 |
 |
||
|
|
Arrivals shape communities of Like crafting a quilt, the Mohawk Valley for more than three centuries has plucked color, texture and patterns from faraway lands — here a crimson patch from Italy, there an emerald design from Ireland. The seams of the city’s neighborhoods are now strengthened by newer waves of arrivals from across the seas, particularly the thousands of Bosnians who have come in the past 10 years. While there are other groups arriving each year, including Sudanese, Burmese and Vietnamese, the sheer number of Bosnians has quickly made them a significant force. Representing nearly 10 percent of Utica’s 61,000 population, Bosnians are transforming Utica’s schools, tax rolls, work force and neighborhoods. Like the legions of others before them — Irish, Germans, Welsh, Italians, Polish, Lebanese — Bosnians fled persecution and struggle in their homeland to seek refuge, a livelihood and opportunity in a new land. Like their predecessors, they struggle with language barriers, cultural differences and issues of tolerance and acceptance. And like the far-flung foreigners who called — and call — the area home, they are integrating themselves into the social, economic and educational fabric of the Mohawk Valley. "On the whole, with refugees and immigrants, with a lot of their stories you could just substitute the word ‘Bosnian’ for Italian or Irish or others," Oneida County Historical Society Director Kevin Marken said. "They’ve all faced a lot of the same challenges, and they have a lot of the same goals." Since the first Bosnian families arrived 10 years ago this June, Bosnians have steadily stirred themselves into the broader community. A Bosnian woman sits on the city’s Common Council. Bosnian-owned businesses continue to sprout up. And city blocks, once plagued by neglect, are being revitalized. "It’s unbelievable what they’ve done, especially in fixing up some of those areas in Utica that needed work," said Pat Trobia, a local loan officer who works with refugees. "They’re people that have done so much for Utica." On an unusually warm day, Bosnian native Osmam Palic sits at a card table in the shade of his East Utica back yard on Leeds and Eagle streets. Behind him is a pile of the entrails of his once-condemned house — sinks, doors, shutters and chunks of plaster and wood. After a year, the house’s new interior sports fancy tile work, new ceilings and arched doorways. Osmam and his brother, Sakib, have moved on to revamping the exterior. Neither man speaks much English, but Sakib Palic’s sister-in-law Asmira said the men, builders by trade, decided it would be better to buy a "broken house" and fix it rather than buy a new one. They’ve now done $25,000 worth of renovations — more than it cost to buy the house. Real-estate agent JoAnn Longo has sold dozens of homes to refugee families, especially Bosnians. She does so much business with international clients that she’s hired office assistants who speak Ukrainian, Spanish and Bosnian. Her Bosnian translator, Vesna Kordic, just earned her real-estate license. Longo said available housing in East Utica has decreased dramatically while prices have risen. Bosnians in search of houses in the $25,000 to $35,000 range east of Mohawk Street now have to look in other neighborhoods, such as Cornhill, she said. Driving up Clementian Street, Longo looks for a house she sold to a Bosnian family. "Which one was it?" She puts the car in reverse. "Was it that one?" She drives forward again. "That one?" She shrugs and drives on. "They fix them up so nice," she said. "I don’t recognize them after I sell them." *** Bosnian native Juso Milijkovic doesn’t speak much English, so customers at his Barbershop Veldin on Mohawk Street either bring a picture or indicate they want a shorter version of their current style. Le Tt, a Vietnamese native, sits quietly in the chair while Milijkovic trims his hair. "I just showed him by sign language how I want my hair cut," Tt said. "I’ve never had a bad experience here." Bosnians own their own businesses including restaurants, automotive shops and markets, adding to the business community’s rich cultural mix. Hapanowicz Meats? Started by a Polish family. Caffe Caruso bakery? Started by an Italian family. Stiefvater Distributors? Started by a German family. Some businesses started in recent years by refugees could similarly become mainstays of the local economy. Those refugees who haven’t started their own businesses are still contributing mightily to the local economy. Jim Roche, president of the Mohawk Valley Chamber of Commerce, said Bosnian workers play an important role in the area’s work force. Companies like ConMed Corp. and the Central Association for the Blind and Visually Impaired are two of the region’s many employers of Bosnians. "Their work ethic is just outstanding," Roche said. And many of those workers are young. According to a study of the Bosnian community, 43 percent of Bosnians are between the ages of 25 and 49. Census 2000 figures show only about 1-in-3 of all Uticans (including refugees) was in that age group. "They have injected an element of youth and vitality into the labor pool here," sociology professor Reed Coughlin said of the Bosnians. The SUNY Empire State College researcher, working with Hamilton College professor Judy Owens-Manley, conducted interviews with 100 Bosnian families for the study. The region’s population declined by more than 15,000 people in the last decade, as young people left in large numbers, as Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome closed and as other large employers left. That left a vacuum in which remaining companies struggled to find workers. Bosnians have been filling that vacuum. It’s been that way for Vasva Rekic, 33. She started working on an assembly line at ConMed in 1997. A year later, she took some time off to raise a family and train as a medical interpreter. When she reapplied to ConMed two years ago, she was hired not as an assembler, but as a human resources clerk. She said learning English is crucial for refugees, "especially if you are thinking about staying in this country forever." Many Bosnians depend on their young children to interpret for them, she said. "You can take your kids somewhere," she said. "But you can’t take them everywhere." *** Courtney Muhammad can see it from both sides. As an African-American, he appreciates the frustration of many of Utica’s minority residents who feel the local leadership has rolled out the red carpet for Bosnians while poor minorities languish. As a Muslim, he appreciates the values and hard work of Bosnian Muslims who came to Utica by necessity and are trying to forge better lives. "I came into contact with the Bosnian community through Islam," Muhammad said. "It’s been a rich relationship. They hug me, they hold me, they love our basketball, they love our dance. But even more so, they see what we have gone through and they are more than happy to stand with us." Many Bosnians agree that cultural differences can be bridged through regular contact between members of different groups. "Once you know someone, your perspective changes," said Predrag Lykovac, a Bosnian interpreter at the Mohawk Valley Resource Center for Refugees. But acceptance hasn’t come easily for Bosnians, just as it didn’t in the 1800s when Protestants brawled with Irish Catholic immigrants or in the early 1900s when by-then established Irish-Americans had spats with newly arrived Italian Catholics. Today, discomfort of some long-term residents manifests itself in concern among some O-D readers about the publication each week of a Bosnian language column. What few people know is that the Utica Newspapers ran an Italian language column in the early years of the 20th century to help draw that immigrant population into the newspaper habit. Some in Utica’s minority community bristled when Mayor Tim Julian named a Bosnian woman, Deana Smiljic, to an open Common Council position last fall. The council has only one minority, the city school board none. African-Americans feel "‘All these years we’ve been here, why didn’t you select us?’" Muhammad said. But Muhammad, who has promoted black empowerment through workshops for young African-American men, said at an O-D focus group on the refugee community that Bosnians offer lessons for African-Americans. "The reason you’re moving faster is you’re coming from middle-class communities, you’re coming from professional, you’re coming from homeowner, you’re coming from being educated, you’re coming from being a community who has run themselves," Muhammad said to Bosnians in the discussion. "We look at you, and it’s an inspiration to us." *** If history is any indicator, many more patches will be sewn into Utica’s racial and ethnic quilt. Bright new hues and patterns will enrich the design of a community that will always find itself waiting in welcome for those still to come. "We have had 10,000 refugees that have come into the area," Coughlin said. "Where would it be without them?" Without them, Lou Eanniello Jr., an Italian, wouldn’t be partnering with Edin Seferagic, a Bosnian. They opened their shop, Eddy’s & Lou’s Grocery & Deli, two months ago on Albany Street. "Here they have a store for just Bosnians, or just Italians, or just Americans, and by doing that, you really separate people," Seferagic said. "Lou and I wanted to have a place where all kinds of people can gather." And gather, they do. Gruff Italian-American men huddle, smoking, around sodas and sandwiches at one table, while Bosnian men chat over espresso at another. The two groups speak back and forth, joking and laughing. "They come in here and hold meetings," Eanniello said of both groups. "It’s real social, the way they talk. "It’s a league of nations." Contributing: Tom Lambert, Melissa A. Chadwick, Cecilia Le |
||
