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Syrian Family Makes a Life in Connecticut Despite Hardships

Americans have been generally welcoming, but over the last month, things have felt different.

The debate over who should be allowed into the U.S. continues to dominate headlines, most recently at last week's Republican presidential debate. All of the GOP candidates said they oppose the Obama administration's plans to permit 10,000 more Syrian refugees into the country. Syrians living in Connecticut are following the rhetoric closely. 

The Farajs live in a working class neighborhood in the town of Groton, Connecticut.

WaelFaraj -- whose full name is Muhammad WaelFaraj -- and his wife, Ramia, and their three children live in a townhouse. It's the first place they called home after coming to the U.S. in 2012.

We sat at their dining room table as they talked about their life.

"My first couple of months, I have only mattresses," said Wael Faraj. "Because we had nothing, so we start from mattresses."

The family came here on a visitor visa and then applied for political asylum. Like refugees, they feared persecution if they returned to their country.

Credit Stephen Dunn / WNPR
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Arriving home from school, Abdullah Faraj, seven years old, leaps into the arms of his father, Wael Faraj, in the parking lot of his family's apartment complex.

Wael Faraj couldn’t go back to Syria because of the civil war. And his political activism against President Bashar al-Assad's regime means his family would be in danger if they returned to Syria. They lived in Saudi Arabia before coming here but Faraj said that life made him feel like a perennial immigrant.

"Either you are Saudis or you are not. There is nothing in between," Faraj said. "It's just you are something unknown all your life. So that really hurt, and that was the main reason I was trying to get back to my country, and... because I don't want my kids to live the same life that I lived."

He said that unlike Saudi Arabia, immigrants in the U.S. have a chance at citizenship. But the family wasn't prepared for how long the immigration process actually takes.

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Layan Faraj, nine years old, plays a new violin piece before dinner. Her mother, Ramia, listens at left.

Faraj learned that he couldn't work here legally until he received his work authorization card -- and that took almost two years.

"It was really hard. I was working here and there, anywhere, any chance, any things," Faraj said. "And thank God I can do a lot of things -- like the third-shift gas stations, and I did delivery pizza also and cleaning in the restaurants. "

Now Faraj can work legally. He has a full-time job at a furniture chain store.

Faraj said Americans have been generally welcoming. But over the last month, things have felt different. He works in customer service and he's been getting more questions when people read his name tag.

"They are uncomfortable with me," Faraj said. "Like: What's your name? Wael. Where are you from? I say I'm from Connecticut, because I learned, now! But they say, No, where are you from? So I say I'm from Syria. So when they know that I'm Syrian they say, Why all the problems from you people?"

Faraj wants to tell them it's not Syrians who are the problem, but he can't because of rules at his job. So he just listens.

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After getting home from work, Wael Faraj spends some time reading with his children, Abdullah, seven, and Layan, nine.

Not all of the conversations have been uncomfortable. Faraj described one customer. "She says, I love your accent, and I would like to know where you are from? I tell her I'm from Syria. And she start to cry. Even me I couldn't hold my tears. I couldn't. And she hugs me, and says, We are trying to help Syrian families. And that's hard. Because they are suffering very much."

Ramia Faraj handed her husband a tissue. Some of her relatives have died at the hands of the Assad regime. She said life in Connecticut has been good. 

"In [the] beginning, it's hard, but now that my husband get a job, we have a house, I feel more stable here, more safe," Ramia Faraj said. "Now, I'm happy I'm here."

The family's neighbors, Lori and Mark Mcclain, are happy the Farajs and their children are here, too.

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Wael Faraj, right, gets his ear pulled by his youngest son, Isam, two, as they meet Abdullah, seven, left, and Layan, nine, right at the end of their school day. They are joined by Wael's friend and neighbor, Yuri Tem.

"We're such a part of their lives," said Lori Mcclain. "They come up, running up, and jump in our arms, Aunty, Uncle."

Sitting in her living room next door, Mcclain said the families share dinners together, and talk about the similarities and differences in each of their lives.

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The Farajs' neighbors, Mark and Lori Mcclain.

"You know, I don't know how long this will last, as far as the close proximity," she said. "But I know we've had a part in their lives when they first got started and acclimated, but also even now."

The Farajs are still waiting for their green cards. Their two oldest children, a daughter and son, are doing well in school, and their toddler is having no trouble learning two languages: Arabic and English.

But Wael Faraj said his heart will always be in Syria. His dream is to return there one day and to show his children where they come from. 

Lucy leads Connecticut Public's strategies to deeply connect and build collaborations with community-focused organizations across the state.

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