Airfare loans weighing on refugees
A year after arriving in Albany, former Congo residents still destitute
When Jolie Nyakomezi and her husband Desire Mugabe fled the burning huts of their village in the Democratic Republic of Congo with their two toddlers, they had no money.
When they left a Kenyan refugee camp where they had been waiting for four years to be resettled as refugees, their only savings were the meager funds Nyakomezi had earned from selling cloth on the street.
A year after they made a new home in Albany, they remain destitute. Nyakomezi can’t work because she has to care for her husband, who has a debilitating neurological condition.
“Even the clothes I have now are a donation,” Nyakomezi said with a self-deprecating laugh. The 31-year-old smoothed her hands over her stomach, five months pregnant with her third child beneath a patterned
dress, as she sat inside the nonprofit Refugee and Immigrant Support Services of Emmaus (RISSE) in Albany.
In fact, the family is worse than broke: They need to repay the $4,600 cost of their airfare to the U.S.
All refugees resettled in the U.S. sign a promissory note with the resettlement agency International Organization for Migration, which gives refugees interest-free loans to pay for their transportation here. The money received is used to reimburse the U.S. government for funds it provides to IOM.
For many refugees like Nyakomezi’s family, the loan is the only caveat on a ticket to freedom after years of waiting to be resettled in the U.S. — and no one wants to refuse.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Nyakomezi said. “I could not say, ‘No, I couldn’t sign it because of money.’”
Nyakomezi said she is ready to do any kind of work to support her 7-year-old son and 10-year-old daughter but has to take care of her husband, who is unable to even eat or shower without being told.
The family of four lives in Albany on $755 a month in Supplemental Security Income. The Department of Social Services contributes about $440 toward their $650 monthly rent, which leaves little for all other expenses.
Nyakomezi’s main concern, she said, is repaying the loan.
Refugees who resettle in the U.S. have been repaying loans similar to those provided by the IOM since the 1950s. The average amount per refugee is $1,100, according to the State Department. The average loan amount is $2,740, but families often have more than one
loan because adult children over age 18 take on their own individual debt.
Repayments must begin six months after arrival, with an average monthly payment of $84. Three out of four loans are repaid within 10 years, and three out of five loans within five years.
Refugees don’t pay interest, fees or penalties and none have been taken to court for not paying, according to the State Department. Loans can be forgiven for extreme cases like death, bankruptcy or permanent medical disability when there is no prospect of recovery or future employment as documented by disability benefits or a doctor’s statement.
As far as Nyakomezi knows, her family does not qualify for loan forgiveness. She receives regular reminders in the mail about payments.
“I was told to pay within three years. Now I passed one year and I haven’t paid,” she said. “I think maybe something will happen to me and my family.”
Jill Peckenpaugh, director of the Albany office of resettlement agency U.S. Committee for Refugees and Immigrants, said while the system can be a challenge for refugees, they take it seriously and are able to repay by cutting costs and saving money.
Immigrants “like to say they paid it back — it’s a point of honor within the refugee community because everybody comes with that same challenge,” Peckenpaugh said. “They’re eager to pay it back and not have any debt. It positively helps their credit rating and enables them to buy cars and houses.”
But Francis Sengabo, a refugee from Rwanda who paid off his own loan of about $4,500 years ago and now runs operations at RISSE, said he knows refugees who did not pay back the loan in time, harming their credit ratings for home purchases and other transactions.
For Nyakomezi, the dream of owning a home is distant. The family doesn’t have a car, and she walks her children to school every day. She is happy that they receive donated clothes and school supplies, but looks forward to the day when her husband can receive the care he needs and she can work.
“My dream is to get a job and be able to support myself and not depend on social services,” Nyakomezi said. “That is my dream.”