Love After Enmity
The minus 31-degree weather shocked me as I
stepped out of the Edmonton International Airport on Dec 1. 1998. My excitement
at immigrating quickly turned to disappointment. I had never imagined it could
be this cold. The coldest I had ever felt in Baghdad was perhaps plus 10. My
extra heavy winter jacket didn’t help at all—it froze against my skin, crackling,
when I bent my arms. This
intense cold stabbed my bones with sharp pins. A shroud of snow covered everything.
My first unpleasant experience in
Edmonton.
More challenges followed as I
settled into the city: my
inability to pursue my career as a writer or to utilize my skills, working at random
jobs, and the difficulty of getting my university degree in mass media recognized.
My struggle to muster another language at the age of 28 made things worse. With all those challenges, I found myself in no
mood and with no time to do my writing projects or to read Arabic literary
books, as I had done regularly before. Furthermore, these various difficulties
lead to failure to seek better living prospects somewhere else. While attending
school to learn English, I worked a part time job, one that as a highly skilled
university graduate, I would never have done in Baghdad. Though I realized my
situation to be a necessary sacrifice to enjoy important human necessities of safety
and freedom of speech, I felt trapped. I felt destiny attacking me. I saw the
city as an enemy.
Two things changed my feelings to
Edmonton.
The first occurred when I got
married. My wife, an Iraqi, helped me overcome my homesickness. Equally
important, she encouraged me to resume writing in Arabic. Since then, I’ve published
articles and short stories through Arabic media outlets. The second event was
the birth of my oldest
son, Uruk, named after the first city in ancient Mesopotamia. Becoming a family
man began to bond me to the city. Finally, I was planting roots here, I felt. I
started to look at the city with new eyes.
I had never, for example, thought I
would enjoy playing in the snow. But suddenly, when my son one winter asked me,
“Dad, can we build a snow man?” I
joyfully said, “Yes, let’s do it.” We
went to the backyard, and rolled snow into two balls. Using a carrot, I made a
nose for the snow man. “We did it, papa!” my son shouted. I experienced even
further joy when I took my son tobogganing.
We sped down the hill on a foamy round disk, and Uruk shrieked, “We’re flying,
dad. We’ve grown wings!”
Gradually, as my homesickness faded,
I wrote more in Arabic. By 2012, I had written four books, two of which I published
in Jordan. I submitted other articles and writings to Arabic print and online
publications.
My involvement in literary culture helped
to strengthen further my bond to Edmonton, and gave me a growing sense of
belonging in the Canadian society. I’ve now read, in English, books by Margret Attwood,
Alice Munroe, Haruki
Murakami, Paul Auster, and others. These
readings lead me to try and translate some English texts into Arabic. One of
the biggest Iraqi newspapers published one of my translations. I felt proud to have
introduced the poetry of Erin Moure, one of the great Canadian poets, to an Arabic
audience.
I’ve also, because of the readings,
developed an interest in translating my own works into English, and to do some writing
directly in this language. Despite the challenges, I’ve found writing in
English to be interesting and beneficial. Through support of the writers in residents
at University of Alberta, the Edmonton Public Library, and some local writers,
I’ve significantly improved my English writing skills, to the extent that one
of my works has been published in The Malahat
Review.
As all these accomplishments made me
feel I was winning the battle against alienation and other challenges, my hate
for the city gradually turned to love. This changing relationship with Edmonton reminded me of an Iraqi proverb: “Love
comes after enmity”.
My participation in literary events
around the city have further helped me develop this love: events such as LetFest festival, Edmonton
story Slam, and the Mill Woods Artist Collective’s activities. Additionally, I
was lucky enough to gain a spot in the Writers in Exile program for 2013/2014,
and to receive an Edmonton Arts Council grant that helped me write a book.
Now I feel Edmonton is home. I have a
wonderful wife, three adorable Edmonton-born kids, and a lovely cat. I own a
home. I work in a highly qualified job. I’m as content as I feel when I’ve cleared
the pathway of snow all the way to my door!
Nineteen years ago, I wouldn’t imagine that I could
ever love Edmonton. Sure, it still gets snow-covered in winter, but I don’t see
the white stuff to be a shroud as I did when I first arrived that December night
in 1998.
Assisted by Scott Sabo
Book design and cover photography
by Stephanie Simpson
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