Women empowered
Refugee Women United for Progress was started by refugee women in 1997. It was a reincarnation of an earlier organization called Empower Refugee Women, which closed after losing its funding. The refugee women who had come to depend on the constancy and support of the organization decided to start their own agency, for who knows the difficulties of refugee women better than other refugee women?

       Rosa Weet, co-founder and director, says in the first three years of the group’s existence, it was run on virtually no money; the women simply met regularly and planned activities together.

       When new women kept coming for help, the founders began to recruit volunteers, and soon a board of directors was named. The group applied for nonprofit status, and in 2000 it began to receive state grants.

Samovars, best described as Middle Eastern coffe pots, meet palm trees as refugees from Asia and the Middle East come to America. Photo illustration by Nicole Saidi

       With just $90,000 a year and the generosity of volunteers, the center’s founders have big dreams for the women who come to them for help. They have learned to stretch resources by collaborating with other agencies, such as Habitat for Humanity, which gives seminars on how to apply for a home. They also hope to make English as a Second Language courses available through the assistance of volunteers.

       Two staff members fill out referrals for those women who need to go to domestic violence counseling, deliver food boxes to those who have no food in their homes, transport women without cars or driver’s licenses to doctor appointments and serve as surrogate family members when a woman needs someone to listen or offer advice.

       Women can attend support groups once a month, as well as massage therapy and dance therapy classes every week. Weet hopes to add computer classes and more home visits this year.

A survivor
In her bright fluorescent pink sweatshirt and native caftan in bold colors and patterns, Weet seems larger than life. She is confident and plain-spoken. When she talks about her native Africa, the current refugee situation or the most recent album by her favorite Arabic pop singer. other women stop and listen.

       “I feel very proud of myself," she says of the work she has done at the agency. "I came from a different country with a completely different culture and set of values. And I could do this in this country."

       Weet is a refugee from Sudan, just as Ahmed is, but she comes from the predominantly Christian South, a part of the country that is in constant conflict with the country's Muslim government. Those who live in South Sudan must submit to a government grounded in Islamic laws that tell women they must cover their entire bodies, including their faces, and diligently serve their husbands above all else.

       Despite the political turmoil of Sudan, Weet had a good life there. Her husband, Andrew, was a successful politician in their state—first as speaker of the House and then as deputy governor. Rosa had her own home, with housemaids and gardeners. "But then I had to leave because of political problems," she says.

       Her husband no longer agreed with the government’s position and began to speak out, making it dangerous for her family. "So, I left the country with my five children, pregnant with my sixth," she says. "My sister and I moved to Egypt in 1989 with 10, soon 11, children for the two of us to take care of."

       Weet and her sister applied for refugee status from the United Nations. While they waited, they lived in the slums of Cairo because not only were they once again Christians in a Muslim country, but they also were black. To earn money, Weet became a maid, cleaning the homes of the upper class.

       Finally, in 1995, Weet, her sister and their children were granted refugee status in the United States. "I came to Phoenix on January 24, 1996," she says proudly, emphasizing the "six," a meaningful number because that is how many years she waited to come to America.

       Resettling into Phoenix was not easy. She had to find a job with very little knowledge of English, and ended up working at a resort hotel as a maid, cleaning 20 rooms every day, and coming home late at night.

       "I am happy I survived it," she says. "I have three kids in college, two in high school and one in middle school."

       Now, at age 39, the only thing missing from Weet’s life is Andrew, her husband. She has not seen him in 14 years. He continues to live in Sudan, restless, but holding on to hope that he, too, will be accepted as a refugee to the United States. Weet has been writing to the U.S. Senate, asking for help so that she may see her husband again.

       She breaks off her story to greet a young woman who has just entered the center.

       The women always come first.