This first person is the experience of Mohammad Akib Hossain, an international student who studies at the University of Regina. For more information about CBC’s first person stories, see Frequently asked questions. This story is part of Welcome to Canada, a series of CBC news about immigration told through the eyes of the people who have experienced it.
The wind howled the empty streets while standing at the bus stop, my fingers numb despite being buried inside my jacket pockets. The sky was a boring tone of gray, reflecting the weight I carried inside me. It was one of those mornings where I questioned everything: why I left Bangladesh, why I came to Canada and if it even belonged here.
Then, just a few steps away, I saw a child playing in the snow, his laugh drilling the silence of the frozen morning. She turned, carefree, until her little boots slipped on black ice. In an instant, she fell. In seconds, their parents ran from behind and picked it up.
I looked up towards the vast sky of Saskatchewan, and when a burst of cold wind hit my face, a strong understanding dragged me over me, now I was alone. It doesn’t matter how much I fall, there would be no one to pick me up and rerilated me again.
I was born in a privileged home in Bangladesh and always received more than I asked. I used to wake up at 10 in the morning with a healthy breakfast that served me on a silver plate, without having to worry about washing the dishes later. An elegant seven -seater car waited at my door to pick me up and leave me at school. I was protected from the struggles, without having to abandon my comfort zone while living under the protective shadow of my parents.
However, something inside me longed for more, not only a Canadian title of a foreign university, but the opportunity to do something on my own. I wanted to go beyond my privileges and grow as an individual, standing alone by my own feet. I wanted to experience life in a developed country, one in which daily security was not a concern and where my voice could raise in support of social justice problems without censorship.
In 2021, I looked at everything I possessed and thought about how to pack 19 years of my life in two suitcases. I did not know what to bring in addition to some winter jackets and a heart full of hope of finding a new home in Canada.
Instead, I found myself in an intermediate strange.
The same I that I never had to worry about transport now ran after buses through snowstorms to get to the university in time. Instead of breakfast at the kitchen counter, now I stopped in the halls of a grocery store, translating the Canadian dollars to the Bangladesh taka to see if I could pay my grocers with a student budget.
I assumed a minimum salary work with the student union as a student defender. Between work 10 hours a week and school, I barely had enough time to cook for me and study.
I didn’t tell my parents because I didn’t want them to worry, although they could probably have helped financially. They had already done a lot to support me and pay my registration rates at a university on the opposite side of the world, so I never told them when I was fighting with my time management or paying edible.
The discomfort uniform was one that I could never take off.
When I saw that child slide in the bus stop that cold morning, I had a sense of understanding that if there was no one there to pick me up, I had to stop alone. And I did so.
I began to get my comfort zone, adopting the opportunities and resources available around me. I began to volunteer and connecting with people from different parts of the world, many of whom were in the same shoe as me, I found a sense of purpose.
Last year, I helped the University of Regina to organize its decline orientation for more than 1,000 international students around the world as an ambassador leader.
Six months later, a girl from southern Asia approached the university and said: “Thank you very much for the work you do.”
She told me that I had made her feel at home on that orientation day and that one day she would expect to do the same for other students.
He didn’t even remember interacting with her before that moment, but somehow had left an impact on her.
I thanked him from the bottom of my heart. But in my way home that night, all I could feel was my swollen heart while the tears of joy rolled through my cheeks.
My work seemed to have been worth it. I was part of creating a world in which the newcomers did not have to wake up every morning worrying about “fitting”, but were welcome with open arms, regardless of their background.
The same person who arrived in Canada always attending to now had become someone who takes care of others.
The feeling of living in the intermediary still chases me to this day, but I would review it again. Pushing out of my comfort zone has shaped the person I am today, someone who discovered how to balance the study, volunteering and yes, even purchases to fill my refrigerator and cook for me!
I am proud to call Regina my home, due to the community I built around me. A community where people feel welcome, recognized and at home.
In the end, I really found a house at 11,500 km from home.
Do you have a convincing personal story that can provide understanding or help others? We want to know about you. Send an email to SASK-FIRST-PONSON-GRP@CBC.CA for more information.
