who teaches Sara's advanced English as a Second Language class and helped her fill out the forms.
Sara has never wavered from her stated goal, first voiced here when she was 11. "I want to be a pediatrician," she says.
At Catalina Magnet High School, where she has just finished up her junior year, she flits easily from class to class, greeting friends and classmates.
In a school where some 45 dialects are spoken, many of Sara's friends are from foreign lands. Some wear the traditional head scarf.
"I'm a mentor to the new refugees coming into school," she says. "We help them, take them to stores."
Sara also enjoys cruising the malls, particularly with Allison Bradford, who's been her Big Sister for the last 18 months or so.
"Sara is the typical American teenager. She loves to go to the mall," says Bradford, 48.
It's a welcome respite for Sara, who helps out at home a great deal, baby-sitting her younger siblings and doing chores around the house.
"She's very responsible — her mom relies on her," says Bradford. "She's very Americanized in one way, but she's still got one foot planted in each culture."
In her advanced ESL class at Catalina, Sara worked all semester on a video project titled "Two Cultures."
"I have my Afghan culture and my American culture," says Sara, whose video juxtaposes what she calls "my American side" against her mother's culture.
Now 43, Nargis and her children fled from Afghanistan to Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan, after her husband was killed by the Taliban in 2000.
A year after the forms were filed, the family was granted asylum in America, arriving in Tucson on Feb. 11, 2003.
Several relief agencies pitched in to help with everything from food to furniture and a place to live. Food stamps and cash assistance from the state also helped.
Today, the family lives in a pink-painted, five-bedroom home in central Tucson — a low-income rental made available through Section 8 housing.
The family also qualifies for $200 a month in food stamps, and health care through the Arizona Health Care Cost Containment System.
Other than that, the Nabis are entirely self-supporting.
Nargis works the graveyard shift as an aide at a care home for the elderly.
She also drives herself to free citizenship classes several nights a week. "The reading and writing is the hardest part," says Nargis during a recent lesson in Nora Gleason's class.
Formerly of Guadalajara, Mexico, Gleason herself became a U.S. citizen two years ago.
"I have empathy. I know how they feel," says Gleason, whose class normally numbers between 17 and 24 students. While the majority are from Mexico, others hail from Peru, Iran and Sudan.
Tonight's lesson includes a reading on Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War.
Nargis, who never learned to read or write in her native language, struggles through the reading, all in English, aided by Ali T. Khoub, a student counselor from Iran.
"She's learning very fast," says Gleason. "I see her giving a big effort."
Older sons Farhad, 21, and Adnan, 19, also plan to take the test. Both graduates of Catalina High, they feel confident enough to forgo the classes.
It cost about $2,000 for the three of them to apply for the citizenship test, which can be taken twice.
After Nargis passes her test, her children under the age of 18 will automatically become citizens, says Tucson immigration attorney Gloria Goldman.
Farhad works at a shoe store at Park Place and plans to enroll in the fall at Pima Community College.
Adnan, who works for the nutrition company GNC, is already enrolled at Pima, studying engineering. Both he and Farhad still live at home and help their mother with expenses.
During a rare afternoon off, Adnan eats a meal his mother has prepared of rice, fried tuna patties and yogurt, while watching a soccer game broadcast from Kabul.
The two young announcers on the television screen are dressed in jeans and casual knit shirts. "Everyone wants to be like Americans," says Adnan. "America is good. Here you can be free."
Rahat, 15, the next oldest son, is a freshman at Catalina. Like Sara, he enrolled this past year in Jose Fonseca's bilingual algebra class.
"When they arrived, their English was almost zero," says Fonseca, about Farhad and Adnan, who also took his class. "It took a lot of patience. But math is the universal language."
About 25 kids are in Rahat's class this day, several of them rowdy. But Rahat is quiet and studious. When his teacher calls out his name, Rahat answers, "Yes, sir."
During his free time, Rahat likes to play football in the park with his friends, many of them from Somalia. After high school, he hopes to go to college and eventually become an airline pilot.
Mursal, 13, will be an eighth-grader in the fall at Doolen Middle School. She, too, hopes to become a doctor some day. Next semester, Mashel, 12, and Noman, 11, will join Mursal at Doolen, as sixth-graders, while the youngest girl, Kainat, 8, remains at Blenman Elementary School.
On the next to the last day of school this spring, Noman gave a fifth-grade graduation speech at Blenman as his mother and other family members looked on proudly.
Both Mashel and Noman wore clothing from their native land — Mashel in purple pants, yellow tunic and purple scarf, Noman in a beige tunic, billowy pants, colorful vest and a small, round cap.
"When I came to Blenman I could speak no English," says Noman, who speaks it perfectly today. "It took time to make friends, but by the second grade I had lots of friends."
He ends his speech by thanking his teachers and staff at Blenman. Principal Cathryn DeSalvo then tells a packed house of parents and relatives that Noman speaks several languages and ends with, "Let's give him a big round of applause."
After the speeches are done, the entire graduating class at Blenman faces the audience and sings a song whose lyrics include, "The future's looking good to me."
It certainly appears to be so for the Nabi family





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