Community, support — and dumplings
After fleeing war and grief in Ukraine, refugees have found acceptance at 'English Cafe'
Every other Wednesday night, for a bit more than an hour, the offices of Schoke Jewish Family Service in Stamford fill up with life at its different stages.
Three of the nonprofit’s rooms become gathering places for Ukrainian refugees of many ages. In a large common room, adults of different generations sit down with Ukrainian and Russian-speaking volunteers to learn English. In the office’s kitchen, teens chat and try mindfulness meditation after a long day of high school. And down the hall, little kids huddle around a smartphone to play video games.
The program, The English Cafe, has grown steadily since it began in July, according to Leah Schechter, the nonprofit’s chief program officer.
Schoke JFS provides social services to people across Stamford, Westport, Bridgeport and upper Fairfield County. Founded in 1978, the organization was formed to support the area’s Jewish community, but as a nondenominational agency, it has come to serve people from all backgrounds.
Historically, Schechter said, Schoke JFS has been a vital resource for Holocaust survivors and other refugees. So, after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine a year ago scattered millions of Ukrainians across the globe, the nonprofit’s phone lines were buzzing with volunteers looking to help.
Three agencies comprise the state’s refugee resettlement efforts: Jewish Family Services of Greenwich, Bridgeport-based Connecticut Institute for Refugees and Immigrants and Integrated Refugee & Immigrant Services of New Haven.
Rachel Kornfeld, CEO of JFS Greenwich, said her agency has been coordinating resettlement for 210 Ukrainian folks in Fairfield County. All but about 25 people live in Stamford, she said.
About 730 Ukrainian refugees have received support from the agencies in the past year, said Elizabeth Nalley, the state’s refugee coordinator. But the state’s Department of Social Services assisted more than 1,000 households of recently arrived Ukrainians.
“That’s households,” Nalley said. “So, that definitely equates to a higher number.”
“As more and more people came to Fairfield County and various community organizations started adopting refugee families or helping them resettle, it became more and more clear to us that — while we are not a resettlement agency — we are a safe landing place where people who have come to the area could come for the additional services that they’re going to need for the long haul,” Schechter said.
In the months after war broke out, Schoke JFS supported refugees through existing programs addressing issues like food access, counseling and geriatric care. But workers and volunteers felt there was more to be done, Schechter said.
The English Cafe has no tangible goals other than to provide a safe place for people who are grieving losses of home, community and loved ones, she said.
“People just wanted to be supported, and it grew out of that interest of just small conversations with smiling faces. And as a few refugees knew about us, the word started spreading,” she said. “It’s really just sitting down, one-on-one and person-to-person, a smiling face, a cup of coffee and just practicing English in a safe place.”
What started in July as a small group of visitors in one room now includes more than 40 regular attendees across the agency’s downtown Stamford office. And the program is still growing.
As The English Cafe has expanded, volunteers and workers have made adjustments to better serve attendees, such as grouping by ages.
Adults arrive at the program with all different levels of English aptitude. On a day last week, Fedir Moskovych was learning how to write conversational phrases he knows with volunteer Irina Arnon. Moskovych sounded out phrases like “How are you?” and “Thank you very much” with his hands, before transcribing them in cursive handwriting so elegant it looked like a typeface.
He now lives in Stamford with his wife and son. Moskovych’s daughter stayed behind in Ternopil, a city in the west of Ukraine. An engineer back home, Moskovych said he has found joy in beekeeping in the United States.
In the smallest room, a handful of children ranging from toddlers to preteens play iPhone games and chat. Later on, they draw with crayons, some of them while their parents practice English.
The youngest of the bunch, Anya, hops on both feet down the hallway before tripping over her heels and falling down. A hush falls over a nearby group of volunteers, before she jolts back to her feet and resumes her leap to the kids’ table.
Looking at each other, volunteers wonder aloud whether a hopscotch route could be in order for the next coffee hour.
The teenagers also practice English. But as the The English Cafe has evolved, volunteers like Marina Sapir wanted to know how it could serve them better. The response was unanimous: they wanted to make varenyky, a Ukrainian comfort food. At home, making the half-moon shaped dumplings from scratch is a kitchen table tradition for Ukrainian families and friends, Sapir said.
The group of teens now meets every week, often to make varenyky.
“It is what they miss most,” Sapir said.
On this day, however, volunteers handed the teenagers markers and paper. They tasked them with drawing a picture of their “best day ever.”
One teenager drew a picture of himself standing next to his soccer coach back home. Another drew a self-portrait with her dog, who she had to leave behind after Russia invaded. And one girl drew a stick-figure version of herself holding a suitcase in front of her childhood home.
“My best day hasn’t happened yet,” she told volunteers. “This is a picture of me returning to my home in the Ukraine.”