By Monsignor Noel Burtenshaw

Here’s the story.

Jose grabbed the opportunity to hop the boat in Mariel Harbor in Cuba and come to the U.S. last year. He had to come alone. Behind him he left all that he had. Everything. But most especially he hated leaving his wife, Marie, and his baby daughter. But it was his chance to get out and hopefully start a new life for them all in America. Jose is 24.

After wandering through the official red tape of Miami, Jose was sent to Fort Chaffee in Arkansas. Five thousand others were sent with him. The long, tedious process of resettling these Cuban refugees began. It immediately ran into serious snags.

“It was a mess,” says a government social worker. “Everyone was mixed in – good people looking for a new chance, hard-core criminals and genuine mental cases. Interviewing was slow, and the old Cuban exiles from 1965 were not too happy with the lot we got this time.”

Jose was never processed. Instead he was sent to the Atlanta Penitentiary with the first batch of Cubans last May. Three hundred came at that time. The number is 800 now and each month it climbs by a hundred more.

It was in May, when Jose reached Atlanta, that Tomas and Martha Antona came on the scene. They had both come from Cuba in the early sixties. They met in Boston, married and moved to Atlanta. They both responded to a call from the legal Aid Society to go the Penitentiary to help. Mostly they assisted as interpreters.

“There is really a great problem,” says Tomas. “There are not enough interviewers and the process is too slow. But I do agree, the authorities must be careful.”

Tomas and Martha tell you there are good men, like Jose, in the prison who should be quickly resettled. “Jose is a fine man,” says Martha “and has shown he can be productive since his release and resettlement.”

But there are others who are out and out criminals. “The U.S. Government is asking Cuba to take these hard-core criminals back,” says Tomas. “It is unlikely they will. No one really knows what will happen then.”

Jose was released. But first he had to find a sponsor. That’s where the Catholic Community of Atlanta stepped in. Father Jacob Bollmer, as executive director of Catholic Social Services, heads up the resettlement of refugees in Atlanta. “They have to come through us,” says Father Bollmer, “and the big difficulty is getting a sponsor. We insist that the sponsor guarantee, in writing, support for the new refugees. The Cuban community has been slow to come forward for these men in the Penitentiary. It is as if they are ashamed of this mixed lot.”

Very often Father Bollmer will find a sponsor by calling a private list he holds in his office. “We must settle them quickly if we are going to do it at all,” he says. “The government only allows $250 to our agency for each refugee to be resettled. And you know how far that goes for food, clothes and shelter.”

Father Bollmer resettles many nationalities in the Atlanta area. Some are from Vietnam, all over Indochina, Africa and even Afghanistan.

However, thanks to the efforts of Tomas, Martha and Father Bollmer, a sponsor for Jose was found. He was given a room and quickly found a job on a building site. He was soon elevated from mere laborer to painter. He is happy and making good money. His dream is coming true.

“Now,” says Tomas, “he is saving for an apartment of his own. When he is two years in the U.S., he will be given the status of “permanent resident” by the immigration authorities and he can send for Maria.”

But by then Castro may have changed the rules about letting refugees out. Or he may have raised the price to get them out. Jose lives, works and hopes.

In the meantime the work of Tomas, Martha and Father Bollmer goes on.

“They have 800 at the Penitentiary now,” says Tomas, “and only 60 have been resettled since May. It’s too slow and so many more are coming. Some are in there who have already been given political asylum by the government. It is hard to know why they are still in jail.”

Father Bollmer feels that more experts should be sent to the Atlanta Penitentiary by the government to hasten the process of release. But he also understands the caution. "These are a different kind of Cuban refugee," he notes. “It will take a long time to resettle them. Around the country, the Cuban community has been slow to come forward to accept them. And some of them are hard-core criminals, but since they are here we should try, we must try.”

Father Bollmer makes one further point. “They will be a challenge to us all. The only religion they know is Catholic but they have very little faith. To come to their aid, the Church needs many willing hands and more priests and religious who can speak Spanish.”

As Tomas and Martha go back to their great work at the Penitentiary, as Father Bollmer goes to his Spanish classes along with his staff two days each week, and as Jose begins his new life, the challenge of the Gospel message is alive and awaiting fulfillment in the communities of North Georgia.