My Ordeal in Canada

By Abraham Bekit

My Ordeal in Canada is a narration of my tragic plight as a black man in Canada. I have been incarcerated five times by the police force and for no valid reasons whatsoever. I was also condemned to a psychiatric facility, admitted forcibly, without my consents and in violation of my rights as a Canadian citizen.
Since I came to Canada in 1985 I have been subjected to many denials and deprivations by the prejudiced Canadian justice system which I have enumerated in my book in greater details. Since 2005 I experienced a number of discriminatory impediments imposed on me by the systemic racism that is prevalent in the Canadian justice system. I was prohibited from having access to my children for a total of more than ten years even though I committed no offense against any of them whatsoever. The Toronto police and the justice system treat black men like myself differently and impose their racially biased verdicts without any repercussions.
This book highlights the various racist ordeals I was subjected to especially by the police and the Canadian justice system and by my employers. My deplorable and dismal predicaments, however, are not unique to me alone. They are paramount manifestations of the pathetic and pitiful trends and discriminations black men especially have to endure in racially biased Canada. It is my hope that by writing my story and experiences in Toronto I will influence and bring the required changes and to highlight the discrepancies customary and prevailing in the Toronto police and the Canadian justice system. I feel that I have a story to tell that will make Canada a better place to live in for all its citizens when the required changes are instituted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984592309

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I came to Canada on Friday the 13 th 1990. I was not too excited and was sad that I left Nigeria where I resided as a refugee for more than ten years. I was particularly disappointed in the manner I was booted out of the country. I was deported. Luckily, I had already attained a Landed Immigrant status to migrate to Canada when my deportation order was issued by the Ministry of Internal Affairs and signed by Magoro himself who was then the minister of internal affairs. I still have no clue why I was designated to be deported even though I had enrolled and served a one year national service which was exclusively an obligation for Nigerian citizens only. But my desire to ultimately apply for Nigerian citizenship prompted me to enroll in the Nigerian Youth Service Corps (NYSC) and served for one year period at Onitsha, Anambra State.

I completed my undergraduate education at Polytechnic from 1977 to 1982 and obtained Higher National Diploma (HND) at the end of my tenure. After the completion of the one-year NYSC service I gained employment with the Nigerian Telecommunication (NT) in 1983 and worked there until I departed Nigeria and arrived in Toronto, Canada. I was designated as a Higher Technical Officer (HTO) at NT and was receiving a salary of lever-eight in the hierarchical structure of employment. However, my salary hardly covered my immediate needs and hence, was totally broke before the end of each month.

One day the UNHCR coordinator, Ms. Kirango, asked me if I desired to immigrate to Canada. I reluctantly agree to apply just to appease her. Hence, she provided me with and asked me to fill a set of forms. To my surprise and shortly after my application was handed over to the Canadian High Commissioner’s office in Lagos I was asked to make myself available for medical test which I complied with promptly. As a result, I informed my manager at NT, Mr. Folorunsho, of my intention to migrate to Canada. And to my surprise he persistently pleaded with my not to make such a mistake. I was in Canada for many years. Despite my educational qualifications all I could become was a taxi driver Mr. Folorunsho warned me.

But Mr. Folorunsho my salary is hardly enough to last me for a month. I could not rent even a room and I am living at the YMCA cramped with three others in a room. I am living a miserable life. Life can’t be worse in Canada, I protested.

Mr. Bekit, Canada is a racist country. You will be discriminated against because of the color of your skin. No company employs a black man. I lived it for many years and all I could become was a taxi driver, my manager pleaded with me passionately to change my mind.

Mr. Folounsho, I don’t see any future in Nigeria. All I could earn is level-eight salary with my qualification. I hate to leave Nigeria but circumstances are forcing me to do so. Besides, I am not sure if they will accept me to migrate to Canada. I just applied for the sake of doing so, I confessed.

Mr. Bekit, why do you want to go to a country that looks down upon black people? You are proudly living as a black man in Nigeria. In Canada, the white people will make you hate yourself as a black man. They will make you feel inferior to them. Canada is a racist country that has no place for black people. You will be dejected as a black man. I am just warning you not to make the mistake I made, my manager still persisted.

I get your point Mr. Folorunsho. I am in a state of confusion at the moment. Deep inside my heart I don’t want to leave Nigeria and want to apply for Nigerian citizenship, I said.

You can apply for government housing unit. You served NYSC and you are as eligible as a Nigerian citizen. You should forget about Canada if you would listen to a brotherly advice, Mr. Folorunsho stressed his warning.

I followed Mr. Folorunsho’s advice and applied for a government housing unit. And the response I got was positive. And while I waited for the allocation of a housing unit my colleague at Polytechnic offered me a place to live in. I met my friend Isimbabi in Lagos and he once came to visit me at the YMCA and was saddened by my situation. He spoke to his cousin, Chief Omaki, who was an employee of the Ministry of External Affairs and lived in a large housing unit at Ikoyi. They both invited me to live with them which I gladly accepted and hence had a room at the servant’s quarters of their home. That was a big relief and as a result my expenses were reduced and my salary was sufficient enough to sustain me and even had a few nairas to spare at the end of every month.

Shortly after that I went to the immigration office to renew my residence permit which was about to expire. The immigration officer took my passport and went into an inner office to consult with his superior. He returned brandishing my passport and holding a file and said, Mr. Bekit the Nigerian Security Organization (NSO) has been looking for you for the past three months and could not locate you.

I work at NET and could have found me there. Why were they looking for me? My residence permit is still valid and has not expired. I said in surprise.

God placed you in our hands today. You came by yourself into our custody. You have been declared persona non grata and you are to be deported to Ethiopia upon sight. That is what the order I have before me says, the immigration officer stated pointing to the file before him.

What does persona non grata mean? Why should I be deported to Ethiopia? I am a refugee under the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. As you can see I have a United Nations Convention passport. You can’t deport me to Ethiopia, I protested.

Persona non grata means that you are not wanted in Nigeria. You must be removed from Nigerian immediately. I am just revealing to you what is written in this file. You must be deported to Ethiopia immediately. We shall book a flight for you at once, the immigration officer explained to me.

The immigration officer called security officers to arrest me and I was immediately handcuffed and they threw me into a police vehicle and I was transported to a detention center at the NSO headquarters. I was locked up in a very dark hall along with other detainees that were awaiting deportation like me.

The next day, an NSO officer called Moses interrogated me extensively and I replied to his questions honestly. After listening to me for sometime he shook his head and said, I have never seen such a deportation order and I have deported many people who had committed various offences. Your file contains no accusations. I don’t even know why you are being deported. Did you ever offend a high raking Nigerian? the NSO officer lamented.

Moses, you can’t deport me to Ethiopia. I am an Eritrean and I am an advocate for Eritrean independence in Nigeria. I am seen as an enemy by the Ethiopian ambassador in Nigeria and by the Ethiopian government. If you deport me to Ethiopia I will be shot dead right at the airport in Addis Ababa. I pleaded passionately.

Mr. Bekit, you have been in Nigeria for more than ten years and you served our nation. You participated in NYSC. You are almost a Nigerian. You speak perfect Pidgin English like any Nigerian. I am sad with your situation. I don’t know how I can help you but I will try, he expressed his anguish.

Moses, I have already been accepted by the Canadian Government to migrate to their country. I have done the interview and am just waiting for my ticket to travel to Toronto, Canada. You can verify that from the Canadian High Commissioner. You don’t have to buy me a ticket. They will pay for my ticket to travel to Canada, I continued to plead with Moses.

Unfortunately, we have already purchased the ticket. You will be deported tomorrow morning. You asked me to let you appeal to Magoro directly but they have rejected your appeal. I tried to connect you with the minister but my request was denied, Moses informed me. Magoro’s office was at the secretariat, just a few blocks from the detention center.

Moses, you might as well kill me yourselves. If I am deported to Ethiopia I am as good as a dead man. I am known as the archenemy of Ethiopia. I will not survive even one day in Ethiopia, I continued to protest and I ask for leniency.

I understand your situation. We tried to deport an Eritrean before and he committed suicide at the Muritala Mohammed Airport. He hanged himself. I know your situation perfectly well. I will see what I can do for you but it is not a promise, Moses assured me and gave me a glimpse of hope. However, the next day the deportation order proceeded as scheduled and I was ordered to be transported to the airport immediately.

Mr. Bekit, I tried my best to delay your deportation but was not successful. They did not believe me when I told them that you are supposed to leave for Canada soon, Moses, the NSO officer revealed his frustration.

Moses, I am done. I am as good as dead. You are sending me to an imminent death sentence. I will not survive even for a day if I am deported to Ethiopia, I pleaded fervently.

Mr. Bekit, I could only do one thing to help you to delay your departure to Ethiopia. On the way to the airport we shall take the longest route to get there. Your flight is scheduled for 10; 30 AM. I will make sure we get there a few minutes before the departure time so that you will miss your flight. That is all I can do for you. When you get to the airport do everything possible to avert your deportation. Maybe you should pretend that you have a stroke and faint or something like that. All you need is ten or fifteen minutes delay to miss your flight, Moses advised me.

I understand Moses. I am totally confused and in panic. I am not even thinking right. All that is in my mind is a picture of me being shot in Ethiopia, I confessed my sorry dilemma.

As promised Moses avoided Ikorodu Road and took the longest route to the airport. We eventually got to the airport at 10:20 AM. Much to my surprise the military commandant that was waiting for our arrival at the airport lashed Moses with a whip and Moses moaned in pain. Why are you so late? You should have brought him an hour ago you worthless idiot, the military officer insulted Moses.

Sir, we had car problem on our way. That is why we are late, Moses tried to explain to the officer.

I was immediately whisked to the airport commandant who was already reviewing my file. He asked me to sit down as he read the deportation order. Eventually, he looked at me and said, Mr. Bekit, I reviewed your file to see if there is any possibility for reconsideration but the order is signed by General Magoro, the minister of internal affairs. It is beyond my powers and control.

Bur sir, I am a refugee and under the protection of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, the UNHCR. You cannot send me to my country of origin without my consent and without the consent of UNHCR. That is the requirement of the Geneva Convention. I will definitely be killed if I am deported to Ethiopia. It is against international law to deport me back to Ethiopia. I am an Eritrean and my country is at war with Ethiopia, I protested vehemently and spent a few minutes arguing my case to no avail.

I sympathize with your predicament, Mr. Bekit. I don’t know what offences you committed by your deportation order was signed by the minister. That is unusual. Rarely do I see General Magoro signing deportation orders, the light skinned Hausa commandant expressed his sympathy and helplessness.

Sir, the plane is about to depart, one of the officers warned the commandant. However, the Hausa commandant seemed to ignore him as if he wanted me to miss my flight. He continued to interrogate me. Eventually, he let me go wishing me good luck.

The airport military security officers led me to a room and gave me a form to fill. I took ample time to read the content of the form and filled it as slow as I could. Eventually, the security officers were impatient and said, Just sign here. That is all that is required of you. We shall fill the rest.

But officer, I will not sign a document without understanding its content and what I am endorsing, I protested. However, one of the officers snatched the form and said, I don’t care if you sign it or not. Take him to the plane. It is about to depart. Get up, the officer ordered me.

I entered the departure hall flanked by two security officers. I looked at my time and it was 10:47 AM. Suddenly I freed myself from the grips of the military officers and run to the opposite direction. The officers pursued me supported by other airport security personnel and there was a commotion in the departure hall for a while. Eventually, they cornered me and I found myself flat on my face. They handcuffed my hands behind my back but I refused to stand up and remained on the ground. The muscular military officers lifted the skinny person that I was and dragged me across the departure hall while I still continued resisting. Ultimately we entered the tube leading to the entrance of the plane and we watched my plane taxing on the tarmac. The officers were angry at me and rained insults at me for resisting my deportation. You love Nigeria and you don’t want to leave our country. We will deport you in the next flight. You are not wanted in Nigeria, the officers threatened disgusted by my defiance.

While the security officers were scrambling and making frantic efforts to book me in another flight and still persistent to deport me to Ethiopia I saw Mr. Kagame, one of the UNHCR representatives to Nigeria entering the departure hall along with his two daughters. I was very excited and assumed that he was at the airport to save from being deported to Ethiopia. I approached him and said, "Mr. Kagame, they are trying to deport me to Ethiopia in contravention of the Geneva Convention on refugees. Lord, I am glad to see you.

Mr. Bekit, Nigerians have the right to keep those they want to keep in their country and reject those they don’t want. It is their country. There is nothing we could do about it, Mr. Kagame said much to my shock.

But Mr. Kagame, I am a refugee under the protection of the UNHCH. It is your duty to protect me from being deported to Ethiopia. My life is in danger. I will get killed if I am deported to Ethiopia. You have to do something about it, I complained bitterly for his intervention.

Mr. Bekit, I am on my way to Uganda with my two daughters. I have a flight to catch. I wish you good luck. There is nothing I could do for you, said Mr. Kagame and he entered the departure hall leaving me totally dazed and totally stunned. I couldn’t believe at his audacity to leave me at the mercy of the heartless airport military security officers who were determined to see me deported to Ethiopia. Soon one of the security officers came to me and said, there is a flight to Ethiopia this evening. We shall book you on Ethiopian Airline which will arrive at 11:00 PM.

I finally realized that I was doomed. Even the UNHCH high commissioner condemned me to be deported to Ethiopia. My stomach churned continually and I was in a total state of shock and my heart raced fast and I was totally astounded with fear and sheer panic. While I sat waiting for my departure to Ethiopia I went into deep prayers and pleaded for God’s divine interventions. I was praying for a miracle to take place and hoping that God would haul me to a safer place. While immersed in my intense prayers I heard the voice of the Lord telling me, you are my own and I shall protect you. Fear not for I am with you. Nothing of harm will reach you. I believed the word of the Lord and took solace in his assurances but couldn’t figure out of a way that would spare me from my prevailing predicament. Then something happened that totally reversed my predestined fate.

A couple of hours after my imminent deportation to Ethiopia was averted I saw a plump lady walking towards me in very quick strides. As she came nearer I realized that she was Ms. Kirango, the Kenyan lady at the office of the UNHCH. When she saw me she said, thank God I found you and you were not deported. She quickly asked the officer that was guarding me to take her to the airport commandant but the officer was reluctant to do so.

Madame, Mr. Bekit is awaiting to be deported on the next flight. He is not wanted in Nigeria. That is the order, the officer responded to Ms. Kirango’s query.

To hell with your country! You are a lawless country with no regard to international law. Mr. Bekit is a refugee under the protection of UNHCR. You cannot deport him to his country without his consent and without informing the UNHCH office. He is protected by the Geneva Convention of which Nigeria is a signatory. You have no right to deport him to his country of origin. That is a violation of international law, Ms. Kirango yelled at the officer in furry.

Madame, I am just doing my job. I did not write the deportation order. I am just following what I was instructed to do. You should speak to my boss if you want. I have nothing to do with his deportation order. Don’t blame me, the security officer condescended seeing the anger in Ms. Kirango’s voice.

Ms. Kirango went in and consulted with the airport security commandant. I waited patiently and anticipated a more positive result. After a while she came out and told me, they have agreed to let you stay in Nigeria for two weeks until your departure to Canada. I will work with the Canadian High Commission to ensure that you depart within that period of time. They refused to let you out of their detention however and to release you into our custody. But all shall be well. You shall not be in detention for too long.

I went back to the detention center at Alagbon Close and on the next day Moses and another officer escorted me to the Canadian High Commission to verify if I was indeed accepted to migrate to Canada and what they heard shocked them. The immigration officer at the Canadian High Commission was visibly appalled by what they did to me when he learnt of my attempted deportation to Ethiopia. Tell your boss that Mr. Bekit is a Canadian and if any harm reaches him intentionally or accidently the Canadian government will hold the Nigerian government responsible. Mr. Bekit will depart for Canada within two weeks and you should protect him with your lives, the consular official stated his warning with strong terms. When I heard the white Canadian vouching for my safety and security in such a stern manner I couldn’t help it and I wept profusely. I couldn’t believe that my black brothers were determined to despatch me to my imminent death while a white man was so vigorous and fervent to protect and safeguard my life.

When we returned to the detention center Moses reported to his boss and said, Oga, we better protect Mr. Bekit with our lives. If anything bad happens to him even by accident Canada will bomb Nigeria. The embassy assured us that Mr. Bekit will leave for Canada within two weeks. That has been confirmed.

Days after that I was provided with my Landed Immigrant documents and my plane ticket and departed the country that I loved for a total of more than fifteen years. My sister Rachel and my brother, Kibrom, met me at Amsterdam where I took a transit plane to Toronto, Canada. And that is how I found myself in Canada. My arduous last days experiences, however, were etched in my memory. The indelible traumas that I went through would haunt me for the rest of my life and until now.

When I arrived in Toronto, I was not impressed by my first glimpse of the airport. I was led to an immigration officer who welcomed me and a few other immigrants that arrived with me very politely. He greeted us by saying, welcome to Canada, your new home. I was surprised how terminal-two of the airport looked so old and dilapidated in comparison with Muritala Mohammed airport in Lagos which was a modern exquisitely built airport. From the airport I was taken to a building that was housing new immigrants and I shared a one-bedroom apartment with another immigrant. I had the bedroom while my Sudanese companion slept in the living room.

I became acquainted with some of the new immigrants which also included some Eritreans. Next to my apartment were two Iraqi immigrant brothers who quickly attached themselves to me. We often met and discussed various topics mostly related to our new home, Canada. One day, Mahmoud, the eldest brother, shocked me when he said in his poor English, Canada is a racist country. We are going to find it difficult to fit in. It is a white man’s country and they don’t treat immigrants from third-world countries very well.

What makes you think so? You just arrived in Canada, I questioned him in surprise.

I know so much about Canada. Many of my relatives came to Canada and had to migrate to America because they couldn’t make it in Canada. Trust me this country is not a good place to live in. They don’t treat immigrants with respect, Mahmoud tried to convince me.

America! Why would they go to America? America is the most racist country in the world. I know so much about America. They treat blacks like dirt. I wouldn’t migrate to America even if they pay me a million dollars. I don’t think Canada is as bad as you make it to be. You have to go to America if you want to see real racism, I protested in disagreement.

Abraham, I have many family members in Dearborn in America. There is a huge Iraqi community there. My family members own shops and other businesses there. I and my brother will go to America as soon as we get our Canadian citizenship in three years. We will not stay in Canada even for a day after that. We will prosper in America, he continued to praise America speaking mostly in Arabic and sometimes adding in his poor English. Mahmoud’s younger brother spoke virtually no English and was a quiet boy and said nothing. Only Mahmoud spoke for most of our discussions.

Abraham, the reason why I am prompted to leave Canada is because we came to this country on a bad day. You, I and my brother came to Canada on Friday the 13th which is an evil day. It means we shall not enjoy our stay in Canada, Mahmoud spoke attempting to convince me.

I don’t get it. Why is Friday the 13th an evil day? How did you get to that conclusion, I inquired from Mahmoud.

Trust me everyone knows that Friday the 13th is a bad day. All the evil things happen on Friday the 13th of the month. Check all the elevators in Canada and they don’t have 13th floor in all their buildings because no one will live on such floor. We came to Canada on the wrong date and our stay in the country will not be pleasant. We shall experience a lot of difficulties. That is why I will leave with my brother to immigrate to America, Mahmoud explained much to my scepticism.

Mahmoud, it is pure superstition and has no validity. How could you believe such nonsense? You told me that you are a Christian and where do you see such stupidity in the bible? By the way you said you are a Christian and Iraqi. I thought all Iraqis are Moslems. You can’t be an Iraqi and a Christian. I visited Iraq in 1977 and I know that they are all Moslems, I queried Mahmoud.

Who told you all Iraqis are Moslems? There are Chaldean Christians in Iraq, probably the oldest Christian church in the world. I am telling you Abraham it is a bad omen that we came to Canada on Friday the 13th of the month. Bad day and evil day, Mahmoud continued to stress his weird message to me.

I didn’t know we could become full Canadian citizens in just three years of residence in Canada. It is ten years in Nigeria, I commented still pondering on what Mahmoud was trying to convey to me. He however continued repeatedly emphasizing his points attempting to convince me.

You see, you don’t know much about Canada. I know a lot about this country. We will have landed immigrant status for three years and then apply for citizenship after that. If you want to join me I will ask my uncle to help you in America. You could also have business just like me. My uncle has promised me that he will open a shop for me and I will have my own business. He is doing very well in America, Mahmoud enticed me to join him move to America.

No thanks Mahmoud. I have heard enough of America. As a black man I think I am better off staying in Canada. Blacks are still being discriminated against in America centuries after the end of slavery. Maybe it is okay for Iraqis but certainly not for blacks. I would rather take my chances in Canada, I rejected Mahmoud’s offer.

Mahmoud continued to remind me often that our arrival to Canada was marred by the evil day we landed in Canada. I jokingly dismissed his conjectures and tried to write off his absurd suppositions. My mind was however engulfed with persistent thoughts and imagined of various approaches to integrate myself into the Canadian society. I cared less of the date I came to Canada and was determined to make the best of my new home and consistently ignored Mahmoud’s warnings.

I was particularly impressed by the subways system and I frequently went for a ride to the different stations and became well acquainted with Toronto within a very short period of time. I had a metro pass which enabled me ride the Toronto Transit Commission (TTC) buses, trains and streetcars indefinitely. In the evenings I enjoyed sitting infront of the building of my apartment and observed pedestrians walking along Jacobson and Wellington ways, where the apartment building was located, and was impressed by the variety of ethnic groups that inhabited Toronto. However, I was particularly attracted by the black people I met which I greeted politely. Most of them did not seem to be well off and that made me ponder greatly. I wondered why many of them seemed to be unhappy from my observations.

The other thing that disturbed me most was the number of beautiful and young black girls that were indulged in prostitution. Every evening I observed the prostitutes that littered Sherbourne Way and most of them were disproportionately very young black girls. I watched them as mostly white clients picked them up in their cars and dropped them back after a while. I eventually concluded that blacks were discriminated against and mostly did not have job opportunities to indulge in such a demeaning profession. I was particularly concerned about HIV AIDS that was an epidemic at that time and the risks they were taking in partaking in prostitution which made them likely carriers of the virus. That gave me a signal and an indication that everything was not well in Canada and especially with regard to black people. Fortunately, prostitution will be banned a few years later and criminalised as an offence.

CHAPTER TWO

F or the next two months after my arrival at Toronto I tried to acquaint myself with my new environment. I quickly familiarized myself with the subway, streetcar and bus routes and systems. I carried the map of Toronto with me wherever I went. The immigration department was giving us a meagre allowance to live on and could hardly survive on the scant stipend. I quickly realized that I was on my own and that no one was going to help me secure employment. Furthermore, I was told that if I was to be eligible for welfare recipient I had to find accommodation first and no one assisted me in that respect. Eventually, I found my own accommodation in a rooming-house along King Street West. The rooming rent was $250 a month.

I came to Canada when the country was facing acute recession. Unemployment was very high and interest rate was thirteen percent and the country was in almost a depression. I fervently sought to gain employment and searched every newspaper advertisements for any employment vacancies. I could find very little that matched my qualifications. The few interviews I attended I was told I did not have Canadian experience being a new immigrant to Canada. Eventually, and in desperation, I got a job with a telephone installation company for the minimum wage of six dollars an hour. I was disappointed but had no other options. I worked with Tele Data Connect for about six months and I was laid off after that period of time because I had some disagreement with Barry, one of the managers. That will begin my disgruntlement with the Canadian system and my first experience with racism. I was accused of being arrogant by the general manager of the company and the reason for my lay off.

I was inherently a hard working individual by nature. I always took my studies and work with all the seriousness I could muster. During my employment I installed multiple telephone lines at All State Insurance, Branson Hospital, IBM building, Toronto University etc. and performed my duties impeccably and with utmost professionalism. However, that was not enough with the company. They were instead concerned about my attitudes and the fact that I was not taking the bullying of my supervisor lightly. I later realized that my supervisor felt threatened because the company was considering me for a supervisory position because they were impressed by my performances. He concocted various violations to get rid of me eventually mainly because he was a white man and I was black. Management believed him while they discarded my protests. That was the most plausible explanation I could imagine to describe my situation that led to my layoff.

Most of the companies that called me for interview scoffed at my Nigerian issued diplomas. One of the prospective employers politely and candidly told me, I don’t know what these diplomas are worthy. Take them to the University of Toronto for evaluation. I can’t employ you without knowing the values of your credentials. And so I did. The University of Toronto evaluated my Higher National Diploma (HND) to be equivalent to a technologist’s diploma offered by the community colleges in Toronto. I was disappointed. HND was comparable to a bachelor’s degree in the British educational system as well as in Nigeria.

I applied for unemployment insurance but what I was receiving was just enough to pay my rent with little money left for my sustenance. I tried to get another job and pursued my goal vigorously with little luck. Eventually, I enrolled to become the salesman of Encyclopaedia Britannica and went door-to-door to supplement my income. One day, I made a presentation to a black client who was interested in buying the package I offered him. During our conversation he asked me what my educational qualification was and I told him. He then said, You don’t need to sell encyclopaedias. With your qualification you can get a job at Aerospace easily. Go there tomorrow and apply immediately. They are hiring a lot of people. He gave me the address and guided me how to get there and I applied the next day.

I was not optimistic that I would be called for interview how much more attain employment with Aerospace. By now I had already given up on Canada and I had realized the bare realities and was convinced that I will never advance to any level in the country because of the color of my skin. I had no doubt that Canada was a racist country that openly discriminated against black people and especially black men like me. However, barely a week after I tendered my application I was called for interview at Aerospace and after fulfilling all the procedures of employment process I was hired. The salary was much better and I had a lot of benefits. It was a unionized company.

Working at Aerospace did not satisfy my craving for a more fulfilling job. I spent five gruelling years at Polytechnic to attain the qualification I had. Electronics and Communication was a tough course in the polytechnic and required much hard work than the others fields of study. All the Fourier Series, Laplace Transformations, advanced calculus and various complex mathematical computations and circuit board designs I had mastered at Polytechnic but to ultimately end up as a labourer at Aerospace disheartened me so much. I was always sorry for myself.

I surveyed my co-workers and most of them were virtually semi-illiterates with a few high school graduates. There was no one comparable to me qualificationally. I was hired as an electrical installer that any idiot could have performed the job. My duty entailed primarily wiring the aircraft with bundles of electrical wires. It did not take me long to master my job and working with schematic diagrams made it even much more easy. My supervisors admired and commended me for my hard work and for my ability not to have many snags whenever I called for the inspectors to scrutinize the operations I had completed. The aircraft was divided into so many operations and each operation was checked by an inspector whose endorsement was required to pass an operation as complete.

I was hired at Aerospace in May, 1986. For almost a year everything went smoothly and I integrated myself fully into the workforce. I made many friends and became well acquainted especially with the few black employees who included Eritreans and Ethiopians. I was then transferred to the Final Assembly in 1987. I continued to perform my duties adequately and my supervisors were happy with my accomplishments. However, some of my work colleagues were unhappy with me. They felt that I was overworking and intruding into their workspaces. And that was brought to the attention of the union. And one day the union steward invited me to a corner of Bay nine and had a hard talk with me.

Abraham, I received a few complaints from the union members. They are complaining about you. It is my duty to keep peace with all the union members, the union steward started.

Why are they complaining? I didn’t do anything wrong to anybody, I protested.

I know you didn’t do anything wrong to anybody but you are taking other people’s jobs. You should stick to your sections and stop intruding into other people’s areas and spaces. You seem to be everywhere. You constantly complete operations assigned to your colleagues and coworkers. That is unacceptable. They are complaining to me constantly. I know you are a hard working individual but you should stick only to your area of operations, the union steward warned me.

But what do you want me to do? My supervisor assigns me different operations. I can’t refuse. I will be fired if I do and you will not defend me. I want to keep my job that is why I don’t refuse the job I am instructed to do, I complained.

Abraham, watch and work like your fellow union workers. You are virtually completing an entire aircraft by yourself. You are making the other union members look bad. You should work at the pace of your fellow union members, the steward continued to warn me.

I just find it difficult to stay idle. I don’t know how the other union members do it. They remain idle for most part of the day and do virtually nothing for a whole day. However, my supervisor is always on my back and assigns me various operations every day, I tried to defend myself.

Abraham, if your supervisor pressures you unnecessarily report to him to me. I will raise a grievance against him and warn him, the union steward assured me.

Okay. I will try to do just that, I agreed with him.

Abraham, if everyone works as hard as you then the company will not require the number of workforce it presently has. They would layoff many people. And you are a new employee and you are at the bottom of the seniority list. You will be one of the first to be laid off. I am just warning you to save your job, he advised me.

I get you. I will try my best to work at a slower pace. It is just my nature to work hard and not because I am pressured by anybody. But I get your point. I will slow down, I assured him.

For a few months I tried my best to do much less work and complete less operations. Instead of completing four or five operations a day I reduced it drastically and sometimes completed just one operation a day. Surprisingly my supervisor did not put any pressure on me. I later on realized that the union steward had cautioned him not to interfere with my work and not to harass me on duty. Prior to my conversation with Joe I discovered that I virtually worked on every section of the aircraft. I completed operations on left and right wings, the cockpits, the front and back fuselages, the horizontal stabilizers, the landing gears and the auxiliary power units (APU.) Regardless, however, my other colleagues saw me as anti-union and shunned me for most part.

And virtually all the union officials identified me as an enemy of the union because I never complained to them and put in a grievance against anybody and was unreservedly was obedient and compliant to management instructions. Unfortunately, even management saw me as uncooperative employee because of the disdain some union members expressed about me. But all the criticisms did not bother me slightly. All that concerned me was that Aerospace Aircraft paid my salary and as long as the company was happy with me nothing else perturbed me. The union did not pay my salary. Sadly this erroneous perception will later come haunt me.

From then onward I became very reserved. I realized that I was not accepted by many of the union members who were predominantly whites. Luckily, most of my black coworkers rallied behind me and stuck with me knowing that I was increasingly being isolated by the other races. Hence, my relationship with my black colleagues grew tighter and tighter and I virtually restricted my association with them only.

Outside Aerospace my movements were routine and I regularly met with Eritrean friends some of whom migrated to Canada at the same time with me. On other occasions I visited Grossman’s bar, located a few blocks from my home and consumed one or two bottles of beer most of the time. In one instance, a black man with well groomed dreadlocks that fell to his chest invited himself and sat down opposite me. He quickly introduced himself as David and we struck a conversation soon. I found him to be a highly intelligent black man with his own perception of the world. I have met such Rastas before too. But this one was different. He did not praise Haile Silassie, as do other Ras Teferians, but found him to be a highly informed person.

My name is David. My mother calls me son of Jesse, he introduced himself. I introduced myself likewise.

Are you a Trinidadian? he added immediately.

No, I am not. I am an Eritrean. Do I look like a Trinidadian? I responded.

Your accent. You sound like a Trinidadian. Now I know you are an African from the motherland. Happy to meet you, The land of Silassie I. I know you Eritreans don’t want to be called Ethiopians but you are one people. The devil white man divided you. I have been watching you for the past two months or so in this bar. You always prefer to sit alone, David said.

I just come to drink a couple bottles of beer. I am usually tired after work and need to relax a bit. That is why I come here regularly. This is the closest bar to my house, I responded.

From then onward I started seeing David more often at the bar and a couple of occasions outside whenever I went for a walk. We normally spoke about general things, the weather, women and other interesting topics. One day I was disgruntled at work and I made that known to David. I explained to him how my relationship with the union had deteriorated. He was very sympathetic.

I know them. The white devils want you to kiss their butts. That is what they expect from black people. You refused to walk on your knees for them and that is why they are trying to victimize you. I know them devils. They are crafty snakes, David spoke vociferously.

David, I have been in Canada for more than two years and I am in total confusion. I still don’t know how to integrate myself into the Canadian society. Everytime I tried I am faced with obstacles that I could not resolve, I complained.

Bekit, blacks don’t integrate with whites in Canada. The system is designed in such a way that blacks don’t fit into the Canadian society. There are unwritten and tacit laws that forbid blacks from being fully integrated into the Canadian society, David explained.

I am in a delimma, I confessed.

That is why blacks will never progress in this country. You may see token Negroes here and there holding good jobs but the overwhelming numbers of blacks live in abject poverty. Most of us are on welfare because the white man doesn’t want us to work and earn a decent living. That is the truth, David vented angrily.

Conversation with David was always interesting. I learnt a lot from him. His knowledge of the core problems beleaguering blacks in Canada, America and the Caribbean islands made sense to me. I did