Clement, founder of Women’s Refugee Care in Providence and an immigrant from the Congo, said he remembers performing river ceremonies in his home country. (Nimrit Ahuja)
For Melvin, who grew up in Liberia, water was life itself — food, safety, ceremony, and community. The river fed crops, filled fishermen’s baskets, washed clothes, and quenched thirst. Every child learned to swim because survival depended on it; when the water rose, no one waited for a boat.
As a boy, Melvin (the last names of immigrants and refugees in this story have been withheld to protect their privacy and safety) watched men haul up fish from woven bamboo traps in the St. Pau River’s currents. He helped his mother buy fish with handfuls of grain, played along the banks, and let the river’s cool current relax his joints after long hours in the garden. Water was also sacred. Families brought grieving parents to the river to wash away the spirit believed to have caused a child’s death. Water cleansed, protected, and carried tradition…