Burundian refugees grow more than veggies -- they grow in confidence

Thwack, thwack, thwack. The sound of a hoe hitting the earth breaks the silence of a cold, crisp Atlanta early spring morning.

Wearing a brightly colored, tribal patterned piece of material as a skirt over her pants, Halieth Hatungimana works hard turning the soil over in preparation for seeds. Her worn hands grip the hoe with ease, the thwacking noise rhythmic. Slowly, other women start to join her. They're bundled up against the cold but still make a point to sing out to each other in greeting. A child's runny nose is tended to and then he's left to play.