White Eid - part 2

Saturday morning started exactly the way I expected it to – with a flurry. Snow had been piling up for the last few days mostly due to couple of heavy snowfalls just days ago. I was happy to see more. Our party was scheduled to start around noon, so we didn’t have much time to waste. Mili had been working on a few traditional Eid dishes to take with us. While she desperately tried to have them ready I was given the difficult task to get Zakeem dressed for the party. I would have preferred the cooking. It took me half an hour of chasing him around the house before I got him dressed. Shobuj bhai called us to say that they were making their move and would be picking up the boys from college. Bus system in Sault isn’t that bad but it can be very time consuming. Some of the students had bikes but it is dangerous to bike on snowy pavements or roads. I heard that one of the boys had already gotten couple of police warnings for biking on the icy roads.
After packing and carrying the food to the car (took me three trips across the icy parking lot), convincing Zakeem that it was a better idea to let the house key go so that we could lock the door and get going and a brief heated argument with Mili for taking so long to get dressed we finally packed ourselves into our primitive Toyota and rolled ahead. It was already one in the afternoon.
The flurry stopped but there was still some snowflakes floating in the air. I guess this slow movement of snow gives it the rhythmic nature. The temperature had rose a little bit and the partly melted ice made the roads muddy. A six-kilometer trip to the venue took us longer than we expected. Snowy roads can be very slippery triggering most people, especially the elderly, to drive in a turtle pace.
When we finally got our smiling faces into the restaurant, most guests had already showed up. The night before the wife of one of the Srilankan families had gotten admitted in the hospital for childbirth, so they weren’t coming for sure. The other family, Frank Neil and his wife were due to come. They were the first South East Asian family we met since we came here and we found them extremely friendly and helpful. Our initial sense of isolation evaporated quickly when we first met them.
A brief introduction got us all acquainted in that room. A white Canadian Christian family, neighbor of Shabuj bhai, man and wife with their blonde son and a Hindu Indian family gave us some diversity, something I personally wanted to see in this gathering very badly. Like Xmas, I thought, Eid was due to be a part of other people’s culture and what better way was there to do so than to invite them into one. Frank and Sriani joined us soon, both Christians, and we attacked the food without delay. Beside the buffet the Chatpati that Mili made became an instant hit. For the next couple of hours that place got filled with talk, laughter, scream (of course!) and the joy that I felt was overwhelming. It almost felt like being with one’s family after a long lonely trip. It sometimes surprises me how one can feel isolated and distant while living among people with different cultures no matter how nice and well mannered they are. It is never half as easy to mingle with people of other races than to the one we are so familiar with, specifically South East Asian. It was also a satisfaction to see Mili smiling ear to ear and Zakeem having a great time without making my life a hell.
After the meal a quick game of draw took place where four names were randomly picked and awarded with token gifts. Two of them went to Shabuj household, one to his Caucasian neighbor and the fourth one to Frank. After a few photo sessions finally it was time for departing.
Overall, it was perhaps the most enjoyable Eid celebration that I ever had, no matter how insignificant or brief.

White Eid Part 1

We started to explore all our options regarding Eid-ul-fitr (a muslim celebration after the month of Ramadan when devoted muslims fast dawn to dusk). We could drive to Toronto and spend the Eid among friends. Sounded great but there was a problem. According to prior calculations the Eid would be either on Thursday or Friday (based upon lunar calender), which meant I would have to take those days off and loose remuneration (being a contractor). That line of thinking stopped right there. Another choice was to go across the border to Michigan and visit Mili’s niece who lived in Midland with her family. She had invited us earlier and we knew there were a large number of Muslims there. Midland was four hours trip on car, quite doable. But again taking a day off was unavoidable. We had to reject it too. Economy here hadn’t been too good lately and loosing money was no option.
A week before Eid-ul-fitr Mili did something very clever but obvious. She looked up into the telephone book for known Muslim names. Bingo! She had a match. A quick call established association with that name to a Bangladeshi family. I saw smile in her face. This wasn’t going to be a solemn Eid celebration after all! I guess after a month of fasting she could expect to celebrate. A formal visit to the other family revealed that the gentleman, Shabuj, a former lecturer of Applied Physics taught in a local college. From him we found out that though there weren’t too many Muslim families around, a couple of dozen students from Bangladesh had recently come to the town to study in Algoma University and Sault (Soo) College. One of them, Sumon had rented the ground floor of their house and was living with his wife Sonia. We were very pleased to see a house full of compatriots after a seemingly long gap. The Eid celebration looked very prospective.
Owing to its location Sault Ste Marie gets more snow than its southern neighbors. It was only the beginning of December and the town was already covered with inch thick sheet of snow. The glorified appearance of green summer grass had disappeared completely, from every inch of ground that one could see, replaced by the glossy, soft, ubiquitous crystals of snow. To a mind that is open for novelty and exotic beauty this view could be overwhelming. While I enjoy every bit of short living summer here, deep inside me something also lusts for the delight of viewing a good snow fall, something that’s quite rhythmic, queer and someway strange. No matter how much mess the piled up snow creates and how difficult it becomes to drive on slippery and sometimes icy roads I have always, in a rather weird way, loved a snowy winter. That’s why I was quite excited when my journalist friend Ekram gave me the idea to write something about a white Eid. While in west a white Christmas is something expected and cherished for, a white Eid is definitely not something very usual for us, though living in this part of the world had rewarded many with that experience, more or less. I got my partly wrecked camera (thanks to screaming machine) out and loaded it with a film. It was clicking time.
It was already Wednesday and tons of things had to be done before the Eid day, which we decided to celebrate on Saturday, not Thursday, not Friday (having seen Arabs and Indian, Pakistani communities battling over Eid days several times in USA and actually celebrating it on different days sometimes in the same city, made taking my decision much easier). For me there was no taking work off. Initially I thought of arranging this party into a community center, which had to be rented. My goal was to find as many people as I could for the party, religion was not an issue. If it was a celebration, Eid or not, it had to look like one. That wasn’t going to happen without the diversity. After a frank discussion with Shabuj bhai and bhabi we all agreed that cooking for thirty-forty people could be a problem. So, it was time for plan B. Ming’s Buffet – a Chinese restaurant located only minutes away from my work place had won my heart at first gulp. I love the greasy food and never forget to gorge. I greedily mentioned about Ming. To my satisfaction everybody else agreed. Ming came here from Toronto a year ago and had been battling to survive in a slow town. Since we came here another Chinese restaurant had already closed its doors due to lack of business. I didn’t want the same ending to Ming. His food was good and affordable besides the pleasure of having a strange conversation with him where half the time none of us had any idea what the other one was saying. Ming had come from Hong Kong just a year ago and was yet to get proficient in English.
It was becoming difficult to get our guest lists going. The colleges were closed for Xmas vacation and many Bangladeshi students had already left Sault for Toronto. Only six stayed back. Mili and I invited our Srilankan friends and Shabuj bhai promised to bring his neighbor and an Indian friend. I had a senior friend from an American university who was working as a teacher in the Lake Superior University, just on the other side of the US bridge, a long stretch of metallic overpass that joined Sault, Canada with Sault, USA – a much smaller entity. A quick call to him revealed that he had two colleagues who were Muslims, one from Iraq another Palestine. I was quick to invite them all though none of them could make it due to their busy schedules.
Friday passed by quietly. In most places Eid was celebrated. I later heard some students had said their Eid prayer somewhere in Sault College that morning. I was at work and had no information regarding this. I wasn’t too crazy about the prayer but I felt bad for missing a good photo opportunity.

Salmon fishing

St. Mary's rapid is accessible from the Canadian side only and offers a great on or off shore fishing opportunities. The rapid represent a short stretch of the St. Mary's river which drains Lake Superior into Lake Huron. It's approximately 2/3 of a mile long by 1/4 of a mile wide flowing over a substance of bedrock (sandstone), boulder, rubble, gravel and sand. The rapids support annual runs of Steelhead, Atlantic Salmon, Chinook and Pink Salmon as well as a resident population of Rainbow Trout, Brown Trout and Whitefish.

In early September, the Salmon run started. I had heard from other fishermen about the legendary salmon fishing in the area. One elderly man boasted catching a 46" long and 44+ pounds Chinook salmon from the fishing platform on the boardwalk by the waterfront. It sounded like a dream. I tried to feel how wonderful it must have had felt holding that astounding catch. While it was not unusual to catch very large salmon from a boat, reeling something of that size from onshore was enviable.

Soon enough I found out it wasn’t easy to find a spot on the fishing platform, not during the salmon run. Fishermen from all over the area came here during this time, some even stayed overnight in the local hotels and motels. The round platform could hold only about a dozen fishermen standing about five-six feet apart from each other. The rest had to move down to other parts of the rapid and try casting either from the boardwalk or from the river side – which required climbing down about six-seven feet.

The best fishing spot was the platform, undoubtedly. The idea was to caste in the direction of the current and allow the water to carry the lure down the rapid. Once the lure was set in a nice location one could park the pole inside one of the metal poll holders adjacent to the railing that guarded the platform. Owing to the forceful current the string build up a tension on the pole. The moment a fish bit a lure it would pull hard to get free and the tip of the poll would visibly shake. This was when the fisherman would pick up the poll and reel the catch close enough so that a suspended net could be used to bring the fish up to the platform from the water surface almost ten feet below. Usually there would be somebody who wouldn’t mind giving a hand.

After several days of failed attempt one day I finally secured a place in the coveted platform. The first few casting didn’t go very well. I ended up tangling with my neighbors. Apologies were issued, lessons learned. Next I got into a snag and lost my expensive lure. More lessons learned. At the end it turned out to be a disheartening day. I went back home depressed.

Weeks later, after losing more lures and breaking couple of poles, finally the goddess of fish blessed me with a large salmon. The experience was overwhelming. I brought it home and measured it and took snapshots with my son Zakeem standing beside it. It was a 42” giant and taller than Zakeem. The picture created quite a bit of commotion among my family and friends and established me as a reputed fisherman. Later in that season I caught three more large Chinook salmon, one steelhead and a large rainbow trout. Finally I was starting to enjoy the Soo way-of-life.

First Steps in Fishing

Fishing, in contradiction to what many people may believe, is not a simple sport. Yes, it is classified as a sport and licenses are issued for a fee by the Ministry of natural resources. Kids and seniors are exempted. My journey in the wonderful often tedious and risky world of fishing started with the purchase of an outdoors card and a season license for fishing. I had to familiarize myself with the fishing regulations by zone. Most fish could be caught and kept only certain time of the year. The ministry tried to ensure uninterrupted spawning, especially endangered or depleting specious of fish.

Next a visit to Wal-Mart resulted in purchasing of a few fishing gears like the fishing rod with wheel, bunch of plastic baits and a small net. Once I figured out the tricky part of casting and reeling I beamed myself to one of the many fishing spots around the St. Mary's rapid. Soon I started to realize the difficulties when every third casting ended in snags. After a whole week of fishing and loosing most of my plastic baits that cost me almost a fortune my total catches amounted to one small catfish. Talk about achievement.

I knew I was missing something very vital. My attempts to get some help from the fellow fishermen didn't always go smoothly. To my surprise I discovered most fishermen weren't as friendly as one might expect them to be, either due to boredom or poor luck with fishing. The ones who were helpful talked my ears off. The cumulative information that I gathered left me more confused than ever. However, I learned many things as well. You can't use the same bait for all fish or even in all spots. It is necessary to do some spot profiling. One must find out the snag points, local fish population type and behavior, feeding habits, weather pattern etc. Also, knowing the art of reeling back is very important. This could make or break a fisherman's hours of hard work (if you are continuously casting and reeling the muscles does start to feel the stress). Some fish are quick to gulp its pray, some others are known to follow it before biting; some others wait quietly until it finds a suitable meal. Depending on how you reel your bait back you enhance your chances of catching specific type of fish.

After spending hours of hours of patient time and lots of casting, reeling, cursing, whining slowly but steadily my skill started to pick up. The first big fish that I caught was a twenty four inch - twelve pound Northern Pike. This is an eel like fish with sharp small mouthful of teeth. They are infamous for their unending appetite and were considered to have a bad influence in any echo system.

Happy, proud and all that I brought my catch home only to find out that Mili would not even touch it. So, I merrily scaled and sliced it and later made a mess frying it. Besides the initial scolding that was directed to me from Mili, there were also a few words of appreciation later as we found out the fish was delicious. Locals rarely ate them but it catered to our taste for fish. This catch was very encouraging and pushed me into a fishing frenzy in the coming days.

Having good time – All by ourselves

Months passed by albeit slowly. We were unable to find an appropriate social circle in Sault. One of the major reasons was obviously our cultural differences. We love to get together, enjoy good food, play a few rounds of cards and talk about primarily Bangladeshi politics. We saw a handful of Indian looking people here and there but didn't have the opportunity to meet any families that we could mingle with. This is a rather complex thing to explain but usually happen spontaneously. We simply weren’t experiencing that connection. Nonetheless, we enjoyed the small city with vast country like look and feel. The roads were usually lightly crowded, malls less busy. We missed the usual social gatherings but started to get used to the usual benefits of the relatively smaller city life.

Summer had come and was rushing away faster than expected as the coolness was hinting of setting in. We tried to go around as much as we could, keeping little Zakeem in mind. Bellevue Park was one of our favorite destinations. Located right by the Saint Mary's river this park presented an unforgettable view of the river, international bridge and the water front establishments. A large population of geese and ducks were housed here during the summer time. Zakeem was very fond of them and his fearful attempts to get close enough to them for a pat on the back was pretty funny to watch. I like beaches, sea or lake, especially ones with shallow descent. So, we also visited the nearby beaches on Lake Superior whenever we found an opportunity. Among the two beaches that we used to go - Harmony beach in Batchawana bay and Points Des Chenes on Airport road - the later one had a better beach and an enclave like settings surrounded by woods.

In September or late August fishing frenzy gulps the town as the Salmon season starts. Not sure exactly what had motivated me but it could have been one of several things. I remember I enjoyed fishing as a little boy growing up in a remote village in Bangladesh where my grandparent's had their farm. That interest coupled with plethora of free time did create a clear opportunity for me to invest time and money into picking up the fishing hobby.

Back to work – Ah!

Our apartment was on the third floor of a three storied building. There were a few other similar apartment buildings in the close vicinity but the crowd was nothing in comparison to what we experienced in Toronto. Like most buildings in this cold country this also had a wooden structure. A finely trimmed lawn with several small gardens embraced it from all sides. The building backed into a small farm where we noticed several Lamas. These animals are like small camels – in case you haven't seen one.

The superintendent was a middle aged woman named Anna (not her real name). She was Caucasian like most resident in this city. During our whole stay we probably saw handful of Indians, even fewer Asians and doubtfully any blacks. Most people here was of European descend, primarily Italian. Anna seemed to be a nice lady and readily completed the minor formalities that were left before we could take possession of the apartment. The two bedroom apartment was small but very bright and sunny. Wasn't bad for a choice that was made over the internet without even seeing anything. The Toronto apartment where we resided before was so tiny that this one felt like freedom. I unloaded the car as quickly as I could and headed downtown to see Carlo.

OLG office building was located by the water front on Foster drive. A multi storied glass building, it was a distinct architecture among the other establishments in the vicinity. A wooden boardwalk flanked the river edge and went past by the marina, the hotel Sheraton and the covered big mall, accommodating a round fishing platform built over the rapid - a popular place for Salmon fishing during September-October, and a wooden bridge allowing the pedestrians and the cyclists to get access to another part of the rapids. Eventually these places became a regular grazing ground for me as I got caught into a fishing craze.

I saw Carlo on the fourth floor in his office. He was happy to see me and expressed his surprise with the fact that I was married with children. He probably didn't believe anybody with a life would agree to move to Sault from Toronto. He didn't know me well.

Initially the work load was light, often nonexistent but slowly things picked up. My first major project was to lead the system integration testing of the Bingo project - a very popular game in most part of Ontario. Due to the nature of the project this was a very draining task to ensure a defect free experience. During this time I met Scott, who was a member of Carlo's team. A friendly middle aged man with head full of gray hair he was good to talk to. He had been with the company for more than two decades, same as Carlo and had well adapted to the slightly leisurely life style of the distant city. His wife drove across the border to work in USA. This was a common thing among many Saultites (residents of Sault), as the US dollar had a better value than Canadian dollar.

First Step in Soo

On our way to Sault Ste. Marie we passed by a few interesting looking towns -Espanola, Blind River, Iron Bridge, Bruce Mines etc. Most of these towns were small and primarily mining towns. They had this slightly old, rustic look submerged into endless greenery, a combination that would instantly attract an adventurous mind. However, we weren't looking for adventure. The only thing that went on my mind was to get to Sault Ste. Marie, drop Mili and Zakeem in the apartment and get to work. That was the most important part – GET TO WORK. We tried not to even stop unless absolutely necessary, which was obviously nature related. The drive was painfully slow as the small towns each had there own speed limit ranging from 40 kilometers to 80 kilometers per hour. From my experiences living in USA I knew small town sheriffs and deputies were more likely to lay a speed trap than their counterparts in the city zone. The last thing I wanted was a speeding ticket something that could cost me in access of 100 dollars. Nevertheless, the often slow drive through the curvy, mostly lonely but spectacular road was something that we fell in love in later days.

Our apartment complex was right at the mouth of the town, just past the large signboard that welcomed visitors into the decaying town proudly declaring it as the home town of Dr. Roberta Bander, the first female Canadian astronaut and world's first neurologist in space who spent 8 days in the orbit on the space shuttle Discovery in 1992. The city also had another unique distinction. It was the only city that had parts both in USA and Canada. The part in the Canadian side was much larger and more populated with about 80000 people in comparison to 18000 across St. Marys River - a tributary of Lake Superior, world's largest freshwater lake by surface area and third largest in water volume. Once a bustling city with Algoma steel Inc. (currently Esser Steel Algoma), Canada's biggest steel company, as the largest employer with more than 5000 employees, the city has gone through tough times in recent years. The steel company was still the largest employer but struggled to survive against tough competition. Call centers, Sault hospitals and Ontario lottery was the next three largest employers.

Another distinction of the city was the Soo locks that allowed the shipping traffic in the Great Lakes system to bypass Saint Mary's Rapids, the world's busiest canal in terms of tonnage that passes through it. Watching the large ships slowly and steadily slipping through the canal, we later found, was a very interesting view. The Soo locks were located below the almost 3 mile long truss arch bridge with suspended deck that connected Sault Ontario with Sault Michigan (Canada-USA), something that presented another spectacular view against the blue sky and the ever rushing rapids dotted with large, dark boulders and plenty of fishing activities.

On the way to Soo

The morning we started for Sault Ste Marie turned out to be an eventful one. Mili had barely slept the night before. Part because she was packing and part because finally this moving thing was getting into her nerves. That wasn't the case with me. I slept uninterrupted. However, in the morning as I started to move stuff from apartment to the car – 1996 Toyota corolla - my composure started to wane off. The car filled up much quicker than I had expected with ‘absolutely necessary stuff’. Frustrated and angry I cursed just about everything around and unduly blamed Mili for packing more than the essentials. At the end we had the car packed to the point where the only spaces that were left were the places for our buttocks to rest. Zakeem - sitting in his car seat- surrounded by things that practically allowed little room for him to even move his little feet, howled in total objection. Our heart broke but there was very little we could do. A great portion of the stuff we were carrying was his. We left behind his little mattress that we carried to Toronto from USA tying it on the car roof. It gave us immense pain as the plastic covers torn apart in heavy wind flapped against the windows like giant birds. But the toys were coming in this trip, for obvious reason. The cloths, pillows, comforters, kitchen stuff...you think you have nothing, wait until you move.

As I drove on freeway 400 toward Sudbury Mili tried to rest. Soon she started to complain about a mild headache. Zakeem's intermittent howling wasn't helping either. A dose of painkiller didn't do any magic. She continued to feel worse. Nothing seemed going right. I was depressed, dejected, tortured with wavering thoughts. Perhaps I should have just accepted the low paid full time position. We could have just stayed in Toronto. All these could be avoided.

We stopped near Parry Sound, a town located near Georgian Bay (30 thousand islands) for a break about three hours into our trip. Hot drinks were purchased. The coffee helped my doomed spirit but the tea did nothing to alleviate Mili's headache. We continued after a short while. Zakeem loved the freedom out of his car cage. Putting him back caused another depressing burst.

Sudbury - the town where world's largest Nickel mines are located in addition to copper and a slew of other oars - was about one and half hour away from Port Perry. The spacious freeway 400 ended near Parry Sound and we were directed into two lane highway 69. The winding road went through beautiful natural enclaves, often passing through sections that were built through rocky hills. The panoramic view that the drive offered was breathtaking. However, we were barely in the mode to enjoy that. The only thing that went through my mind was to get to Sudbury, stop somewhere, have lunch, get our blood moving. Hopefully all the dismay would go away. Mili had been very quiet for the last hour. I wasn't sure if she was sleeping or just decided to keep mute. My attempts to break a conversation went in vein. She was definitely mad at me.

As we approached Sudbury we left 69 and jumped into highway 17 (Trans-Canada highway), world's longest national highway with a length of 7821 km (4860 mile). It went across Canada starting from St. Johns in Newfoundland and ending in Victoria, British Columbia. Due to some mix up with the exits I ended up going past Sudbury and stopped in a Tim Horton in Lively - a small town near Sudbury. It was a neat town with several food stores and a few gas stations. The vast farmland around the town offered a really nice and pleasing environment. I ordered some lunch and started to indulge the idea that the hard phase of our journey was about to be over when Mili announced she was feeling really sick and quickly disappeared inside the ladies room not to be returned in next half an hour. She had thrown up several times and felt so weak that she could hardly stay on her feet. I knew we couldn't continue. Unfortunately it was a Sunday. I was supposed to get to work next morning. The first thing came to my mind was informing Carlo. I had only his office number. I called up the number, got his voice mail and quickly explained the situation. I promised to show up in the afternoon next day instead of morning. I hoped he would be okay with it.

Next I stepped out to look for a motel or something of that kind. I didn't have to look too far. There was a large motel right next door - Motor inn. This was an old looking establishment located on a small hill backed into open fields - owned by a Korean family who were very friendly. We rented a room there for the night. It was a clean, specious room. Mili wasted no time and went to bed directly. She slept deeply for hours. Zakeem and I went to the balcony to enjoy the view that the vast fields presented. Slowly the day rolled into evening and darkness surrounded the little town. Not having much to do as Mili slept we went to bed early as well. If things looked good we could start very early. Sault Ste Marie was only about three hundred kilometers away. With some luck I could actually get to work next morning - a little late possibly.

Next morning, we started at five. Mili was feeling better as her headache was gone. Zakeem was still asleep but we carried him into the car and with a little patting helped him going back to sleep. We left the dusty looking motel behind us for a amazingly beautiful trip that meandered through small towns, lakes, fields and woods, offering just about everything that a road trip possibly can.

During our stay in Sault Ste Marie for the next fifteen months we had gone through this path several times and almost every time stayed in that motel.

Carlo from Sault Ste. Marie

As I waited for the much expected call from the Kelly services, I hopelessly continued to plague the recrutiers with my resume and cover letters with unrealistic self praises. Whatever works - I told myself. It was one Monday when I received a request for inteview from a software company. Yahoooo! No, that wasn't an ad for the software giant. That was a victory cry, of course. However, the interview couldn;t have gone any worse.

Within ten minutes of arriving there I met two gentlemen - a DBA and a UNIX administrator, both seemed to have some kind of agenda against the USA based work force because they literally started to hammer me in their areas of expertise when I believed I was interviewing for a test lead position. My expertise was in test automation and performance testing but due to lack of demand I often worked as a System Integration test lead. My knowledge in UNIX and Databases were workable but definitely could use some sharpening. Anyway, I didn't have to be a genius to figure out when I was joining there. Never.

I digested that graciously, tried to. More resumes flew through electronic highways. Another poor soul bought my self- proclaimed expertise and extended an invitation to show up for a discussion. Now, this one went better than I ever expected. After three hours of interview with several different people the lady manager seemed to be very happy with my in depth knowledge and was very eager to consider me for the position but I would have to come back for another three hour interview. Hey, that sounded very positive. My hopes ran high. When do I come back for the next one? Next week - as always.

Once back in the apartment a lot of planning ensues - starring Mili and I. The money that we had was sufficient to carry us for a few more months - so there was no immediate danger. However, we really wanted to create a safe buffer zone. A month has passed by and no money flew in. This was very stressful. More resumes.

Before the week ended I heard from another recruiter. This was a contract position with Ontario Lottery for six months. The job location was in Sault Ste. Marie (pronounced Soo Sent Marie). I had no clue where it was, never heard about it, but spent no time in accepting the interview request.

The interview was short and quick. QA Manager Carlo, an Italian man, tall and balding with a really friendly face and fast speaking trend was quick to make up his mind.

- You know where Sault Ste. Marie is, right?

- Oh yes. I checked the map. Salt S.T.E. Marie is located in North West Ontario right by Lake Superior.

- It's pronounced Soo Sent Marie. It's about seven hundred kilometres from Toronto. You are okay to go there?

-Oh yes. I love to travel. I have been in many places when I was working in USA.

I eagerly pointed out at my resume.

Carlo was easily convinced. - When can you join?

- Anytime.

- Okay. How about next week?

- Perfect.

Carlo promised to get back to me by the following week.

I braced myself with hope. A second interview with the first company went well. The issue came up with the salary expectation. The full time offer was too low and I opted for a higher number believing that the manager was still awed by my depth of knowledge. Just because I was desperate for a job didn't mean I couldn't play the burgaining game. I was promised that I'll hear from them, soon.

Days passed by. The following week came. I heard from none. Mili was mad with me for asking too much. I was about to tear my hairs off when Kelly services called. They had a job for me. Two three days a week. Starting form the next day. I would have to show up sharp at ten to this manufacturing plant. What the heck! I tried to take it lightly. This was defintiely temporary, I told myself.

The following day, dressed in my worst jeans and a tee-shirt as I was about to leave the house came a call from Ontario Lottery. I was offered a contract position for six months - just as Carlo said. Mili had mixed reaction. Taking this job meant packing up and leave for Sault Ste Marie. There was no way we were going to get separated. She was coming with me. I knew it was going to be difficult but we were already used to it. Since our marriage four years ago we had already went through five adobe changes. This could have been just another one if the region wasn't so unknown to us. None of our friends in Toronto had any idea about this town, none could actually pronounced it even half right. Nevertheless we made up our mind. It would be an adventure - we tried to look at the bright side.

Incidentally, the other company also came up with an offer couple of days later. Unfortunately, the money was poor, especially in comparison to what the contract job offered. Even though we really wanted to stay in Toronto as that's where we had some acquaintances the extra money was too much to ignore. Three days later we packed up as much stuff as we could in our four-door 1996 Toyota Corolla, locked our apartment and hit the unknown roads. I had already rented an apartment using the internet in Sault Sent Marie. Once settled I would come back and get our stuff from Toronto. A two months notice was already given. There would be some monetary loss but not agonizingly too much. We looked forward for the new town. The only person we knew there was Carlo, the QA Manager. It was indeed an adventure.

Gimme a Job

Migration is not for faint hearts. You wouldn't know what I mean unless you have gone through one. It's a truly painful experience seeing your savings depleting by the day. On the other hand finding a suitable job in your new country can be more challenging than you may have bargained for. I have seen desperate immigrants rushing into really low paid, low status janitorial type jobs in restaurants or stores. Obviously that was not something that I planned to do unless I was totally helpless. Not that you would find one of those jobs that easily, not unless you already know somebody to give you a good reference. Toronto is a bustling city with tremendous amount of diversity but yet for a newcomer all this may seem very hostile, very unfriendly.

The family friend - Jamshed bhai and his wife Nahid bhabi - who we stayed with for a few days lived in the same apartment complex as we did. They had migrated from USA as well. I didn't know their circumstances and never inquired. Obviously things didn't work out there. Nobody in their right mind would ever come to cold Canada from its southern neighbour unless they run out of any workable alternative. Jamshed bhai was a software professional back in Connecticut. Here he had to settle for a low profile manufacturing job, on part time basis. I learned that the manufacturing jobs were most popular among highly educated and skilled new immigrants as it saved them from being humiliated in the relatively easy to find store jobs.

I kind of knew all this even before I made the trip. I did a lot of search in the internet before applying for Canadian immigration. Before making the trip I had made up my mind to deal with whatever comes. For me it was point of no return. I did not want to go back to Bangladesh. My love for my country was not any less than my compatriots but I simply couldn’t envision myself dealing with the ‘no law, no service, only corruption’ type settings in every level of governance. So there I was - here in Canada.

Fortunately, my situation was not as bad as many others who had migrated directly from their native countries located all over the world. I had a higher degree from an American university and years of job experience in the IT sector. Deep inside I kind of expected that my degree and experience would land me a job in the local market.

When a whole month with all 31 days passed by and nobody asked for me to come and ‘discuss the position’ I knew it was time for me to lower my goal and start looking into other things. Work is work. As long as it pays, I’ll do it. So, I made the trip to a local Kelly Services office, an organization with hundreds of outlets well known for helping people find low paying jobs indoor or outdoor. A well dressed gentleman received me there and the conversation went:

- You have good education and obviously great experience. How would you feel working in a factory?

- Umm... factory? What kind of factory?

- Manufacturing, of course. Nothing to panic. All you'll be doing is to carry some steel chunks from point A to B. Not heavy at all. Barely 10-15 pounds. Eight hours a day. Good pay. 12 dollars/hour. The only thing is you must have a car. They may call anytime. You know, this is not a regular position. When one of their regulars don't come they look for ... you know ... part timers. Sounds good?

- Oh ya. For sure. How heavy is 10-15 pounds?

- Ha ha ha. Don't worry about that. It's nothing. You are a strong man.

Of course, I was. Don't be ridiculous. I tried to smile. - When do I start?

- Oh well, we don't know. They would call when they need. You have to be ready to go anytime.

We shook hands and I stepped out feeling all dried up inside. All those dreadful views that I had observed back in Dhaka, my native city, - the rickshaw pushers, the cart pullers, the vegetable vendors walking door to door in 100 plus Fahrenheit temperature - zoomed across my mind. There you go dude.