She saw the name, written in black Magic Marker on the side of a white plastic bag, containing her immigration papers.
Providence.
It's the name of an island off the coast of Liberia -- a place where freed American slaves landed when they founded the African nation in the early 19th century.
When she saw the word, Bindu Mason thought she was going to Providence Island -- back to Liberia, where she had fled the civil war ravaging her homeland. "They are carrying me back to Liberia?" she wondered. "But I don't want to go there now."
Mason, 26, never quite realized that Providence was a city in the United States, until she arrived on U.S. soil on Sept. 12.
After running from war in Liberia for years, Mason was granted the dream of many refugees: a new life in the United States.
Mason, her six-month-old son, Prince, and the baby's father, Dennis Ericson, are among the 68 Liberian refugees who were resettled from camps in the Ivory Coast to Rhode Island. The refugees arrived in several waves last month. The International Institute of Rhode Island is helping them find apartments, clothing and employment.
"This trip is still looking like a dream," said Joseph Teaway, who came to Providence with his wife and three children.
Liberians, interviewed this week, said they are grateful to be in the United States, which holds the promise of peace and prosperity for every new generation of immigrants.
But there's irony in the Liberians' arrival in the United States and in Rhode Island, in particular.
Founded by freed American salves, the nation of Liberia had promised a new beginning for its citizens.
The capital was named Monrovia, after the fifth U.S. president, James Monroe. And the island, just off the coast of Monrovia, was named Providence, after the capital of Rhode Island, a former hub in the slave trade.
But an ongoing civil war has forced Liberians to leave their homeland, once a symbol of freedom, and return to Rhode Island, once a place of bondage and oppression for Africans.
"It's kind of come full circle," said Prof. Herb Howe, an expert on Liberia at the Georgetown School of Foreign Service.
The 68 refugees are the latest group of Liberians to arrive in Rhode Island for more than a decade. Many of the newly arrived refugees do not have family in Rhode Island, but the state's large Liberian community has proven a strong support network.
According to some estimates, there are 10,000 Liberians living in the state -- one of the largest communities in the United States.
Rhode Island is a far cry from Liberia.
In that country, Teaway was a wanted man. He had been a successful construction worker, but his ancestry as a member of the Krahn tribe made him a target.
Teaway traces his heritage back to the indigenous inhabitants of Liberia, while other Liberians are descendants of the freed American slaves. It's one of the tensions that fueled nearly a decade of civil war. In 1999, soldiers were going house to house, looking for Krahns.
Teaway fled the country and crossed into the Ivory Coast, where he declared himself to the United Nations. A friend brought over his wife, who was then pregnant, and their two children. The family settled in refugee camps in the Ivory Coast -- a country fraught with its own dangers.
Violence in Liberia had spilled into the Ivory Coast. Teaway said the thousands of Liberian refugees, living in the camps, were warned that they could be overrun and killed. The police beat the Liberians and called them, "chiens" or dogs.
Wilson Zulu, a Liberian, recalled how his daughter's fiancé had been kicked between his legs and beaten by police. He later died of his injuries.
Zulu, 55, came to Providence last month with his twin 13-year-old sons, his daughter, Nunu, and her baby, Olivia. It was the baby's father who was killed by police in the Ivory Coast.
Zulu's wife and several of his children remain in Liberia, but he's not certain of their whereabouts. They have been separated since 1996.
In the Ivory Coast, thousands of Liberian refugees live in crowded camps, sleeping in mud huts.
Zulu headed a sanitation team in charge of cleaning the bathrooms -- part of the constant battle to prevent cholera outbreaks. Medicine was in short supply.
And then deliverance came, as it often does to refugees: suddenly and seemingly at random.
They saw their names written on a board at the camp. Humanitarian workers interviewed them and made them fill out paperwork.
When the day came to leave, Teaway still had no idea where they were taking him. It was only when he saw the Air France plane at the airport in Abidjan, the Ivory Coast capital, that he realized his family was headed abroad.
Zulu had never been on an airplane before. He remembers sitting on the plane bound for New York's John F. Kennedy airport and looking up into the sky. "Thank you, Father," Zulu said.
According to the International Institute, these 68 refugees were considered priority cases for resettlement because they were noncombatants, who could not return safely to Liberia.
There are about 6,000 such Liberian refugees in the Ivory Coast, who have been cleared for resettlement. More may be heading for Providence and other U.S. cities.
The announcement comes after a period when very few refugees were resettled in Rhode Island, following a tightening of security after Sept. 11. The group of 68 Liberians is double the number of refugees who came to Rhode Island in all of last year.
"It's the finest expression of what this country is founded on," said Betty Johnson Simons, director of Refugee Services at the International Institute. "Giving refuge to people who need it."
Each refugee will receive about $1,300 in cash assistance and rent money, but after a few months they are expected to become self-sufficient. Numerous church groups have donated clothing and furniture. The International Institute helps them find jobs and teaches basic life skills.
Zulu says his skills are suited to the sanitation field because of his work in the camps. "I like a clean environment," he said.
As for Mason, she and her family are getting used to their new apartment, off Cranston Street. There's a scattering of furniture and no TV or radio.
Yesterday, Prince crawled around the living room, wearing blue gloves and a winter hat to ward off the autumn chill.
"We are cold," said Mason. "And they tell me it's only going to get colder."
