Waiting to live again: the realities of refugees in limbo

Canada is a wonderful country. Our international image of being compassionate and humanitarian is well known. For a couple of years we even made it to the top of the United Nation’s list of the best place to live. But before we get carried away and congratulate ourselves, let’s consider a few key facts.

Imagine you (a physician) and your wife (a high school teacher) went to work one day and your three children went to school, as always. You learn that war has broken out. You try to call your wife but the phones are down. You run to your children’s school and find two of them; you can’t find the third. You hope that she is somewhere safe. You escape with the two children. The journey to a safe place is long, dangerous and you are exhausted and hungry. Luckily, you and your two children make it to a safe country where you find your wife. You still don’t know whether your third child or other siblings are dead or alive. Although you lost everything --your home, possessions, security, and loved ones -- you are thankful that the four of you have survived.

Through your ingeniousness you made it to a "safe haven" as a refugee. You think, at least we lived where many have died or were tortured. You still miss your daughter, but you hope and pray she is alive and think that as soon as you get your papers, you will be reunited. You are sad about the events in your country that led you to be here, but are hopeful about the future.

You start trying to make a new life and "get documented." You go through the immigration process, still thinking that things should be just fine. Once you get your papers, you will start making a life for yourself and your family. You and your wife will get jobs in your professions, your children will go to school, you will be settled, will find your daughter and sponsor her.

However, things are not that simple. Everywhere you go people treat you like a case, not a person. Because you do not speak the language you are considered ignorant. You wonder: don’t people know that English is not the only language in the world? Besides, I am a professional and have many skills that can contribute to the country. But you find out that those skills are worth nothing here. Your social and historical past is obliterated. You are now a "refugee." That is all you are allowed to be. You are lumped in with people with whom you rarely have anything in common. You are homogenized. You find that everywhere you go people analyse you through the problems you are facing, not who you really are.

Being pragmatic, you hide your pain and think, I do not care what people say. If I work hard I will find the right jobs and be able to make a life here. Unfortunately, it is not that simple. When you apply for landed status at the immigration office, they ask you for an identity document. You think this is very insensitive of the immigration officer. Does he not know that we could not obtain any documents because we ran for our lives and cannot get any now because the infrastructure in our homeland has collapsed? Besides, was I not recognised to be who I am just a little while ago when I was given Convention refugee papers? All these do not really matter. You are in limbo. You cannot sponsor your daughter, who is now in a refugee camp somewhere. Your other children here have finished high school but cannot receive student loans as Convention refugees. You would have paid for their tuition if you and your wife had good jobs but both of you have dead-end jobs and barely make ends meet…

The above scenario sounds extraordinary but it is the everyday reality of thousands of refugees we welcome into our country. Refugees are often forced out of their country by circumstances beyond their control. However, many would like to call Canada home if given the chance. It is the responsibility of all Canadians to make the policy, service delivery and social processes smoother to allow refugees to contribute meaningfully to their new homes.

Our immigration policies are in great need of reforms. Our service delivery could be more sensitive to the needs of refugees. As a society, we could be more humane in our day-to-day interactions with refugees. By treating refugees like an underclass of society we are denying Canada the opportunity to harness their great potential.

If I seem to come down so hard on Canada, it is because I think we can do much better. And to use author James Baldwin’s words, "I love this country; that is why I critique it so much."

the Catalyst, Volume 24, #5, October/November 2001