Ekram Ahmed spent many years living in fear and with a ferocious sense of self.
Her parents lived in Sudan before she was born, but a military coup led by Omar al-Bashir in 1989 led to severe political unrest that intensified in 1993 when al-Bashir deemed himself the self-appointed president of Sudan. Her parents fled to Libya, where her father was able to find work, and Ahmed was born there in 1995.
Her family lived there mostly peacefully for over a decade, but in 2011, the eruption of the Libyan Civil War uprooted her family and forced them to leave home again.
FURTHER READING: Planet Portland: Personal journeys of local immigrants and refugees
“We got the chance to leave the country, so we went to Tunisia because we heard there was an airplane over there that could get refugee people to Sudan,” she said. “The camp wasn’t even good quality, but it was a really fast move. They said they could get us all there – we are five kids and our mom and dad.”
In Sudan, they lived in a house her dad commissioned in advance of their move. They stayed there for seven months, with her dad attempting to provide for the family as a bus driver.
“(It) was just too hard,” she said. “He kept forgiving the high school students who couldn’t pay. My dad did a great job, but we started losing money.”
In addition to financial struggles, violence was escalating in Sudan at the same time, so her family had to leave the country once more, in spite of uncertain safety.
They packed up again and headed to a refugee camp on the border of Libya in Salloum, Egypt, where they waited for a year and a half during the refugee resettlement process. After a few nights in Germany en route to the United States, they momentarily landed in New York, where Ahmed first tried her hand at translating for others. Two days later, they were in Twin Falls, Idaho.
“I turned 18 on the flight,” Ahmed said.
Since arriving to the United States as a refugee in the summer of 2013, Ahmed has continued embracing a life of independence in the face of adversity and wants to help others do the same.
As a Workforce Specialist at the Four Rivers Welcome Center, Ahmed focuses on making the transition to Ontario easier for other refugees by accompanying them to doctor’s appointments for in-person translation, walking prospective employees through job application processes, and helping with a multitude of other scenarios that may arise.
Her empathy and passion for advocacy stem from her own experiences of receiving vital support when she was transitioning into life in the United States.
While her family struggled immensely to survive in Libya, Sudan and Egypt, it was after she was living in the United States that they faced one of the toughest, most heartbreaking hurdles yet.
After spending more than a year on her own in Utah to finish up her high school degree, Ahmed rejoined her family in Boise, Idaho, then very shortly after followed to Ontario, where they moved for Section 8.
FURTHER READING: Ontario, Oregon: A Section 8 pit stop turned long-term stay
Money was tight, but everything was going relatively well. They all worked together to help provide for the household, including Ahmed. But while working at Walmart, she found out she was pregnant.
Ahmed was terrified and tried to hide it from her parents as long as she could, but her mom sensed something was different right away. After weeks of avoiding her family, she finally had a tumultuous confrontation with her mother, in which Ahmed admitted she was carrying a child. Her mother immediately started planning a wedding and, as it seemed, the rest of her future.
“I started getting ticked off and thinking that was wrong,” Ahmed said. “(Sometimes) Islamic people are more concerned (with other) people. So, they care about their community more than they care about their child.”
Ahmed felt like she was being unfairly punished for her pregnancy, especially because she had never had a conversation about safe sex or how to prevent pregnancy. And since she was committed to bringing her baby to term, even out of wedlock, her home life became volatile. Ahmed sensed that her own parents’ fears of being exiled from their community trumped concerns of her and her baby’s wellbeing. One night, five months before her due date, she packed up all of her things in an old Honda and left. Her family, including her closest brother, stopped talking to her.
“I was scared all the time and crying,” she said. “I got depression – the way lowest depression. I did not have any food stamps or TANF, but I had saved $2,000 from taxes.”
Ahmed felt hopeless, but her story and news of her search for housing soon spread throughout the Ontario area by word of mouth among nonprofits and church groups. Eventually, a couple that owned a farm in the nearby town of Adrian offered her a place to live rent-free.
“I don’t like to rely on someone,” she said. “I like to just keep going and be responsible for my own stuff. But I just needed some assistance, and the rest I would do on my own.”
On Aug. 10, 2017, Ahmed welcomed her son, Giovanni, into the world. Even as she remains committed to positive thinking, she is honest about her difficulty working through shame and the pain that her fractured family relationship has brought.
Ahmed and Giovanni are still living with the couple who offered them shelter, and she remains grateful for their generosity and perspective. She hopes and trusts that one day her own family will come back together, united, without any fear.
“I was the person who stood up for (herself) and kept the innocent child and learned from mistakes,” she said. “I want to tell the Arabic females I’m still surviving. I didn’t die. If something like that happens to you, (you) don’t have to get scared. I know there’s a chance you might lose your (place) in that community, but whatever you do, do it for God – not for people.”
FURTHER READING: A refugee’s need for support as a child inspired his path