Photo and story by Erika Engel
Hamilton News
June 27, 2008
He talks about Canada like he's been blind his whole life and has just seen his first rainbow.
"The colours," said Ali Al-Bayati. "The colours here are different."
There are greens and blues he's never seen before.
The Iraqi native stretches out his arms, palms toward the sky gesturing at the surrounding trees, the flowers, the sky -- as if to say, "Can't you see?"
Mr. Al-Bayati says the trees in Canada are more alive than those he's known all his life. He said he can stand beside them and feel them move as if they know he's there listening.
Mr. Al-Bayati's journey to Canada began with intent reflection on a map that he kept in his tiny flat in Jordan. It was a map of the world and he would study the coasts of Canada, the jagged islands, the country's rivers and lakes, nearly forgetting the "prison" that he was living in.
"Canada is somehow ... " his voice trails.
He smiles, searching for a word to explain what he saw when he looked at his map. He cups his hands and pulls his elbows in close like he's holding palms full of diamonds.
"Cornered," he says.
His eyes reflect the diamonds he still pretends to hold.
"It's a hidden paradise. It is safe."
Safe, at last, in Hamilton, Ontario.
Mr. Al-Bayati, 48, was born in Iraq. He became a mechanical engineer, but, like many, worked for the government.
Mr. Al-Bayati wasn't allowed to leave Iraq, because his work at the presidential palaces was too sensitive. He knew too much.
He and his wife Nidhal, 38, lived in fear.
"I can't describe it," he said. "Everybody has agony. There is no electricity, no water...You're not safe in your own home. When you go out, you might not come back."
He speaks of mass graves and brutal killings. He says this new government has one agenda -- to kill.
Mr. Al-Bayati opens his eyes a little wider and slows his speech to carefully pronounce each syllable flawlessly.
"You can't compare it to Canada," he said. "You think every day, death will be the next address of yours."
Mr. Al-Bayati decided he had to leave. He knew people in government, and paid them to get a passport for himself and his wife. The passports were legal, but it was impossible to get them without connections and money.
They were given the documents.
They had two days to leave.
They could never come back.
Mr. Al-Bayati left his family -- five brothers and one sister.
"They are suffering, now," he said. "Life there is decaying."
His mother died after he left, but he didn't attend the funeral. He could never go back.
In 1997, Ali and Nadhal left for Jordan but it was nothing more than a move from death row to a bigger cell.
"In Jordan, if you leave, you can't get in again," said Mr. Al-Bayati. "It was like a big open prison for us."
He explains that Iraqis are not allowed to work in Jordan unless they have permanent residency status. An Iraqi, he says, is never given permanent residence.
Ali and Nadhal tried to survive. Work was rare, and only one day in many.
The couple lived in a tiny apartment in Jordan's capital, Amman, for 10 years. The threat of death was not so obvious, but it lingered. They also knew the Jordanians could find them and throw them out of the country at any time. To where? Mr. Al-Bayati didn't know, but he knew it would be their end.
"It was hard to develop ourselves there," said Mr. Al-Bayati, speaking of the constant anxiety he and his wife dealt with.
The couple has no children. Mr. Al-Bayati said there was too much uncertainty and stress to bring a baby into the family.
"We feel we are settled down now," he said. "Children are the next project."
Soon things got worse in Amman. Iraqis were being hunted and thrown out. Mr. Al-Bayati applied to the United Nations for refugee status and a chance to leave Jordan.
On his application, he had to choose three countries that would be ideal. Canada, that corner of paradise on his map, was his first choice. Next was Australia, then the United States.
After more than a year of waiting, Ali and Nadhar made the 24-hour trip to Canada on a cramped Air Bus. They arrived in Hamilton less than three weeks ago.
"We feel we are Canadian," said Mr. Al-Bayati.
The Al-Bayatis are two of the thousands of refugees who have made Hamilton their new home, and Canada their new country. Currently, there are 22 million refugees across the globe.
The couple celebrated World Refugee Day on June 20 at a reception behind LIUNA station hosted by Settlement and Integration Services Organization (SISO).
SISO is a Hamilton based initiative to aid refugees and immigrants living and coming to Canada. They offer help in job searching and training, education, language instruction, translating services, and finding a home in the city.
Mr. Al-Bayati and his wife are closely connected to SISO, and say the organization has been a great help.
Five days after moving into their apartment on Upper James Street, Mr. Al-Bayati phoned his family in Iraq.
"I've arrived," he said into the receiver. "I've arrived in Heaven."
