When President Donald Trump’s executive order suspending refugee travel from seven countries was issued, Nabiha Hussain was visiting relatives in Iraq. Her daughter at home in Lakewood got worried.
It was not unusual for Hussain to be scrutinized when boarding a plane or moving through U.S. customs even before Trump’s controversial travel ban was imposed on Jan. 27. “She has been pulled aside just because she has a different name,” said her daughter, Trifa Mahmood. “I admit I was a little nervous.”
In fact, when she scanned her passport upon entering the country in the midst of the controversy, Hussain was pulled aside, and for a moment she feared she would be detained or even refused entry.
It turned out to be nothing.
“I had brought dates back with me in my luggage,” she said. She had claimed them on the forms upon entry. Once the customs officials were satisfied that the fruit was OK, she walked on through and finally relaxed.
Hussain and Mahmood know well the trials of being refugees.
Hussain and her husband left Iraq with their children as part of Operation Pacific Haven when more than 6,000 Kurds fled murderous attacks by Saddam Hussein’s troops. They spent three months in a refugee camp in Guam, arriving in Lakewood in 1997.
“My dad had friends here who sponsored us,” said Mahmood, who was 4 when they left Iraq. “They told us it was the safest place. And my parents liked it that Colorado had mountains, like home.”
They arrived with $100 and one piece of luggage, and the family moved into an apartment in Lakewood.
Hussain, who had been a teacher in Iraq, found a job pushing travelers around DIA in wheelchairs. At the same time, she went to Red Rocks Community College to become certified as a personal computer applications specialist. Her husband, an engineer and a journalist in Iraq, worked the graveyard shift as a security guard in the U.S.
“I didn’t see him much in those years,” said Mahmood. “He was always working.
Twenty years later, the family is an American success story. Hussain, who speaks Kurdish and Arabic, as well as fluent English, works as a medical interpreter for non-English speakers.
All three children have college degrees. Mahmood is working on her second degree in business administration. Her sister is a pediatric dentist and her brother a civil engineer.
Mahmood said they are far from extraordinary.
“There’s a large Kurdish community in Nashville and we have many friends there,” she said. “They are surgeons, nurses, engineers. They own their own businesses. One has a car dealership.”
Mahmood said often when she is introduced to people, they ask about her nationality. “I’m American, I tell them.” Like her parents and the rest of her family here, she’s a proud U.S. citizen. “I grew up here. I have an American flag. I love this country.”
Hussain said her daughter “reads everything. She understands politics. I’m not a political person.” But regardless of politics, both of them ache for the refugees ensnared in the travel ban that now may be on its way to the Supreme Court.
“I know how they feel,” said Hussain. “I know how they are when they cry. I understand it all.”
Mahmood said many Americans don’t understand Kurdish and Iraqi culture. When they think of Iraqis, they only think of conflict and war. “The only thing they know is how the media portray us.”
What most people don’t see is the steadfast commitment to the family, the determination, the tenacity and the deep patriotism of Iraqis who have given everything to make it here.
Hussain said she knows why so many people strive so desperately to come here, submitting to years of vetting, questioning and tests, physical exams, background checks, fees, and delay upon delay. It is not to destroy the country. Itap to embrace it.
“I am so happy. I have amazing neighbors. I have good friends. My English is good. All my children have good educations. I have a beautiful job. Everything is perfect,” Hussain said. “I love everybody and everybody loves me.”
Mahmood laughed at her mom’s sweet, guileless expression of emotion.
“Itap true,” she said warmly. “Itap all true.”
Diane Carman is a communications consultant and a monthly columnist for The Denver Post.
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