1951 Coffee Company opened with an objective: assist refugees resettling in the Bay Area. Then it found a calling.

The nonprofit Berkeley cafe trains and hires a staff of refugees, asylum seekers and special immigration visa holders. The shop, which opened in late January, is also designed as an education space, teaching the uninitiated about the complicated process of refugee resettlement.

Then, less than a week after the first cold brew slid across 1951’s counters, President Trump approved an executive order temporarily barring refugees and immigrants from entering the country. The sweeping legislation, currently destined for the U.S. Court of Appeals, dramatically modified U.S. immigration policy and focused on seven Muslim-majority countries.

1951 Coffee Company is named for the year when the United Nations defined guidelines protecting refugees, and it employs baristas from Nepal, Uganda, Syria, Eritrea, Afghanistan, Iran and Bhutan. Trump’s executive order hit home for the coffee shop and its 10 employees, four of whom have families in the isolated countries.

“There was no way we could have planned the timing of our opening like this,” said Rachel Taber, who owns the cafe with co-founder Doug Hewitt. The pair came up with the concept about two years ago while working at the International Rescue Committee, an Oakland nonprofit.

The hourly wage for the cafe’s employees is around $13 per hour — slightly more than the $12.53 Berkeley minimum wage — plus benefits and tips. But at the core of the shop’s functionality is a two-week barista training program. As of January, the program had 26 graduates and all were able to work at the Berkeley cafe. Taber and Hewitt said they hope to re-create the 1951 model across the country in other cities with robust coffee cultures.

Over the past week, 1951’s employees have tried to make sense of the order during their free time — lunch breaks, lulls in the morning rush. “There are a lot of unknowns, and the unknowns can cause stress,” Taber said.

“Some of the people that moved from those countries that are having refugee problems, they’ve cried. They feel bad,” said newly trained barista Nazira Babori.

Babori, 27, started this job only a few weeks after fleeing Afghanistan for safety reasons. She has an MBA and speaks French, Persian and improving English. She’s a practicing Muslim, in the U.S. under a special immigration visa for her work with the United Nations in Kabul.

According to the California Department of Social Services, 187 refugees resettled in Alameda County from October 2015 to September 2016. In that same window, about 342 special immigration visa holders arrived in Alameda County, who, like Babori, assisted or were employed by the U.S. government in Afghanistan or Iraq.

Babori said the unpredictability in American politics right now is worrisome, and the travel ban’s religious undertones are especially disconcerting.

“We faced bad problems before — that’s why we left the country, because of religion and politics issues. Here, this is affecting our lives and our minds again,” she said.

Hewitt said that for most of the employees, the executive order and its fallout were their first brushes not only with American politics but also with the country’s new administration.

“They’re looking at us to tell them what’s going on, and to be honest, we’re not sure,” Hewitt said. “How far will this go? Is this only temporary? They have lots of questions.”

Taber and Hewitt’s mission is to help Babori and her co-workers adjust to an unsettling political and cultural landscape. With so much social turmoil, the job has become a welcome distraction for the employees, Hewitt said.

On a recent Friday morning, the cafe was busy, with a steady stream of customers angling for seats at the tables and couches. Among the customers was Oakland’s Kimberley Hutter, 25, who ordered a chai latte, made by Babori.

Hutter knew about the cafe because she works with organizations centered on refugee and immigration issues. She pointed out that even though the cafe is well-positioned to promote discussion and awareness, the product is also worth a visit, especially since the drinks are produced by people who are still adjusting to life in a new country.

“You don’t have to only care about the issues to come,” Hutter said. “You have to care about the coffee first, and a lot of people do, so you just come and have good coffee — and you can learn something.”

After pausing for a second, she added: “And this chai latte is amazing.”

Taber and Hewitt planned for 1951 to be, in part, a place where the public could learn about refugee resettlement. The travel ban and its subsequent fallout gave the shop a larger purpose: to serve as a safe space for its employees.

“We’ve only really been together for a few weeks, but it feels like a family,” Babori said. “We can support each other here when we need it most.”

Justin Phillips is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: jphillips@sfchronicle.com