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Family always comes first for this group that moved from Cote d’Ivoire to Philly

“Your mind-set changes,” he says. “You have to think about the well-being of your family, how you’re going to take care of your family.”

The Gboho family (left to right): Reine, Laure, Serge, Guehasson, Guaebehi, Sonzai, Elvis, Edy (in front).
The Gboho family (left to right): Reine, Laure, Serge, Guehasson, Guaebehi, Sonzai, Elvis, Edy (in front).Read moreCourtesy of the family

THE PARENTS: Serge Landry Gboho, 33, and Laure Aline Sei, 35

THE KIDS: Sonzai Mon Desir, 16; Elvis Devario, 16; Reine Davilla, 12; Edy Gael, 10; Guehasson Jenima Joy, 3; Gueabehi Junior, 15; joined the family June 3, 2021

A NOTABLE DIFFERENCE: “Here in the United States, when you are pregnant, people take care very well of you,” Laure says. “In Ivory Coast, if you are pregnant, the government does not take care of you; you take care of yourself.”

When Serge was growing up in Cote d’Ivoire, his father always told him it was essential for a man to marry and have children. But in 2003, as a high schooler, he was more interested in soccer and politics … and a fellow student, two years older, named Laure.

“He was courageous and very engaged [in the community],” she recalls. They began meeting, going back and forth to one another’s houses. The following year, Laure was pregnant. A prenatal appointment revealed more news: “It was surprising and kind of a shock to learn I was going to have two babies,” she says. “But at the end of the day, the delivery was fine.”

They were in love. But they were also young and penniless, the two recall, speaking with the help of an interpreter, Papa Moussa Faye, fluent in French, the couple’s first language.

“She stopped school because of the twins,” Serge says. And while he was well-known locally as a community and environmental activist, a soccer devotee, and a student of French literature, he was far from ready for the role his father had described.

“As a student, I didn’t have anything to take care of the family. Her parents said it was better for [Laure] to come back to their house.”

» READ MORE: Having their children safe at home is all that matters

During the time they lived apart, Serge had a brief relationship that resulted in the birth of a son, Gueabehi. “When I knew he had another baby, at first I was not happy,” Laure says. “But later I had to come back to say, ‘It was a mistake,’ and in time, to forgive.”

Gueabehi remained with his biological mother. He was just a toddler when Serge, Laure, and their four children — they’d had a daughter, then another son, in addition to the twins — fled to Togo, leaving behind political unrest and violence in Cote d’Ivoire. It was there that Serge finally proposed.

“Because we faced so many challenges, I thought: I would like to make her happy. That’s why I would like to celebrate, to show everyone that I appreciate her.” He wore a suit with a striped tie; Laure beamed in a white dress and veil. Their children gathered close. Members of their church came forward with gifts and money.

“I was thankful to have the best day of my life be the day I got married,” Laure says. “To have the children around was wonderful. They were young, but they were in the celebration, too.”

Serge had aspirations for the children: solid educations, good jobs, the shared values of the Christian church. “I never wanted to see my kids as vagabonds, smoking cigarettes or drinking alcohol in the street,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep them safe and to be good children.”

Parenthood had already made him different from friends in their early 20s who still partied and had yet to find a mate. “Your mind-set changes,” he says. “You have to think about the well-being of your family, how you’re going to take care of your family.”

Ongoing political unrest, the risks of Serge’s role as an activist, and the hope of a more stable life prompted the family to seek refuge in the United States. That meant leaving Gueabehi behind — if he was even still alive. Serge had heard rumors that nearly everyone in his son’s home village had been killed.

» READ MORE: With family, having more brings them more

All he knew of Philadelphia were vague notions of “liberty” and “democracy.” The family arrived in May 2016, refugee resettlement documents in hand, placards around their necks reading, “I do not speak English.” Serge had no idea what the foreign letters meant, so he wore the sign to his first meeting with a case manager at Nationalities Services Center the next day.

“You don’t need to wear this anymore,” she told him. “You’re here.”

Serge got a job driving a recycling truck for the city; he learned English and Spanish from his workmates and practiced at home with the computer. Laure works in Delaware, for a company that tests and repairs electronic communication devices. The children often serve as interpreters.

In the United States, Serge recalls, “everybody seemed happy, joyful. I could see peace and freedom everywhere.” He and Laure were so grateful for their new home that they wanted to have another child, born here; Guehasson arrived in May 2018.

But there was still a missing element in their family. “I last saw Gueabehi when he was 9 or 10,” Serge says. “I didn’t know where he was living, if he was living. But then I found out through Facebook that he was alive.”

» READ MORE: Drawn together by a passion for ‘their kids’

The two began communicating through video calls; Serge sent money back to pay for his son’s schooling and began the application process for him to join the family here. The process took nearly three years, a succession of lawyers, and a mountain of paperwork — Gueabehi’s birth certificate, proof that Serge had been supporting him, even DNA tests for both father and son to prove paternity.

“In calls, Gueabehi was crying and complaining,” Serge recalls. “He wanted to see the family, his brothers and sisters. His mother wanted the child to come to the U.S. In May, they let me know his passport and visa were ready. I cried, ‘Whoo!’ Everybody was happy and excited.”

On June 3, the couple drove to the airport to greet the boy Serge hadn’t seen in five years — a skinny teen wearing a red hoodie and a mask.

Je l’ai reconnu [I recognized him],” he says. “We look alike.”

The first days home were bewildering for Gueabehi: unfamiliar food, gentle teasing from his siblings in a language he didn’t understand. But the family welcome was warm and unanimous.

Serge believes his father was right about the primacy of family. “What I have learned is responsibility,” he says. “Your children didn’t ask to come. You bring them here. So you have to take care of them.”