A Canadian Immigrant Story Part V
Brian Sankarsingh weaves a tale of a Canadian immigrant
August 19, 1988
Still no prospect for a job. I did an inventory of what I had to eat. A few slices of bread; probably need to buy a loaf of day old soon. Four eggs. One can of sardines. One tin of Vienna sausages. I have about ten dollars to make it through the month. If I don’t get a job by then, I will be on the street anyway. Why the fuck did I come here? To this godforsaken place. Not only am I lonely. I am alone!
Vijay’s papers had been submitted to Immigration Canada for about three months now but he had not heard anything since that time. He was beginning to despair and the hunger gnawing in his stomach turned the despair to absolute misery. He started to mentally prepare himself for being homeless. In twelve days, if he could not find a job and if he did not hear from Immigration, he would be on the street. He had already decided not to tell his parents about his dilemma.
This is Bell Canada, we have a collect call from Vijay Singh, do you accept the charges?
“Yes”
Go ahead.
“Hi mom, how are you and dad doing?”
“Son. It’s so good to hear your voice. We alright yes. How about you?”
“I good.”
“You hear anything yet?”
“Not yet. But that’s okay. I will hear soon. People tell me it takes about three months for them to get back to you and it’s almost three months. So, I think soon.”
“You eating well? How’s is your asthma? You exercising?”
“I’m good ma. Don’t worry. I am good.”
They spoke some more, Vijay’s mom told him about his father’s failing health and how they missed him. As he hung up the phone, he felt a desperate need to scream to his mom that he was not alright. He was hungry and had spent his last ten dollars on food that would have to last him until the end of the month. He wanted to scream out to her to let him come back home. Back home. The words hung in the humid air.
It was the 29th August and still Vijay had heard nothing. He knew that the landlord was going to come by this week to get the rent. In preparation for the inevitable, he had cleaned the apartment and packed his belongings in his duffle bag. He heard Peter’s voice and sneaked a look out the window. Yes. His car was parked on the street outside. Vijay steeled himself for the discussion. Peter had been a good landlord. He and Vijay had a good relationship and Vijay had even helped him demolish the basement of the house. He was preparing to turn it into another apartment. But this was not about friendship. This was about taking money out of Peter’s pocket.
The knock on his door broke into Vijay’s reverie. As he opened his, they exchanged pleasantries. Vijay gestured for Peter to have a seat on a milk crate and he obliged. As he sat, Peter glanced over to the packed duffle bag.
“You going somewhere?” he asked.
“Pete, I haven’t heard back from Immigration Canada yet and I still can’t legally work. I don’t know what to do, but I’m out of money and out of options.”
Stay tuned for the continuing story…
Bio: BRIAN SANKARSINGH is a Trinidadian-born Canadian immigrant who has published several books of poetry on a wide range of social and historical themes including racism, colonialism, and enslavement. Sankarsingh artfully blends prose and poetry into his storytelling creating an eclectic mix with both genres. This unique approach is sure to provide something for everyone.
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