Back 2 Square 1!

 

“We regret to inform you that your application for permanent residence in Canada has been rejected,” the letter read, “You are required to report to Toronto Pearson International Airport by 10:00 a.m. on Thursday 21st November, 2014. Failure to do so will result in a Canada wide warrant for your arrest.”

Jeremiah was devastated after he read the letter he found in the brown envelope stuck on the front door to the house that had been his home for the past six months, in Whitby, Ontario, Canada. His spirit was crushed after having a day full of joy fueled by positivity, anticipating the favorable answer he had been waiting for since his court date a month before, to argue his case trying to attain a permanent residence visa that would allow him to chase his passion, Music. “God has my back,” he had never doubted, “I will get that visa. I will work and study here, before I move back home, to Rwanda.” But, God had other plans for him.

It all started back in the year 2013. He was still a spiritual infant; a new born being in Christ, his Lord, daily feeding on the milk that was His word and promises of a better life ahead. All he asked for, he would get, as long as he had faith. Faith led him to think a lot about his purpose on this earth. And, thoughts of his purpose led him back to that thing that had always been an essential part of his life growing up, music.

Growing up in Kigali, Rwanda for most of his life, he passed from class to class, all the way to University, making his parents proud and very hopeful about his future. “You shall get a degree, then a scholarship to go study for your Master’s abroad, come back and get a great job,” they’d think. But through it all, Jeremiah was slowly dying inside. He had believed every word, despite his mind imagining working full time in a recording studio, his hands yearning to write songs, and his ears itching to hear the melodies he’d create. He had been told as a young boy, that composing music would never amount to anything, and he matured to a young man believing it. Deep down in his spirit however, the spark never died down. And with his new found faith, he decided that he’d pursue a career that will fit his purpose.

Straight A’s

The Master’s degree he’d apply for would have to be in music, and so he got to explore the web. It wasn’t long before he found what felt like the perfect fit for him. There was a program, “Entertainment Business,” at Full Sail University, in Orlando, Florida, USA. He did not hesitate to click the “Apply Now” button. He nailed the applications with one swing of the hammer that was his passion and drive. He had all the requirements necessary to ensure his one year pursuit of what he thought was the first step towards his dream, except the financial means. “That will not stop me,” he believed. One of the essays he impressed them with awarded him a partial scholarship that would allow him to at least start the first semester. That was all he needed; to get an I-20, his student visa, and fly to the land of opportunities. “I’ll figure the rest out later,” he told himself, “First, let me get there.”

His first semester would be one to continually rekindle the fire he had burning inside. For the first time in his life, he was getting straight A’s, and he enjoyed every minute of class, every assignment, and every presentation he had. He was at Full Sail University. Its main hall, spacious and equipped with a galaxy of multicolor LED lights and a sound system fit for a stadium, had him dream of the days he’d stand on the stage with the mic in his hand, doing what he loves most, rapping. The recording studio he visited as part of a class field trip had him smile at the thought of going to work every day, recording vocals in the sound booth, eyes closed with headphones on his head blessing him with various tunes to glide to. Everywhere he turned, there were the sights and sounds of a piece of his vision. That was up until he received his first email, from the school’s business office, reminding him of the pending payments he still had.

The Withdrawal

His efforts to get more funds for his studies had been futile, and the deadline for his final payments was slowly creeping in. By the end of the semester, Jeremiah met a roadblock when got withdrawn from further studies.

He was faced with a dilemma after he received that last e-mail announcing his withdrawal. The message included a reminder to leave the country before his student visa got cancelled, within the next month. He figured he had enough time to plan his next move. Flying back home to Rwanda was not an option at this point. He had come too far to go back without accomplishing his goals.

He couldn’t deny how he felt though. In his confusion, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the wrong move by leaving Rwanda in the first place, without taking enough time to develop a better game plan to follow. He couldn’t help but doubt the validity of his dreams and purpose he believed was his. In the pain from the rejection, he couldn’t understand why God, the one he had put his trust in, didn’t come to his rescue when he needed him.

The tears finally broke through his tear glands in Lowell, Massachusetts, where he had flown to stay with his cousins as he planned his next step. It happened during a moment of worship he was having in the living room on a Thursday morning, singing his lungs out, still believing that God was with him despite the odds. The floodgates opened wider with every heartfelt word he let out, and his cheeks were the lane on which the salty healing waters were released as all his heart and mind let go, setting him free from the bondage of the depression, regret and anxiety that was pulling tighter every time he wondered what to do next. As they washed away the stains that marked the burdens that were weighing him down, he started feeling lighter and an idea started dawning on him like the morning sun, shining brighter as it slowly rose, illuminating the path ahead. Crossing the border into Canada was his next move.

Crossing Borders

It was a Friday evening when Jeremiah boarded the 6:00p.m Greyhound bus to Buffalo, New York, from where he would cross the border to Fort Erie, Ontario, Canada. As he lay back on his chair by the window at the back of the bus, looking outside at the city lights fading in the distance, he contemplated the mystery that lay at the destination on the other end of the highway. From what he had heard, it would be hard to enter Canada without giving the authorities a valid, convincing reason. Many before had declared themselves refugees fleeing their countries, in attempt for a better life. And many of them were flourishing now as recognised citizens of the country, whether their testimonies were false or not.

Jeremiah had refused to craft a fake story to tell at the border, and decided to go with nothing but the truth instead. “I’m at peace with it, no matter what happens,” he had told his parents and relatives over the phone, when they tried to convince him to change his mind. But his determination solidified his stance on the matter. “God has my back.”

His head was high above his shoulders, held by his revived confidence as he entered the U.S Customs and Border Protection building. Wearing a smile on his face, he approached a man in uniform sitting behind the counter. “Good morning to you, sir,” Jeremiah said. Coleman, as stated on his badge, kept a stern look on his face, clearly portraying not the slightest interest as he grumbled back, “Good morning! Where are you heading to?” “To Canada, sir,” Jeremiah replied. “I don’t see your visa,” he noticed as he quickly and roughly perused through Jeremiah’s passport. “Oh,” Jeremiah exclaimed, “I don’t have one. I’m going to seek asylum there.” Coleman gave him a suspicious look before he slipped through the back door of his cubicle, and reappeared a few minutes later through another one, with two more uniformed men looking like they were about to apprehend the prime suspect on their Most Wanted list of criminals.

“Would you please follow us, sir?” one of them politely snapped Jeremiah back to reality. Without hesitation, he followed them through the door into a back room equipped with a table and a chair. “Oh snap! I’m about to be interrogated,” he thought as he started recalling the countless crime movies and series he had watched over his lifetime. He sat down as they motioned him towards the chair.

“Are you carrying any drugs on you?” one asked as the other carelessly opened Jeremiah’s suitcase and ransacked it with gloved hands. “No, I’m not.” “Are you carrying any weapons?” “No, I’m not.” Jeremiah was calm and composed as he answered the officer’s questions, and explained to him his reasons for wanting to cross into Canada. “You are aware that they might detain you, right?” “Yes I am, sir.” “So you will take your chances?” “Yes, sir,” Jeremiah nodded with a smile that revealed his optimism. “Well then! Good luck to you, good sir,” the officer said, shaking Jeremiah’s hand firmly, clearly admiring him. “Just follow the bridge up ahead all the way to the end, and you’ll be there in no time.” He pointed, directing Jeremiah, and he was on his way.

It was a long walk across the Peace Bridge that connected the two borders. Jeremiah had barely slept a wink in the bus, the night before. But, along with the thunderous sound of the Niagara River flowing fast several feet below him, the cold winter wind kept him wide awake as it blew hard against his face, with no mercy. He slowly dragged his suitcase behind him as he followed the bridge along its curves, on a pavement that didn’t keep him far from the massive road trains that sprayed him further with water when they whooshed by.

“What a story I shall tell one day, when I make it. This is all part of it.” He couldn’t help but pick up his pace as he looked ahead with a more intense gaze, fixed on the other side like a lioness fixed on its prey among a herd of wildebeests. “This is all part of the bigger picture.”

The long winding bridge led him past one last curve, descending into a tunnel that once again reminded him of the escape routes he had seen so many criminals using, on TV. Its walls were dressed in various colours of graffiti artwork, with a touch of mold. Past the tunnel, he followed the small pathway with grass growing through its cracks, that led to the Canada Customs and Border Protection building.

“Good morning ma’am,” he said, shivering and unable to smile. His face was so cold and numb from the punishment he had endured at the hands of the merciless wind. He couldn’t feel it. “Good morning,” Jane, the bulky lady in uniform behind the counter, replied with a smile on her face. “I’d like to seek asylum,” Jeremiah went straight to the point. The smile on Jane’s face vanished into thin air like smoke in the darkest of nights. “Please wait here,” she calmly said as she slipped out the back door, only to reappear moments later, with two more even bulkier men, looking like they were about to apprehend the prime suspect on their Most Wanted list of criminals.

“Would you please follow us, sir,” one of them asked as he motioned towards another door, leading to a back room with one table and one chair. It was déjà vu as he was interrogated again, just like he was an hour earlier on the other side of the bridge. With no drugs and weapons found in his suitcase, he was led into a smaller room. In it, was a counter in the middle and a glass window separating him from where he found Jane waiting for him. “Please! Take a seat,” she pointed towards the chair. Jeremiah did. And so began the longest interview he had ever been through.

Jane grilled him with a series of questions, some repeatedly, as she typed his answers onto the computer on her desk. She kept an unbending look on her face as she did her job, until when Jeremiah revealed his motives for crossing the border.

“Is your life in danger,” she had asked. To which Jeremiah assured her, “No I’m not, ma’am.” “Then why are you seeking asylum,” she asked again, this time with an interested and expectant expression on her face. “I got withdrawn from school back in the US, due to financial reasons, and I’m not going back home without studying what I flew thousands of miles to study. So, I’m trying my chances here.”

Jane sat there, searching Jeremiah’s eyes for a hint of what she thought was a joke. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and gave the impression that she was caught off guard by his answer, as the clock above her on the wall got louder with every tick. She finally found her words after the brief silence. “And what is it that you want to study?” “Entertainment/Music Business.” She typed on her computer a little bit more before getting serious again. “So where will you be staying?” Jeremiah gave her the address. It belonged to his maternal uncle who was somewhere in the building, waiting for him with his cousin. “Is he here?” “I believe he is.”

Jane stood up and left the room. As Jeremiah waited patiently, he quickly scanned his surroundings. He noticed the camera facing him from across the room. “Ooh! She probably left me here alone so they can watch me, studying my body language for anything that might give me away,” he thought to himself, laughing inside. “They probably have a microphone hidden somewhere too.” He sat back, relaxed, on his chair and began humming all his favorite worship tunes, as he awaited Jane’s return.

She came back several minutes later, with a slightly large package in her hand, and a light smile on her face. She handed it to Jeremiah and guided him with instructions, as he read through. In his hands, were an Identification Document to replace his confiscated passport, a Canadian law book, and a document highlighting his court date to argue his case before getting what he was looking for, the Permanent Residence Visa. “One more step to go,” he thought to himself as he walked to embrace his uncle and cousin, in the waiting area he was guided to. He was free to go past the border into what he started believing was his promised land. The sun was shining bright by the time they drove out of Fort Erie, on their way to Whitby. He gradually closed his eyes, and slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming of the road that lay ahead.

The Final Verdict

Over the next six months, Jeremiah would undergo a series of grueling, long trips to downtown Toronto, to meet the lawyer that would walk him through the necessary legal process to attain the prize he tirelessly gunned for. His attempts at finding a lawyer had been fruitless. No one wanted to take his case, even though they all commended him for his honesty. “Sorry,” they would say, “I can’t take this case. I commend you for telling the truth and wish you the very best. But, there’s nothing in your story I can work with to convince the judge that you need a permanent residence visa.” It didn’t take long for him to crumble under the pressure.

His principal of honesty and integrity was on the verge of pushing his hopes and dreams from his hands, and he let it go when he finally succumbed to the relentless, uncomfortable nudging to craft a story that will compel the judge to favor him with his verdict. He finally convinced himself that he was a refugee who fled his home, afraid for his life. He had been targeted by the members of a 1994 genocide perpetrator’s family. He had received enough of the constant death threats from them, and had to find a way out. So, he used his admission to Full Sail University to his advantage, and fled for his life.

Irma, the short and passionate fast paced Armenian lawyer he presented his new case with, agreed to take it and patiently helped him assimilate what awaited them in the near future. She overwhelmed him with a barrage of questions, over and over again, and didn’t tolerate the slightest hesitations when he tried to remember the details of his own story. That is except when she was not playing Judge, after which she’d brief him on what to answer and how to do so in the best way possible. The D day inevitably made its way around the corner, and the Oscar winning role was ready to be acted out.

Jeremiah wore a mask of misery and worry when the judge entered the small room he and Irma waited in. It was surrounded by four naked, white walls, and furnished with comfortable padded chairs and a desk equipped with built-in conference microphones. The judge sat on another table a few meters ahead, slightly higher than theirs, with one microphone.

His heart started pumping so fast as the questions began shortly after, that he felt it in his throat. But, the countless hours spent practicing for that very moment paid off very well. He and Irma worked well together, in sync, performing all they had rehearsed flawlessly to perfection. He used the right body language. He used the perfect tone. He even excused himself to walk out to take a breath after choking when he struggled to share the frightening parts of his story that haunted him.

However, the polite and friendly looking judge did not seem convinced. The expression on his face screamed, “I want to help you. I really do, but there’s something off about your story that I just can’t put my finger around.” “I choose to withhold my decision for now,” he finally said after a long intense stare into Jeremiah’s eyes. “I’d like to review your story before coming to a conclusion. You will receive a package in the next few weeks.” And with that, he gathered his files and exited the room.

“I think we have a chance,” Irma said to Jeremiah as they walked outside, “He’d have let us know right away if he rejected the case.” Jeremiah let out a sigh of relief, happy that that step was over. He was hopeful once again. Although, just like the judge, he felt as if something was off. Despite his positivity, he carried this feeling of unease throughout the next few weeks as he awaited the package containing the words that would seal and secure the fate he envisioned and continuously believed was his. The package finally arrived.

Back to Square One

Jeremiah stood there, clutching the letter in his hand with a blank stare on his face, scanning through it thoroughly, in search of the words he had read and heard time and time again in his mind. Reality started kicking in shortly after he reached his room and sat on his bed, as he counted the hours he had left to the departure time they had set for him, the next day. Everything happened so fast and he was cornered, leaving no room for even his lawyer to help him.

He gave her a call. “I’m so sorry. I did all that I could but the judge had already made up his mind by the time he answered my call to hear my plea for you,” she told him. “Please stay in touch, and maybe we could find another way for you to come back.” Jeremiah had already accepted his fate by the time he said goodbye and hang up the phone.

The next day, as he sat on the Ethiopian Airlines plane the authorities had booked for him, he couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that led him to that point, and wonder to where it was taking him. “What would have happened if I just stayed true to myself and stuck to the reality of my story,” he wondered. “I’m not sure if it would have worked out as I wished, but I know for sure that my spirit would have been at peace this very moment, whatever the outcome.” But he couldn’t change anything at the moment

Jeremiah decided to leave his regrets on the runway and instead fly off with the valuable lessons he learned about himself and his character. He didn’t get what he anticipated, but he was wiser than ever. His dream had not died but he had become more patient, vowing never to lose himself again by compromising his principles and values.

He was a new man by the time he landed at Kigali International Airport twenty four hours later. He stepped out of the plane and took a moment to breathe in the fresh air that marked a fresh start for him. The journey he set out on the year before led him right back to where it all started. He was back at square one.