Rita on Not Playing the Game

"I was young and crazy when I came to this country from Ireland 20 year ago. That is really the only explanation I can give for why I am here. I had lived in so many places in my life and wanted to try New York. After some time, I wandered down to Washington for work, but I don’t think I will stay. The British Isles will always be my home. 

"I came here to work for the federal government. I started as a statistician and now I work as an economist. I am not really interested in management or administrative work, but I found a nice fit doing research. I was really nervous about moving to Washington at first. Before moving here, I had only been here for anti-war marches. I would get on a bus at 4 a.m. to come down. All that I saw of Washington were the monuments and those austere style buildings. I had never seen a neighborhood, so I always associated this town with the issues I was here protesting. 

"I eventually did move here and found the neighborhoods, but it took me a long time to settle in because my Mom died after I moved, which was very sad. But I came to like the open spaces and arts and all of the activities you can do here, like hula hooping. New York can be very pushy and noisy, but that doesn't seem to be a problem here. I do miss the mix of cultures, like they have in New York. Here, you have to go, I don’t know how many subway stops, to actually find ethnic people and restaurants. In Brooklyn, you had it on most streets. 

"In New York, I used to work for the city government, mostly under the Giuliani Administration. At work, we used to talk about the government and politics and the mayor in our cubicles. We felt very open to speak our minds. With the federal government, you don’t talk at all about this stuff. People talk about the weather and the metro and their air conditioners instead. Sometimes, I think that things here are too controlled and people do not want to get out of line. A friend of mine keeps telling me that I have to learn how to play the game, though. It is not the people who work hard or speak their minds who get promoted, but the people who are always smiling and say, 'Oh, isn't everything so wonderful.' Basically, you have to be a total ass kisser. I like my job, but I prefer not to play the game."

Carolyn on Common Sense

"I was born in Wilson, North Carolina. My family was all sharecroppers, so I didn't get no education. I never learned no reading or writing. Now, my children read and write for me. I tried to learn when I was little, but my Mom and Dad were against it. They needed me to work the fields with 'em. I tried going to night school when I was older, but I had kids and had to raise them, so I ain't had no time for that. But, I got a lot of common sense for a 54 year old. 

"I came up here in 1977. My grandmother had just passed in North Carolina and I had a friend living here who got me a job. I took my three kids, and we moved up here. I took care of an older man and we all lived with him until he passed. This was up on 51st Street Northeast. Then, I moved around a bit and ended up in Barry Farms some 20-something years ago. I done everything for work from babysitting to cutting grass to helping elderly people. Like I say, I didn't get no education, but I got a lot of common sense and I work hard. 

"I still don't like Washington, but I stay for my kids. This place is too loud and crazy for me. I miss the quiet and peace of North Carolina. I don't know what my kids like about being here, but they sure do like something. I hope to go back home soon. 

"Y'all have a blessed day." 

Noble on Staying Connected to Foreign Places

"My Mom came up to D.C. with the Carter White House to work on urban revitalization. She knew Carter before he got into politics and worked on his campaign. I was about four when we moved here from Atlanta. I did most of my school here and then started doing development work in Latin America, Eastern Europe, and the Middle East.

"In 2003, I got a call on a Sunday night, asking if I could go to Iraq that Monday for three weeks to work on a Department of Defense development project. I went and ended up staying for a year. Before I left, I didn't realize that I was pregnant. While I was in Iraq, I was pretty sick, but thought that I had worms. The food was so bad and everyone was losing weight, so I didn't think anything of it. Five months in, I went to a local doctor to get checked out. He told me that I was six months pregnant. I was shocked. 

"At the time, the Americans did not know. I had pre-natal vitamins sent to me through my Army Post Office (APO) address, but someone opened my package and found out that I was pregnant. I finally had to inform everyone and they were definitely not happy about it. They were angry about the liability and resource issues given that we were in a war zone. But they said that I could stay in Iraq if I signed a release saying that if anything happened to me or my baby, the military would have no liability. I loved Iraq and the work I was doing. It was still during the time when people were optimistic and I thought that we could fix things.

"Three weeks before I gave birth, the Judge Advocate General (JAG) decided that he wanted me to leave Iraq and go to Frankfurt to have the baby. They were in the process of negotiating the arrangement when my water broke while unloading some cargo. My colleague took me to the Green Zone where the JAG and most of the doctors were upset about having to deal with this. They started bringing in U.S. military specialists from around the country to help with my labor. Right before I came in, the hospital got a call that there were wounded soldiers coming in. I ended up having a cesarian and was in-and-out in five minutes. With Alex, my baby, they had to modify everything. They put her in tupperware and jerry-rigged a ventilator out of someone's popcorn maker. All they had were death certificates, so they had to modify things to make a birth certificate. 

"Amazingly, everyone there rallied around Alex. When she was a a little stronger, the nurse took her around to see the wounded soldiers. The whole place was packed with people with side arms passing her around. It was really surreal. When I got ready to leave the hospital, the JAG came by to tell me that it really upset him that I was going to have a baby there, but at the end, it really changed the morale of the place. He even asked to take a picture with me, Alex, and the birth certificate. She was born on an American base, so she is American, but her place of birth is Baghdad. That has put her on the no-fly list three times already as a six year old. I was the first American to have a kid like that, and I don't think they have allowed it since. 

"We got evacuated a few months later when the security situation got much worse. From there, I went to Jordan and then came back to D.C. Since being back, we have travelled a bit, but have stayed mostly in D.C. I think that traveling is a great way to raise a child, but Washington also has so many great opportunities to keep that connection to foreign places and cultures." 

Noble is pictured with Alex. 

Melissa aka Sunny on Schools Being the Same

"My friends call me Sunny because I am always wearing sunglasses. I've been collecting sunglasses since I was seven. I wear them at night and during the day. For me, it is more than fashion. I am very shy, but when I have my glass on, I feel more comfortable. 

"My Mom is from El Salvador and my Dad is German and Dominican. I currently live on 14th Street, near the yard where all of the buses go at the end of the day. I really love this city. What I especially like about D.C. is Columbia Heights. The neighborhood brings out all kinds of different people. I have met artists and lawyers here and people from all different nationalities and races. 

"The thing is that I go to Roosevelt Senior High School in the neighborhood, which is all black and Hispanic. That diversity on the street is not in my school. And in my school, the blacks and Hispanics hang out in class, but outside of class, both groups only really hang out with each other. That's just how it is. 

"For me, school is tough, but I am trying to make the best of it. I have always felt that way. I do my best by doing my work and not doing what I am not supposed to be doing. It is hard to stay focused in that school, though, because a lot of people aren't focused and are doing what they shouldn't be doing. I try and avoid them. I really wish that all of the schools were the same, and that there were not 'good' schools and 'bad' schools - just schools." 

Natalie on Loving Who We Are

"I was born in Saint Mary, Jamaica. I spent most of my life traveling between Jamaica and the U.S., as my Dad lives in New Jersey. Please, no Jersey jokes. My husband works for the United Nations and our first post was in New York, but we lived in New Jersey. In 2008, we were posted to Washington. 

"I do community relations at the embassy. I work with Jamaicans in the D.C. metro area on things like how to give back to Jamaica and I organize our social events. The Jamaican community in D.C. is different than the Jamaican communities in New York and New Jersey. New York and New Jersey Jamaicans acts as though they own the entire United States. In D.C., the Jamaicans are a little calmer and quieter. The environment has influenced them. Because D.C. is more of a policy oriented place, the Jamaicans have evolved with the culture. In D.C., you find that Jamaicans are very organized and want to give back, which is consistent with Jamaicans across the United States. 

"There is a strong relationship between our two countries, especially because of the significant Jamaican immigration to the United States, specifically in the late 70's. Every Jamaican that you meet has at least three or four relatives in the U.S. There are speculations that there are more Jamaicans living outside of Jamaica than in Jamaica. A large number of those are in the U.S. We think that New York alone has one million Jamaicans. As much as Jamaicans here are happy to be Americans, they don't want to let go of the fact that they are Jamaicans. 

"We have a saying that within three weeks of arriving in the U.S., every Jamaican can tell you where to find salt fish and all of the things that we love to cook. Even when you move to the U.S., you still want that part of home. Jamaicans want what they are used to. There is a comedian named Russell Peters who says that you never see a Jamaican wanting to be anyone else, but you see other nationalities trying to be Jamaicans in the way they dress and speak. We just love who we are. 

"For a number of years, all we were known for was reggae music, Bob Marley and our food, but now we have the fastest man, Usain Bolt, and woman, Shelly-Ann Fraser, on earth. At the Embassy, we are working to increase people's understanding of Jamaica. We are a small island of 2.7 million people, but have a large influence. Many people think that everyone in Jamaica lives in poverty. We are so much more. Look at academics. If there are Jamaicans at a school or university, you bet they are going to be on the honor roll. A lot of these students go on to be lawyers and doctors. 

"I have enjoyed my time in Washington, This is one of those cities where you need to live in life. It is a serious place, but there is lots of stuff to do and great night life. It is also a great place to raise their kids. Being in D.C. makes me appreciate Jamaica more. Here, you feel like you are consistently on a treadmill. In Jamaica, we use the term, 'You lyme,' which means to relax and hang out with your friends. Here, you need to make plans two weeks in advance. In Jamaica, people call and say, 'Nat, open the gate. I am five minutes from your house.' In the Jamaican community here, people still do that with each other, but realize they can't always do that with non-Jamaicans. Being a diplomat, we have to take on more of the formality in our work. 

"After this posting, we will likely be posted somewhere in Africa. One of the advantages of the foreign service is seeing the world. I would love to live on most of the continents, but I am an island girl at heart." 

Natalie Campbell-Rodriques is the Community Relations Attache at the Embassy of Jamaica.

John on Doing What He Must

"I was born in Poland, but I grew up in Italy. In 1958, I was molested by a Catholic priest at the age of 15. He was the priest of a small village where I was camping in the mountains on Italy. To this day, I still do not know the name of the priest. He offered to tutor me in Latin and then he molested me. In my case, it was only once. I can't imagine what it is like for people who are molested more than once. I was so traumatized. It was literally like being hit by lightning.

"After that, I was totally crushed and helpless. My first thought was that I ruined my life forever. My personality changed. I started to stutter and it stunted my growth. It made me insecure and withdrawn. When I went back to high school, people used to ask me why I was so sad all of the time. I used to tell them that my best friend died to get them off my back. The worst thing is that I blocked it out of my mind for 39 years.

"When I was 20, I left home and went to Canada by myself to get away from everything. When my younger brother wanted to join me, he was not able to get a Canadian visa, so we moved to Washington in 1963 because the American government was still issuing visas. We served in the U.S. Army together and then I went on to work in construction. I never really made anything of my life as I was so traumatized by my molestation. In my head, I was always a dish washer. My father had two Ph.D.s and a good job in Italy. I disappointed everyone in life - my parents, my wife, and my children.

"In 1997, there was a scandal in Texas and a boy committed suicide over molestation. I learned about the scandal in the news and that was the first moment that I started to recall my experience. I went to talk with a priest in Maryland about it. I was so nervous that I drove miles from my home so nobody I knew would see me, parked in a shopping center nearby and then walked to the church to to see the priest. He sent me to therapy, but the therapist was a religious Catholic. You can't be a religious Catholic and an impartial therapist about an issue like this.

"The priest told me to write a letter to the Diocese and send a copy to the Vatican's Embassy. In the fall of 1997, that is what I did. Sometime later, I received a letter from a bishop who seemed concerned and asked for more information. I wrote another letter with all of the details I had. No answer. I wrote another letter. No answer. I wrote a third letter. No answer. They were ignoring me. By then, I realized how much damage this had done to my life. I could not let this go by.

"At the time, I was not ready to talk about my molestation publicly, so I stood outside the embassy with a huge question mark and a sign that said, 'Bishop, why don't you recognize my letter?' The bishop eventually wrote me back saying that the priest who allegedly molested me died ten years ago, but he would pray for me and the church would pay for my therapy. I thought that prayers of the Bishop were not quite good enough for a wasted life. So, in 1998, I made this big sign that said, 'My life was ruined by a Catholic pedophile priest.' I stood on this corner where I still stand today. There were many intelligent people who would give me a thumbs up or a victory sign. But, every day people would yell, 'Hey, loser' to me. Can you imagine standing with that sign and people yell, 'Hey, loser' to you? I have also had people give me the finger and insult me, including priests. Can you imagine?

"I have been here everyday, seven days a week, since 1998. I want reparations. The money would show that they suffer a little bit. If I got reparations, I would stop doing this. They are scared of paying me, though, because of the precedent. There are thousands of kids who were molested in Italy alone. And look at all of the cases that are coming out now around the world.

"There is a quote by John F. Kennedy that has guided me through all of this, 'A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality.'

"Would you give up? I couldn't live with myself if I did. Life would make no sense if I didn't do this."

Read more about John here.

Nora on the Nation's First Certified Organic Restaurant

"I was born in Vienna. In Austria , there is a lot of emphasis on fried foods, heavy sauces, and desserts. My parents were unusual in that my mother cooked very light and my father was into yogurt and fruit. He was also very much for outdoor exercise, which is typical in Austria . He always said that health is the most important thing that you have and you need to preserve it. From a young age, I was taught that food is important and you need to combine it with outdoor activity.

"I came to D.C. with my French journalist husband as a young bride in 1965. Here is where I first became conscious of what the food situation was like in America . I always say that D.C. was a culinary wasteland in the 60's and 70's. My first exposure to how awful food here was going to a supermarket. There were shelves and shelves of Wonder bread. When Pepperidge Farm bread finally came around, it was like a gourmet statement! The produce department was the smallest department. The biggest department was frozen foods. There were the same fruits and vegetables all year-round. Nothing seasonal or local. It was a shock to realize that this country, which was supposedly the richest country in the world, had no food culture.

"In response, I did a lot of research in the Yellow Pages and found ethnic markets and local farmers to get healthy and fresh food for me and my family. I read a lot, too, especially Elizabeth David and James Beard. Those books really inspired me. I also became interested in American agricultural practices. I remember finding a farm in Virginia where you could buy sides of beef. The woman there proudly told me that they fed the cows corn, so that they would fatten up. Then she went on and told me the cows were kept inside and regularly given hormones. That was the first time I realized that chemicals were used in agriculture. Then I learned about pesticides in fruits and vegetables. Things like this were not happening in Austria when I was growing up.

"At the time, I was cooking a lot and we were having people for dinner once or twice a week. A lot of people really liked my food and friends asked if I would teach them what I had learned through my little culinary journey. At the beginning, it was informal, but I also realized that I needed to make some money. I eventually opened a cooking school in my home in the evening. On the weekends, I did catering. It was very simple. I cooked something at home and brought it to someone's house, and they pretended they cooked it.

"I did that for about three years. Then one of my students asked if I would be interested in opening a restaurant in a small bed-and-breakfast in Dupont Circle called the Tabard Inn. First, I was a little scared, as I had never really committed myself to being a professional, but I realized I had to do it because my husband and I split up and I needed to support myself and my kids. The restaurant started off with only lunch and became very successful. We served natural meat, and I picked up vegetables from farmers in the area. The word got around that I was purchasing fresh and local items, so farmers starting coming to me. At the end, I was one of the first to do the farmer-chef restaurant connection. This was back in 1976. At that time, if you said organic, no one would come to your restaurant. It sounded like a biology class and people thought it would taste disgusting. It is only in the last ten years that people stopped associating health food with bad food.

"Two colleagues from the Tabbard and I opened Restaurant Nora in 1979. We found this location through pure chance. We wanted to stay south of Dupont Circle, near the Tabbard Inn, because there was already a group of people who supported us, but we couldn't find anything affordable. This space used to be a Yugoslav restaurant run by the father of some of the kids who were in school with my children. Sadly, he was ill and ended up selling us the restaurant. We all worked 24/7 and lived off of the tips. My kids would come here after school and do their homework, so I could watch them while I was cooking.

"For the first 15 or 20 years, people thought I was completely nuts and the whole organic business was not true. Restaurant reviewers criticized me for telling people how to eat. Still, people came to eat here because the food was good. When environmentalists became prominent was when I started to get more serious support for what I was doing with health and food. Things also changed when Fresh Fields came to D.C., which is now Whole Foods. The supermarket did a lot to educate people on where food comes from. We live in a very chemical world, and there are so many chemicals in our society. I think that people need to take responsibility for their own health. Now people tell me that they can't afford organic food. I tell them that they can't afford to be unhealthy. Would you prefer to spend your money on food or the doctor?"

Restaurant Nora became the nation's first certified organic restaurant in 1999. Nora Pouillon is the author of Cooking with Nora.

Trita on a Collective Voice for Iranian-Americans

"I was born in Southern Iran. My father was a university professor and twice got in trouble with the Shah's government for making critical comments. He was thrown in jail and tortured. By the time he got out, we realized that it was time for us to leave the country. We left forSweden when I was about four-and-a-half years old, which was months before the revolution. After the Iranian revolution, my Dad was put on a list of people to be executed on the spot should he return because of false accusations made against him. Still, he returned toIran to clear his name. He was put in jail again, but did manage to clear his name. After he was released, he never went back to Iran. Meanwhile, in Sweden, we were all glued to the TV watching the images of the revolution and its aftermath. Those were the first experiences that really shaped me and my brother's personalities, and I suspect that they had  something to do with why we are so passionate about politics. 

"I was days into my Ph.D. at Johns Hopkins when 9/11 happened. At that time, the Iranian-American community was united in its opposition to the attacks, but had not found a way to collectively voice our opposition to the terrorist attacks or to organize politically. Many Iranian-Americans' experiences in politics were rooted in their experiences in Iran, where nothing good came out of speaking up. There was a sense, therefore, that, in America, you should keep your head down, study, and buy a big house and as many BMWs as you could. But if you don't get involved in politics in this country, you do not exist and have no voice or influence. 

"After 9/11, a lot of Iranian-Americans were concerned that their children would go through the same thing they did during the Iran hostage crisis when it was tough to be an Iranian in this country. It was because of all this that we created the National Iranian-American Council. We started by educating the Iranian-American community on how to get involved and be influential. People needed to stop arguing with their TVs and start doing something. As we grew, we became politically involved and started taking positions. The first big was one was standing against war with Iran in 2006. 

"We also work to educate policy makers and the media on Iran. Iran's problem is that it has not been a sufficiently important country to get approval for American universities to get funds to do Persian-language or history courses. One has to couple that with the absence of diplomatic relations and the fact that the Iranians grant something like 300 visas a year to Americans. We live in a country of 300 million.  Thus, knowledge of Iran is at a very low level. To the extent that the knowledge grows, it is usually due to negative developments in Iran because of the Iranian president saying something outrageous about the Holocaust or because of what they are doing with their nuclear program. 

"NIAC works to make sure that the impression of the Iranian-American community is not dependent on news coverage of U.S. views on Iran, which 99 times out of 99 is negative. The Iranian-American community has made significant contributions to this country. Those stories have rarely been told and won't be told until Iranian-Americans tell those stories themselves." 

Trita Parsi is the President of the Washington-based NIAC and the author of Treacherous Alliance - The Secret Dealings of Iran, Israel and the United States.

Ayehubizu on Big Chair Coffee

"I am from Ethiopia. I came to Washington in 1988 with my little girl. I am a registered nurse and did my training in Ethiopia. For my whole life, I have always worked two jobs. I was working at Birney Elementary School in Anacostia as a nurse. I would usually bring my own food because there was nothing to eat around here. I ended up having to go to the Safeway when I wanted a snack.

"With time, I saw that nothing was being opened, so I thought why not try myself. I heard that the government was giving grants to help businesses in Anacostia, which didn't happen to me. I wasted my time trying to get help from the city. I did it all by myself. I used my savings and had my family help me. We opened in January 2010. Now, my brother is the manager. My son and nephew help out. I come when I can and also still work as a nurse.

"I wanted to open on this side of the river because there are so many people who need coffee and a place to sit around and relax. This is the only place where you can get an espresso around here. Remember, coffee comes from Ethiopia, so this is what we love, too. I also wanted to give the community healthy food. I am also thinking about bringing Ethiopian food in by request.

"Now, a lot of people are thanking me and sending me cards. But I feel I am the one who is blessed. We have people who come by and say, 'We will still come and support you in the bad weather because we want you to succeed.' They want the neighborhood to succeed."

Big Chair Coffee, home of the Marion Barry Latte, is located at 2122 Martin Luther King Jr. Ave., SE.

Ann on Being a Korean Export

"I came to Washington, D.C. in 1969 from Korea. A U.S. Army soldier married me and brought me here. See, I'm a Korean export! I always tell people that I must have been very beautiful, that's how I left. When I was little, I thought America was a paradise because Americans gave us chocolate and blankets after the war. But there was no way for me to visit America because I was not rich. So, my girlfriend and I decided to date American guys.

"When I met my husband, I spoke very little English and he didn't speak Korean. We just used our hands and said, 'Hi' and other little words. My husband is over six feet and I am under five feet. I said, 'I can't marry you. You are too tall!' I wanted to go to America, but I thought that too much of a height gap was not right. He told me that height didn't mean nothing. My husband is from Washington, D.C. After we married, we moved here.

"I thought America was a paradise when I was in Korea, but it was a big mistake. Koreans are short and tall, poor and rich. In America, you have extra ones. Here, you have color and race problems, too. I said to myself, 'What am I doing here?' I cried for five or ten years. I told my husband, 'There are so many women here. Why did you have to bring me here!?' I missed my food, my language and culture. Back then, there were not that many Koreans here. But now I have adapted and this is my country. I also took on an American name, Ann. Ann was the name of a character from the comics who I liked. People would always mispronounce my Korean name, Sok, and call me 'Sock.' So, I decided to go by Ann.

"In America, my first jobs were working with hair. In Korea, everyone cleans their hair and wants to make it nice. Here, it was totally different. Doing hair was more like doing laundry! One of my friends told me to go and work in a Korean wig shop. In Korea, wigs were used to help people who were old or losing their hair. I think wigs as fashion was really an American thing. Korean people eat a lot of garlic and that is why their hair grows so long and clean. For a long time, Koreans sold their hair to Americans to make wigs. About ten years ago, there was a hair shortage in Korea and places like India and China started selling hair.

"A few years after working at the shop, I opened my own store. At first, we did hair and sold wigs and beauty supplies. Five years later, I started selling homeopathic products because I was using them. They really helped me and I thought I could help my customers by selling them. Now, I have been in this location since September 4, 1995. This wig store paid for my three children to go to college."

Ann's Beauty Supply and Wigs Co. is located at 125 L St. Southeast.

Daniel on Sleeping at the End of the Day

"I came to D.C. in 1996 because of the political situation. I was a member of the Ethiopian Constitutional Assembly. I was active in the Parliament and became a victim of the current government. They threw me in jail. After I was released, I managed to come to this country as a political asylum case. Now, I have all of my family here. I personally believe that Washington is the capital city of the world just like Addis Ababa is the capital city of Africa. 

"Before I came here, my expectation of America was different. I thought things were no hassle and everything was easy. My first shock was seeing the homeless and those struggling to survive. But the longer I stayed, I became familiar with things here. Now if you ask me, I like the system here and the work culture. Many newcomers from Ethiopia have trouble settling in and experience depression, suicide, or end up on the streets. We have very strong family values in Ethiopia. We live with family and friends. When you came here, you miss your family, your neighbor, and your country. 

"I had the idea to open the Ethiopia Community Services and Development Council when I moved here. In 1996, there was a lot of snow and I heard that two Ethiopians died because of the weather. When these two Ethiopians died, it was not a big issue. The next year, a Hispanic guy died in a similar situation and it was a big issue. The newspapers wrote about it and the city opened a shelter after his death. I said, 'This happened because we are not organized. Our voice is not heard by city officials.' Those experiences paved the way to start this center. After I graduated from university, I gathered known people in the community to develop a strong organization to provide our community with what we need. 

"Now, we offer a variety of services for the community. We have a training center that offers pharmacy technician courses, computer training, dental assistant program training, and English as a second language. We also help people find jobs, do counseling, help with immigration issues and offer free health services. Once a month, we have a program about how to live in this country, things like what you can and can’t do. Let me give you one example. There was a guy who was shot by the Virginia police years ago. In Ethiopia, when the police tell you stop, you can either stop or run. Many times, you can outrun the police and they leave you alone. Here, when the police ask you to stop, you should stop whether you do wrong or right. This person did not have the same information. He didn’t stop for the police and tried to outrun them. The police eventually shot him. They thought he had drugs or something, but he was innocent. As a community, we teach people about their rights and the rules and regulations to live in this country. 

"This job helps me to understand people. Here, I meet different people. People who are not rich or successful, but people with situations. Some people come here with a one year old baby and no place to go, no family, and thinking about kill themselves. When they come here, I talk to them and change their mind. I show them a better future than what they see at that moment. Helping people gives me great pleasure. I sleep at the end of the day, nice good sleep."

The Ethiopia Community Services and Development Council is located at 1901 9th Street Northwest. 

Ines on Shining Shoes

"I am from Brasilia, Brazil. I have been in Washington for 12 years now. I love shining shoes. I started shining shoes on Capitol Hill, working in the Congress. I shined shoes for Congressmen and other people who worked there. They were all very nice. My boss was Brazilian and he taught me how to shine shoes. 

"I don't really like to talk to people when I shine shoes unless they want to. Sit down and shine, that's it. I have magazines and newspapers so you can read about the world. I have a few customers who speak Portuguese, otherwise it is all English and Spanish. Now, because of the snow, business is pretty good." 

Ines works at the Washington Square Hair Salon at 1050 Connecticut Avenue Northwest. 

Damian on Finding Peace

"I have been in D.C. all of my life. D.C. is a busy place, but it has its secrets that some people know about and others don't. Once you experience everything with everybody, it is a very different place than it seems on the surface. I am 16, but I've seen a lot. 

"In this city, I think that everybody is kind of the same. Because of that, I just label myself unique as compared to everyone else. Nobody here is like me. I hang out with people who are also unique. In our group, everybody is a different race and dresses differently, but we still crack jokes and chill. My parents are from El Salvador and my friends are from all over, which is nice about D.C. 

"I think about the world a lot and what is out in space. I think about why are we going through all of this and what is our purpose in life. Sometimes I feel like I have to save the world or do something like that. I talked to this Christian girl one day and she changed my life. Now, Christianity is an important part of my life. I saw the world different after that conversation. Now, I feel like people are looking to me for answers and I have to do something. I really want to, but I am also lazy. 

"Still, I do try to change my life, but I keep getting caught up because of this city and the life here. I think that I would have to make my house in a rain forest to find peace. I would love to do that, but I don't know if it's possible. I don't care about material objects, there's no point. Money is not a thing for me. I don't care about it. I care about what I do have and try not to waste it. I just want to find peace and make change in this world." 

Evelyn on Talking about the Future

"In my country, Nigeria, my father was a deputy in the police force and my mother sold things in the market. I used to help my Mom sell bread in the market. My family lived in the police barracks with my father. But things happened that I don't want to talk about and I came to the United States alone, and as a refugee. It was very tough. When I came here, I realized that America was a crazy place. It was totally different than Nigeria. 

"When I came off of the plane in Washington, I met somebody who took me in as a friend to help me start my life afresh. The woman let me stay with her for some time. During that time, I had a daughter and spent a lot of time watching the TV to learn how white men and women act so I would know how to behave in America. I could not work during that time. Like I said, it was really difficult on me. My daughter really encouraged me and held my hand. Then, the woman threw me out because she said that I should be able to stand on my feet and not depend on anyone. That showed me how crazy this place is because in Nigeria we all look out for each other. 

"When the woman kicked me out, I slept in the street. Then, we went to shelters, which was tough. I couldn't handle the smell. I can't even breath there. One day, I was looking at the television when Obama was talking about how we need to employ more people. I was in the kitchen mopping a floor and thought that I needed something better for me and my daughter. He was saying that it was not going to be easy, but if we worked together, we could make change. After that speech, I went to get a job at Street Sense. With Street Sense, at least I have something to do and a way to make some money. My daughter is nine and in the fourth grade. She inspires me to be out here everyday selling papers. With this job, I can also get experience to help me find another job and get on my feet. The hard thing is that many people believe that Nigerians are thieves and liars. Look at the guy who tried to bomb the airplane. Now, who is going to try and help me? 

"But I don't want to talk about the past. I want to talk about the future. The future is my job and my daughter. I want my daughter to be the best. What I don't have, I want her to have. I like to work for Street Sense, but I want my daughter to have a job that she is really passionate about. The future is in my daughter and God's hands. God knows the best for us. Even though it is difficult, God has the best intentions for us."

Read more profiles of Street Sense vendors Andrew and Paul. Learn more about Street Sense here. 

Jose on Being a Part of It

This interview was translated from Spanish.

"I came to this country in October 1988 from El Salvador. Over time, my whole family came over to America, except for one or two people. This country has been good to me, and I thank D.C. for all of the opportunities to work and raise my family here. It is difficult to be so far away from my home and culture, especially as I don't speak much English - just a few words. I still go back to El Salvador every year to see my friends and family and keep a connection to the place. But my life is here now.

"I came here in my late 30's and went straight to work. It is hard to learn a new language when you are older and don't have the time to do much other than work. I originally came here to make money for my family and go back to El Salvador so I didn't really worry about the language. But I ended up staying and got my citizenship. I am still trying to learn English, but I am 57 and it is even more difficult now than when I was a younger man. But I make do.

"In 1995, I took a job at the National Building Museum. I work as a janitor and keep the building clean and look after the outside. Because of my English, I don't know as much about the museum as I wish I did. Still, I find the museum beautiful and like to see all of the people, including the school children, come and enjoy themselves in the space. It is nice to be a part of that."

Kamel on Free Hugs

"I was born in Algeria and came here twelve years ago when I was twelve. Life here was completely different than Algeria. I lived in Virginia at first. It was just like the movies! But, when I spent more time seeing the inside of life there, I didn't like it. My family moved to Columbia Heights a number of years ago. I like it better here and can do stuff like this - give out free hugs outside the Target. I decided on this location because it is near my house and there is a lot of foot traffic. The diversity here is great, so I can hug all kinds of people.

"I thought that giving out free hugs was a nice way to share the love and interact with strangers. A lot of people go through really hard days and, if I can make their day lighter, I know it will make both of our days brighter. Plus, everybody loves hugs! If you can't express something through words on the street, then expressing something physically is at a whole 'nother level. I have gotten a few negative response, but the positives definitely make up for them. I say one-out-of-ten people come and get a free hug from me. And once someone gets a hug, those watching want free hugs, too. I am pretty good at feeling the other person's energy and responding with the right kind of hug. I also do fist bumps for those that don't want hugs. It's just about the connection.

"From here, I am probably going to expand and give out more hugs around the city. I actually have a couple of friends who are going to get involved. Why wouldn't people want to give and get hugs? It makes you and other people feel good. I also have a sign in Spanish because you have to target the Latin community. You gotta give them the opportunity to get some love, too."

Abrahatsiyone on Being Her Own Boss

"I came to D.C. 24 years ago. I am originally from Eritrea. I own this food stand and have been in this same place for seventeen years. Always on 4th and E Street Northwest and always selling the same things: hot dogs, chips, soda and candy. I decided on this space because my family used to run another food business here. When I was ready, they gave this to me so I could run my own business. 

"After all of this time, I have a nice relationship with the people here. When I need to use the bathroom, I can go use the building across the street. I lock the door and the other vendors and people on the street look after my stand. I have been here so long that we all know each other. 

"I am here five days a week, no matter the weather. In the winter, it is very cold and there is not much business because people don't want to come outside. But still, I have to be here. It is difficult to be your own boss, but I like that no one tells me what to do. I decide whether the business is open or not. I am out here to earn money for me and my family. That makes me work harder." 

Omotayo on Rebuilding What He Broke Down

"I was two or three when I came to D.C. from Nigeria. I remember going to elementary school in Southeast. It was a new experience. It was a rough experience. The neighborhoods were not the best, but I tried to keep myself right and do good in school. I didn't really travel much outside of my neighborhood, but I decided to go to Duke Ellington School of the Arts to get a different experience of this city. It was there where I got really serious about school. Now, I am in the National Honor Society and want to go to college in fine arts. D.C. kind of helped me with my artistic development because it is a small place and has a good reputation for art. A lot of my art is about my own story.

"In D.C, it was, like, kind of rough fitting in because everybody mispronounced my name. My name means child of joy. This was a hard environment for me. Usually, I would do what everybody else was doing. At the same time, I kept my Nigerian identity by going to the Nigerian churches here. My Mom spoke Yoruba, our language, a lot. At home, we would greet people traditionally. The funny thing about all of that is that I rejected those customs when I first moved here. These customs were what made me different. I didn't want to be seen as the African kid, I just wanted to be seen as another kid. I kind of regret doing that because I feel like I lost some things in that process. But now, I am trying to take all of that back in and rebuild what I broke down. My art represents a lot of that process. It's funny, after all of that time, I am now seen as an African-American kid because unless you know my name and story, you just assume that I am that, but I feel African. Interesting how age has helped me come back to who I am. Now, I feel African. Actually, I take that back, I am just an individual. I don't like being boxed into a category."

Hatim on People Knowing His Country

"I grew up in Sudan. My father was a university professor. He is retired now. My mother is an art teacher. I grew up in a typical, sometimes overprotective, Sudanese middle class family. I had to study all week and could only go out on the weekends. After high school, I continued to live with my parents. In our culture, we don't have that concept of leaving the home after school. I enrolled in medical school in Sudan and came to the U.S. to do additional medical training. My brother lives in Houston and tried to get me to live there. When I went there, I didn't like it. I started to travel around the U.S. looking for another city. I came to D.C. and this was it. Now, I am studying medicine and working in a hotel at night. There is a degree of discrimination in transferring my medical degree here, but it is natural. It is fair that you give priority to those in your own country. 

"This city is great. Here, people know where I am from. In Texas, people used to say to me, 'Sudan, where is that?' Or, they would ask if I was one of the Lost Boys. In D.C., people know my country. This place is so diverse and intellectual. You see the best of the best of every culture. You meet almost anybody and they can engage you in a deep conversation on politics or the economy. There are a lot of enlightened people in D.C. 

"Still, this place is not perfect. I like to joke about some of the things that happened to me in D.C. I met a girl who had spent time in Africa and we were talking about Nubia, the region where I am from in Sudan. One of her friends wanted to join our conversation and asked me where I was from. When I said Sudan, she said, 'Oh really! Oh my God, you must be better off here.' I was really shocked and angry. I said, 'What a horrible thing to say to somebody. Nobody is better off out of their country. I am here to pursue a career and then I want to go back to my country.' Another myth is that everyone in Sudan is impacted by Darfur. Sudan is the largest country in Africa and Darfur is the size of France. France is huge! It's like something happening in New Orleans and your family lives in D.C., but people still ask if your family is okay. I don't blame people and appreciate the interest, but I joke about it. 

"The other big shocker for me was meeting African-Americans. They assume that because I am African we have a lot in common, but I found out that we don't. When they find out I am thirty, they ask if I married. I am not. Then, the next question is usually if I have children. This is outrageous to me because in our culture if you are not married, you are not supposed to have children. Still, despite all the differences, what makes me happy about D.C. is that people know my country." 

Yuquira on Being Outside and Getting Dirty

“I’m from Nicaragua. I’ve been in D.C. for five years and go to Wilson High School. When I came here, I didn’t speak any English. I was afraid of speaking the language and am pretty shy. Fortunately, I live in Mount Pleasant and there are a lot of Spanish speakers, which made it an easier transition for me. Growing up in a Nicaraguan household is nice because I get to live in both places. Home is like Nicaragua and then I step outside to D.C. and eat pizza with my American friends. Living in D.C. is nice because so many kids are diverse and have parents from other places.

"My parents raised me like they were raised. My mother is really strict with my curfew. She does not let me come home at eleven like my friends. I need to be home at seven or eight. When I get older, I don't think I will be as strict, but I want my kids to know where I came from and the way I grew up. When I was little, I used to have a wheel and a stick and would roll it down the street. It's such a simple joy and people don’t do that here. Here, you just go to play video games or hang out at a mall. That is not fun. You need to be outside and get dirty. That is real fun."