‘There are no barriers; you are like family’
The Morads, a refugee family the Star first met in Jordan, are now happily settling into Toronto
Ghader Bsmar has seen her first squirrel and sampled Quebec maple syrup. Her husband, Hamzeh Morad, has been behind the wheel of a Honda 2005 — albeit only on a Toronto side street. Their son Feras, 4, can count to 10 in English, and belt out the names of random vegetables.
“Tomato, tomato!” he says, before adding in Arabic: “There are no more monsters here in Canada, only toys.”
The Morad family, Syrians who fled the civil war, arrived in Toronto Dec. 21 from Amman, Jordan. Already, it feels like they’ve been here for months.
“When we left Jordan, we wanted to start a new chapter. We thought it would take a year to adjust,” said Ghader, 25, through a translator. “But I think things are going well. The people are so kind and already we feel we know them.”
The family was profiled in the Star in October, in a story about the mission to Jordan by the Office for Refugees, Archdiocese of Toronto, to select refugees for private sponsorship. The article prompted the interest of Ashley McCall, her husband, Chris Monahan, their two teenage children and several others. They were moved by the Morads’ resilience in the face of hardship, including the news that Feras had leukemia.
“Everyone in our group said: ‘How do you say no to that?’ ” recalls Monahan.
There are no guarantees refugees and their sponsors will get along, and both families feel fortunate they do. “We don’t feel like foreigners, thanks to them,” says Hamzeh, 32.
The Morads left Syria in November 2013, after Ghader’s younger brother was killed when he picked up a remote-controlled car with a bomb hidden in it.
In Lebanon, the family learned that Feras was ill, and so fled again to Jordan in search of treatment. Feras underwent a bone-marrow transplant, with his 6-year-old sister Hoda as the donor, at the Queen Rania military hospital.
McCall knew that the first priority once the family arrived was to get Feras checked by doctors. “Everyone has been worrying about it (Feras’ health) but not talking about it,” says Monahan, who credits Lifeline Syria and Ryerson University for assisting the group with everything from translators to a detailed binder in Arabic with information about Canada’s health system, education and employment.
Fortunately, the cancer specialist Feras has seen at the Hospital for Sick Children says he has recovered well. Feras drags visitors into the room he shares with his sister and throws around a bear, a Spiderman and other stuffed animals, before doing a somersault on his new bed.
He poses like a child star, hugging an oversized Sasquatch: “I’m going to be a detective.” His sister holds a pink Raggedy Ann doll she brought all the way from Syria.
“I love that the teacher takes care of me and we sit on the floor and play,” she says.
The children will have the easiest time adjusting, while their parents know they have to focus on learning English, finding jobs and adapting to a new culture. Hamzeh has taken a part-time job in a Syrian food shop, and he and his wife are enrolled in English class.
Like any monumental life transition, the journey has had its strange moments.
The frog on the Tetley tea carton made Hamzeh wonder: “Do they grind up frogs for a special kind of tea?” (No, it just signifies Rainforest Alliance Certified.)
A Google translation app came up with “slave market” for “child’s hospital” and “are you on fire?” for “are you happy?” Monahan laughingly recounts.
Then, there was the delicate issue of how McCall and Monahan would serve wine on Christmas Day without offending the Morads, whose children had never smelled alcohol. Luckily, the day was warm and guests enjoyed their drinks outside on the patio, away from prying young eyes.
Hamzeh also raised an eyebrow when he saw a photo of men and women swimming together at Regent Park’s beautiful pool; Monahan reassured him there are women-only swim times.
For all of his outsized charm, Feras is fearful to attend his junior kindergarten class alone, and clings to his mother.
The young couple is confident they can surmount these and other hurdles.
“I am so happy we have such a nice home,” says Ghader, looking around the two-bedroom flat, with its high ceilings, polished floors and bar stools.
A copy of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms sits on the mantelpiece in the front hall. Opposite, tacked to a wall, hangs a handmade Syrian purse in the colours of the flag: red, green and black.
Hamzeh, who owned a car dealership in Syria before it was destroyed in an airstrike, dreams of starting another business one day. But, for now, the family is grateful to be away from war, learning to ride the subway and to shop at No Frills.
“You have been so patient with us and so tolerant,” says Ghader to Monahan and McCall.
“There are no barriers,” adds Hamzeh. “You are like family.”
McCall, her eyes reddening with emotion, replies: “We feel lucky to have had this opportunity.”