Never In The Same Place Twice

  Never In The Same Place Twice

         

       A friend recently told me that you will never be in the same place twice, and that where you are two years from now will not be where you are today. This has never been more applicable in my life than through the weeks I've spent at Sewa.

            As a junior in high school, I learned about the Bhutanese/Nepalese refugee community, and with my friends, started a tutoring program for the students. Due to barriers in communication and other obstacles that prevented us from visiting the apartments on a regular basis, the program was not very successful. Needless to say, I was very excited when I discovered Sewa’s internship program. I was fortunate to be able to start a week early and learn about Sewa and its programs before the “official” internship programs started. As a Public Relations Intern, I knew I would be responsible for documenting much of the progress made at Sewa, as well as reaching out to members of the Houston community to spread the message of Sewa, its programs, and the refugee situation. During the first few weeks, my responsibilities have included making flyers for various events, creating a presentation and display for the World Refugee Day, contacting venues for our annual fundraiser event in September, as well as contacting media outlets for press releases. However, my favorite part of this internship has been my interaction with the community members.

            Meeting the Nepalese children at their apartments two weeks ago was quite similar to my first encounter with them two years ago—slightly awkward and hesitant. But that feeling was very short-lived. It quickly became apparent that these kids had no outlet for all their energy during the summer months, and soon, their enthusiasm for the children’s activities we did with them was overwhelming. Some of the kids are the most polite children I have met, while some others can be quite naughty, but they are all incredibly cute and lovable. I often refer to them as “my kids” when talking about them to others. “Today, I took my kids to the park.” “Where are my twins? Oh they’re jumping rope outside in the parking lot.”

            This interaction with the children was completely different from my initial interactions with them two years ago, where I acted more as a teacher and a mentor than as a friend or elder sister. I really like this new relationship, though. Just yesterday, I heard one of the kids calling my fellow intern didi, the Hindi (and I suppose Nepali) word for an elder sister. I am glad to be building this relationship with them and gaining their trust because I have expectations for these kids, for my kids. I guess these “expectations” can be generalized to succeeding in life, but more specifically, I want my kids to attend college. I want them to obtain a higher education so they can acquire fulfilling careers and succeed in life.

            I feel a special connection to my kids, and I guess that can partially be attributed to the cultural identity we share. But it is more than that. My parents moved to the United States, where I was born, for one reason: opportunity. Ballet lessons, jazz dance lessons, Indian dance lessons, piano lessons, swimming lessons, tennis lessons, SAT prep classes all created the seemingly well-rounded person I suppose I am today. I had all these resources provided for me, but my kids have none of this. When I learned that Komal, one of the members of the refugee community, was attending the University of Texas, I was so proud, though I had done nothing to get him there. It hit me then that Komal and I had ended up at the same place—UT Austin—yet our means to get there couldn’t have been more different.

            I always thought that I was living the American Dream, but I realize that is exactly what Komal is doing. So, I have faith now, that the rest of my kids can follow in Komal’s footsteps. And that’s where I believe I can help. I may not be good at many things, but I know that I can give these children the resources, the motivation, and the guidance to attend college. I am incredibly excited about spearheading the College Preparation Workshop for them in July and developing a comprehensive kit and presentation that they can all use. But they need more than a two-hour presentation and a few pieces of paper. I plan on remaining in contact with my kids to ensure that they can get where need to be. 

         So, where will I be in two years? Like my friend said, I will not be in the same place twice. So even though I won’t be interning with Sewa two years from now, I know that I will be in a similar place that I was two years ago—assisting the Nepalese community integrate into life in America.