By Mignon du Plessis

There are, and there were, many a day when I sit, head in hands, thinking, wondering: Will it ever become easier …?

I see people our age and younger, and I think: Will I ever own such a house? Will we ever drive such a car? Will we ever go on such a journey? Because on most days it feels just outside of our reach. I hear of or see things that could possibly have been ours or of which we may have become a part, and I ponder: Was the sacrifice worth it? The relationships; the possessions; the luxuries? I think of lost opportunities; those “What if we stayed?” moments.  

And then a milestone like this happens – this milestone of the immigrants’ community. This choice is not rewarded with golden trophies, there are no signing bonuses, and it is definitely not given to you by your parents (unless you are the fortunate child of a parent who took the chance in your best interests). This choice is a slow process; something for which you work and that influences every decision that you make. To make this choice, you had to perhaps take ten steps back in terms of your career, or five years in building a life. And in that moment that I have to pinch myself, pulling myself from that pit of self-despair and calculating what we have indeed achieved in the past five years.

We exchanged countries – 14 000 km away from where we had a life, and family, culture and familiarity. We did unschooled labour just to get a foot in the door. We familiarised ourselves with brand new customs; we had to get new driver’s licences because we have to drive on the other side of the road and in snow.; we wrote language exams, completed trade exams, sent our son to a third-language school, made new friends and started a small business. We even had Canadian babies. We decided that we wanted from this experience as just becoming accustomed to where we are. So, we bought a trailer and travel for ten weeks with a six-year-old boy and an eight-month-old baby, in search of the perfect place for us (something we could not have done without Canada’s paid parental leave). We met new people, ticked things of our to-do list, discovered an island and fell in love with the island. On the island we came across valley and fell in love with the valley. We decided to settle on this island: the Comox Valley! We moved away 3 000 km from where we were before – without furniture, without friends, without family and – the cherry on top – without employment. Through it all we kept on believing to follow our hearts, but with our heads!

We got a very small flat, started at a new school and found employment. We started a new business, became part of the community and made friends. We had to write even more trade tests, move to a larger house and tried balancing work and family life with an eight- and a two-year-old and no family to help. And throughout: paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork for work permits, permanent residency and eventually citizenship – but not before we applied to keep our South African citizenship.  

And it is on day like today that we have tears in our eyes of pure relieve. At times it feels like it is the first time in five years that we can actually breathe again. Because even though this journey was unbelievable (and we would not have wanted it otherwise), it was not easy at all. The worst of all: it is lonely.  

But in the end, we are proud to call ourselves South African-born Canadians! We are grateful that our children have South African roots, nut with Canadian passports that give them more access to the world, whether they stay here or not. We love our adoptive country because of the security and safety that it offers, the natural beauty that we can enjoy and the opportunities that it creates for our children. At the same time, we are proud of the values and norms that our country of birth has given us – and we will teach these to our children and theirs.

We are fortunate to work hard on building a dream here and to give our children the best possible future. Because this is in the end the only why we did it: for the benefit of our children.

We wish good luck on everyone who is still on this journey or who has just started it. Keep your eyes on the “why” and realise that time flies. Before you know it, you will also give that sigh of relief! And by the way: It is all worth it!

Regards
The Du Plessises

Also read: From Worcester to Auckland: A journey of longing, faith and a new beginning