Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2008 5:36 pm Post subject: My work visa says I must leave Canada by 03 Oct 2009.
Very Happy It all started in Kenya after I was selected to come to Vancouver to the International AIDS conference in 1996. From the airport, I had a brief stay at the University of British Columbia (UBC). I fell in love with the place. It was summer time so there were no students. Quiet. But I could still hear in my head the noises of Nairobi. Cows and chicken and children. Noises in the city.
After five days and the conference was over, I went to live with an auntie of a friend I had met in Kenya. I was there for two months. The longest vacation I had ever had in my life. I have always been working in my life. I was the little woman around the house when we were kids. Cooking, fetching water, fetching firewood, washing clothes by hand, gardening - you name it.
My visa to Canada was for only two months. I packed my bags and headed to Vermilion to say hey to some friends of my parents and my flight to Kenya was leaving from Edmonton. While I was in Vermilion, I phoned an uncle of a friend I knew in Kenya. The uncle was here in Canada and he told me that I should go to the immigration office to see if I was given more time when I arrived from Kenya. Sure enough, there was a tiny stamp that gave me an extra 4 months. Back to Victoria I came. The uncle of my friend in Kenya gave me a job at the Harveys Restaurant. It was next to Swiss Chalet and is now a Tim Horton. Rolling Eyes I flipped burgers among other things. I worked there for a few months and then I decided to do housekeeping. I had a daughter to feed, clothe and educate back in Kenya. Shocked I had to be responsible for my daughter like I had always done.
After I had stayed in Victoria Canada for 6 months, I applied for an extension of my visitor visa. I was given a whole year. Shortly after, there was a knock on my door and it was an immigration officer and RCMP. My stomach cut in half. I opened the door for them and they asked me if I had HIV. Up to today I have no idea how they came to know but I have a clue. Idea Maybe the time I did cocaine (you read that right). Shocked trying to end the pain of losing my daughter and the loneliness that was in my heart. I am naive in some ways. I ended up almost dead and when I came to, I was telling everybody everything about myself. Maybe an ex called the cops. Or the counsellor I was talking to couldn't handle it. Or all of the above.
Anyway, I told them I had HIV. This was no time to lie. I was 29 years old and I knew better than lie. They asked me if I cleaned houses without a permit and I said yes. They asked for my passport but I did not have any as I had lost it partying at the then Sweet Waters. I learned my lessons. If I cannot handle what I took out with me including and especially my body, then I should not go out. Bottom line, I was busted. They never read me my rights and so when I asked for permission to go into the washroom, I told myself after the fact, "Self, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to be able to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."
When I got to the then new police station in Victoria, I called my lawyer and left a panicky message. No, actually, I did not have a lawyer so I never called anybody. Rolling Eyes Evil or Very Mad The next morning, a senior immigration officer came to the police station and told me if I left on my own to Kenya, nothing would be held against me. She told me I had a month to leave. The month rolled by and I moved from my bachelor place on Maplewood to a friend's house. We were sitting there having wine and weed Mr. Green when there was a knock at the door. Three men came in. I recognized the one immigration officer and the RCMP. I later came to know that the third guy was also an immigration officer. My two friends tried to hide the weed Mr. Green but the officers said they were here for another reason - mwa. This was beginning of March, 1998.
I was taken back to the police station. Same cell. This time I had a lawyer and I called him leaving a panicky message. It was Friday night and the lawyer was nowhere to be found. Saturday morning, I was shipped to Vancouver to a detention center. While there, I started thinking about my life. My daughter had just died 8 months ago in Kenya of a penicillin reaction. I had nothing. I had not disclosed to my family that I had AIDS. I was not ready to see my daughter's grave. I could not bear the shame of going back. What would people say? I was lost.
They counted a penny on me. On Monday, I was handcuffed for the first time in my life and taken to an airport cell. It was scarily Twisted Evil but I was going through the motions.
My cell at the airport had nothing but a built in bench. I sat there for what seemed like eternity. Then I heard a lady's shoes foot steps coming towards my cell. They lady said to my surprise, "I am your escort to Kenya. Behave like every other passenger otherwise I will have to handcuff you." Shocked Rolling Eyes I did not respond and she asked me what I had done. I told like a machine as fast as I could about my life. From A - Z. She called my lawyer and I was returned to detention. This was on Monday morning. Before she left, the escort to Kenya said to me that if I don't see her again, we are not going to Kenya. At 6:00pm the same day, I was taken to the same cell at the airport. I waited for two hours and the lady never showed up. Hallelujah! My plane left without me.
At 8:00pm, I was returned to the detention cell and I had to go for a hearing. I couldn't eat the fast food they served me. They had detained me for too long. Eventually I was released. I had no bus fare so the lady at the desk gave me enough for the ferry ride and the buses. God bless her.
I was to report to immigration every week. It was horrifying. Later they said I did not have to report at all. I applied for refugee status and they said no. To them, I came out as untrustworthy and unreliable. I was sifting what I should tell them and what I shouldn't. I doubt if they would understand my then very thick accent and I spoke fast because I was nervous and they wanted to know who I was and I had no clue of who I was. I told them the same story I lived but skipping some details. I did not know these people. They simply could not believe that I was who I was saying I was. I swore that nobody else will say to me that I was unreliable and untrustworthy. The comment made me look at myself seriously. I was surprised that they would say such a thing to me after knowing me for a few hours.
The appeal took years and before it could go through, they stopped my appeal and replaced it with what they call a pre-removal risk assessment. Shocking Shocked . Anyway, I passed even though I was the same person who had failed the refugee thing. This time I told everything. Honesty rocks. Finally, I was eligible to apply for permanent residence. After a while, they said that I was denied permanent resident because I had AIDS. Rolling Eyes
They called my husband in while we were engaged and he had to say a bunch of things and answer a lot of questions. I was given a temporary resident permit as a result of that meeting. I had previously had a work visa which gives me a care card which helps with the lab and specialist. I have to apply for a work visa and temporary resident permit about every year. It is nerve racking. I have been issued with these two documents just recently. Life is good. What is remaining is the permanent resident papers for which I applied for the second time. I am not going to worry about it. Just keep being a wife to my husband, Very Happy keep working at the club, smoking weed which I would not have been the same person without and just take it one day at a time.
Thanks to everybody who makes this easier for me. Kudos to my husband and my family at the club.
Within the year that I am supposed to leave Canada, my permanent residence will have gone through. But until October 3, 2009 and now, I will live life like there is no tomorrow. That is what this immigration journey has taught me and they taught me patience and honesty. I am grateful for the 12 years I have in beautiful British Columbia and very lucky to have the best weed. From a two month visa to over 12 years in Canada. It has not been easy but it is getting easier. Friends have made me forget immigration.
Patient as ever
...
Who is worried? Not I...
No comments:
Post a Comment