Immigration Story by M.R.

My Immigration Story

     There was a little girl named Tela whose dad (named Taren), Grandpa (named Tyler), Grandpa (named Tanner) and five brothers Tom, Tim, Tao, Trent and Taleo (in the order of oldest to youngest) were in the army.  Tela was the youngest of the ten kids.  She had to stay at the house with her mom (named Tea), four sisters Tabby, Tally, Tayca and Taillike (in order of oldest to youngest), Grandmama Tina and Grandma Tink and the two cats Tamara and Tyron. 
    
     They lived in Greenland.  They spent all of their time dusting, cleaning, vacuuming, sorting, moping, wiping, washing the dishes cooking, doing laundry, shopping, sweeping and folding. 

     Then her family came back from the war and said that they were moving to Canada! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” squealed Tela. 
     “We are moving to the land of the free?!
      “Yes,” said Taren, “the land of the free. 

     In addition, they were moving there in eight and a half months. This was for sure the best day of their lives.  They celebrated to almost no end.  The next day they found that Tamara and Tyron were going to have kittens!  And even better mom was pregnant… with twins.  They decided if they were girls, they would be called Tilce and Talic.  If they were boys, they would be called Talo and Tony. 

     Seven months later they were taking all their money out of the bank and had it turned into Canadian money and waited there until the kittens were born.  The cats Tamara and Tyron had four kittens named Tala, Timmy, Teny and Talea.  A month and a half later they were on board the ferry to Canada from Greenland. 
   
     They arrived in Newfoundland and were overjoyed to be there, to be a part of Canada and to start a new life. A couple of weeks after they arrived in Newfoundland, Tea gave birth to the twins Tony and Talic. 

     Years later they got their Canadian citizenships and were very happy with their lives.  Their journey happened thirty years ago.  The third youngest child Tela is now in her twenties and they are still in contact. 

     Mine is a different story.  This is Marla Carina signing off.

                                                                                                      

Immigration Story bu N.R.

Sept. 18, 2012
An Immigrant Story

     Life is good! Yeah, right! Totally!! At least that’s what I think living in this part of the world, where the sun rises and sets like in any other place. But it is not any other place. Life in Afghanistan is more of an existence, hardly what you would call living. Added to that I am a girl. I hate being a girl. I cannot go to school. The village only has a school for the boys. Instead I stay at home and make myself ‘useful’. I collect water from the nearby well and rush home. Wandering outside poses danger. Everyone talks in whispers these days. The adults don’t say much to the younger ones. The little I know puts me in further despair. The kind of loss our village has known can only be found in stories. The blasts of gunfire and bombs are part of our daily life. The terror of the ‘big birds’ in the sky is always looming over us. The blue sky is somehow lost. Fear fills the air, misery pervades our life, and the dark clouds have taken over.

     As I stepped out of the house for water, there was not another soul outside. In fact there wasn’t a sound except for a slight buzzing. When I had barely taken another step, there was a sharp whizzing sound and right before my eyes the well exploded, with water and stone and wood flying everywhere. For cover I had only one thought in my head. "Duck!" There were no remains of the well in sight. I dashed home and on the way I looked at Aisha’s house who is my best friend. Nothing. Except for some wood remnants here and there, everything was flattened to the ground. Then, the men came. Ten or twenty armed men. I did the likely. I ran. The moment I got home I gave a sigh of happiness, for my hut was still standing. But at that second my parents rushed out, grabbed me and we ran never looking back.

     We had to find someplace safe, someplace where the insurgents would not find us. It was not safe to go back, there was no place to call home. Those who did not join the cause of the insurgents, would be killed. So on we trekked, through forests and mountains, night and day. We depended on nature to survive those harsh, long days. When we rested, the memories came flooding back, the sounds of the explosions still buzzing in my ears. I would lie there and watch the birds and animals. They were free to go where they wanted. Someday, I promised myself, I would be free too.

     Days had gone by. I lost count. There is always light at the end of a tunnel. Our light came in the form of a refugee camp. Watching the tears of joy slip down my parents cheeks I realized that I had tears of my own. I scanned the group and who should I see but Aisha! The tears wouldn’t stop. That night I slept a peaceful sleep with no dreams to haunt me.
The Red Cross has provided the essentials for us, but even more importantly they have arranged for us to be settled in Canada! I have heard stories from the other refugees, of that place far away. Everything took what seemed like forever to prepare but eventually details were sorted out and we were there.

     The day arrives and we are in Canada. I look up, the sky is blue, no looming clouds of dread. A clean slate, a new life. I smell freedom.

Immigration Story by V.F.

Immigration Story by V.F.

The rain beat down the cobble road. The shattered glass from the shops littered the ground. People were fleeing because the Nazi forces were advancing. Austria was in despair. Romain, his wife Clara and their 2 sons: Jans and Ruben were also preparing for their journey.

"We will leave at night and cross the border," said Romain.

"But papa"- said Jans, "we will have to face the German patrols".

"We will say that we were just visiting Austria and are now on our way back to Switzerland". "Actually you will say it, "- said Romain pointing at Ruben.

"No! Why?" - yelled Ruben .

"Because you are the youngest, they will believe you," said Clara. It was the first thing she said in days because she was really depressed by the whole war.

At a Quarter to midnight they headed out. As they proceeded, they were stopped right at the border by a German. "Hello sir," said Romain. The German only grunted. Then he noticed something in Ruben's hand. He grasped it open. "A ha! Austrian currency - we have an Austrian!".

"No sir you see I am a big coin collector since and since we were visiting Austria I thought it would be neat to take at least one coin. The journey is long we had to leave our backpacks behind so I had nowhere to carry it in," said Ruben.

The patrolman yelled, "Öffnen Sie die Tore" and the gates were suddenly opened. The family advanced not only to a new country but to a new life.

When I was finishing my story I thought that immigration is mostly associated with something painful, when people are running from something bad and looking for a better life. In my case it is different. I moved to Canada 6 years ago because my parents were adventurous and wanted to experiment. They decided to move to Canada and expose a different life for me. We really liked being here so we stayed and became a part of the country. In a word we are sort of Ukracandians or may be Candukrainians. And I love it!

An Immigration Story by M.L.

Whenever my grandfather comes over, he sits with me at night and always tells me stories about how hard his life was on the farm in Croatia.

“Life was definitely NOT easy,” he would exclaim, “two bedrooms, one for my parents and one for all SIX kids. We would often argue over which four would sleep on the bed and who would sleep on the floor. As the oldest I was always in charge of the other kids and let me tell you what we had to do in the day.”

I see a small frown growing on his face as he continues, “our mother would wake up at four in the morning to milk the cows, but by that time my father had already left to work at the labour mill, but on some lucky days he would go to work around lunchtime and spend all morning teaching us how to clean the cow, pig, sheep and chicken stables, how to chop firewood and how to feed all the animals. On regular days us kids would do all of our chores and would often not be done until dinner, that is if we had enough food to feed the whole family.”

My grandfather’s face lifted into a small but joyful grin as he tells me more about his bittersweet memories, “the first day of school, I was ten years old, my parents had finally gotten enough money to send us all to school. About ten years later I started my job alongside my brother as a car mechanic. I admit that it wasn’t the best job but we only needed enough money to feed the family because our dad had retired and now both parents worked at home around the farm. About seven years later I had earned enough money and wanted to immigrate to Canada. My parents thought that it was the right decision but my siblings disagreed so they stayed in Croatia to help out on the farm.”

My grandfather took a deep sigh and then continued, “the first few years I lived with my uncle then I met………Stanka the love of my life! We were at Croatian church when my uncle introduced me to Stanka, his close friend from Croatia’s daughter, who had recently immigrated to Canada. We instantly fell in love and three years later we wed and she gave birth to a child and named her Carol. Two years later came the second girl, Renata.”

My grandfather looks at me and smiles, “and throughout my whole life I regret nothing.” He kisses my head and says good night I close my eyes and realize how lucky I am to live in such a peaceful place.

Prairie Smoke by Jim Brandenburg

Flying in the air
Like long soft hair.
Arcs of lightening free to grow.
Free to fly with the wind
To a new world.
by N.R.

The crimson fire errupted
from the stock.
Its brightness set it aside
from the emerald field.
Flames waved like branches
in a gale.

by C.A.

The blood red torch set off sparks in the emerald green field. byV.F.

Blazing flower bending in the wind,
Blossoming fire,
Blossoming flame. By J.L.

The Olympic Torch’s blazing to signal
the beginning of something new and amazing!

The Mad Scientist with his crazy red hair
tainted by his past failures.

The injured man, his blood flowing out
like the water in the Great River Nile.
by T. V.

The Sunflower by B.K.

The Sunflower by B.K.

The sunflower was growing in a field. A bird came along
to eat the seeds and ended up scattering them everywhere.
The next year the farmer came out to harvest his crops and
was surprised to see seven sunflowers instead of one. Year
after year there were more and more sunflowers. Eventually there were
so many sunflowers the farmer needed a whole new field.
He couldn`t handle so many sunflowers so he moved out of
the country. The bird sat on a tree branch and admired his work.

The Sunflower by S.L.

The Sunflower


The sunflower grew
in the morning dew
Petals, the crimson flame
so beautiful that God is to blame
shining yellows & crimson reds alive
pollen attracts bees from the hive
flower follows the sun
on earth’s surrounding run