Thursday, February 22, 2024, is a day I will never forget. At 05:15, along with several of my colleagues in Catholic Social Services, including Gerald Sseguya- Charism Friend; Canadian Border Services and IRCC (Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada) personnel, we awaited the arrival of 333 refugees coming from Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia and Uganda. Egyptian Airlines was entrusted with flying them from Entebbe, Uganda to Cairo, Egypt and finally to their Canadian entry point- Edmonton. Five of us were chosen to be the welcomers on the second floor, directly above the Customs Hall.
Suddenly, the doors at the other end opened and the passengers started walking toward us. Not knowing how to speak Somali, Tagrinya, Ahmaric, Arabic, Swaheli, I felt extremely vulnerable. How would I be able, as one so privileged to be born in Canada, and to have never spent a moment in a refugee camp, be able to greet these tired, hopeful, perhaps fearful, sisters and brothers in a way that would say, “Welcome to your new home”. I said to one of my colleagues who speaks 5 languages, “What can I say?” “Just say, “Salam, that will be enough”.
As they came closer, I started saying, “Salam” while I smiled with my eyes. I noticed that many would then bow and place their hand over their heart. I started doing the same thing. As young families with 2-5 children in tow approached, I crouched down to their level and offered the sign of peace. Immediately, they responded with a huge smile, returned the sign of peace, ran over to me, looked up at me with their gorgeous deep brown eyes, and hugged me. Even as I recount these precious moments, I am moved to tears. One does not have to have a language to communicate love. “The language of the Spirit is the language of the heart”.
After everyone was lined up in the Customs Hall, our team went downstairs and began passing out bottles of water, granola bars and oranges. I noticed one older Muslim woman, perhaps 50-55 years-of-age, bent over her trolley, trying to push it. I went and greeted her with “Salam” and smiled. With gestures, I tried to ask if I could help push her trolley. She shook her head, “no”.
Six hours later, outside the Customs Hall, I noticed people were sitting in different cordoned off areas: only 85 would be remaining in Edmonton and were waiting for family or friends to meet them and take them home. Some would be boarding a bus to be taken to other cities or towns in Alberta- Calgary, Lethbridge, Brooks- and still others would be overnighting in a hotel, paid for by Catholic Social Services, and would fly to their final destination the next day. Those who were to spend the night in the Edmonton Inn, would be flying to New Westminster, British Columbia; Saskatoon and Regina, Saskatchewan; 6 cities in Ontario and finally, St. John’s Newfoundland/Labrador, which they would have flown over en route from Cairo. For those were being bussed to other cities in Alberta, a four to seven hour trip awaited them. Volunteers had prepared lunches, coffee, snacks to help nourish them along the way.
One of the women whose final destination was Calgary, was the “elderly” Muslim woman whom I had seen in the Customs Hall. I looked at her and smiled and her whole face was radiant. As I approached her, she said in faltering English, “You love me”. I took her hands in mine, looked her in her eyes and said, “Yes, I love you”. The young woman next to her, whom I discovered was her daughter, said to me in perfect English”, “Thank you. Now my Mom is happy”. With tears in my eyes, a heart full of joy, and with very tired feet, I left the Edmonton International Airport, profoundly grateful for one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I may never see this beautiful woman again, but her image is imprinted on my heart.
As I got into the car, I remembered the words of Pope Francis, “The Church cannot be insular and must engage culture”. What an engagement, what a “Culture of Encounter” I lived that day!
crédit photos: Ursulines Edmonton, pixabay