Haitian Americans in Canada
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I come home after a long day. Home sweet home. Big and empty. Exactly as I like it. I lie down on my king-sized bed, and finally exhale. God, I needed that. It’s not easy being a big and tall Black guy in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. People stare at you so much sometimes you wonder if you’re an alien. And it’s not just Caucasians doing the staring. East Asians, North American Indians and Arabs stare at my Black ass too. I thought they were minorities too but go figure. Anyhow, I try not to let it get me down. Some days are worse than others, though.
The name is Stevenson Jean-Pierre. Boston-born Haitian guy living in the Capital Region of Canada. Currently enrolled at Carleton University and studying Criminology. And this is definitely not the way I thought my life would be going, man. Things are hard up here. Seriously. I don’t know who decided to spread the myth that Canadians are nice, easygoing people. They’re all assholes up here, man. And they’re really good at hiding it. They feel nothing but disdain and envy for the United States. These people suck. I thought they sucked when I arrived in Ontario in November 2009. I still think Canadians suck in February 2011 as I write these words. Some things never change, I guess.
I work as a night time security guard at a small shopping center in Nepean just to pay the bills. Working overnight shifts at eleven bucks an hour to keep a roof over my head and put food in my fridge. My classes at Carleton University are really tough. And I had a rough time getting into this supposedly easy school. My transcripts from Bay State College in Boston, Massachusetts, kept getting shuffled around. Trying to get the Admissions Department to change my major from Humanities to Criminology was like pulling teeth. They’re so bureaucratic and obtuse in Canada it’s not even funny. Gosh, these people get on my blasted nerves.
I really miss Boston, man. The town of Ottawa is dull and boring. People here are quite narrow-minded and covertly bigoted. Yet I seem to be the only Black man who knows it. Other Black guys and Black chicks I’ve met in Canada simply love Ottawa. If you ask me, the only good City in all of Canada is Toronto. It’s big and diverse. Half of its population is a mixture of African, Arab, Asian, Hispanic and Native American. The City of Toronto is wonderfully diverse instead of lily-White, button-down and boring like Ottawa. I wish I were living in Toronto. Unfortunately, I’m stuck in Ottawa and I’ve got to make the best of it. I’ve never been lucky in this life, man. Sometimes I’m surprised I haven’t gotten struck by lightning. Seriously. I’m that unlucky.
Mine is a lonely existence, man. All I do is work and go to school. I have very few friends. I rarely go out. The last time I went to the movies was months ago. I’m not seeing anybody. No time, man. Besides, chicks in Ottawa are weird. Black chicks in Ottawa bristle when they see a Black guy with a White chick but if that Black guy were solo and he asked them out, they’d laugh at him for even trying. Those same Black chicks flaunt the White guys they go out with but got nothing but ill feelings for Black guys with non-Black girlfriends. Isn’t that funny? White chicks in Ottawa act like they’re all over a brother, but they still act all weird when we’re around. Yes, that’s the calibre of woman available in the City of Ottawa. Why I’m staying single, man. And I don’t think I’m missing out.
Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother waking up in the morning. Seriously. It’s Winter 2011 and the sky outside is eternally gray and dull, reflecting my existence. I’ve lost interest in the things I would normally do, like going to the Saint Laurent Shopping Center or Rideau Mall to check out the hot chicks. I don’t feel like doing anything other than go to class, go to work and sleep. I can’t stand my landlord, an annoying Chinese guy named William. At least, I think he’s Chinese. He might be Korean or Japanese for all I know. He never told me his last name and I honestly never asked. All I know is that he’s a fussy prick who gets on my nerves by haggling with me over every minor detail at the house. The guy gets on my case for not putting a lid on the pan while cooking eggs. What the fuck? I’m this close to smacking this fool, I swear to God! See what I mean when I said he was annoying? Yep. Another uptight Asian dude. Ottawa is full of them. Small wonder White guys are stealing all their women. They’re boring as hell.
Man, I can’t stand this pathetic excuse for a City. As much as I hate it, I can’t afford to leave it yet. Not if I’m living paycheck to paycheck, man. I’ve got six hundred dollars in my account with the Royal Bank of Canada. Not enough to move to the City of Toronto, my dream town. My rent costs four hundred bucks a month, and I’ve got to shell out another hundred for groceries and sixty to eighty bucks for my cell phone. Like most people in Canada, I get paid every two weeks. Yeah, I’m not a rich man. For now, moving to wonderfully diverse Toronto remains a pipe dream. I am stuck in the City of Ottawa. The most boring City in the Western Hemisphere.
As I lie on my bed, I look at the pictures adorning almost every inch of my walls. Pictures of African-American celebrities and icons. People I admire. Ashanti. Lisaraye McCoy. Serena Williams. Tamera Mowry. James Brown. Governor Deval Patrick. Michael Jordan. Wendy Williams. Queen Latifah. Grace Jones. Michelle Obama. Jada Pinkett Smith. Ciara. Ananda Lewis. Those sexy ladies from Real Housewives of Atlanta. Cappie Pondexter. Yeah, all the people I admire. As I look at the pictures, I can’t help but wonder why I left my beloved Boston for the dregs of Ottawa. It was one of the worst decisions of my life, man. I miss home so much it’s not even funny.
I left a world behind in the City of Boston. But I basically had no choice. I was in trouble, let’s leave it at that. If I hadn’t left Boston, I’d be dead. I came to the City of Ottawa, at the urging of my parents, Louis and Gina Jean-Pierre. You see, my folks lived in the Confederation of Canada in the early 1980s before moving to America. They earned their University degrees at the University of Ottawa before moving to Boston, where they had me. They still have dual citizenship, though they haven’t set foot in Canada since the 1990s. They thought Ottawa would be an okay place for me while I got my life back together. I guess they didn’t realize how insane Ottawa is. I’m losing it out here, man.
What’s going to happen to me out here? I don’t know. I really don’t. Nothing good, I guess. My life is insanely boring. I am extremely lonely. I can count my friends on one hand, and they’re more acquaintances than friends. I miss home, but can’t go back yet. It’s funny. A United States Citizen living in Canada who can’t go home. That is the supreme irony. I am dying to escape from the Canadian Capital. I feel like I’m in Hell. I feel like a wraith here. I’m not alive, I’m a ghost. This place sucks. I want to go back to Boston, seriously. And I will. I don’t get care if I get shot by my enemies the moment I step off the plane. There are worse things than death. Like living in Ottawa. Peace.
Uma
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