Monday, November 15, 2010By G. Wayne Miller
Providence Journal Staff Writer
Rhode Island News
Rosa Laporte, of Providence, right, prepares lunch for her daughter, Esaundra Laporte, age 4. Rosa, shown below, who was born in a Thai refugee camp and came to the United States at age 4, dreams of attaining a master’s degree and founding her own social-services agency.
The Providence Journal / Bob Thayer
PROVIDENCE — Evidence of the ancestral land is found in the apartment Pheakdey Rosa Laporte shares with her 4-year-old daughter. A painting of Angkor Wat, the ancient Cambodian temple, adorns a living-room wall. Buddha figurines look out from a china cabinet. A photograph of Cambodian relatives sits on a kitchen shelf.
But the trappings of the life she lives now dominate: the computer; the wide-screen TV, with cable and DVD player; the Hershey’s Kisses cookie mix and Kellogg’s Corn Flakes atop the new refrigerator; the Disney books she reads to her daughter, Esaundra Soriya; the plastic orange pumpkin that Esaundra carried on her Halloween trick-or-treating.
And this life brings little rest.
Witness this weekday at 12:30 p.m., when Rosa, the name she prefers, is making lunch for Esaundra. Rosa spent the morning at the Community College of Rhode Island, where she is pursuing her associate’s degree. Esaundra was at her preschool. This evening will find the daughter with a babysitter while the mother is back at CCRI.
Now, it’s time for lunch.
“So what we’re going to do is heat some water first, and then we’re going to do the fun stuff,” says Rosa, 30.
“What fun stuff?” Esaundra asks.
“Your macaroni and cheese.”
“Yay! Can I watch TV while I’m waiting?”
Esaundra disappears into the living room, where she turns on Nick Jr.
Born in a refugee camp in Thailand, Rosa never met her father. Her mother, Molika Ouk, a native Cambodian, nearly was annihilated along with some 2 million countrymen who fell victim to Khmer Rouge dictator Pol Pot’s 1970s genocide.
“It was horrific,” Rosa says. “When my mom tells me about it, I can feel the sorrow that’s in her and the pain. She told me a story where she was in line to be the next person to be killed until there was some sort of distraction.” The soldier who was about to shoot, Rosa says, was called away. Molika survived to have Rosa and two other children.
Rosa remembers nothing of the Thai camp; she was 4 when the family moved to Massachusetts, assisted by a refugee-resettlement program. When Rosa was 10, they came to Providence, eventually settling in Cranston. Molika worked long hours at a jewelry manufacturer. Care of her younger brother and sister fell to the young Rosa.
“I was almost the primary caretaker at the time,” Rosa says. “Right after school, I had to go straight home, make sure the house was clean, laundry done, dishes washed, the food cooked. And tend to my brother and sister.” She also worked part-time at Wendy’s. “So that was me growing up. I didn’t really have too much of a childhood.”
After graduating from Cranston High School East, Rosa entered the University of Rhode Island. Her mother wanted her to be a nurse, but nursing was not for Rosa. After a year she left URI, where she met the man she would marry, and from whom she is now separated.
She continued to work — three jobs simultaneously during one period. She enrolled part-time at CCRI. In 2003, she answered an ad from the Socio-Economic Development Center for Southeast Asians. They wanted someone who spoke English and Cambodian for their All Stars program, which helps steer young people away from drugs. She was hired. With the exception of a brief layoff, she stayed, working with youth and also elders, until this month, when she resigned to devote more energy to her studies.
Her plan is to receive her CCRI degree this spring, then re-enroll at URI , where, relying on financial aid and part-time work, she will study for a bachelor’s degree from the College of Human Science and Services. She would like to go on to a master’s. She is pursuing her dream of founding her own social-services agency.
It will help people who may or may not be of Cambodian descent, she says. Her only prerequisite is an urban setting, and that youth and the elderly benefit.
“I feel like they’re the most vulnerable groups,” Rosa says. “They need a little bit more empowerment –– both groups.”
Rosa cools the macaroni and Esaundra adds the cheese sauce.
“Good job,” Rosa says.
“Is that enough?”
“Want to add a little bit more?”
“A little bit.”
“Good job!”
Rosa brings the meal to the table and sits with her daughter.
“Wait,” says Esaundra. “I have to put on my lip gloss.”
“All right, do what you have to do.”
Esaundra takes a bite.
“How is it?”
“Good!”
Lunch continues in the silence of hearty appetites.
Studying awaits Rosa this afternoon. There will be housework and dinner to prepare. There will be CCRI and bedtime for Esaundra. Tomorrow, the cycle will begin anew.
“I’m juggling ten million things at once,” Rosa says.
A Buddhist by tradition, Rosa has become a Baptist Christian. She finds strength in herself, in her ambition and in the Christ she worships.
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m alone. So who else is going to lift me up? I’ve got to lift myself up, and I know God is there always; no matter where I am, what I’m doing, he’s always looking out. At the same time, when I see someone down, I also try to lift their spirit up. Regardless of what I’m going through, it doesn’t matter.”
gwmiller@projo.com
The Providence Journal / Bob Thayer
PROVIDENCE — Evidence of the ancestral land is found in the apartment Pheakdey Rosa Laporte shares with her 4-year-old daughter. A painting of Angkor Wat, the ancient Cambodian temple, adorns a living-room wall. Buddha figurines look out from a china cabinet. A photograph of Cambodian relatives sits on a kitchen shelf.
But the trappings of the life she lives now dominate: the computer; the wide-screen TV, with cable and DVD player; the Hershey’s Kisses cookie mix and Kellogg’s Corn Flakes atop the new refrigerator; the Disney books she reads to her daughter, Esaundra Soriya; the plastic orange pumpkin that Esaundra carried on her Halloween trick-or-treating.
And this life brings little rest.
Witness this weekday at 12:30 p.m., when Rosa, the name she prefers, is making lunch for Esaundra. Rosa spent the morning at the Community College of Rhode Island, where she is pursuing her associate’s degree. Esaundra was at her preschool. This evening will find the daughter with a babysitter while the mother is back at CCRI.
Now, it’s time for lunch.
“So what we’re going to do is heat some water first, and then we’re going to do the fun stuff,” says Rosa, 30.
“What fun stuff?” Esaundra asks.
“Your macaroni and cheese.”
“Yay! Can I watch TV while I’m waiting?”
Esaundra disappears into the living room, where she turns on Nick Jr.
Born in a refugee camp in Thailand, Rosa never met her father. Her mother, Molika Ouk, a native Cambodian, nearly was annihilated along with some 2 million countrymen who fell victim to Khmer Rouge dictator Pol Pot’s 1970s genocide.
“It was horrific,” Rosa says. “When my mom tells me about it, I can feel the sorrow that’s in her and the pain. She told me a story where she was in line to be the next person to be killed until there was some sort of distraction.” The soldier who was about to shoot, Rosa says, was called away. Molika survived to have Rosa and two other children.
Rosa remembers nothing of the Thai camp; she was 4 when the family moved to Massachusetts, assisted by a refugee-resettlement program. When Rosa was 10, they came to Providence, eventually settling in Cranston. Molika worked long hours at a jewelry manufacturer. Care of her younger brother and sister fell to the young Rosa.
“I was almost the primary caretaker at the time,” Rosa says. “Right after school, I had to go straight home, make sure the house was clean, laundry done, dishes washed, the food cooked. And tend to my brother and sister.” She also worked part-time at Wendy’s. “So that was me growing up. I didn’t really have too much of a childhood.”
After graduating from Cranston High School East, Rosa entered the University of Rhode Island. Her mother wanted her to be a nurse, but nursing was not for Rosa. After a year she left URI, where she met the man she would marry, and from whom she is now separated.
She continued to work — three jobs simultaneously during one period. She enrolled part-time at CCRI. In 2003, she answered an ad from the Socio-Economic Development Center for Southeast Asians. They wanted someone who spoke English and Cambodian for their All Stars program, which helps steer young people away from drugs. She was hired. With the exception of a brief layoff, she stayed, working with youth and also elders, until this month, when she resigned to devote more energy to her studies.
Her plan is to receive her CCRI degree this spring, then re-enroll at URI , where, relying on financial aid and part-time work, she will study for a bachelor’s degree from the College of Human Science and Services. She would like to go on to a master’s. She is pursuing her dream of founding her own social-services agency.
It will help people who may or may not be of Cambodian descent, she says. Her only prerequisite is an urban setting, and that youth and the elderly benefit.
“I feel like they’re the most vulnerable groups,” Rosa says. “They need a little bit more empowerment –– both groups.”
Rosa cools the macaroni and Esaundra adds the cheese sauce.
“Good job,” Rosa says.
“Is that enough?”
“Want to add a little bit more?”
“A little bit.”
“Good job!”
Rosa brings the meal to the table and sits with her daughter.
“Wait,” says Esaundra. “I have to put on my lip gloss.”
“All right, do what you have to do.”
Esaundra takes a bite.
“How is it?”
“Good!”
Lunch continues in the silence of hearty appetites.
Studying awaits Rosa this afternoon. There will be housework and dinner to prepare. There will be CCRI and bedtime for Esaundra. Tomorrow, the cycle will begin anew.
“I’m juggling ten million things at once,” Rosa says.
A Buddhist by tradition, Rosa has become a Baptist Christian. She finds strength in herself, in her ambition and in the Christ she worships.
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m alone. So who else is going to lift me up? I’ve got to lift myself up, and I know God is there always; no matter where I am, what I’m doing, he’s always looking out. At the same time, when I see someone down, I also try to lift their spirit up. Regardless of what I’m going through, it doesn’t matter.”
gwmiller@projo.com
No comments:
Post a Comment