After fleeing violence in Congo, Hoga and his family endured decades of uncertainty in Tanzania’s Nyarugusu Refugee Camp. Twenty years later, they were finally granted refuge in Tennessee and faced the daunting transition to a new life, filled with both hope and anticipation. Now, the same resettlement pathway that gave them a future is under suspension, leaving thousands of refugees who have waited years for safety, stranded once again.
Scroll through the gallery above to see Hoga, his family and Nyarugusu refugee camp
A Two-Decade-Long Path to Safety
When violence erupted at Hoga’s doorstep in Congo over 20 years ago, he had no choice but to flee. “They were killing people in the streets,” he recalled, his voice steady, as he sat across from us in the Nyarugusu Refugee Camp. Around him, his seven children, daughter-in-law and granddaughter listened quietly, each of them born within the camp’s confines, their entire world existing within its walls—but not for long.
Like all of the refugees in Nyarugusu camp, Hoga had gone through the long and tedious process that would give him and his family a chance at life beyond these camp walls. Every time a significant life change occurred in Hoga’s life, whether that was marriage or the birth of a child, Hoga’s process restarted. Hoga, whose first wife passed away upon arriving at the camp, had remarried and grown his family seven times while in the camp, resulting in a twenty-year wait.
After immense patience in this twenty-year limbo, Hoga and his family were informed they had finally been granted refuge in Tennessee.
Pondering an Uncertain Future
From the moment their resettlement was announced, the family began attending cultural orientation sessions, learning everything from fastening a seatbelt on a plane to the meaning behind the stripes on the U.S. flag. The enormity of the transition ahead was undeniable. Moving from a remote camp in Tanzania to the southern U.S. felt like an unfathomable leap. I found myself wondering, How will they do it?
But that question quickly faded when I considered the choices they had been given in life—or rather, the lack of choices. Hoga first had to decide whether to flee Congo or face death. Now, he was making another choice to leave the camp that had given his family a higher chance at survival but confined their futures. It was a place where Hoga was forbidden from earning a wage and where his children were not allowed to dream beyond its four walls. For the first time in decades, the family had a chance at something different. Not just survival, but living.
Eventually, the children who had been listening to their father retell their story began voicing their own questions. “Will we be safe there?” they asked us, their words capturing the fear and uncertainty they would continue to face on their journey.
We took a moment to ponder this question, hoping in our hearts that the community they enter in the United States is kind and welcoming to a refugee family just trying to find their footing in an unfamiliar new land. Truthfully, we could not guarantee what the family’s future would look like but we could guarantee that they were headed to a country free from war that welcomes and protects refugees. A country where for generations, organizations like CWS have walked alongside refugees and welcomed them into the fabric of diversity that has always made our nation great.
A Shift in the Pathways to Welcome
One year later, this same pathway that Hoga and his children went on with excitement and nerves is under threat by the Trump administration’s decision to suspend the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program. Thousands of refugees just like Hoga and his children are “ready for departure” after completing all the necessary security and medical checks and interviews by the U.S. government but are being denied an entry that many of them have waited decades for. Children just like the ones who looked at us with trusting eyes are being told their flights have been canceled, their plane practice and English lessons are no longer necessary and that the doors they have excitedly waited to walk through are now being slammed shut.
I reflect on the day that we met Hoga and his family, and I can only hope that they are well. That the children have accomplished their dreams of learning English; that after more than 20 years, Hoga has returned to the workforce; that they have found support in community; and that they feel safe. I wonder about the many families who will not have this same journey, and I hope that our country will return to the roots of who we are, reopening the doors to those we have always promised to protect.
Church World Service will continue to serve those in our care using all the resources we have at our disposal. We will stay true to our mission, and we urge you to stay with us in this time of great need. If you are able to donate or join in local mutual aid efforts, we need your help to support those who are in jeopardy due to recent administration actions.
Mariana Gama is CWS’ Senior Program Communications Specialist