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The first ones here: Syrian family settles in

Hannah Sparling
hsparling@enquirer.com
The Alhamoud family poses for a portrait in their Hamilton County home. They arrived in Cincinnati on October 19 from Jordan, where they sought refuge for several years after fleeing Syria.

On Friday afternoon, Cincinnati's first refugee family from the Syrian civil war had the same concerns as most families living in a new land.

Marie and Ahlam Alhamoud wanted to learn English. Marie, the father, was wondering how to find a job. Ahlam was trying to make a home for her children. The children wanted only to ride bikes and make friends.

At nearly that exact moment in Paris, the terrorist attacks were about to begin. More than 120 people would die. Everything changed.

One of the attackers, a suicide bomber, was found with a Syrian passport. In the coming days, some politicians, including Ohio Gov. John Kasich and Cincinnati Mayor John Cranley, started calling for a halt on Syrian refugees entering the country. Refugees like the Alhamouds.

But in their new home in Hamilton County, the Alhamouds were not yet thinking about Paris or the Islamic State in Syria. The most-used word was "shukraan," phonetic Arabic for "Thank you." Thank you for coming. Thank you for sitting with us. Thank you for telling our story.

The Catholic Charities of Southwestern Ohio, which handles refugee resettlement for the region, asked The Enquirer to not name the Alhamouds' specific neighborhood. But Marie and Ahlam say they don't have any fears here; they feel completely safe. And, their dreams now are for their children, they said: better school, better lives.

Marie Hasan Alhamoud wakes his son, Yousif, 1, from a nap in their home in Hamilton County. The Alhamoud family is from Homs, about a two-hour drive from Damascus.

Stringent vetting?

President Barack Obama has said the U.S. will take in 10,000 Syrian refugees next year, but after Paris, there was a stream of state leaders calling for a moratorium on refugees from that country. Through a spokesman, Gov. Kasich said he's looking into what steps Ohio can take to block Syrian refugees from resettling here.

Mayor Cranley – in a move that drew swift rebuke from his Democratic colleagues on city council – echoed Kasich's plea for a pause.

Cranley: 'I feel horrible' about Syria remarks

Local Muslim group: Kasich, Cranley stances 'disturbing'

Senator Rob Portman, R-Ohio, said he has been raising "deep concerns" for some time about Syrian refugees and the government's "inability to properly check their backgrounds to know who they are and why they are coming."

For refugees to the U.S., the process is stringent, said a spokesperson for the Department of State, in an email to The Enquirer. It's the highest level of scrutiny for any traveler to the U.S., and it involves the National Counterterrorism Center, the FBI's Terrorist Screening Center, the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Defense.

For Syrians, there's an extra level of security, "the classified details of which have been briefed to Congress," the email states.

"We remain steadfastly committed to the President's plan to resettle at least 10,000 Syrian refugees in the United States in fiscal year 2016. The Administration made this decision only after concluding that we can do so safely, consistent with our national security."

The U.S. focuses on admitting the most vulnerable Syrians first, the email states. That includes survivors of violence and torture, those with severe medical conditions, and – as perhaps was the qualifying criteria with the Alhamoud family – women and children.

"Many Syrian refugees are fleeing precisely the type of senseless violence that occurred in Paris," the email states. "Slamming the door in their face would be a betrayal of our values."

Rimas Marie Alhamoud, 4, poses for a portrait in her home. After her family escaped Homs, Syria, the city was destroyed.

Once upon a time

Marie was a taxi driver. And Syria was beautiful.

Before the war, the family lived in a city called Homs, about a two-hour drive from Damascus. Business was good, Marie said through an interpreter. His family was happy, and life was wonderful.

"Nobody can leave Syria if it's not war-torn," Marie said. He doesn't mean they weren't allowed to leave; he just means, Who would want to?

But that Syria is gone. Now, bombs fall without warning, Marie said. People get shot "for no reason." One morning, his mother was going to the market for bread, and the market was bombed. She died.

"Now, everything is destroyed," Marie said. "The place is not safe at all."

Homs was bombed and ravaged by Islamic State kidnappings, but the Alhamouds fled first. They ran from place to place, searching for safety, Marie said. They spent about three years in Jordan, just outside a refugee camp, where life was safer but not necessarily better. They had no papers and no freedom. No rights. Marie couldn't get work.

So, when they were offered a chance to come to America, it was an easy decision, Marie said. Yes.

The Catholic Charities of Southwestern Ohio are expecting to resettle 325 refugees this year, a 50 percent increase from the year prior. Most of those will come from the Congo rather than Syria, but the general premise – "welcoming the stranger," as Charities Director Ted Bergh calls it – doesn't change by country.

"Our prayers are with all those affected by the violence," Bergh said in a statement, "but we cannot give in to terrorism by allowing the tragic situation in Paris to stifle humanitarian efforts."

The world is in crisis, Bergh said, and Syria is part of that. People are displaced by war and religious persecution. Often, the afflicted are children.

Dalal Marie Alhamoud, 8, looks out the window of her home. The  Alhamouds' hometown was the site of a large rash of Islamic State kidnappings.

'I'm happy'

Colorful stuffed animals – an owl, a walrus, a rhino – lined the mantle in the Alhamouds' new home, The seven children were quiet but smiling, chattering back and forth in hushed Arabic.

This country is already more welcoming than Marie expected. He had heard Americans were always pushing, shoving and rushing, but when he stepped off the plane in Florida, he was welcomed by people who speak his language. That's been the biggest surprise so far, he said.

And the food. In Syria, everything was fresh, he said; here, it's all refrigerated.

But Cincinnati is beautiful, Marie said, and he's thankful his family is safe. The kids can ride bikes without fear of bombs. They can go to school. He can find a job.

"I'm happy," he said.

For a time, Marie thought he might go back to Syria. He thought the war would end, and everything would return to how it was.

He doesn't think that anymore.

And his wife, Ahlam, doesn't, either.

So for now, Cincinnati is home.

Shukraan, they say again. "Come back any time."

How to help local Syrian family