Illustration by Drew Shannon
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.
In June, 1987, my husband and I arrived in Toronto with our two teenage sons, escaping the devastation of the raging Sri Lankan civil war. My brother, who was already living in Canada, sponsored my family to start our new life here. Beyond feelings of relief and hope for a fresh start, my family and I quickly came face-to-face with the challenges of starting over in a new country.
As soon as we arrived, we dove right in to finding an apartment. Apartments were scarce at the time but we managed to find one on in Scarborough. While we didn’t realize it then, this was a much more simple task than what we had to face next – landing a job.
Finding work was extremely difficult. I was a secondary school teacher in Sri Lanka and my husband was a Chartered Accountant who worked for a bank in Colombo, the country’s capital. With the established and full life I relished in Sri Lanka, I was hoping for a similar career in bustling Toronto. Yet, my expectations were met with disappointment. Instead, I found work in a daycare for minimum wage (at the time that was $4.50 an hour) while my husband worked multiple, unsteady jobs as well. We found it so challenging to make ends meet for our family, poorly impacting our transition to Canada.
How can we find genuine cultural understanding in our supposedly multicultural country?
A few days after our arrival, I developed a severe toothache. There were very few Sri Lankans living in Toronto at that time and it was difficult to receive guidance from our community. The blind were truly leading the blind. Friends told me that dental care was expensive and it might cost a hundred dollars to extract a tooth.
To avoid an addition to the mounting costs my family was already having difficulty paying, I tried some at-home remedies. Nothing worked. Finally, unable to endure the worsening pain any longer, I went to a dental office in a plaza near my apartment building.
After examining my tooth, the dentist swiftly told me that it needed to be extracted right away. I anxiously asked him how much I’d be charged. “I will let you know after the extraction,” he replied.
I broke down. With tears in my eyes, I explained my financial situation and nervously told him I would pay the fee in installments. He nodded politely and let the receptionist know. While I remained feeling hopeless and panicked over how many zeros will follow the charge on my bill, my dentist completed the extraction.
Once complete, I went to the receptionist to pay what I could. She gave me a warm, uniquely Canadian smile, and said, “Doctor has asked me not to charge you anything. It’s on him.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I thanked her profusely and walked out of the dentist’s office. I touched the soil and quietly paid my salutations to Canada, whispering “thank you” to a country with a special sense of kindness and generosity that I had never experienced before.
It was at this moment so many years ago when I realized that even through the challenges I faced by moving to this country, Canada was still a nation of opportunity and compassion, coming when you least expect it.
The Canadian Dream is colder than I expected it to be
The following year, I began my lifelong career in Canadian public education as a secondary school teacher in the Toronto District School board. And my benefits included 100 per cent dental coverage. Still, I never forgot the dentist who first introduced me to Canadian values.
This Canada Day, at 86 years old, I will reflect on the 38 years I have spent in this country. The compassion of strangers inspired me to lead in my own community, I will represent the Canada I continue to believe in.
Kanageswari Nadarajah lives in Scarborough, Ont.
