From Katrina to the Red River

They were brought here to help with the aftermath of New Orleans’ Hurricane Katrina. More than two years later, they found themselves helping in a different city’s natural disaster with still no word on when they will be going home.

In exchange for permanent residency status and high wages, 23 Indian men were wooed by a pipe-building company. They were to help rebuild New Orleans, and one by one, they gladly accepted the offer.

What those 23 men quickly discovered was that the company—Signal International—had no intention of ensuring a safe and enriched life in America. The men allegedly lived in cramped quarters and ate unacceptable food in inhumane conditions. As they escaped the company, they found themselves stranded in the U.S. without money or legal status. They found employment in an ethanol plant near Casselton, N.D., where they were quickly arrested.

Since then, they have been waiting for answers. Since then, they have been placed in apartments around the Fargo-Moorhead area. And when the flood came, those 23 men—who had been given such a harsh welcome to the United States—began to help.

One of the people they wound up helping, Barry Nelson, has served as a mentor and teacher for them as they learn to navigate American customs—both social and legal.

“Barry has spent many days and months helping us,” said Ivan, one of the undocumented workers living in West Fargo. Eleven of the 13 men who are still in the Fargo-Moorhead community came day after day to Barry’s house. Out of respect for their privacy, HPR consented to using first names only for the workers.

“When the hurricane happened in New Orleans, we were quick to help rebuild,” Fogy said. “The situation now, that somebody was in trouble and they wanted our help, was the same.”

Barry said he wasn’t surprised to see the workers—his friends—show up to help.

“I know them to be very caring individuals,” he said. “There are a multitude of reasons why people rally, whether it’s your personal need or the need of your neighborhood or the need of the people in the community. But these guys have not been treated very well, and that, if anything, is what surprised me.”

“I would be frustrated and angry whenever the crest was raised, but it was the kindness of strangers that brought tears to my eyes,” he said.

For Biju Joseph, it was a simple act.

“We are thinking [the flood] is our problem, not Barry’s problem, not Fargo’s problem,”  Biju said. “It’s everybody’s problem.”

Another worker echoed Biju Joseph’s thoughts.

“No matter how we are here, we are involved. We are filling sandbags for you, and you can do it for me, too,” said the worker, also named Biju.

Darci Asche, a New Americans coordinator at Lutheran Social Services, said it would have been easy for the 11 men to ignore the situation, to avoid the rising waters, to shun a community that has deeply hurt them.

But time drags on when you are used to daily work, and since legalities have limited them, Darci said the men were quick to respond to Fargo’s cries for help.

“They realized how serious it really was,” she said. “They spent days and nights filling sandbags. This gave them a sense of purpose.”

Anil said he thought often of his wife and two children as he filled sandbags. The act was nothing new to him; he’s done it before in his village of India.

But as the water lapped at each filled sandbag, Anil was overcome with a sense of relief to be in Fargo.

“I thank God [my family] didn’t have to go through all of that,” Anil said. “We are all suffering and facing problems. We are thinking of our families, and we are really sad. But it is our obligation to help out.”