This narrative arises from an interview with Sebastian Oyarce –a young man who faced deportation two years ago at the age of seventeen. Sebastian was born in Argentina in 1994 and moved to Canada, with his family, at the age of five. We live in a country full of many immigrants from across the globe, but we never take a moment to think about all the hardships they face. This is Sebastian’s story…

I was seventeen when I found out that I had to leave the country I called “home” for twelve years, to go back to a place I barely remembered. In 2010 my dad fought another man to defend his brother. With a lousy lawyer, who put no effort in the case and no witnesses willing to stand up for my dad, he was thrown in jail for six months. After that incident my mom received a letter from immigration stating that she must make an appointment with an immigration officer.

In September 2011 my mom, thirteen year old sister, baby brother and I all woke up at 6:00am to go to this appointment. We rode the 41 bus from our apartment on Keele and Wilson to Keele and Lawrence where we got on the 58 to go to the immigration office on Airport Road. My mom anxiously looked around the bus while my baby brother slept in her arms. My sister did not understand the situation we faced so she chatted the entire bus ride. My leg shook viciously and my stomach twisted in knots; in fact it was in knots for six months –I barely ate right.

We finally arrived at the building after an hour and a half bus ride. Inside, several black doors with white bordered black numbers surrounded a small office. My mom signed in at the front desk then we anxiously waited on chairs in the centre of the office.

“Paola Montenegro, room 2B please”, the secretary called out.

My mom, sister and I stood up quietly and walked over to the black door. Behind the door was another small room that had a table at the centre with two chairs. Behind the table lay a big glass wall full of holes, separating us from the other side of the room. It looked like one of those rooms you see in prison movies –where visitors talk to the prisoner from the other side.

We waited again in this room for a few minutes until an immigration officer came to talk to us. A tall white man in his mid-thirties with short black spikey hair walked through the door on the other side of the glass. He had on a black polo shirt with the immigration officer logo on his chest and black dress pants.

“We have been reviewing your files and your family is illegally living in Canada. You must leave the country immediately on December 29th and return to Argentina,” the immigration officer said.

My mom instantly started to bawl and my sister, seeing my mom cry, started to cry too. My heart dropped to my stomach and I forced myself to swallow my tears. I hugged my mom and told her “Everything’s going to be alright” –I had to keep it together for my family.
The immigration officer stood up and said “I’ll give you guys some time, then you can leave,” then he turned around and walked through the black door.

My mom and sister went home and I went to my girlfriend of eight months’ house who lived on Airport Road in Brampton. I never really cared much for girls until I met her –I loved her a lot. When I was with her all my problems disappeared –she untied all of those knots in the bottom of my stomach. But when I went to see her I didn’t tell her about the deportation –I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin our day together –we barely ever got to see each other. I didn’t want her to be depressed and cry over the news, so I waited a whole month to tell her.

I dropped out of my final year of high school –I didn’t see a point of going. Exams take place in January and I had to leave in December –I wouldn’t have completed any courses. Instead I worked with one of my dad’s friends painting. I needed to support my family; we had no money and I had to be the man of the house now. I would rather help my family as much as I can than sit in school and watch them suffer.

Time went by in a matter of minutes and the next thing I knew it was December 29th and I was on my way to the airport. When we got to the airport I went to the immigration office with my mom, sister, and my girlfriend to get our tickets, then we went to send our bags on the plane. When we walked back to our friends I saw my dad sitting with an immigration officer. My mom smiled and ran to him and gave him a hug and a kiss. I smiled at the sight of my dad –I hadn’t seen him for six months. He hugged me with his big strong arms while a tear rolled down my cheek. We all sat on the airport chairs, waiting nervously –I tried to enjoy my final moments in Canada with my friends.

“Air Canada is now boarding to Argentina”, we heard on the speaker. The immigration officer stood up and led us to the gates. I hugged my friends Danny, Angel and Joey while tears flowed out of our eyes. I hugged my girlfriend last. She was shaking and crying uncontrollably. I held her tightly and wept on her shoulder.

“Please don’t go,” she sobbed. “Don’t leave me”.

I kissed her repeatedly and whispered in her ear “I promise I will come back for you. I love you”.

I let her go and walked through the gates. I turned back and saw my Canadian friends –my Canadian family –with swollen, red, watery eyes watching me leave. I smiled and waved to them, then walked onto the plane.

I looked out of the plane window and saw the ground getting further and further away. “This may be the last time I see Canada,” I thought as I wiped away a tear. I was on my way to Argentina –a country that I love but a country that is a dangerous place to live. I expected to finish school and get a job; I believed my family would have a stable, average life in Argentina. Never did I think that I wouldn’t be able to go to school, that my parents would get separated, that I would discover my dad wasn’t my biological dad, that I would struggle to make enough money to feed my family. I never expected any of this as I lifted off the ground and flew away from my true home –the place I lived most of my life –Canada.