EP.4
//SEASON 2

Living Ramadan

In this episode of Mosaic, we break fast with the Kinjawi family throughout the holy month of Ramadan to understand how living as Muslims in the US has allowed them to become both more Muslim and more American.
October 9, 2020

Episode Host(s)

Ana, Host of Mosaic
Ana González

GONZÁLEZ: Hey everybody, it’s Ana. And you’re listening to Mosaic, a podcast that explores how immigration shapes identity. I grew up without a lot of religion in my life. My family is technically Catholic on both sides, but outside of weddings and funerals, I can count the number of times I’ve been to church on one hand. In middle school, I went to a lot of bar and bat mitzvahs, but the religious ceremonies were always just something to get through before the cake and the DJs came out. The United States is a secular Christian society, so it’s easy, if you’re part of the majority, to grow up like I did: inherit the religion of your parents, celebrate major holidays, attend some services, but not live the religion. But, if you’re part of a less represented faith, like Islam, it takes more of a conscious effort to maintain your religion. For one Muslim family in Massachusetts, belonging to a religious minority has made them more devout.

MAYSS: And when I came to United States, I felt like this country give me the space to do what I was planning for me to be.

GONZÁLEZ: In this episode of Mosaic, Amjad Kinjawi and Mayss Bajbouj-Kinjawi let me into their home to break fast during Ramadan and to learn how living as Muslims in the US has allowed them to become both more Muslim and more American.

MAYSS: So this is everyone.

GONZÁLEZ: Hi!

AMJAD: You’re seeing the place when everybody is locked in so...

GONZÁLEZ: It’s beautiful. It's a beautiful home.

MAYSS: Thank you. This is Amjad.

GONZÁLEZ: Mayss is holding up her laptop and showing a video call of me to the rest of her family. It’s April 23rd, the second night of Ramadan and about a month into Coronavirus lockdown. Mayss’s husband, Amjad is joking that their living room isn’t usually so chaotic. But when you have an 11-year-old and a 7-year old home all day, doing remote learning, things get a little messy.

MAYSS: This is Lujayne.

GONZÁLEZ: Hi, Lujayne.

MAYSS: And this is Zayd.

GONZÁLEZ: Hi, Zayd.

GONZÁLEZ: Mayss and Amjad are working from home, too. Mayss is a professor of Arabic and French Language in Boston and Rhode Island, and Amjad owns his own dental practice in North Attleboro. While Mayss is finishing up her semester via Zoom, Amjad is taking phone calls from patients. Social distancing has not only changed the way we all work, but it’s affected how people worship.

AMJAD: We used hold, like a mass iftar. A lot of people come together to break the fast together. Which are now a little bit less possible.

GONZÁLEZ: Both Mayss and Amjad are active members of the Rhode Island Islamic Society, which has its masjid, or mosque, in Pawtucket. Since coronavirus hit, its doors have been closed, even during Ramadan. Normally, during this month, Muslims head to the mosque to pray after breaking their daily fast with a huge gathering of friends and family called an iftar. But this year, even the iftars have changed.

GONZÁLEZ: The change isn’t totally negative. Since the mosques are closed, Amjad is leading his family in their daily prayers instead of an Imam. And each night, he guides his children through their readings of the Quran.

MAYSS: For me, this Ramadan is the first Ramadan that I'm really enjoying it. Really. Because we are home.

AMJAD: Quarantine! Yay! [Laughs]

GONZÁLEZ: To be a devout Muslim requires a lot of scheduling. There are 5 daily prayers to be done at specific times of the day, and during Ramadan, those prayers are even more essential and weighted. You can imagine, if you’re working a full-time job, having to figure out when to schedule prayer breaks throughout the day, and then coming home, and having to do that with young kids and then travelling to the mosque: it’s a lot. Coronavirus has simplified things.

MAYSS: So really, this time I'm really enjoying it. And especially like. It's been a while since I had my kids. I did not go to the mosque because I don't want to bother people with a baby crying or someone who wants to sleep. So I stay home and I pray by myself. But since I have him with me, together, we have prayed together. So probably he is missing the mosque. But to me, I have him with me. So I have the same benefits. I am really happy.

GONZÁLEZ: And I’m happy, too, because the pandemic has made video chatting a way of life. So, I’m able to virtually sit at the table with the Kinjawi family and break fast with them throughout Ramadan without having to leave my home.

MAYSS: So do you really fast the days to meet with us? Or...

ANA: No, I really fast. I've been really fasting. Only the days I meet with you. Not every day. But yeah, I would feel, like, disingenuous to not.

AMJAD: Let's meet a little bit more often. [LAUGHTER] That's gonna kill you, huh?

GONZÁLEZ: I’m not gonna die, but fasting is tough. Again, I grew up without really any religious commitments, so the idea of fasting every day for the 29 days of Ramadan got me asking a lot of questions. Like, why? And then, how? And finally, could I actually do it? I figured, the only way to understand, is to experience it. So, whenever I met with the Kinjawis for iftar, I abstained from food and water from sun up until sun down and, in my talks with Amjad before breaking fast together, he answers a lot of my questions.

AMJAD: And that’s the purpose of the fasting: so you might achieve piety. When you look at what the fasting is supposed to teach us, or to make of us, you find that it's just purification of the human soul into a better one. You need to be kinder to people, you need to think of your neighbors, you need to think of those who might be fasting by choice, but there are people who are fasting because they don't really have the means to not fast.

GONZÁLEZ: Fasting also ties muslims into a centuries-old tradition and worldwide Islamic community. Growing up in Syria, fasting during Ramadan is one of Amjad’s few acts of piety.

AMJAD: Friday prayer, for example, it is a must. Fasting during Ramadan is a must. I used to slack on other things. Sometimes I say that I learned Islam when I came to the States.

GONZÁLEZ: Amjad’s family is Muslim, and his parents teach their kids about Islam, but Amjad does not have a deep, spiritual conneciton to the religion. He’s more into education and becoming a dentist. He attends university and dental school in Damascus. Then, he travels to France to learn more advanced practices to bring back to Syria. But along the way, he takes a trip to the United States that makes him question going back to his home country to practice dentistry.

AMJAD: And I did like the system I did like how dentistry is being presented in the States. So I said, “You know what, maybe that's where I want because I love what I do, and I want it to be done in the best possible ways.”

GONZÁLEZ: So, Amjad decides to go to dental school for the third and final time in the US. He gets a student visa and arrives in Boston in 1993 to attend Boston University. By the end of the decade, he’s working at a private dental practice in the suburbs of Boston and applying to become a full blown American citizen. He’s still more focused on his career and dental practice than his religion. But that’s about to change.

NEWS CLIPS: We have unconfirmed reports this morning that a plane has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center...And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon [crowd cheers]...The islamic terror threat in America...The problem is: the ideology...This is also a war on Islam...

GONZÁLEZ: September 11, 2001, shocks the world, and it puts a spotlight on Muslims everywhere. Amjad is in North Attleboro at the time of the attacks. He had just started his own private dental practice the year before. He remembers feeling just as horrified as everybody else, but soon, that horror shifts into a defense of his religion in the face of ignorance.

AMJAD: That is not Islam. That is something where sometimes the media can go a little wrong by exposing the negative, even though it does not represent the true religion and say, “Okay, this is what it is. This is who we are dealing with. All Muslims are like this.” I'm not gonna be ashamed of a fanatic or somebody who's crazy, who would like to, in the name of Islam, do something evil. I'm not associated with this person. This person is not associated with my religion. So I don't even know why I should be ashamed of him.

GONZÁLEZ: Amjad is in the process of getting his citizenship at this time. His final interview is just weeks after 9/11.

AMJAD: Actually, to be honest with you, I was concerned because of what happened and how, like those Muslims, the terrorists that are attacking the United States and everything else. So I was concerned about my interview and my time with the officer.

GONZÁLEZ: But, Amjad says, his interviewer that day was more concerned about the fact that he had to share an office with somebody else. He spent half the interview just complaining to Amjad.

AMJAD: And so I just sat there and listened to him [laughs], and we did not discuss anything about 9/11 and things of this nature. He did not want to know anything about that. So, it was an easy interview.

GONZÁLEZ: Amjad becomes a US citizen. And with this commitment to a new country, he also finds a renewed commitment to Islam. He’s been attending Friday prayers at the masjid in Pawtucket, but, for the first time, he asks if he can get involved with the Muslim Society run out of the mosque. He forms a close relationship with the imam, and soon, he joins the board of the Society. Amjad helps raise funds for the Islamic day school in Rhode Island and joins the board of the Rhode Island Council for Muslim Advancement.

AMJAD: QURANIC RECITATION

On the other side of the Atlantic, Mayss has just moved to Paris. Even before 9/11, France is a hard place to be openly Muslim. The country’s constitutional right of laïcité, or secularism, has made it possible for the country to ban all conspicuous religious symbols in public places. Critics of the policies say they discriminate against muslim immigrant women, like Mayss, who might choose to wear head coverings on a daily basis. At the time of the attacks, though, Mayss does not wear an hijab like she does today.

MAYSS: I born in Algeria. I had a life in Algeria. I came to Syria for a while. I went to France. So, my life is always in change. And May Allah forgive my parents, they didn't teach me the religion. So I start teaching myself. I start looking around me and why this is happening, why this is happening. So I tried to teach myself and to know about Islam more.

GONZÁLEZ: After 9/11, France erupts into rallies and protests against hijabs. It creates a hostile environment for Muslims, especially covered women. Mayss is surrounded by this tension, and, just as she’s planning a trip to the US to visit friends on holiday, she makes a life-changing decision.

MAYSS: Ramadan came. And I had the moment for me because I was ready to put my hijab….And I decide to put it, and I put my hijab. And one of my friends said to me, “Mayss, are you crazy? You should do the visa first before your hijab. And now with your hijab, no one is going to accept you.” And I said to her, “You know, I don't believe that. Because if you do something truly for God, and if God has a plan for you to go to United States, I'm going to have the visa. It doesn't matter. The hijab or not.” ... And I went to the interview. And I remember I was in the room. There were a couple of people that are denied, and I'm only one with the hijab. I was accepted.

MAYSS: So at that time I thought, when you do truly something to your God….You're not pleasing anyone. You're pleasing Him. Only Him. So why he’s going to rejected you? Why he's going to say? “No, you’re not going to have this.”

AMJAD: And it was meant to be.

GONZÁLEZ: When Mayss gets to the US, her friends introduce her to Amjad. They click immediately, both with their Syrian backgrounds and newfound commitment to Islam. Months later, Amjad travels to Syria to meet Mayss’s family and ask her to marry him. They travel back to the US together before their wedding.

AMJAD: I remember, we bring her from the airport. It was the fourth of July, I think. So there were, like, the fireworks. And I told her that I made those just for her.

ANA: Did you believe him?

AMJAD: I’m kidding. I’m kidding. [laughs]

GONZÁLEZ: After their wedding in 2003, Mayss remains in Paris, finishing her PhD. She and Amjad alternate visiting each other every couple months. They do this for 6 years, until:

MAYSS: I came here for good in 2009, when I was pregnant with Lujayne.

GONZÁLEZ: Mayss gives birth to Lujayne in North Attleboro. And soon after, Mayss begins to get work at local universities. One of her first jobs is a professor position at Boston College, a largely white, Jesuit school in a wealthy suburb of Boston. She is the only covered woman on campus.

MAYSS: After two years, it was for me a first time seeing a covered woman inside the campus. When you go in, of course there’s people, they kinda look at you saying, “Oh, she's Muslim.”

GONZÁLEZ: As a professor wearing an hijab, Mayss sticks out. She never feels unsafe on campus, but she does feel like she has to explain herself all the time.

MAYSS: I know by my hijab I have so many questions from people. “Why you put the hijab? Why this is like this?” And I guess I didn't have to talk about my religion, but the manners that you are presenting as a Muslim, and how you are dealing with your like students, how you're doing with your colleagues, these shows what is Islam. So we don't have always to defend ourselves, but by acting is the way that you can show people who we are, and we are human being like others.

GONZÁLEZ: And this is the way both Mayss and Amjad go through their lives. They don’t preach their religion to others; they are their religion. They live it, and they let people make their own decisions about what Islam is based on their actions.

AX:ANA: Hey Mayss!

MAYSS: How are you?

ANA: I’m good. How are you?

MAYSS: Good, yeah! [kids off mic] She’s here, she came to us.

GONZÁLEZ: It’s May 2nd, now. The second weekend of Ramadan 2020. Mayss positions her laptop at the end of their kitchen table to show Amjad, Lujayne, and Zayd getting ready to break fast with some traditional Syrian food.

AMJAD: It's called "yeb'r't".

ANA: What's inside of it?

AMJAD: Rice and meat... And today for the drink, we have one traditional Syrian drink, actually. Like when we were back in Syria, we would go out and buy it about like an hour before the break fast... It’s kind of bland and sweet…

LUJAYNE: Licorice?

AMJAD: It's almost almost like licorice, yes. Yes. Is that what you said?

ANA: Well Lujayne said it first.

NAR: ANA: 11-year-old Lujayne is helping her mom set the table and counting down the minutes until sunset.

LUJAYNE: How many more minutes?

MAYSS: 2 more minutes…

GONZÁLEZ: Her younger brother Zayd is sitting across the table, getting ready to eat his serving of yeb’r’t and a little cheese pizza he made for himself.

ZAYD: 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1,0!

GONZÁLEZ: After we break fast and the kids go play Minecraft in the other room, Mayss, Amjad and I have some time to talk about the bigger questions of being Syrian and Muslim in the United States.

GONZÁLEZ: I'm just wondering, like, how you talk to your kids about Syria, like being immigrants, people who came before what's happening in Syria now…. And how do you tell your kids about that? You know, like how does that affect you feeling connected to Syria as a country?

MAYSS AND AMJAD: Lujayne had the chance to go...She went with me for a very short amount of time. But she has some memories, and when she sees the pictures, so she can remember things. I feel sad for Zayd because he didn't have the chance to go...

GONZÁLEZ: After Lujayne was born in 2009, Mayss took her back to Syria to meet the rest of the family. The Syrian civil war started two years later, in 2011. Zayd, born at the end of 2012, has never been to Syria.

AMJAD AND MAYSS: We don't feel comfortable that they are going to be as safe as we want them to be. I mean, again, you cannot protect them fully, even here in the States or anywhere else. So as long as the ones who are in power now are still in power, then nothing is guaranteed.

GONZÁLEZ: The increasingly violent conflict in Syria has created waves of Syrian refugees, many of whom begin to arrive in Massachusetts and Rhode Island around 2012. Mayss and Amjad begin to help resettle refugee families through the Muslim Society of Rhode Island, then through the Syrian American Medical Society, the Rhode Island Council for Muslim Advancement, and Americans Helping Others ProspEr in Rhode Island. In 2013, when Zayd is still an infant, the fighting in Syria reaches new levels of tragedy.

AMJAD: When the regime has attacked one of the cities with the chemical weapons... and the scenes: they’re still vivid in my head, the scenes of children suffocating because of the chemical weapons that can be used. That sometimes I see my children in those kids. And you wonder how you'd feel if it was your child that's in front of you that is suffocating.

GONZÁLEZ: Mayss and Amjad have become leaders in both the Muslim Society of Rhode Island and their respective non profit efforts. And now, they are active members of the Interfaith Coalition in Rhode Island. They bring Lujayne and Zayd to rallies against anti-semitism and islamophobia. And that’s a big part of how the Kinjawis relate to Syria now because they don’t see themselves returning for a long time. I ask Amjad how that affects the way he thinks of his identity.

AMJAD: I'm going to put it in a little funny way. OK? The date. We put month, date, year, or we can put month, day, year, or we can put year and then month and day. We still get the same date, the same purpose. So I can say I'm a Muslim, American, Syrian. And I can say I'm a Syrian American Muslim. And I can say American, Syrian, Muslim … So that's how I identify myself. So you put them in any order you want. It's fine with me.

MAYSS: I have a different perspective because I moved a lot in my life... I was in Algeria. I was in France. I was in Syria. But in all these times, I guess the only thing that I was always holding with me is my belonging to as a Muslim person. It’s the only thing that I was holding on it. It’s not the country. It’s not the space. But it’s this thing that is my treasure. That's whenever I go, I have it with me, and I want to invest it in a better way wherever I will be.

QURANIC PRAYERS

GONZÁLEZ: It’s Sunday, May 24th, Eid al-fitr, the biggest holiday in Islam. Amjad is standing in his living room, facing East, towards Mecca, leading his family in prayer. Behind him are the line of men: Zayd, Amjad’s nephew Sami, and brother-in-law, Nasser. Behind them, the line of women: Mayss, Amjad’s sister Rim, Lujayne, and her cousin Layla. Amjad placed his phone on the mantle before he started praying so he could record a video to send me later. We are still social distancing, or else I would have been in North Attleboro with them. And for that reason, Eid, normally a huge celebration of feasts and social gatherings all over the world, has been relegated to immediate families this year. Amjad’s sister’s family came into town the night before just in time to break fast.

QURANIC PRAYERS

MAYSS: Are you able to hear us? wish that you were here today with us.

GONZÁLEZ: In the Kinjawis’ dining room, golden balloons float up to the ceiling and crescent moons and stars cascade down the walls. From the corner where the laptop is placed, I can see the table covered in platters of couscous, kibbeh, and date-filled sweets. Zayd and Lujayne argue over the candy in the goodie bags they received from friends earlier in the day. After the meal, I’m able to have one last conversation with Mayss and Amjad.

GONZÁLEZ: How do you guys feel at the end of Ramadan?

AMJAD: I personally can’t believe that it's done.

MAYSS: Me, too. But I feel it’s one of the best Ramadans that I’ve had. Forever. Ramadan comes always with a lot of spirituality. So we feel that every time that Ramadan comes, and we feel sad when Ramadan leaves. And even last time, Zayd said, “I can’t believe Ramadan is gonna go over.” And he starts crying. A child of seven years old starts crying because he felt how Ramadan brings us together...Living Ramadan and leaving Ramadan will probably help us more to know exactly what we want after, especially that we are still in quarantine, especially that nothing changed. But we changed inside.

AMJAD: Each Ramadan you are elevated to a step...So it's almost like a ladder. Each Ramadan is one of the steps on that ladder. And the top of the ladder is where you are at your purest, at your finest, at your “bestest”, as Lujayne used to say [laughs].

GONZÁLEZ: Amjad has to leave to go pray, but Mayss stays behind and talks to me some more. We’ve gotten pretty close in the past month of weekly zoom iftars, texting each other with COVID updates, and learning about each other's lives. She’s telling me how she feels lucky to spend this time helping her kids develop their confidence in being Muslim, American, and Syrian.

MAYSS: So we are building two things: the social, the community, and being American with all the values that Muslim and Islam can bring to that, teaching our kids. It's very helpful to build this personality, to be in yourself….I want them to be proud, happy and citizens here. We are American at the end. So no matter what we are, we are here, we are living here, and we are doing our job here, we are serving people here. Our community’s here. So we are part of it.

GONZÁLEZ: Mosaic is a production of The Public’s Radio. Edited by Sally Eisele. With production help from Aaron Selbig and James Baumgartner. Our theme music is by Bryn Bliska. Our intern is Michelle Liu. Torey Malatia is the general manager of The Public’s Radio. I’m Ana González: thank you for listening. If you want to learn more about the stories in Mosaic, visit thepublicsradio.org/mosaic. And, as always, subscribe to Mosaic wherever you get your podcasts.

Episode
Highlights

A coronavirus Ramadan

“We used hold, like a mass iftar. A lot of people come together to break the fast together. Which are now a little bit less possible.”
—AMJAD

Since coronavirus hit, [the mosque’s] doors have been closed, even during Ramadan. Normally, during this month, Muslims head to the mosque to pray after breaking their daily fast with a huge gathering of friends and family called an iftar. But this year, even the iftars have changed.

“For me, this Ramadan is the first Ramadan that I’m really enjoying it. Really. Because we are home.”
—MAYSS

Breaking fast via Zoom

The pandemic has made video chatting a way of life. So, I’m able to virtually sit at the table with the Kinjawi family and break fast with them throughout Ramadan without having to leave my home.

“And that’s the purpose of the fasting: so you might achieve piety. When you look at what the fasting is supposed to teach us, or to make of us, you find that it’s just purification of the human soul into a better one. You need to be kinder to people, you need to think of your neighbors, you need to think of those who might be fasting by choice, but there are people who are fasting because they don’t really have the means to not fast.”
—AMJAD

Inside the Kinjawi home | Photo: Cheryl Adams

Sitting with Amjad | Photo: Cheryl Adams

Growing up in Syria

Amjad’s family is Muslim, and his parents teach their kids about Islam, but Amjad does not have a deep, spiritual connection to the religion. He’s more into education and becoming a dentist. He attends university and dental school in Damascus. Then, he travels to France to learn more advanced practices to bring back to Syria. But along the way, he takes a trip to the United States that makes him question going back to his home country to practice dentistry.

9/11 for a Muslim-American

“That is not Islam. That is something where sometimes the media can go a little wrong by exposing the negative, even though it does not represent the true religion and say, ‘Okay, this is what it is. This is who we are dealing with. All Muslims are like this.’ I’m not gonna be ashamed of a fanatic or somebody who’s crazy, who would like to, in the name of Islam, do something evil. I’m not associated with this person. This person is not associated with my religion. So I don’t even know why I should be ashamed of him.”
—AMJAD

Mayss Bajbouj Kinjawi | Photo: Cheryl Adams

On the other side of the Atlantic

“I born in Algeria. I had a life in Algeria. I came to Syria for a while. I went to France. So, my life is always in change. And May Allah forgive my parents, they didn’t teach me the religion. So I start teaching myself. I start looking around me and why this is happening, why this is happening. So I tried to teach myself and to know about Islam more.”
—MAYSS

After 9/11, France erupts into rallies and protests against hijabs. It creates a hostile environment for Muslims, especially covered women.

“Ramadan came. And I had the moment for me because I was ready to put my hijab….And I decide to put it, and I put my hijab. And one of my friends said to me, ‘Mayss, are you crazy? You should do the visa first before your hijab. And now with your hijab, no one is going to accept you.’ And I said to her, ‘You know, I don’t believe that. Because if you do something truly for God, and if God has a plan for you to go to United States, I’m going to have the visa. It doesn’t matter. The hijab or not.’ … And I went to the interview. And I remember I was in the room. There were a couple of people that are denied, and I’m only one with the hijab. I was accepted.”
—MAYSS

Amjad and Mayss on their wedding day in 2003 | Photo courtesy of Kinjawi Family

The Kinjawis got married in Syria and the United States | Photo courtesy of Kinjawi Family

Moving to North Attleboro

Mayss gives birth to Lujayne in North Attleboro. And soon after, Mayss begins to get work at local universities. One of her first jobs is a professor position at Boston College, a largely white, Jesuit school in a wealthy suburb of Boston. She is the only covered woman on campus.

“After two years, it was for me a first time seeing a covered woman inside the campus. When you go in, of course these people they kinda look at you saying, ‘Oh, she’s Muslim.’”
—Mayss

Lujayne at the kitchen table | Photo: Cheryl Adams

Syrian identity during civil war

I’m just wondering, like, how you talk to your kids about Syria, like being immigrants, people who came before what’s happening in Syria now…. And how do you tell your kids about that? You know, like how does that affect you feeling connected to Syria as a country?

“When the regime has attacked one of the cities with the chemical weapons… and the scenes: they’re still vivid in my head, the scenes of children suffocating because of the chemical weapons that can be used. That sometimes I see my children in those kids. And you wonder how you’d feel if it was your child that’s in front of you that is suffocating.”
—AMJAD

They bring Lujayne and Zayd to rallies against anti-semitism and islamophobia. And that’s a big part of how the Kinjawis relate to Syria now because they don’t see themselves returning for a long time.

Lujayne and Zayd in the backyard | Photo: Cheryl Adams

End of Ramadan

How do you guys feel at the end of Ramadan?

“I personally can’t believe that it’s done.”
—AMJAD

“I feel it’s one of the best Ramadans that I’ve had…Ramadan comes always with a lot of spirituality…Living Ramadan and leaving Ramadan will probably help us more to know exactly what we want after, especially that we are still in quarantine, especially that nothing changed. But we changed inside.”
—MAYSS

“Each Ramadan you are elevated to a step…So it’s almost like a ladder. Each Ramadan is one of the steps on that ladder. And the top of the ladder is where you are at your purest, at your finest, at your ‘bestest’, as Loujain used to say [laughs].”
—AMJAD

Amjad and Mayss at home | Photo: Cheryl Adams

Syrian-Muslim-American

“So we are building two things: the social, the community, and being American with all the values that Muslim and Islam can bring to that, teaching our kids…I want them to be proud, happy and citizens here. We are American at the end. So no matter what we are, we are here, we are living here, and we are doing our job here, we are serving people here. Our community’s here. So we are part of it.”
—MAYSS

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