Modesto simulation puts volunteers in refugees’ shoes

The folks at the nonprofit organization World Relief realize there’s no meaningful way to let local residents experience “a day in the life” of a refugee. The process of resettling in the United States can take many months at best, many years (if at all) at worst.

So for Love Modesto, which was held Saturday, the staff of the global organization’s Modesto office held “A Refugee Journey,” a simulation event over a couple of hours at Davis High School.

Twenty-two volunteers played the roles of four families – Afghan, Bhutanese, Burmese, Iraqi – and rotated through four classrooms set up to simulate a processing center, a medical clinic, a food and shelter station, and a language class.

Participants were handed booklets with family member biographical information and given only 30 minutes to review it. The short prep time was intentional, to create anxiety that they wouldn’t remember important information as they were grilled at the processing center and underwent challenges at other stations, said Sarah Kashefi, event coordinator with World Relief Modesto.

“They walked to their first station already fearful they didn’t know what they needed to,” Kashefi said. In addition to being told to remember their new first and last names, age (at least one person was portraying a toddler), religion and place they were fleeing, they had to know made-up details, such as the father of one family formerly working for the U.S. military.

“The toughest thing was having to memorize your story within 30 minutes and then going through the simulation trying to stick to it,” said Michael Erickson, 25, of Waterford. The experience made him realize, he said, that actual refugees going through a traumatic experience likely forget things they otherwise would remember.

Each station posed a challenge. At the processing center, Eriq Truitt played a clearly tired and impatient officer. He barked at people to hurry up and to quiet down. He thrust maps at people and demanded they point out their city. He interrogated children about their parents.

“Your father’s an engineer?”

“He was.”

“What kind of engineer?”

(Pause as participant tries to recall) “Um ... mechanical engineer.”

At a processing center, Kashefi said, refugees “really have to prove they’re who they say they are, that they have no ties to terrorists. They have to have basic knowledge of their religion and country.”

She said she has not been to an actual processing center but has learned from those who have that it’s an abrasive, rigorous process. “The point is to shake them in their boots and get the truth out.”

At the food and shelter station, before anyone was given food, each family had to erect a canopy big enough to accommodate all its members. To complicate matters, and create some frustration and anxiety, the exercise was conducted in a darkened room, Kashefi said. “There are people who arrive at camps all hours of the day,” she said.

Maria Aguirre, 30, of Turlock, admits her group fudged a bit in setting up its shelter. “We couldn’t put it together. …” she said. “I stood in the middle and held it up and told them go get the food. We didn’t want to miss that. They saw we were having trouble, but there were no instructions. What do we do?”

She loved the experience, Aguirre said, but didn’t know what she was getting into. She thought that she’d simply be getting an explanation of what World Relief does and how people can help, and that staff would act out the scenarios.

“I had the misconception that it was easy for them to get a visa and come down here,” she said of refugees. “I didn’t know it was going to be such a hard process – 18 months to eight years, and sometimes they even get denied.

“We have the perception that when they’re coming here, it’s easy for them, without thinking about what they’re leaving behind – their families, their culture – and they have to start from scratch.”

The brief language class the participants took gave them a crash course in dari, the variety of Persian spoken in Afghanistan. There would have been no challenge to have Americans pretend to learn English, Kashefi said, so the simulation flip-flopped the experience and had a recently resettled actual Afghan refugee, Samim Ibrahimy, teach his language.

Even the medical station was made unpleasant, participants said. “What I found surprising is how forceful every station was,” Erickson said. “Really stern and uncaring. With the doctor, we got yelled at. There was a point in time where he shoved this thing up my nose, and I didn’t expect the simulation to be that real. I thought he was going to check my ears. ... Whoa, that kind of surprised me!”

Barbara St. Urbain, who coordinates Modesto Junior College’s program for international and undocumented students, learned of the simulation from colleagues who knew she’d be interested.

“I’ve done simulations with international students, but not refugees. I’ve also traveled so have encountered Homeland Security,” she said. “What was interesting to me was watching the other participants, many who were really surprised by the difficulty of the experience and how harsh it can be. I’ve heard about it from international students. Muslim students in particular are having difficulty coming through the port of entry.”

Refugees typically are frightened, don’t understand English and come from countries where people in positions of power are suspect, so they’re not trusting, St. Urbain said. “So when a country welcomes them like that (yelling, rough treatment, etc.), it scares them even more.”

Being interrogated, especially in a foreign language, she sees how people “stutter and hesitate, and they can come down on you.”

This story was originally published April 26, 2016 at 1:00 PM with the headline "Modesto simulation puts volunteers in refugees’ shoes."