How a Syrian Refugee Family Saved Us
I admit I was a little hesitant when I heard the heavily accented voice on the telephone asking to make an appointment to see our rental property. I was even more so when five Arabic speaking men showed up at the door. I was glad I had asked my husband to come along. Hassan*, the man I had spoken to on the phone explained that he was the translator, as he introduced me to Nabil, the man who wanted to rent the house. Nabil spoke no English. He and his three friends wandered through the house, their fast Arabic sounding rather harsh to my ears. Hassan explained Nabil and his family — his wife, Yara, their five children, and his mother, were refugees from Syria.
“Five children?” I asked. “Perhaps this house isn’t big enough for such a large family.”
“Yes, yes, it would be fine,” Hassan assured me. Nabil asked a few questions about the rent, mainly if it could be lowered. In the end, we settled on a compromise. My husband told the translator that if Nabil wanted his wife and mother to come to see it that would be fine. He liked that idea and the translator said, “Back in fifteen minutes. Fifteen, yes?” I nodded and away they went, still chattering loudly.
The volume increased when Nabil’s wife and mother arrived, both dressed in traditional Syrian garb. Nabil’s wife appeared to be quite a bit younger than he was. She peered at me…
