For Iraqi family in Utah, American dream remains a distant one

In Baghdad, Moeen Hasan owned a furniture business and lived in a four-bedroom home -- until terrorism arrived at his door.
    His children saw men gunned down in the street. A car exploded near his home, blasting shards of glass into his wife, Alaa's, leg.
    "I did not want my kids to learn violence," Moeen Hasan said through a translator.
    So he came with his family to Salt Lake City in February, part of a wave of about 250 Iraqi refugees who make up one of the largest groups arriving in Utah this year. Caseworkers say that Iraqis typically are more educated than refugees fleeing many other nations. Many of them, like Hasan, lived modern lives in Iraq.
    "After one month, they come to understand the basic rules and laws of the United States, its behavior and relationships," said Vladimir Martirosov, a caseworker for Catholic Community Services, which resettles refugees.
    The only thing Hasan, 52, did not understand was why his honesty, hard work and intelligence were not enough to give his family a decent life here.
    Deseret Industries quickly hired him, but as time passed, Hasan realized his family of seven was descending into a nightmare.
    Roaches and mice hid in kitchen crevices and scurried across the floors of the family's two-bedroom apartment. Moeen and Alaa, 36, sometimes woke to find ants crawling across their baby in his crib.
    A much bigger problem also loomed.
    Like many refugees, the family participated in a federal match-grant program that paid their rent for six months and that assistance was about to end.
    Hasan still made only $6.81 an hour. His English was improving but not good enough for other jobs. Even with food stamps, his wages would not be enough to pay $900 in rent.
    "I'm afraid," Hasan said. "I don't know. Maybe I sleep in the street."
    Hasan searched for higher-paying jobs and visited agencies throughout the city. Days before his assistance ended, Hasan pleaded with a Community Action Program worker, who said she couldn't help him unless he found a cheaper apartment.
    Hasan couldn't find a cheaper home for his large family. He was a hard worker, he told her. Didn't his children deserve a clean home, he asked? Wasn't this America?
    His options, she said, were to find a better job, get a second job or become homeless.
    Hasan, normally a gregarious man, listened quietly.
    "I'm going to be homeless," Hasan said softly. "I tried my best. I worked hard."
    Hasan moved his family into a different, similarly priced apartment in hopes of escaping the vermin. His assistance had ended, and if something didn't happen soon, they would be on the street.
    Luckily, just days later, his pay increased to $8 an hour. The Asian Association, another agency, also helped him with the first month's rent.
    After rent and taxes, though, the family will still likely have no more than $140 left over each month.
    They're surviving almost entirely by chance.
    "We have God's mercy only," Hasan said through a translator. In English, he added, "And I sure, and I sure, and I sure, my God no forget my children."
   
lschencker@sltrib.com