HAPPY END TO ARDUOUS TALE
Nigerian students on track to graduate
Victoria Ordu could be forgiven for feeling angry and bitter about how Canadian authorities treated her and Favour Amadi.
Instead, Ordu is joyous — particularly when she talks about how she’ll walk across the stage at the Conexus Arts Centre on June 2 to receive her degree from University of Regina president Vianne Timmons — friend, protector and mentor.
“I just can’t wait for that day!” Ordu says. “That’s the moment I’ve waited for, for a very long time ... I thought I’d never witness it, but it’s coming to pass. I’m excited.”
At the convocation ceremony, the 23-year-old will receive a health studies certificate and bachelor of fine arts degree.
Her cheering section will include Kay Adebogun, a Regina immigration consultant who took on the young women’s case pro bono and worked tirelessly on their behalf until their victorious return to Regina.
Graduating from the U of R seemed unlikely in Ordu and Amadi’s darkest days, which began in 2011 when they took part-time, off-campus jobs to help with their expenses.
Unwittingly, the Nigerian students ran afoul of immigration rules.
As part of their visas, international students could work only on campus.
In Canada on full scholarships paid for by the Nigerian government, Ordu and Amadi went to Service Canada and got social insurance numbers when they arrived in Canada.
They worked at the university until Amadi found a part-time job at Walmart and Ordu at an agency that did demonstrations at the store. Both believed their SINs let them work outside the U of R.
Ordu quit after two weeks — as soon as she found out that wasn’t the case.
Amadi discovered her mistake during her second week on the job when, to her humiliation, she was led away from her till in handcuffs by two agents of the Canada Border Services Agency (CBSA).
After the CBSA issued deportation orders, the women sought sanctuary in a Regina church on June 19, 2012. They hoped their deportation order would be overturned quickly.
Instead, for 486 days they lived in fear that CBSA agents would find them. With support from people in the community, they moved from church to church to church — a half-dozen in all — to avoid deportation.
On Oct. 29, 2012, gatherings were held in support of Ordu and Amadi in Regina, Saskatoon and Ottawa.
Members of the Anglican Church of the Redeemer hosted a rally on Aug. 11, 2013, in support of Ordu and Amadi. The next day, about 50 people gathered in Victoria Park, carrying placards and chanting “Let them stay!” as they marched to a federal building.
Also taking up their cause were U of R social work student Paige Kezima and justice studies professor Michelle Stewart. They and other U of R supporters vowed they’d carry on the fight until the “right outcome” was reached.
Despite the support, Ordu and Amadi were worn out from fighting the deportation order and gave up their bid to stay in Canada. On Oct. 18, 2013, they headed home to Nigeria, where they waited to see if their new applications to study again at the U of R would be accepted.
Had she not voluntarily left Canada, Ordu would have graduated in 2014.
“I felt like it was the end of the world,” she says.
“I didn’t know what would become of my university education knowing that I’d already done three years of education and then I went back with nothing — it was heartbreaking for me. Looking back now, I thank God for the support.”
Throughout the ordeal, protests supporting Ordu and Amadi were held and more than 1,000 people signed a petition sent to Jason Kenney, then the minister of immigration, and Vic Toews, minister of public safety at the time.
There was little response from either minister. Kenney deferred the matter to Toews, and an emailed statement from Toews’ office indicated the CBSA wasn’t willing to budge on the issue.
Timmons penned letters to several federal ministers, but received no answer. In frustration, she wrote to then prime minister Stephen Harper, who referred her back to the ministers she’d originally contacted. Again, no response.
“I had hoped there would be some compassion,” she said at the time.
Students, faculty, the Saskatchewan Party and Ralph Goodale, Liberal MP for Wascana at the time, also lobbied Ottawa — to no avail.
“It’s a circumstance and a situation that has been not a great model of common sense or goodwill or compassion,” Goodale said in October 2013.
Unable to return to classes at the University of Regina and uncertain of their fate, Ordu and Amadi emailed Timmons and told her they were going home.
“As long as they have an interest in coming back, they have me as an advocate,” Timmons said at the time.
While lobbying for the students, Timmons thought back to when she was an 18-year-old attending university.
“I didn’t understand the processes and was overwhelmed because I came from a small mining town in Labrador,” Timmons says during a recent interview. “Even though I went to a small university, there were all of these regulations and I had no money myself. My dad was a miner and there was six of us (born) in eight years.
“As a young girl, I know I would have made those mistakes.”
When Ordu and Amadi stepped off the plane at Regina’s airport on June 7, 2014, Timmons was at the head of the crowd of supporters who gathered to give them a hero’s welcome.
With tears of elation, Timmons hugged and kissed Ordu and Amadi and said: “You’re back! You’re back!”
Ordu was overwhelmed by the reception awaiting her and Amadi.
“I thought I’d come back silently and go back to school,” Ordu says.
The swell of support the young women received “kept hope alive for me,” Ordu says. “To know that people who didn’t know so much about me cared about my circumstance, my situation — the support was amazing. It was unbelievable.”
Timmons continues to be impressed by “these two amazing women.”
“They threw themselves into their studies, but even more impressive for me, they got so engaged on the campus,” she says.
Amadi is in her final year of university, majoring in International Studies. She volunteers at UR International, working as a peer adviser to fellow international students. After graduation, she intends to use her education to work internationally.
Also a peer adviser with UR International, Ordu helps students transition to university life. Her calendar is full as she juggles classes with volunteering with the Regina Open Door Society, St. John Ambulance and World University Services of Canada, where she supports refugee students who have come from wartorn countries.
“I wanted to get my place back, get that sense of belonging back and make friends who are from different countries,” Ordu says.
In her spare time, she founded a multicultural dance and fitness club out of her passion for community, arts, culture, dance, theatre and health.
“I love to dance and express my African culture ... We have participants from different countries and we learn different dance styles,” Ordu says. “It promotes diversity and multiculturalism.”
Additionally, she works part time for an immigration consultant — a job she admits is not easy.
“I’ve always been passionate about helping people and I love learning about different cultures,” Ordu says.
While her life is busy, Ordu believes “there’s always time for the service of others. Looking back at my experience — being someone who had to be supported — I felt I have so much more to give back to the community, which is why I got really, really involved.”
Next on her horizon is pursuing a master’s degree in social work — possibly at the U of R— a place she considers home.
“It’s like an extended family,” Ordu says.
She hasn’t forgotten the visits from Timmons to her and Amadi while they were hiding in Regina churches and her ongoing support.
“She’s always checking up on me ... She is my mom here.”
As for her Nigerian mother, Ordu says she was devastated by her experience.
“It was very heartbreaking for her,” she says.
When she and Amadi were hiding in churches, Ordu called her mother to tell her she was OK, but deep down she wasn’t.
“My dad would say, ‘You have to be a strong girl!’ I think I got that from my dad,” Ordu says.
For her part, Timmons believes the women were unjustly treated.
“I felt that for two young women — in particular, women from Nigeria who took the initiative to get work, even though they didn’t follow the rules, I thought that the punishment did not suit the crime,” she says.
Timmons was passionate in her defence of the young women.
“What made me most passionate is that I know, for these two young women, education is going to be critical. Not just for them, but for their children and their children’s children,” she says. “Education is a game-changer for so many people as it was for me as a young woman.”
Timmons worked through her own undergraduate years.
“It was so critical for me to get a job to help me through so I could empathize for these two young women who were trying to better themselves,” she says. “How is getting a job a crime?”
Over the years, the university president has learned a number of lessons from Ordu and Amadi — including resiliency and perseverance.
“When they ended up getting deported, I did not believe for a minute they would come back,” Timmons says. “Even though I advocated for them and tried to support them, I honestly did not believe they would return. Why would they come back? They would have other opportunities to go to universities in other countries.”
Although both women are thriving at the U of R and in the wider community, Timmons is still riled about how they were treated.
“I think we punished two young women who were trying to get an education and who, because of their resiliency, took that punishment and made it an opportunity,” she says.
Timmons continues to be amazed that neither woman has expressed anger or bitterness about what happened to them.
“They came back and proved to the Canadian government that they were worthy of being here,” she says.
She noted the regulations that resulted in the Nigerian students’ deportation were changed the January before the young women returned to Regina.
“I believe these two young women changed the experiences for so many international students who don’t have to get a work permit to work,” Timmons says. “I don’t think they’ll get the acknowledgment for that, but I believe they were instrumental in that government change.”
She tears up as she recalls the struggle it took for Ordu and Amadi to pursue their goal of higher education.
She, too, is eager for graduation day when she will hand Ordu her degree, but adds: “I just hope I can stay composed.”
The icing on the cake for Ordu is that she will graduate during her birthday month — a time of celebration.
“I grew up believing that fear only takes you away from your chances of winning,” she says. “I like to think of myself as a conqueror in any situation — that’s what keeps me going.”
“To know that people who didn’t know so much about me cared about my circumstance ... the support was amazing.”