Cast From The Herd Excerpt # 111: Welcome To Canada

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 111:  Welcome To Canada!

 “Welcome to Canada!” Those were the first words from the immigration official when I handed him my passport. 

            Unaccustomed to such friendliness from bureaucrats, I just smiled. “Have a pleasant stay!” as he handed back my passport. His was my introduction to Canada and the friendliness of its officials and citizens alike. I stepped outside to say good-bye to Chris. I had just met him less than twenty-four hours earlier and thousands of miles away, yet I felt as if I was bidding farewell to a long close friend. He was going to a college in Vancouver. 

            The beauty and vastness of the land awed me. To the west, the grand dark blue Pacific; ten thousand miles away and slightly to the south would be the east coast of my Malaysia. I turned around and there was the panoramic coastal range with its snow-capped peaks, so majestic, reminding me of the beautiful verse in the Qur’an referring to the wonders of Allah’s creations. My Gunong Pasir was but a molehill in comparison to these towering peaks. 

            Everything was so green but wet as there had been a drizzle earlier. I could just imagine Malaysia to be like Canada if only we had a giant air-conditioner to cool the country. No, it could not be; those majestic snow capped mountains were distinctly Canadian, as was the friendliness of the people. 

            As the Canadian government sponsored me, I first had to go to Ottawa. I flew via Toronto in a Trans Canada Airline jet with its iconic red maple leaf logo. Below, the towering coastal range gave way to the even more spectacular Rockies. I could not take my eyes off them. I had read about them in my geography books and could even name some of the peaks, but seeing them from five miles high, no prose, however elegant, could describe the grandeur. 

            Soon we were over the vast prairies and their golden wheat fields. September, harvest time. What I saw was an ocean of gold in more sense than just color. The open blue sky accentuated the vastness and flatness. The scene was mesmerizing and soon I was asleep. 

            The flight from Toronto to Ottawa was on a smaller turbo-prop plane. It flew low so the landscape was more distinct. The farms were much smaller. We flew over wooded areas just like Malaysia, except that they had a tinge of blue rather than deep green as back home. Scattered here and there were splashes of red, gold and yellow – the colors of fall – reminiscent of the dazzling bright-red flame-of-the-forest trees that light up the Malaysian jungle, only more spectacular and abundant. Interspersed were dark-blue glacial lakes, nature’s swimming pools. 

            By my watch I arrived in Ottawa at dusk but it was still surprisingly bright. I was met at the airport by a Foreign Affairs official, a Mr. Morrison. I was put up at the small Bye Town Inn not far from the Parliament Building. Later he took two other students, one a fellow Malaysian, and me for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. It felt good to be eating rice again, and in a foreign country at that. 

            The third student was from Ghana, the son of a high official. I surmised a bit about Third World influence peddling from that fact. I was impressed at how well he conducted himself in a conversation. I was glad that he was there otherwise the dinner would have been stiff and boring. Mr. Morrison could not get much out of me or my equally taciturn fellow Malaysian. 

            Morrison was candid in telling us about Canada’s political problems. I learned about the country’s volatile race dynamics, with the two major groups – the English- and French-speaking – tussling for supremacy. I could not imagine a Malaysian official in a conversation with foreigners being as forthcoming. He went beyond, telling us that we were lucky that his superior, a Miss Ann Moore, was on her late summer vacation. Otherwise we would have to meet her. I surmised that would not be such a treat. 

            With the inevitable jet lag and biologically-disruptive time-zone changes, not to mention all those novel experiences overwhelming my senses, I went to sleep right away, only to be wide awake at midnight. It was more than a few hours later, with daylight peeking through the drapes, did I manage to sleep again. 

Next:  Excerpt # 112: Unexpected Culture Shock!