In an old studio apartment furnished by donations, Joseph Nkeshimana dreams of his family in Africa from a twin bed in Twin Falls.

Sitting on that bed below a window covered by blankets, Nkeshimana, a 20-year-old Burundi refugee held up a picture of his girlfriend, an 18-year-old smiling woman he said he wants to marry.

But she's across the globe living in a Tanzanian refugee camp along with thousands of other people displaced by civil war in Burundi, a bloody conflict that many refugees like Nkeshimana were too young to witness.

The war was ethnically charged - between the Tutsi minority and Hutu majority - people who, Nkeshimana said, have been differentiated only by the shape of their noses.

War lasted more than a decade, culminating in at least 200,000 deaths, and forced more than 48,000 refugees into Tanzania, which hosts more refugees than any other country in Africa, according to the Central Intelligence Agency.

With only a small rolling, carry-on bag, Nkeshimana boarded an airplane in July and left loved-ones in the camps, which he likened to prisons.

"There's no freedom, you cannot go outside the camp. If you go outside the camp and police watch you, they take you and beat you and they put you in prison," Nkeshimana said. "There's no peace."

Nkeshimana now resides in a modest apartment in an old Eden Street building. Beyond the peeling paint, cracked tiles and mismatched curtains, he is living for the first time with snow outside and plumbing inside, in one of the world's richest countries.

"Yes, I like it here," he said.

But he's often tired from working long 12-hour shifts as a machine operator at Solo Cup that start at 6 p.m. and end at about 6 a.m. - for a salary that's usually around $275 per week.

It pays the bills, Nkeshimana said, and lets him buy 30 minute phone cards for $5 a piece so he can call his family and girlfriend in Africa. Phone contact is important but having family in America would be better. Nkeshimana's only family in town right now is an uncle.

Keeping families of refugees together is often a challenge because of slow processing times and difficulties communicating with authorities on the Tanzanian camps, said Ron Black, administrator of the College of Southern Idaho Refugee Center.

"We sent back a list of all the family members," Black said. "It's disorganized over there. We're not getting any feedback. We can't tell people here what the status of their family is there."

Further complicating reunions are the rules that only people living in camps can apply for refugee status, Black said. That chisels away at the possibility of Nkeshimana's mom and sisters joining him anytime soon.

Nkeshimana said he was pulled from a Tanzanian village when he was 10 and put onto a refugee camp with his brother and father. His mom and sisters, however, were forced to stay in the village and farm.

Visits are also unlikely. Refugees can apply for a travel document after they've been here for six months, but processing can take at least a year.

"If they leave the country without travel documents, they can't get back in," Black said.

It's also a long path to citizenship for refugees in America. After five years they can apply for permanent citizenship, and then they can sponsor immediate family members to come into the country, Black said.

The CSI Refugee Center is federally funded and helps establish refugees here by teaching English to adults, providing donated clothes and furniture, and making housing and job arrangements within six months.

About 26 refugees came to Twin Falls between October and January, and 13 more are scheduled to come in the next two weeks from Africa and Iran, said Black.

Andrea Gates can be reached at 735-3380 or Andrea.Gates@lee.net.

Want to help? The College of Southern Idaho Refugee Center accepts donated clothing and household items. Volunteers are also needed to teach English. For information: Shannon Palmer Stowe, 736-2166.