The BYOB Group

my mom occasionally emails the family anecdotes about her work with the refugee community. these stories range from poignant to humorous to both. just thought i'd share one of them (with her permission, and i took out names):


I took Iraqi refugee brothers, S and B, to my friend’s place last Sunday afternoon. S is 25 years old and speaks English well, but 35- year-old B does not speak English. Seeing S going to the restroom, my friend told me that there was no toilet paper in her restroom. When my friend gave B toilet paper to take it to his brother, B said, “No, water, water”. We had no idea what he meant.

S came out and I asked him how he solved the problem without toilet paper. S told me that he did not need toilet paper and he always used his hands and water. I told him that he had better use toilet paper in the United States. He laughed and said that water was cleaner than toilet paper. I did not have any intention to teach him how to do with his business in restroom. I was concerned about myself. Whenever I greet S and say goodbye to him, I shake his hand.
So I found a bottle of soap and gave it to him to wash his hands, but he laughed loud again and insisted that he washed his hands throughly. I gave up and thought to myself, ‘no more shaking hand with him’

It took me 40 minutes to drive back to their apartment. While driving, I became to know the brothers better. S talked about their lives in Iraq. He told me about how his family fled to Syria from Iraqi soldiers’ persecution and their another brother’s death in the hands of Iraqi soldiers. He said that he thought me as their true friend. I was touched.

In front of their apartment, I promised to visit them again and hold S's hand firmly to say goodbye to him. A sudden realization hit me. Oh, NOOOOOO!!!!!!