TAMPA --
A year into his new life in the Tampa area, Reuben Hrang already has put 35,000 miles on his used Honda CR-V.
Hrang, 51, ministers to the region's small but growing population of
refugees from Myanmar, the country formerly known as Burma. His
congregants are scattered from St. Petersburg to Brandon to western
Pasco County.
"No need for GPS," Hrang said in heavily accented English. "After six months, I know all of Tampa Bay."
Florida has the nation's largest refugee population, and Tampa is
second in the state only to Miami as a refugee relocation site. Since
2007, the state has absorbed more than 137,000 foreign residents from
Cuba, Somalia and 95 other countries, according to the Florida
Department of Children & Families.
In Tampa, those refugees add to an international population fed by
foreign students enrolled at the University of South Florida, foreign
workers meeting demand for jobs in technical fields and even members of
foreign militaries serving at MacDill Air Force Base.
Together, more than 15,000 people moved to Hillsborough County from
other countries in 2011, according to statistics released this month by
the U.S. Census Bureau. The number also includes service members who are
U.S. citizens returning from overseas deployment and American citizens
moving to the mainland from Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands and other
overseas territories.
Also in 2011, Hillsborough County recorded nearly 200,000
foreign-born residents, up nearly 20 percent from the previous five
years. Less than half of those immigrants were naturalized citizens.
About two-thirds were from Latin America.
Since Vicente Martinez-Ybor founded Ybor City as a cigar-making
center more than a century ago, Tampa has been a magnet for immigrants.
Immigrants today are young, and they come from around the globe, but
that historic trend shows no signs of abating.
What gives it a modern twist, though, is the growing proportion of
white retirees in the overall population. Against these shifts, one
question is whether diverse cultures will thrive independent of one
another, clash or find ways to blend at the edges.
"We're at this unique period in history where we have all these baby
boomers that are retiring and all the high levels of immigration that
we've had for decades have increased diversity among young families,"
said Mark Mather, a demographer with the Washington, D.C.-based
Population Reference Bureau.
"Florida's kind of a test case as to whether or not these groups can actually make it work."
* * * * *
Hrang lives at the cutting edge of that change.
He arrived with his wife and five children last year in Town 'N'
Country after spending four years in refugee camps in Malaysia. He
joined a growing population of people fleeing religious and ethnic
persecution in their home country.
Many have found a spiritual home at the First Baptist Church of
Temple Terrace, where Hrang is a part-time minister. During the week,
the church also offers English lessons to a mix of students from around
the world.
"Our goal is to do what we can to make life better for the people
that come here," said Pastor Joe Germain, who emigrated from the
Caribbean island of Dominica in 1990.
Aside from its regular English-language services, the church also has
services in Chinese for students from USF. Hrang leads services in
Burmese for 150 parishioners, representing the kaleidoscope of ethnic
groups fleeing Myanmar.
On Sunday nights, Hrang serves a second congregation, this one
composed of about 100 members of his own Chin ethnic group. That group
meets wherever it can find space in Town 'N' Country. Hrang dreams of
finding a piece of property the group can call its own.
Christianity came to Burma in the 1880s when the country was part of the British Empire.
Hrang grew up a Baptist. His parents gave their children biblical
names rather than traditional Burmese ones to reflect their faith, he
said.
After working as a minister in Myanmar for 17 years, Hrang fled with
his family in 2007 when the military junta ruling the country began
pressing the country's tribes to conform to the language and religion of
the majority Burmese group, Hrang said.
Four years later, the family landed in Hillsborough County, where
Clearwater-based Gulf Coast Jewish and Community Services helped them
settle in.
"Refugees are incredibly resilient," said Ann Marie Winter, the
nonprofit center's program director. "Their focus is on getting their
kids in school and building credit and getting a car."
Hrang has done all those things in the past year. He
also has obtained a green card, allowing him to work in the United
States. It was one of nearly 9,000 green cards issued every year in the
Tampa area. In five years, he and his wife can join the 7,000 or so
Tampa-area residents who become naturalized citizens each year.
In the meantime, Hrang travels hundreds of miles a month across
Hillsborough, Pinellas and Pasco counties, ministering to his fellow
immigrants from Myanmar.
"I'm translator and driver and pastor and chaplain," Hrang said. The
police call him to interpret when necessary. Once he helped translate
during the birth of a baby.
As political repression recedes in Myanmar, Hrang faces a dilemma
that he shares with many refugees: Return to his old homeland or embrace
his new one.
"It depends on God," Hrang said.
Hrang's sisters still live in Myanmar, but the rest of his family —
including his brother David — lives here. He and his wife Mary, a Publix
sushi chef, have green cards. His children, like so many young
immigrants, have increasingly Americanized.
Then there are his congregants.
"I'm the only Myanmar pastor in Tampa," Hrang said. "I prefer to stay here and go back to Burma on a mission."
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