South Africa to Canada

A teenager's perspective

Von Johanu Botha

1. September 2007

Change to begin with is a tough process, but changing from the comfortably familiar to the utter new is something quite different. One moment you’re playing with the idea of seeing another country, the next you’re in a crowded airport, relatives everywhere and too many bags packed with too many memories.

Canada was the country we had come to see. “The cold place up North” was the only definition we South Africans had for it. And cold it was, but not at first. After what felt like an all-inclusive flight tour of most European cities and a quick stop in the USA, our family finally made it to Winnipeg, Manitoba. A gust of hot, humid wind hit our faces as we stepped into the Canadian sun. The flatness of the prairie hit us like a wall. We could see for miles, and half expected to glimpse the back of our own heads as we surveyed the horizon.

The first Canadian we met – a charming middle-aged lady – approached us with unsure, yet friendly hesitance. Without trying to stereotype too much, this was a characteristic we found in most Canadians. Welcoming yes, but with a hint of caution; as if they were very tempted to like us but just needed to make sure.

The Altona Town Council looked after us exceedingly well. We found our house filled with furniture, kitchen appliances and a fridge full of food. As time settled, we started to stretch our legs and try out our new environment. Mom was eagerly received into the clinic (a Doctor) and Dad was out and about searching for a job (an Engineer). My two younger brothers, ages one and three then, joined a Day-Care which quickly became a day-home for them. I, aged eleven then, had a summer to make friends. And friends I made. Most Canadian pre-teens were very curious about an African visiting their shores.

As the weeks wore on the weather got colder, but the people grew warmer. Acquaintances became friends. Those who would usually drive by and wave now stopped by and drank coffee. Mom’s practice had a surplus of patients, Dad had found a job, I had happily started school and the young ones perhaps had the most fun, as their ignorance protected them from images of home.

We immersed ourselves in this world; eating perogies and kielke, hitting the slopes snowboarding, running the bases playing baseball and of course, skating and puck handling in hockey. Nevertheless, memories of lamb steak, a rugby game and a camp fire crackling in the African darkness came to visit often.

As I said in the beginning, change is something quite different. It isn’t all peaches and ice cream. It requires adjustment and patience. One can easily move into a new weather pattern, but to jump into a new culture with different values, hobbies and humor is a tad tougher.

But sticking with it, taking in the change, allowing it to open your mind without losing your own identity, that is the beauty of it all. It is that little truth which has made our past five years in this new world so fruitful.

And which will continue to do so for the years to come.