OPINION Page 6 n THE ASIAN REPORTER February 5, 2018 Volume 28 Number 3 February 5, 2018 ISSN: 1094-9453 The Asian Reporter is published on the first and third Monday each month. Please send all correspondence to: The Asian Reporter 922 N Killingsworth Street, Suite 2D, Portland, OR 97217 Phone: (503) 283-4440, Fax: (503) 283-4445 News Department e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org Advertising Department e-mail: email@example.com General e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org Website: www.asianreporter.com Please send reader feedback, Asian-related press releases, and community interest ideas/stories to the addresses listed above. Please include a contact phone number. Advertising information available upon request. Publisher Jaime Lim Contributing Editors Ronault L.S. Catalani (Polo), Jeff Wenger Correspondents Ian Blazina, Josephine Bridges, Pamela Ellgen, Maileen Hamto, Edward J. Han, A.P. 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Back issues of The Asian Reporter may be ordered by mail at the following rates: First copy: $1.50 Additional copies ordered at the same time: $1.00 each Send orders to: Asian Reporter Back Issues, 922 N. Killingsworth St., Portland, OR 97217-2220 The Asian Reporter welcomes reader response and participation. If you have a comment on a story we have printed, or have an Asian-related personal or community focus idea, please contact us. Please include a contact name, address, and phone number on all correspondence. Thank you. hakta and Yanuka’s apartment block is hard to find at night. Harder still when Oregon rain’s blurring your vision and East Portland’s awful neon is distorting your windshield. But really, the biggest reason their little household is hard to find is on account of how far they and their pretty babies live from River City’s public-policy and business leaders. I mean this as much a measure of social distance, as a matter of actual miles. To be clear — because clarity is necessary when navigating winter nights — what follows is not an essay on the disparities between Portland’s first- world urban core and our outer eastside’s under- development. Not at all. Not in the conventional ways our policy and business leaders are already adept at analyzing. And to be fair — because sharing is so core to those traditional communities living parallel to our city’s robust mainstream — in trade for eight minutes of reading, I offer three things Portland’s ethnic streams bank in great abundance. Three kinds of capital absolutely essential for happy households, for healthy neighborhoods and nations. Assets mainstream America likely longs for as much as our ethnic streamers desire of our dominant society’s political and financial assets. We’re talking about fair trade. My downtown colleague Joanne and I finally found Yanuka and Bhakta’s place that night. The night of their birthday party. Auspiciously, both were born that day in their beloved Kingdom of Bhutan. Less blessed was their king expelling their entire minority community. Bhakta and Yanuka were raised two countries over, in Nepal, in a sprawling refugee hovel. Twenty-one years later a generous United States of America accepted them for resettlement. From the moment their jumbo jet taxied to a stop at PDX, an oddly asymmetrical alliance of deter- mined East Portland ethnic associations and com- munity organizations plus public agencies governed from our town’s center, rapidly integrated them into the accelerated life of our city. Despite consequently lumpy outcomes, it’s all gone pretty well. B Precious cargo we carried here I knocked at an apartment I thought was our And to be fair, in trade for eight minutes of reading, I offer three things Portland’s ethnic streams bank in great abundance . friends’ place, but an Iraqi dad in a saggy white T answered. With Arab hospitality typical in Raffa and Aleppo and even in Sana’a, he opened wide his household’s door. Joanne and I did a universal “so sorry, sir” smile and reverse shuffle. He smiled some more. So did we. Evidently, our birthday peo- ple and their pretty kids had moved several doors down. Bhakta, sockless in rubber silapahs (slippers), stepped outside waving his arms. In Old World neighborhoods, back home and right here, news radiates quicker than Xfinity’s tip-top speeds. And surer than Mr. Trump’s tweets. Once inside, heavenly Lotsampa curry scent soothed us. Elegant elders and hardworking parents and everyone’s squirrelly kids embraced us as if we’re familia. Because in our bones and in deeds, we are. “We HAPPY you here,” Bhakta and Yanuka said — well, not exactly said, because neither can hear, which makes learning and speaking Nepali or English hard. Real hard. “Happy you here” came from Grandma Mangali, trying her best to be gay though her lovely daughter just passed away, leaving a grandbaby boy in her arms. And Grand- ma’s translation came via kind teacher Shukun, Continued on page 7 Opinions expressed in this newspaper are those of the authors and not necessarily those of this publication.