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HIGH POINT - The land of the free holds opportunity and a chance for a better life.

It's not easy, though. Immigrants and refugees who come to the U.S. find that it takes longer than they thought to attain the things they dreamed of. Their own home. A car. An education. A better job.

For Rafid Kully, an Iraqi refugee who worked as a translator and interpreter for the U.S. military, it can't happen soon enough. Though college-educated and bilingual, he still struggles.

Iraqi refugees, now trickling into the United States, arrive with unique challenges. They have not experienced the poverty and hardship that come from living for years in squalid refugee camps, but many have experienced the psychological trauma of living in an active war zone. Although many refugee populations find their situation immediately improved, Iraqi refugees may have a lower standard of living initially.

But Kully, 31, has no desire to return to Iraq. Not even for a visit.

At least here, he doesn't fear for his life.

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Kully is one of about 100 Iraqi refugees resettled throughout North Carolina this year. Millions of Iraqis have been displaced inside Iraq and throughout the region since the war began in 2003. Most have fled to neighboring Syria and Jordan. The U.S. agreed to resettle 12,000 Iraqi refugees by Sept. 30.

But Iraqi refugee resettlement into the U.S. has been slow. As of May 31, 4,742 Iraqis had been resettled in the U.S., according to the State Department. The U.S. approved an additional 636 special immigrant visas to Iraqis between last October and April 2008.

The Bush administration has been criticized for not doing enough to help Iraqi refugees, including former translators for the U.S. military, such as Kully.

But leaders of local refugee resettlement organizations say several factors make it harder to get Iraqis into the U.S., including stringent security measures. The larger problem is that the countries from which most Iraqi refugees are coming lack an established infrastructure to register, screen and process people, says Sarah Ivory.

Ivory, area manager of the Refugee Resettlement and Immigration program with Greensboro's Lutheran Family Services, says refugee camps have an infrastructure in place that makes the resettlement process much easier.

"As most Iraqi refugees are dispersed throughout the cities of border countries, the transfer of information/documentation and the scheduling of interviews is logistically challenging," Ivory says.

State refugee coordinator Marlene Myers says it takes time to get U.S. officials into countries of asylum to start the process, and once there, it takes even more time to establish an office and get computers up and running.

"I've never known of a new (refugee) group that ever met their quotas in the first phase. But they're moving out now," she says.

Kully, who applied for resettlement at the United Nations office in Jordan, often waited months to hear news of his status.

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For much of Kully's life, his country has been one of instability and turmoil.

He comes from a society where no matter how much you studied, or how hard you worked, your dreams could disintegrate for reasons beyond your control.

The government could seize your house or force you into military service.

Corruption was rampant, and it was difficult to succeed on hard work and integrity alone.

On any given day, schools could close without reason. Or the city might be without electricity.

A student could achieve a higher ranking simply because their father had a card identifying him as a friend of Saddam Hussein. His brothers learned it was pointless to study, because it just didn't matter.

Kully became an engineer and did well, working for the Iraqi government and earning a good salary. At one time, he supervised as many as 75 people. He was also able to open his own shop, similar to a an American hardware store. He owned a Range Rover.

But when the Iraq war began in 2003, the country became even more unstable. When the government dissolved, Kully still worked, but nothing was accomplished because no one regulated their work.

In 2004, Kully got a job translating and interpreting for American soldiers. He asked to be assigned to the remotest region possible and told few of his plans. He told his family the job was just temporary. Kully liked living with the Americans on the military base.

"I just feel this is the society I'd like to live with. Everything is clean and orderly," he says.

He also liked working on a team and the camaraderie between the men. His salary also increased significantly. Kully made $1,050 per month - about five times his previous salary with the Iraqi government.

But Iraqi translators and interpreters risk their lives and those of their families. Translators often cover their faces with ski masks, even in 120-degree heat. Many quit because of the stress and safety concerns.

On March 3, 2005, Kully was with a team of Marines, escorting a convoy, when the driver of the Humvee lost control on a rough, narrow road. Of the five passengers in his Humvee, one died, and two were seriously injured. Kully suffered head, foot and shoulder injuries.

He was sent to a hospital in Jordan for medical treatment. His family warned him not to return home. Insurgents had learned of his work with the Americans. They bombed his store, and his brother was forced to leave his business. Kully's family fled their home. One of his brothers was almost killed trying to check on their house.

Unable to return to Iraq, Kully also couldn't return to work because of his injuries. Unable to work in Jordan, Kully depleted his savings.

"I was almost crazy in Jordan. ... I couldn't stay, and I couldn't go anywhere," he says.

Finally, after a year and a half, Kully learned he could come to the U.S.

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News of his homeland doesn't interest him much.

Kully frequently talks to his family by phone, but that's the extent of his Iraqi updates.

"Honestly, if my family wasn't in Iraq, I wouldn't care anymore," he says. "I'm fed up."

Many refugees coming to the U.S. have lived in camps a decade or more, but Iraqis are fleeing a land still in conflict. Ivory says most Iraqi immigrants suffer from post traumatic stress syndrome.

"We're looking at very recent trauma," she says. "They're very much in survival and protection mode."

Mark Kadel, whose organization helped resettle Kully in High Point, empathizes: "They have been so mistreated, abused and taken advantage of. The Iraqis just want to close that chapter of their lives and start a new one with great hope for the future of their families."

In some ways, Iraqis are better prepared than other refugees to live in the U.S. They are literate in their own languages, and many have degrees. They have used sinks and know how to operate a stove. They know how to drive and use computers.

On the other hand, Kadel says, their arrival sometimes comes with more disappointment. Before the war, some lived in large homes with servants. Here, they may live in a sparsely furnished apartment without a computer. Their professional training also doesn't transfer to the U.S. But Kadel says most Iraqis are just grateful to live without fear.

For now, Kully works at a Greensboro shop that manufactures lamps. In his spare time, he helps his fellow Iraqi refugees. He's one of few here who owns a car, so his phone often rings with requests to go to the store, translate documents or interpret. He wants to enroll in graduate school so that he can work as an engineer, as he did back home.

"We expected many things, like opportunities to get jobs and more money," Kully says. "The reality is that everything is available, but really, you need to work hard, and you wait a long time."

Contact Tina Firesheets at 373-3498 or tina.firesheets @news-record.com