Author: Olena Polissky, Founder/Managing Director of Art One Translations
The Beginning
August 1996. I am sitting on the plane approaching Vancouver, holding my breath, looking out the window. Down there, I see a magical landscape of a fairy-tale-like city immersed in greenery with impressive bodies of water, bathing in the lazy afternoon sun, all wrapped around by a range of spectacular mountains. I am stunned and fall in love with the city before stepping onto its grounds.
What awaits me here?
Out at the luggage carousel, my two bags approach, and a man beside me offers help picking them up for me. His face suddenly contorts from unexpected heaviness - the innocent-looking bags are packed with thick dictionaries intended for translation work.
A volunteer from the Ukrainian Community drives me to my B&B. I am exhausted from a long flight and need my sleep. Tomorrow I will go out to explore; tomorrow, I will step into my new life.
The Language
The first shock was that I didn't understand the language. The language I majored in at the university and had taught for years, and in which I could freely communicate with Brits and Americans.
I remember sitting on the bus listening to people around me and being unable to understand anything! English in Canada is different.
Someone gave me an old black-and-white TV with a tiny screen which I left on pretty much all the time in my rented apartment to get used to the language. Three weeks later, I started understanding Canadians. I don't know how and why, but it took me exactly three weeks to break through.
Work and Career
What Planet Are You From?
Before immigrating to Canada, I worked in the Kyiv office of a German grain export company, where I was responsible for contract execution, which meant everything from when the contract (which I also translated) was signed to the grains arriving at their final destination. The job was challenging, demanding, and stressful. It required juggling multiple tasks simultaneously, dealing with grain silos, authorities, customs, and ports, and keeping the management in Hamburg up to date. Countless scheduling, tracking, and phone calls.
My boss gave me an excellent letter of recommendation, which I was sure would help me land a job in Vancouver. I planned to work in the office, learn new skills and move up to more opportunities.
Well, the plan was good, except not many people knew where Ukraine was, not taking me or my experience gained there seriously. I was an alien from who knows where, and who knows how they do things in "what is the name of the country you are from again?".
Accounts Payable Clerk with PhD
I was applying for jobs, mailing (yes, mailing!) out hundreds of applications each week. I was desperate. In my despair, I wrote in my cover letter, "I will commit 110% to the job". The President of a manufacturing company invited me for an interview. He wanted to see with his own eyes a person willing to give a 110% to a job. He hired me on the spot. Oh, how happy and proud of myself I was!
But not for long. I realized quickly that most people in the office were immigrants. Their jobs were much below their qualifications, and their salaries significantly lower than the going rates for what they were doing.
I remember a girl who had a Ph.D. from her native country of Turkey, working as an Accounts Payable clerk for a salary of $20K. (I was Accounting Manager with access to the payroll). That was awfully low and unfair, even for the 1990s.
The work conditions left much to be desired; the Operations Manager, an angry man, kept the thermostat at 14 degrees, not allowing anybody to touch it. In the midst of summer and scorching sun outside, we were freezing, wrapping ourselves in sweaters and scarves, barely able to click on the keyboard with our numb from the cold fingers.
We all needed Canadian work experience as what we did in our countries didn't count.
Giving 110%
Giving 110% is not a joke; exceeding expectations is a norm for an immigrant who is determined to establish professionally in a new country. The immigrants must work harder than others, often sacrificing their personal lives and time with their children for professional growth and recognition. What others get away with, the immigrants will not.
Odd jobs, OK jobs, good jobs, and rewarding careers all led to a successful business. Giving more than what was expected became a norm. (A sure way to make yourself enemies as there is always someone - not willing to work as hard - who sees you as a threat).
I know the bitter taste of rejection, the joy of recognition, and the sweetness of success.
I know what it's like to make ends meet and what it takes to be financially independent. And once there to be called "lucky" and "privileged."
Professional Designations
Luckily, I didn't have issues validating my education, but I've heard many stories from other immigrants about their struggles having their educational credentials assessed.
One such story is about a Croatian immigrant to whom a potential employer said that Canada didn't recognize his degree from Zagreb University. In despair, the man replied: "Zagreb University is one of the oldest in Europe; it was established in 1669 when Canada did not exist. I don't think it requires Canada's recognition."
The hardest to get professional designations in Canada is for foreign-educated doctors. It takes years of enormous commitment, dedication, sacrifices, and financial investments. I've heard about depression, nervous breakdowns, and even suicide. All this when there are shortages of medical workers in Canada, and all these foreign-educated professionals are willing and capable of contributing their much-needed expertise to our medical system.
Cultural Adaptation and Values
Family
Years ago, I knew a man whose father had died in another city, and his body had not been found until a week after. Apparently, the son hadn't seen his father for 12 (!) years and spoke on the phone with him only twice during that time. How is this even possible?!
Where I come from, families are usually very close. They care for one another, share home-cooked meals, older generation helps mind grandchildren while their parents are at work. Giving children the best, including a good education, is seen by parents as a duty. And adult children see taking care of their aging parents as theirs.
Friends
Growing up, I remember my parents' apartment (people typically lived in apartments similar to a one or two-bedroom here) often filled with friends. They joined in to celebrate various occasions. Hard-to-find food items had been gathered months in advance and often traded between friends. Furniture was moved around for the occasion, and the whole place was rearranged to fit a large number of people.
Here in Canada, many people live in large houses, and there is plenty of food in the stores. Yet, gatherings like this seem rare, and friends tend to meet in restaurants or coffee shops, and welcoming people home seems reserved for very close family and friends.
It’s a Trade
I once met a woman from Italy who married a Canadian living in Vancouver. I asked her how she felt leaving behind her country, so rich in history and culture. Her response was: "It's a trade." The trade of the familiar for unknown, for new values and new possibilities.
It takes years to establish in a new country and even longer to feel at home. And when it happens, many immigrants share the same sentiment. In the beginning, we all try hard to assimilate, to "unlearn" our ways, to fit in. With years, however, we realize the importance of staying true to who we are with all our cultural differences, habits, and accents. Because aren't these differences what makes the population of Canada such a beautiful and colourful mosaic?
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Having lived in Canada for 26 years, I met many good people of all kinds of backgrounds. People who supported me, believed in me, gave me opportunities, opened their homes and hearts to me, taught me lessons, and offered a shoulder to cry.
One man, a lawyer of Ukrainian origin, helped me with a legal matter when I was going through difficult times. I could not afford to pay him and asked how I could thank him. He replied: "By helping others who need help. This will keep the chain of help going"
Today, most Canadians know about Ukraine because of the war, and many admire the bravery and determination of its people in their fight for freedom.
Today my heart is broken for my old country, and it is my time to pay back by welcoming Ukrainian refugees to our Canadian family. Because this is the chain of help, and we must keep it going to stay true to ourselves and to our Canadian values of diversity, equity, and inclusion.
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