Miho Takaya
Tayyab Rashid.
A place to call home
Pakistani-born immigrant credits Canada for helping him explore his identity
Tayyab Rashid
When I came to North America some 15 years ago, I thought that most of us are migratory beings, or some part of our constitution is. Living in Canada has changed or perhaps expanded my thinking we are also sedentary souls. Wandering from place to place, some niche pulls us to call it home. That place for me is now Canada. Canada is not just a vast expanse of land, known more for its ice hockey and maple syrup; it is also a warm society where humans are acknowledged and accepted no matter how they look like.
South of the border, where I lived for a good decade, an unspoken yet strong value gently nudged me to mould myself into Americanism. Somewhat wounded by the physical deprivations and social injustices of my native land, Pakistan, I had little awareness to resist the Americanism. In fact, with every little nudge, I felt taller and stronger as I inched toward the American dream. But the good life, I realized after coming to Canada, is lived not in height and strength, but also in depth.
Canadian institutions provided me that depth, which in turn helped me to explore the dynamics of my identity and nurtured my growth as a citizen of a free yet morally principled society.
My firsthand encounters with Canadian institutions, such as the educational system, health care, immigration, media, city government, civic services and so on, have been positive by and large.
Sure, there is room for improvement, but in most places, I felt the warmth (even amidst sub-zero temperatures), acknowledgement and acceptance for who I am. In particular, interacting with the individuals within these institutions, I discovered much more about the spirit of Canada.
Of course, I decried those institutions that deemed my American education and experience inadequate to meet the Canadian standards. But some wonderful, kind and generous Canadians did not hesitate to acknowledge the potential within me and opened some windows of opportunities, walking me through the labyrinth of accreditations and certifications.
Coming from the tower of an American Ivy League university to now working in the inner and complex circles of Torontos Regent Park was a shock at first, but then, steadily, the resilience and courage of children of Torontos Nelson Mandela Park Public School silenced my complaints as I saw them come to school with empty stomachs and broken hearts.
It is from them that I have learned that a small act with a meaning is worth more in life than anything. In the end, Canada helped me to acknowledge and articulate the meaning of life, and it did so from one of its poorest and most challenged neighbourhoods.(http://www.canadianimmigrant.ca/immigrantstories/yourstories/article/6995)
Tayyab Rashid.
A place to call home
Pakistani-born immigrant credits Canada for helping him explore his identity
Tayyab Rashid
When I came to North America some 15 years ago, I thought that most of us are migratory beings, or some part of our constitution is. Living in Canada has changed or perhaps expanded my thinking we are also sedentary souls. Wandering from place to place, some niche pulls us to call it home. That place for me is now Canada. Canada is not just a vast expanse of land, known more for its ice hockey and maple syrup; it is also a warm society where humans are acknowledged and accepted no matter how they look like.
South of the border, where I lived for a good decade, an unspoken yet strong value gently nudged me to mould myself into Americanism. Somewhat wounded by the physical deprivations and social injustices of my native land, Pakistan, I had little awareness to resist the Americanism. In fact, with every little nudge, I felt taller and stronger as I inched toward the American dream. But the good life, I realized after coming to Canada, is lived not in height and strength, but also in depth.
Canadian institutions provided me that depth, which in turn helped me to explore the dynamics of my identity and nurtured my growth as a citizen of a free yet morally principled society.
My firsthand encounters with Canadian institutions, such as the educational system, health care, immigration, media, city government, civic services and so on, have been positive by and large.
Sure, there is room for improvement, but in most places, I felt the warmth (even amidst sub-zero temperatures), acknowledgement and acceptance for who I am. In particular, interacting with the individuals within these institutions, I discovered much more about the spirit of Canada.
Of course, I decried those institutions that deemed my American education and experience inadequate to meet the Canadian standards. But some wonderful, kind and generous Canadians did not hesitate to acknowledge the potential within me and opened some windows of opportunities, walking me through the labyrinth of accreditations and certifications.
Coming from the tower of an American Ivy League university to now working in the inner and complex circles of Torontos Regent Park was a shock at first, but then, steadily, the resilience and courage of children of Torontos Nelson Mandela Park Public School silenced my complaints as I saw them come to school with empty stomachs and broken hearts.
It is from them that I have learned that a small act with a meaning is worth more in life than anything. In the end, Canada helped me to acknowledge and articulate the meaning of life, and it did so from one of its poorest and most challenged neighbourhoods.(http://www.canadianimmigrant.ca/immigrantstories/yourstories/article/6995)
