First in a series of occasional articles examining how Trump’s ascendance and early moves have altered expectations and reality, here and abroad.
WINNIPEG, Manitoba — Of all places on earth, Naimo Ahmed found herself here, at the end of a 16,000-mile journey, inside a Salvation Army shelter as temperatures pushed well below freezing in this remote Canadian prairie city.
Her face, bright and quick to smile, belies the tragedy and turmoil she has witnessed in her 23 years. So does her smooth English — a language she labored to learn in her native Somalia when she was a young girl, still hopeful of a better life.
Crowded with her inside this impromptu refugee center is a little boy, just old enough to walk, who zooms around in a T-shirt that reads, “Built tough like dad.” His mother, a Ghanian immigrant, keeps one eye on her son and the other on the plate of food she has just prepared.
If the boy is missing his home, he doesn’t show it. He gives a high five to a Somali immigrant standing nearby. He squeals at the 12-year-old daughter of a man from El Salvador.
The kids are American-born. The parents are not.
Weeks ago, they were living in Atlanta. Denver. Small-town Indiana.