Settling in Canada was the best accident

The road to Canada was not smooth, Jean Razafindambo writes, but he has no regrets.

“What brought you to Canada, eh?”

That is not something I had been asked in a very long time. However, someone I met at a friend’s place not so long ago posed that question.

My long pause before answering made the person uneasy; a politically correct apology followed.

That was unnecessary. But it certainly is not easy to answer such a question from where I sit now, after more than 30 years in Canada.

I went for the short answer: “I arrived in Canada by accident; however, it is so far the best accident of my life.”

I was born in Madagascar. I left on July 14, 1984.

I was an established journalist, or like to think I was back then. But those were rainy days for freedom of speech in Madagascar, and I could not remain silent, despite institutionalized censorship. It was a good thing I left. Otherwise, I would have been locked up somewhere.

It is not an easy decision to leave one’s country. And I had to leave behind my wife and three children.

The road to Canada was not smooth. I stayed at a refugee camp in Lusaka, Zambia from September 1984 to April 1986. Zambia was no safe haven for me, because I spoke out about how international donations meant for refugees were diverted to other “priorities.” However, that somehow helped put my name on the shortlist for resettlement outside of Africa.

When I arrived in Canada, I knew very little about the country and its people. My focus was not on “what brought me to Canada,” but how to bring my family over.

I worked variously as a waiter at a Montreal bar, a film stripper at a screen print plant, a canvasser for a windows company, and emptied

She handed me all the money in her purse, a little over $25. I remember feeling deeply moved and thinking, ‘I must be arriving in the right country.’

garbage bags at the Ottawa airport, in addition to going back to school.

I have no regrets. Those years shaped who I am today.

I will never forget how my mother held me in her arms before I left Madagascar. I also will never forget how the immigration officer at Mirabel airport freaked out when she realized I had arrived with only carry-on luggage.

When she saw my immigration documents, she asked me to step aside and wait for my checked luggage. I told her I already had everything. She raised her hands in distress and looked at me in a way that reminded me of my mother worrying about me upon my departure. She handed me all the money in her purse, a little over $25. I remember feeling deeply moved and thinking, “I must be arriving in the right country.”

I wanted people to discover who I really am and I truly wanted to know who they were.

So I worked really hard, as everyone did. I did not complain about who I was before landing here by accident. I put all my efforts toward who I could become in this country.

My family finally arrived in Canada. After that, there was still no time to dwell on “what brought you to Canada, eh?”

We kept busy exploring possibilities rather than focusing on our limitations. I don’t know if there are still as many opportunities these days, but one thing I know is that people’s generosity has not decreased.

Canada still offers many opportunities. Most of the time we focus on issues rather than celebrating possibilities. Perfection is not of this world, but we have a country that is perfectible and the right mechanisms are in place for everyone to have a share of the Canadian dream.

I am retired from the federal public service now. My four children are young adults. Canada is the only country they know to be theirs, although they are aware of their Malagasy origins.

Nothing prepared my wife and I for this Canadian journey. We had to learn as we went. We still learn as we go, eh!