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Indy family fled Syrian war zone; here's what they fear now

Abdul and Manal fear Trump may prevent their family members from escaping Syria's nightmare

Robert King
robert.king@indystar.com
Syrian refugee Abdul Sater Khaled Assaf, his daughter, Leen, and the rest of their family were resettled on the north side after fleeing the war in Syria, where chemical weapons attacks were used in their city.

Caught in the middle of the Syrian civil war, Abdul and Manal fled the bombs and the fighting in the city of Homs, once a bustling metropolis roughly the size of Indianapolis, by bouncing from neighborhood to neighborhood in the wake of each new attack.

Widely described as an attempt by the Syrian government to “cleanse” rebel opponents, the assault would eventually turn Homs into a city of ruins. It  also would take the lives of Abdul’s brother, one of his lifelong friends and several neighbors.

Eventually, the young couple fled the city, landing in a border town, then walking for four days into neighboring Jordan. Abdul wanted to go it alone at first since women caught by the regime’s border guards were routinely raped. Manal would have none of it — because she knew men were routinely shot.

In Jordan, the couple idled in a crowded refugee camp for 3½ years. They had two daughters. Finally, in December 2015, the door opened for them to come to America and, more specifically, Indianapolis. They landed smack in the middle of the showdown between then-Gov. Mike Pence — who ordered state agencies to stop aiding the resettlement of Syrian refugees — and Cardinal Joseph Tobin, then the archbishop of the Catholic Archdiocese of Indianapolis, who said Catholic Charities would continue the resettlements.

Eventually, Pence gave in.

Abdul and Manal joined a tiny colony of Syrian refugees who’ve been relocated here by groups such as Catholic Charities, as in their case, and Exodus Refugee Immigration. In a little more than two years, Exodus has resettled 225 Syrians to Indianapolis. Catholic Charities has resettled 77 Syrians.

More than a year after their arrival, Abdul (whose full name is Abdul Sater Khaled Assaf) and Manal (al Khadour) are making a decent life for themselves and their two young daughters. But a new immigration controversy leaves them fearful that the loved ones they left behind — namely Abdul’s parents and his brother — could be denied a similar rescue by new restrictions on Syrian refugee immigration being enacted by the Trump administration.

“I’m concerned a lot that they might not get to come,” Manal said in Arabic, through his Catholic Charities translator, Sajjad Jawad, himself once a refugee from Iraq.

Syrian refugee Abdul Sater Khaled Assa talks about his family's journey to America, in their north side home, Thursday, January 26, 2017.

On Friday, Trump signed an executive order that suspends all refugees to the United States for 120 days, halts the admission of refugees from Syria indefinitely and bars entry for three months to residents of six other predominantly Muslim countries.

The order targets countries where Islamic State fighters have been active, and is aimed at trying to prevent individuals who want to commit terrorist acts from sneaking into the United States by joining the flow of immigrants. The move is in line with Trump’s campaign statements, and is also reminiscent of the 2015 actions in Indiana by Pence, who is now the vice president.

The tighter rules on Syrian refugees was welcomed by state Sen. Mike Delph, R-Carmel, who’s been outspoken on immigration issues for nearly a decade. Delph said he’s sympathetic to the plight of Syrians refugees, but he’s also concerned that “kamikaze pilot-type actors” could enter the country without stronger vetting. “Once we have a handle on the security of the country and we have a handle on knowing who’s coming in our country and why … I think at that point we can reevaluate the refugee program,” he said.

But the shift is seen as alarming to others who say America has already safely admitted 10,000 Syrian refugees, and that the current system of vetting is more than stringent.

“I would be interested to see where are these gaps (in security) that people talk about,” said Lindsey Mintz, executive director of the Jewish Community Relations Council. Critics of the vetting speak in generalities, she said, but offer few specifics. “The scope of the challenge, the scope of the tragedy demands that we do more, not less.”

For Abdul, 31, and Manal, 29, the vetting process seemed plenty thorough. They had to hand over their Syrian identification cards, their marriage certificate, their children’s birth certificates and answer detailed questions about relatives. Over 14 months, they were interviewed five times — twice by Arab officials and twice by Americans from the International Organization for Migration (an agency related to the United Nations). Finally, a jury of American interrogators questioned them, holding their fate in their hands. For an Islamic State fighter trying to sneak through, Abdul said, it would be practically impossible.

“This would be very, very difficult,” Abdul said. “The people who interviewed me asked in a way like an investigative check. It’s hard for you if you are lying. They will discover any lie that you might make and you will be done away with immediately.”

Matt Landry, the associate pastor at Meridian Street United Methodist Church, said when his church took an interest in helping Syrian families resettle, some members were concerned about the vetting process. But as they met the arriving Syrians and heard about the screening, their concerns were eased. "There is extreme vetting that happens already," he said. "And they know of family members who are waiting possibly to get in.”

Exodus Refugee says it was expecting to bring in another Syrian family in February, but now that resettlement is in doubt.

When Manal, Abdul and their daughters were granted their passage to America, they found themselves delivered to a Christian church, where they were greeted by strangers who brought them to an apartment, gave them furnishings for it and made them feel welcome.

Syrian refugees Abdul Sater Khaled Assaf, left, his wife Manal Al Khadour, right, and their children Lareen and Leen share a moment in their north side home, Thursday, January 26, 2017.

In the year since, Abdul has found a job working in a shipping facility in Plainfield while Manal mostly stays home with the girls. They’ve found themselves in a community of 10 to 15 Syrian families, including Abdul’s brother and sister, who live in their same north-side apartment complex. They’ve found a mosque, have attended Ramadan celebrations and shared meals with other Syrians. But they also enjoyed going to a park near their apartments. They enjoyed the Circle of Lights.

They look forward to taking the girls to the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis.

Their hope is that their daughters — Laren is almost 4, Leen is nearly 2½ — will have a better life than their parents and get an education. Already, the girls are developing a taste for McDonald’s hamburgers and the antics of SpongeBob SquarePants, who is helping them pick up English.

Abdul and Manal say they like Indiana — even the weather, which they say is similar to Homs. But the joy of their new life is tempered by their awareness of the death and destruction they left behind in Syria. Pictures and video from Homs show the place now as a city of rubble, mostly deserted. They worry about their family in refugee camps in Jordan, Lebanon and Turkey, where they say life is hard. They doubt they’ll ever see their homeland again.

Abdul has been picking up what he can about American politics. Asked if he could tell President Trump something about the Syrian refugee situation, he said: “I would tell him, ‘Bring the refugees. Let them come. Because I lived with them. And I know the conditions.’”

Call IndyStar Robert King at (317) 444-6089. Follow him on Twitter: @RbtKing.

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