The American Nightmare

Photo by C.G.P. Grey. Image held here.

Saeed Bajhshandh shuffles his way to the back of the dinner line 60 men deep. He is unshaven and his khaki pants are dirty and slightly torn, but he puts on a smile as he receives his ham sandwich and ladleful of beans.

Bajhshandh has been living at REST Homeless Shelter in Uptown for more than a year, but he is not complaining. To him, the conditions are much better than the L stations, where he slept for four months prior to coming to the shelter.

When Bajhshandh immigrated from Tehran, Iran, six years ago, this was not how he pictured his American experience. He lost his job at Frdusa, a construction company in Tehran, in 2000 and worked in Germany for three years before coming to the United States in 2003.

Just weeks after getting a job at a construction company in Chicago, he suffered a serious back injury, lost his job, and has had physical and economic problems ever since.

“I worked hard for 16 hours a day in Iran. Now I cannot do this work, but I am not qualified for anything else,” the 56-year-old said in broken English. “I came here for a good life, a good situation. But this is jail to me.”

Bajhshandh's is not the only story of an American dream gone bad. The economic downturn has brought an increase in homelessness overall. Immigrants are no exception to this trend.

But according to Erin Ryan, executive director for the Lincoln Park Community Shelter, a Chicago interim housing facility, homeless immigrants encounter more than just a general “falling through the cracks.”

“Even for people who come the the United States through a legal channel, things become harder than they imagine and they don't know how to navigate the system,” Ryan said. “This is true in general for homelessness, but adding the immigration on top of things makes it that much more overwhelming.”

The culture shock and difficulty of the immigration system can magnify economic struggles.

Constance Omandi, 41, immigrated from Nairobi, Kenya, in 2006 to join some family members who were already living in Chicago. She ran a successful product distribution business in Nairobi and was hoping to continue to operate it from the United States until she got her bearings. But in 2008, her profits plummetted with the global economy. Two years later, she found herself at the doors of the Lincoln Park Community Shelter.

Many immigrants do not have families in America that they can turn to for assistance, and for those who do, like Omandi and Bajhshandh, pride will often keep them from asking for help.

“I don't want to be a burden on my family,” Omandi said. “It was my decision to come here, not theirs.”

Bajhshandh's ex-wife, Ateneh, moved to Chicago in 2000 shortly after they divorced, and now lives with their 18-year-old son in Skokie. Ateneh is a teacher, but Bajhshandh does not like to go to her for money.

“If I really need her, she helps me, but it makes me feel bad,” he said. “In my culture, the man has the responsibility. Always. And I am not showing that to my son.”

According to the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, there were about 75 thousand homeless people in Chicago in 2009. But it is unknown how many are immigrants.

Because of the lack of statistics and uncertainty of immigrant numbers, fighting immigrant homelessness is not an easy task. Shelters and programs often combat homelessness as a problem in its entirety.

“We typically don't cater to specific groups of people,” said Anne Bawhay, Director of Foundation Relations at the Chicago Coaltion for the Homeless. “We cater to people with common problems, and we work across the demographics of the group. We don't have specific groups for one demographic.”

But Omandi and Bajhshandh will not lose hope, and both have found help at the shelters where they stay.

“The most important thing I can do is keep optimistic,” Omandi said. “When you feel defeated is the moment you stop trying, and you're never going to get anywhere. And that's why I came here, right?”

Omandi is on the employment track at the Lincoln Park Community Shelter, working her way through computer and business programs while searching and applying for jobs. She eventually wants to rebuild her product distribution business with her own team of sales people. In the meantime, she teaches Swahili to the volunteers and other residents at the shelter.

“It's always good to share my culture with other people, it helps keep it alive for me,” she said. “It helps me remember the importance of it by teaching other people.”

Through REST, Bajhshandh was connected with a caseworker who recently found him an apartment. He plans to move in next month. He still does not have a job, but he will have a place of his own.

Bajhshandh returns to the table with his dinner tray in the loud room filled with men wearing blank stares. Before taking a bite, he pulls out a tattered wallet containing only two pictures. Both are school photos of his son, one from 2004 and one from this year, his high school senior picture.

“He wants to become a lawyer,” Bajhshandh said with a pleased smile. “When I get my own apartment, he can come visit me. And he will be proud.”

Will be published in Mosaic Magazine in May of 2011.

Living in Immigration Limbo

Alaa Mukahhal parks her car at the Bridgeview Mosque Foundation, a Muslim haven in the midst of the diverse Southwest suburb. She steps out of the car, pulling a denim jacket over her black hijab, and greets an old Arabic teacher with a kiss and hug. She has a brief phone conversation with her mother in flawless Arabic punctured with an occasional English term, an“Ok” or a “yes.”

“My family calls that Arabish,” says the 24-year-old, flipping her cell phone shut. “We make up words that don't exist in either language, but they make sense to us.”

Mukahhal was translating for her parents' landlord at the age of 7. By fourth grade she was reading at a sixth grade level. She is a University of Illinois graduate, a social justice advocate, an aspiring architect. And she is an undocumented immigrant.

“I was born in Kuwait, but that does not in any way make me Kuwaiti,” said Mukahhal, who has lived most of her life in the United States. “I consider myself American, even though I don't have the papers and number to prove it.”

Though she was born in Kuwait, she and her Palestinian parents, Mustafa and Asmaa, were forced to move to Jordan in 1991 in the midst of the Persian Gulf War. The family lived in Jordan for two years before selling all they owned to come to America for a better life in 1993.

“I was in second grade, and it was very bizarre, worlds apart from what I knew,” Mukahhal said. “But my parents told me, 'If you want to fit in, if you want to succeed, you have to work hard.' My grades, my education, that's all that mattered to me.”

After mastering English, a feat she attributes to Dr. Seuss and Power Rangers, Mukahhal soon excelled in her schoolwork in every subject.

“Alaa is one of the brightest people I know. She was always taking advanced classes that none of the rest of us could get into,” said Meha Ahmad, 22, a classmate and friend of Mukahhal's at Aqsa, an Arabic-focused high school in Bridgeview.  “She even designed the logo for my dad's bakery. She just thrives on hard work, and she's so capable.”

Mukahhal went to the University of Illinois in Champaign and became one of the top students in her class. She studied architecture, a passion that grew from her natural artistic abilities and encounters with the work of Zaha Hadid, an Iraqi Muslim and the first female architect to win the Pritzker Prize.

But upon graduation in May of 2010, the ever-assiduous Mukahhal faced the job market without a social security card, without a green card, and without citizenship. No one asked for these documents all through her schooling, but now she can't go further without them.

“Right now I feel like I'm stuck in a limbo,” she said. “I can't move back, can't move forward. And it's frustrating because all I've ever known is 'work hard, be successful.' I'm desperate for a chance.”

Overqualified but undocumented, Mukahhal works as a cashier at a local store, trying every angle she can to get her papers in what she calls a “green card lottery system.”

“My parents and I got a lawyer. We asked him how we could stand in line to get papers,” she said. “He told us, 'There is no line to stand in....' To say that our immigration system is broken is such an understatement.”

Mukahhal is not scared of admitting that she is an illegal immigrant. She hopes that sharing her story will inspire others, especially other Arab immigrants, to stand up for immigration reform and the Dream Act, a proposed legislation that will give qualified undocumented youth the opportunity for a six year conditional path to citizenship if they get a college degree or serve in the military for two years.

“Alaa's story is so unique because it drives home the point that immigration is not only a Latino issue,” said Seemi Chaudry, a communication organizer for the Immigration Coalition for Immigrant Refugee Rights. “If American Muslims are more engaged civically, there will be no other future than a future with immigration reform.”

Until that day, Mukahhal will not sit still. She will continue to sketch blueprints in anticipation of getting a job in her field, and one day opening her own architecture firm. She will force any door that she must to get her documents. She will vigorously fight for immigration reform.

“We just have to wait for the Dream Act, for immigration reform, wait for congress,” Mukahhal said with a strong brown-eyed stare and a level voice. “I know that I'll have to wait for awhile, but I have to be optimistic because I strongly believe in this country. It's beautiful that there is always room for change. We just need time.”

Will be published in Mosaic Magazine in May of 2011. 

Artists Building for Artists

Project manager Mike Anderson talks to the Current about the Carmel Palladium. 


When Shiel Sexton asked Mike Anderson to be the senior project manager for The Palladium at the Center for Performing Arts in Carmel, he knew he was getting into something special. 


"This is no ordinary building. It is a monument, a landmark for central Indiana," he said, mentioning the limestone, plaster, and detail that set this unique project apart. 


Anderson stumbled down the road of construction by luck and chance 37 years ago. After working for the state highway department for a year after high school, he felt connected to construction.


 "I've been doing this since '73 and I haven't regretted one day of it," he said.


 Now Anderson, who has helped construct nuclear power plants in the past, says he is working on perhaps the most challenging--and rewarding--project of his career. In doing this, he said he's working alongside some of the most talented individuals in the state. 


Shiel Sexton has at least 200 local workers constructing The Palladium daily. According to Anderson, the fact that these workers are local makes The Palladium even more special.


 "There is a sense of pride about these workers that will trickle into the entire community," he said. "Usually workers will drive by a project years later and point it out to people and say, 'We did that.' But this project will be more than a drive by. I think the workers will pull in, stop, and go inside to show off what they have done." 


The Palladium is scheduled to be completed this fall, and Anderson described the final construction stages of the project as bittersweet.


 "You can sense and feel how special it is when you're here, and you want to finish it to see it come to life," he said. "But it will be hard to leave it when it's done."


Originally published in the Current in Carmel on July 20, 2010. Link here.

Driven by a Dream

Westfield's Laura McKamey and Hayli Hodsdon are training to overcome their respiratory diseases and run the New York City Marathon. 

When Laura McKamey and Hayli Hodsdon were assigned to room with each other last year at the Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio, they did not know much about one another. 

Now, the two best friends share everything together, including different respiratory diseases and one big dream—running the ING New York City Marathon.

"We're compatible in every way,” Hodsdon said. “If I'm having a bad day, she's always having a good one to pull me up. It's almost like we were meant to meet each other, like soul mates.”

McKamey, a sophmore majoring in early childhood education, has had asthma her whole life while junior social work student Hodsdon has battled cystic fibrosis, a genetic disorder that causes thick mucus to build up and clog organs of the body, particularly the lungs and the digestive tract. 

Despite their health issues, the roommates have decided to run the ING New York City Marathon on November 7. The girls, who previously thought their physical limitations would inhibit them from accomplishing such a feat, are now training five days a week to prepare for the 26.2-Mile landmark that has already changed their lives. 

“It's a long process. We weren't runners before this, so we had to start from scratch,” McKamey said. 

Mckamey and Hodsdon are running to raise money for the Boomer Esiason Foundation, an organization that aims to heighten awareness of cystic fibrosis, stimulate research, and improve the quality of life for those affected by it. Hodsdon, who received a college scholarship from this foundation, came across this idea after being hospitalized several times throughout the first semester last year. 

"It was a really stressful time for Hayli emotionally because she felt like she was really beaten down by her disease," McKamey said. "She wanted to com up with a way to overcome it and do so in a way that inspired others. Once we started training, we got really excited and realized how great this would be."

Though it started out as a whim, the girls have already accomplished more than they imagined, both physically and financially.

They ran the Indianapolis Mini Marathon in May, and together they have raised about $3,000 for “Team Boomer,” more than half of the total that they need for the foundation.

 Of course, training has not been easy for the ambitious McKamey and Hodsdon. Mckamey's asthma kicks in during exercise, and the summer heat and humidity increase its severity. Hodsdon is susceptible to lung infections and must constantly monitor her breathing and nebulize before and after running, making early morning runs difficult. 

“Sometimes it's a struggle. We both have bad days and both have good days,” McKamey said. “On our bad days, we just relax, encourage each other, and say keep going.” 

Despite their difficulties and apprehensions, the unshakeable duo remains confident and knows that running the New York City marathon will be worth the hard work.

 “Since I started running, I've been much healthier,” Hodsdon said. “It's been hard on my body, but we have also both benefited so much just from the confidence and motivation it has given us. I know we'll be so proud of ourselves when we finish.”

 When they cross the finish line on November 7, Hodsdon and McKamey say they will not just be doing it for themselves or for the Boomer Foundation, but for everyone with similar afflictions. Along with their personal gains and fund raising, the girls hope to inspire others by doing what they once thought was impossible.

 “I just want to encourage people to try something that seems precarious,” McKamey said. “Even if you have physical limitations, you never know what you can do until you try.”

Originally published in the Current in Westfield on July 13, 2010. Link here.

Mosaic Artist Moves, Brings Work to Carmel

After years of drawing in black and white, artist Michele Soncini realized that she wanted to get over her fear of color.

 While attending a workshop at the Perkins Center for the Arts in New Jersey, she gained a passion for the bright, oriental mosaics that now dot the walls of the Blue Egg Art Gallery.

 “It all comes from my inability to sit still,” said Soncini, motioning to her mosaics at the gallery located in the Carmel Arts and Design District. “Plus I was too cheap to pay for cable, so I cut glass instead.”

Soncini, who moved to Indiana in September, has been at the Blue Egg since the beginning of June and is excited about her new space.

 “When I first got here, I went door-to-door looking for people who were interested in my artwork,” she said. “The Blue Egg was immediately receptive.” 

Blue Egg owner Stephanie Marshall said she did not think twice before creating a spot for Soncini in the gallery.

 “I’ve seen mosaics before, but none like this,” Marshall said. “The way she captures the human body is like nothing I’ve ever seen.” 

Soncini describes herself as a figurative artist and emphasizes the human body in her work. 

“The human body is a vehicle you use to get through your life,” she said. “Every scar, every break, every blemish is a road map to your life.” 

Soncini will participate in the District’s Gallery Walk on July 17, where she will introduce herself and her work to the community. She will also be available for group and individual art lessons for drawing and mosaics.

Originally published in the Current in Westfield on July 13, 2010. Link here,

Still Going Strong

JHDJ co-founder Stephanie Jocham has not let cancer get in the way of her passion.


Stephanie Jocham has wanted to be a lawyer since she was a little girl. In 2008, she teamed with Lanae Harden, Jill Dimick, and Michele Jackson to form the JHDJ law firm in Carmel, where she predominantly serves as a mediator for divorce cases.


 Now, both the career she loves and – more importantly – her life are in jeopardy.


In January, Jocham was diagnosed with stage IV sarcoma, a rare form of cancer that stemmed from a football-sized tumor in her thigh. Doctors suspected the tumor to be a muscle strain for months. 


The always healthy, active and involved 42-year-old was shocked. After having a successful surgery to remove the tumor and undergoing radiation, doctors informed her that the cancer had spread to several spots in her lungs.


 “I hoped the surgery would be it,” Jocham said. “I’m kind of fighting for my life right now – not what I planned on doing this year.” 


But the resilient attorney, whose constant smile and positivity makes her diagnosis seem like a stubbed toe, continues to work when she can. She had to pass all of her cases along, which her co-workers picked up, but she still manages the firm and does some casework. She plans on doing more once she adjusts.


“Her work is her passion; she certainly doesn’t want to give it up at this time,” Harden said. “She’s been remarkably strong, and her positive outlook puts all of our bad days into perspective.” 


One of Jocham’s greatest disappointments was canceling several trips to Haiti with other women from the office in January and May. According to Amber Small, the director of business development for the firm, the number of orphans in Haiti skyrocketed from 350,000 to 2 million after the earthquake. Small added that the firm received “more than 1,000 calls a day” from people interested in adopting these orphans, and the firm has been doing everything possible to facilitate this often complicated process. 


“One of the biggest issues is that many of the children there aren't actually in orphan status,” said Jackson, who focuses on international and domestic adoption for the firm. 


In their most recent trip there, which lasted three days, Small, Jackson and two others visited four orphanages, gaining trustworthy contacts and trying to identify those children who had been identified as orphans before the earthquake began. 


JHDJ has worked to make the most of a bad situation in Haiti by helping children in need and providing additions to area families. Now, Jocham relies on her JHDJ family to support her through her ongoing battle.


“It’s really difficult to put into words the support I’ve received, here and in the entire legal community,” she said. “The cards, the calls, the e-mails, the text messages – it’s just so wonderfully overwhelming.”



Along with being “dinner fairies,” a term Jocham used to describe the way dinner miraculously appears on her doorstep every night, the women at JHDJ started a Relay for Life team in Jocham’s honor. The team, with a stiletto-stamped logo saying “Stepping with Steph,” raised more money than any other team in Washington Township history.


 “This is really just a reflection of her generosity to others,” Jackson said. “It’s easy to show your support for someone who has been so friendly and giving to everyone in the past.” 


Jocham plans to throw a “girl power” party on Friday, while her friend shaves her head. 


“We’ll have some wine and try on my wig; I won’t let this get me down,” she said. 


Though chemotherapy has caused Jocham to lose her hair, she said she refuses to let cancer rob her of anything else.


“I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m determined to suck every ounce of joy out of life every day, whether I have five months or 50 years.”


Originally published in the Current in Carmel on June 1, 2010.  Link here.

Sweep Dreams

Think you need to go to Canada to learn how to curl? Think again.

The first sentence on the liability waiver at the Chicago Curling Club states, "I understand that curling is a sport played on ice — a hard and slippery surface." When I showed up for my Learn 2 Curl lesson hosted by the club in Northbrook, Ill., about the only thing I understood about this commonly misconstrued sport was the "ice" part.

Some might associate curling with our neighboring nation to the north — Canada. While 90 percent of worldwide curling participants are from Canada, as reported in The Seattle Times, the sport has gradually swept across the globe since it gained Olympic status in 1998. According to the Chicago Curling Club brochure, curling now has more than 1 million participants in 35 countries, including 20,000 in the U.S.

Founded in 1948, the Chicago Curling Club (CCC) is one of only three curling facilities in the greater Chicago area, and out of these three, the CCC is the only one devoted specifically to curling. During the curling season — November through March — the club offers Learn 2 Curl lessons for those who want to learn the game. Requiring only a pair of sneakers and as much balance as you can muster, the $20 lesson is taught by United States Curling Association (USCA) certified instructors.

Stan Slabas, a U.S. Curling Association certified curling instructor, explains proper technique to a Learn 2 Curl student. Photo by Elizabeth Noel.

Some compare curling to shuffleboard on ice, but according to Dave Haverick, the coordinator of Learn 2 Curl, it is much more like chess or billiards. Fortunately for me, speed and strength are not big factors in curling. Unfortunately for me, finesse and balance are. "It is all about technique," said Haverick. "It is about what kind of skill you have."

While curling, which began on the frozen rivers and lochs of Scotland in the 1500s, is too detailed to fully explain in 800 words or fewer, here are the basics: The aim of the sport is to slide the 42-pound granite stone across a 146-foot rink of pebbled ice and land it in the target, or "house." Two sweepers brush the ice to direct the stone or make it go farther without touching it. Each competitive game consists of 10 ends (which are like innings in baseball) while recreational games are usually eight ends. In each end, teams of four throw eight stones, with each participant throwing twice.

The term "curling" comes from the curl the stone will have based on the turn of the stone, which helps curlers determine where they want the stone to lie. Whichever team has the most stones closest to the center of the target after each end scores a point.

To throw the stone, participants wear a Teflon-bottomed shoe called a "slider" to glide across the ice. "What most beginners tend to do is push the stone," said instructor Stan Slabas. "But you're just supposed to let it go." Since letting go of the stone usually resulted in a complete loss of balance in my case, Slabas advised that the sliding foot be directly behind the stone. Of course, with the many different techniques and tips to remember, this simple task was not as easy as it looked.

The Learn 2 Curl lesson began with a short video giving some background on the sport and some light calisthenics. The instructors then split us into teams of four, taught us the basics of throwing the stone and sweeping and let us practice. Finally, our newly acquired skills — or lack thereof — were tested in a scrimmage against another team of newbies.

Of course for me, the lesson also had another prominent element — falling. "It's cold, it's slippery — sometimes that combination can be bad," warned Haverick. "But we have had no fatalities this year," he jokingly boasted. Though falling did not hurt, it did vex my persistent instructor who decided that I would be his "project" and fruitlessly attempted to make me fit for the 2014 Olympics.

For those who don't think that curling is a real workout, think again. The stretching and balance required to throw the stone could give a yoga class some competition. And as for cardio, in a game of eight ends the average person will sweep vigorously for two miles. 
While providing good exercise, curling could be the winter sport equivalent of tennis or golf.

"The sport can be enjoyed at any age," said Haverick. The age range of the participants, about 30 Chicagoland dwellers, varied greatly. I, a 21-year-old, was welcomed onto a team of 65-year-olds who had known each other for more than 20 years. 
Curling is a very social sport, created and known for its friendship and camaraderie. Before and after a match, opponents will shake hands and wish "Good curling" to one another.

Following the lesson at the CCC, we gathered in the social hall to mingle, snack and sip Labatt beer. This tradition, called "broomstacking," usually involves teams buying rounds for their opponents after a match and was probably where I displayed the most skill in the curling realm.

The Learn 2 Curl sessions for 2010 are currently fully booked. "It gets crazy this time of year, especially with the Olympics," said Jenny Hulk, who helped organize the event. But don't get discouraged, curling cravers. The club's Web site offers a waitlist option, and many other events throughout the year.

Closer Look writer Elizabeth Noel poses with curling instructor Stan Slabas. Photo by Elizabeth Noel.

Neither the U.S. men's or women's curling teams are expected to medal in Vancouver this year, but we can take comfort in the fact that my team of curling novices at Learn 2 Curl won 3-0 in our scrimmage against other first-timers. While some may not hold these accomplishments at quite the same level as the Olympics, I still think I have bragging rights. Although I doubt I will make an appearance in Sochi, Russia, in 2014, I did have two hours of fun and a new experience and I also got to meet many new curling buddies. Besides, there's always 2018, right?

Originally published in the Loyola Phoenix on February 24, 2010. Link here.