By Deirdre Mulrooney
The rather gruesome topic of female genital mutilation (FGM) came up at a dinner-party I was at last weekend, thanks to the Pamela Izevbekhai coverage lately (she’s applying for asylum in Ireland on the basis that her daughters will be subjected to FGM if she returns to Nigeria, and that another daughter of hers died as a result of FGM), and in particular Ruadhan Mac Cormac’s feature in last Saturday’s Irish Times. It’s simply unthinkable for us here in the West, but in Africa, they really need some extreme feminism to tackle this horrific manifestation of misogyny (hatred of women), and, of course, with that, immense fear of women. Right, see some photographs I took of Ethiopians in {www:Lalibela}, and Tigray, Northern Ethiopia. When I was in {www:Addis Ababa}, I had the extreme good fortune to meet an amazing Ethiopian woman who is succeeding in turning the tide on FGM. Bogalech Gebre’s Kembata Women’s Self-Help Group is a heartening story, of change from within (the only kind that will work in this culturally sensitive area, in my opinion).
The one thing that struck me on my 12 day trip Ethiopia was the plight of women. It just left me feeling a little uneasy. There they were, doubled over, lugging firewood, water, foodstuffs for miles and miles to the market and back. Something was just not quite right, and I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. One Irish Aid worker told me how ten years ago she was trying to convince rural village men to invest in donkeys to carry things for them. One asked ‘why would I buy a donkey when I have a wife?’ She says things have improved since then, but still Ethiopia is 142nd out of 146 countries in the UNDP gender-related index.
It wasn’t until the day I was leaving though, that I discovered the real story behind my uneasy feeling, when I visited Addis Ababa’s Fistula Hostpital, and Bougalech Gebre, who unusually was in the Addis Ababa Kembatta Women’s Self-Help Centre, which she founded in 2000.
This was when I heard about the things you don’t see, such as the fact that 9 out of 10 Ethiopian women are circumcised between the ages of 6 and 12, so they will be considered ‘marriageable’. I didn’t hear about it, because it’s taboo, and the women perpetrate it upon themselves. But there is hope, and change afoot.
Visionary women’s health activist Bogalech Gebre has ignited a cultural revolution 350 km south of Addis Ababa with her Kembatta Women’s Self Help Group. Not only has she broken the taboo on this sometimes fatal widespread practice known locally as ‘removing the dirt’; but she has also created consensus within her community that it is harmful, and must be stopped. The first girl in her village to get beyond grade four at school, she went on to be a Fulbright Scholar in the States where she became a Public Health expert, before eventually returning to her home community on a mission.
Flanked by Kembatta Women’s Self Help Group, the first marriage of an uncut girl took place on Ethiopian Television in 2002. The bridegroom wore a placard announcing ‘I am happy to be marrying a whole woman’. The bride’s read ‘I am happy to be married uncut’. During October, traditionally ‘harvest time’ when the communities celebrate the newly circumcised girls, instead men and women in their 100,000’s are now celebrating ‘the whole body’. Ready to upscale her mission, this tide is set now to sweep the country,
How did she do it? Exposing the myth that this harmful practice is condoned nowhere in the Bible or in the Koran, Gebre’s approach is to let the community build consensus themselves. ‘Those who practice female genital mutilation do so believing it is in the best interests of girls’, she says, as only someone who grew up in that community, and went through the procedure herself could. She was 6 years old, and her mother had to leave the room, as all mothers do. ‘This belief must be stopped’. But how?
Movies were shown in rural areas on the back of a pick-up truck on a generator-run video recorder showing an actual cutting. Men in the audience fainted. Schools were built for the education of boys and girls, incorporating awareness of FGM, alongside their regular education. Thus bit by bit, accessing the deep psychic life of the region, and letting them take ownership of their decisions themselves, Gebre worked, and works on the basis that what is good for women is good for everyone.
Aside from its monetary problems, if Ethiopia is to have half a chance at achieving its full potential, the whole empowered woman must be re-introduced to the equation. Thanks to Gebre, this is a process that is already underway.
By Jenny Higgins
All things considered, I’ve always thought Ethiopia ranks reasonably well for the position of women in society. I don’t have all the statistics or information, and I would never presume to speak for Ethiopian women so this is my own personal opinion, but women can work, they don’t have to cover themselves and at first glance, they are treated very respectfully.
But look a bit closer and the traditional roles and restrictions are still there. For instance, men don’t cook in Ethiopia – and it’s definitely not for lack of skill! I know many Ethiopian men in the UK who are fabulous cooks, much better than me! Admittedly, most middle class Ethiopians here have housemaids to prepare food, but still it is all down to the women – the men come home expecting their meals on the table.
As a white women, I escape a lot of the expectations of an Ethiopian woman (although obviously I have my own hassles such as small children following me down the road calling ‘you, you, you, you, you’ incessantly). However, it was only recently that an Ethiopian explained that the reason I often wait ages for someone to serve me in a café is not that Ethiopian service is slow (far from it, in fact!) but that as a woman on my own, I must be waiting for a man, so I can’t possibly be ready to order yet!
When you drive around, you do notice that the cafés and restaurants are full of men, even in the middle of the morning. When I mentioned this to Daniel, my cab driver, he said that it was changing slowly, but that still most women stayed in the house. The house is for women and the outside is for men!
He’s right, though, things are changing – albeit slowly. There are lots of twenty-something Ethiopians who have studied or lived in Europe or America, and have returned with different ideas about women and their place in the world. Previously, an Ethiopian women would never have gone to a bar unless she was a prostitute, and although bars are still full of prostitutes or ‘bar girls’, you now see groups of women going to clubs or having a drink together which is apparently something you did not see as recently as 8 years ago.
I still get jealous of male travelers, though, who can easily do things that are difficult for me, purely because they are men. For instance, when N was here, Daniel took us both to have some lunch at a tiny café on Ethio-China Road. It was barely a café, just a set of benches in an alley way, but the food was fantastic and very cheap. However, the place was full of Ethiopian men who spent their lunch staring at us, and both N and I acknowledged that we would not have felt comfortable coming in here on our own. A man, though, probably would have had no problem.
It was a similar situation when Ute and I went to Harlem Jazz one Saturday night. Although it’s a jazz club, on a Saturday night it has a fantastic reggae band from Shashmene playing. I really wanted to dance, so we decided we would go for a drink, then head to the club.
The minute we arrived, we were surrounded by Ethiopian men. We weren’t the only faranji’s in there, but we were the only women there on our own, and we were considered easy pickings. Okay, so it’s not unlike going out in London (well, for some people … I don’t generally have to bat away male attention!) but at least in the UK men generally take no for an answer, and they certainly don’t attempt to grope you before even speaking to you! One man came and sat with us, and I had to move his hand from my upper thigh THREE TIMES before I finally had to tell him to go away.
Going on the dance floor had the same problem. There was a white guy in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by Ethiopians, really getting into the music and properly dancing. That’s what I wanted to do, but the minute I moved from the edge of the room, I was pushing away groping hands and fighting to be allowed to dance on my own, without some Ethiopian man grinding behind me. It was exhausting.
The men I spoke to saw no problem with their actions – we were girls having a drink in a club on our own (never mind we were only drinking coke!), which meant we were ‘available’, not to mention the fact that we were white so therefore they consider us much easier to get than Ethiopian women. This situation is exacerbated by the fact that many faranji’s do indeed come to Ethiopia and have a fling with a local – some men even leaving local girls with a baby as a leaving present …
I wasn’t dressed provocatively (I had jeans on!), I wasn’t drinking alcohol and I wasn’t trying to pick anybody up. I simply wanted to dance and enjoy the music. However, my evening was completely different to the experience of the white guy dancing in the middle of the floor, purely because of my gender. And that makes me frustrated!
ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA (UNICEF) – More than 600 parliamentarians from over 100 countries came together this week in Ethiopia’s Addis Ababa to discuss the role of parliaments in promoting global peace and security, democracy and development. Among the issues high on their agenda was the importance of investing in adolescent girls – a critical strategy in the response to the impact of the global financial crisis on developing economies.
‘A matter of urgency’
The parliamentarians were attending the 120th Assembly of the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU), which brings together 155 parliaments. The IPU is a critical UNICEF partner in mobilizing MPs on behalf of the world’s children.
“Addressing discrimination and promoting the well-being and empowerment of adolescent girls is not only a question of human rights and gender equality, it is also at the core of development and achieving the Millennium Development Goals,” said IPU President Dr. Theo-Ben Gurirab, who is also Speaker of the National Assembly of the Republic of Namibia.
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| Parliamentarians are briefed at the Kersa Malima Woreda Health Office in Addis Ababa, on a field visit organized by UNICEF. [UNICEF Ethiopia/2009/Fassil] |
“Gender-based discrimination permeates all of our societies, with no exception, and we need to address that as a matter of urgency. Among those most affected, though often forgotten and invisible, are adolescent girls. We need to make their plight visible,” added Dr. Gurirab.
Disproportionate harm
In many parts of the world, girls comprise the largest percentage of children out of school – and the highest number of victims of physical, sexual and emotional abuse, and economic exploitation.
Girls are also more likely to be trafficked, to disappear or to die unknown.
Programmes that promote schooling, livelihood skills, social assets, freedom from violence, positive health-seeking behaviors and better access to sexual and reproductive health services for adolescent girls will have ripple effects across different development goals – from reducing maternal mortality, poverty and HIV infection to advancing gender equality.
Growing up empowered
During the meeting in Ethiopia, MPs visited UNICEF-supported initiatives for vulnerable children and teenagers to see firsthand how securing the rights of adolescent girls can make a dramatic difference in achieving these goals.
At a primary school that boasts girl-friendly facilities and addresses critical issues for adolescent girls, such as HIV/AIDS and reproductive heath, the parliamentarians met with the principal and visited student participants in various extra-curricular activities.
The MPs also went to a community health and nutrition centre that teaches adolescent girls about preventing communicable diseases and malnutrition, and about the importance of sanitation and hygiene. And they saw how social cash-transfer programmes – which provide educational support and counselling as well as cash – are giving vulnerable adolescent girls a chance to grow up empowered.
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| The head of the Kersa Malima Woreda Health Office speaks during the international parliamentarians’ visit. [UNICEF Ethiopia/2009/Fassil] |
With support such as this, girls can become adult citizens who contribute to the progress of their countries and fulfil their own aspirations.
Joint UNICEF-IPU panel
During a panel discussion organized by the IPU and UNICEF, which was chaired by Ethiopia’s First Lady, Azeb Mesfin, MPs were reminded of their collective responsibility to change things for the more than 600 million adolescent girls who live in the developing world today.
At the panel, UNICEF Director of Programmes Dr. Nicholas Alipui noted that an “economically empowered girl can meet the challenges of poverty and ignite progress. An educated and empowered girl will be better able to take care of herself and to contribute to her community and country, both economically as an individual and as a potential mother.
“Investing in adolescent girls will not only benefit girls themselves, but society as a whole,” he said.
The parliamentarians focused on three key ways to improve the lives of adolescent girls: investing in girls’ education; promoting an end to violence against girls in all settings, including homes and schools; and working with governments and the private sector to build life skills for girls, thereby ensuring that they can make successful transitions from school to work.
Adolescent girls in developing countries are the world’s greatest untapped resource for stability and growth. As economic actors and future mothers, safe, healthy, educated, economically empowered girls have the means to escape poverty and ignite progress.
With the right opportunities, an adolescent girl will marry later, have fewer children and invest almost 90 percent of her income back into her family. Yet today, less than half a cent of every international development dollar is spent on adolescent girls.
By Travis Lupick
For some of Metro Vancouver’s most intelligent citizens, life is fraught with disappointment and frustration. Take Newman Kusina, for example. Since moving to Canada in January 2008, the Zimbabwean-born academic has spent his nights awake at his computer, unable to sleep.
“When I came here, I had all the zeal and expectations of when you arrive in a new country,” Kusina said. “But it is an absolute nightmare.”
Three evenings a week, Kusina works as a guard for Paladin Security in downtown Vancouver. Speaking to the Georgia Straight at his modest home in Surrey, he said that he usually works alone and busies himself by moving smokers away from doorways. He walks the streets and daydreams about classrooms of university students and debates with colleagues.
Kusina’s story is not unique. Talk to educated immigrants from across the region and a consensus quickly emerges: unemployment is a serious problem. Newcomers looking for work face a host of challenges. There is discrimination, complications around accreditation of foreign degrees, and an isolation that leaves many out of the loop on job openings. The recession is now making things worse.
Kusina’s experience in Canada epitomizes the difficulties that this demographic struggles with. He is a certified physiologist with degrees from the University of Zimbabwe and the University of Minnesota. And he has teaching experience in Zimbabwe and at the University of Illinois and the University of Minnesota. But none of this has translated into a teaching position in British Columbia.
And so Kusina patrols the streets of downtown Vancouver. He said that his security shifts usually end around 10 p.m., at which point he takes the SkyTrain back to Surrey. After a short cab ride from the station, he finally arrives home after 11 p.m., often to find his wife and son already asleep.
“The first thing I do is check my e-mail,” Kusina continued. At any given time, he is waiting for responses to dozens of résumés left with postsecondary institutions. “I don’t go to bed until around 2 or 3; my mind is always busy,” he said. “I find it very difficult to go to sleep because I do not know what I am going to do the next day. It is terrifying to think of.”
Kusina and his family landed in Montreal in January 2008. His inability to speak French contributed to his rejection by many postsecondary institutes in Quebec, so the family moved west. But after working as a professor of physiology for 15 years, Kusina found himself rejected by literally every university and college in B.C.
“I had this collection of applications and I just threw them away,” he lamented. “They were an insult to look at.”
So at the age of 46, Kusina went back to school to write English essays and learn about “Canadian culture”. “It was very frustrating, and the quality, as far as I’m concerned, was not worth my time sitting in a classroom,” he said. “But I had to do it.”
One thing that Kusina said he did take from these classes is an appreciation for how employment in British Columbia works, or at least how many newcomers experience it.
“So many jobs are not advertised,” he said. “And when they [employers] advertise, they often already have somebody already. So you have to know somebody. It’s not corruption, but you have to know somebody.”
Statistics Canada data has recently shone a light on the circumstances in which Kusina and so many others find themselves.
According to a July 2008 report, the majority (54 percent) of immigrants to Canada since 2002 have been university-educated. In 2007, the unemployment rate for these immigrants was four times that of similarly educated Canadian-born residents.
More concerning, there is a correlation between one’s country of origin and the odds of finding a job in Canada. The report states that in B.C. in 2007, 85 percent of university-educated, very recent immigrants from Europe were employed while only 60.7 percent of those from Asia had found employment in B.C. (Data for other regions was not available.)
And that’s only half the story. Statistics Canada’s definition of “employment” doesn’t differentiate between a PhD from India who works at McDonald’s and a Canadian-educated Norwegian who works as a nurse at Vancouver General Hospital. For new families in Canada, the difference is very real.
Krishna Pendakur, an SFU economist whose family emigrated from India, recently coauthored a working paper that examines wage disparities among immigrants and minority workers. His research found that skilled immigrants of visible minorities often face a series of barriers on their way to a job in their preferred field.
When visible-minority men first arrive in Canada, they are crowded into low-paying “survival jobs”, Pendakur told the Straight. This “sticky floor” does erode over time, but only to leave immigrants to contend with “glass doors” and “glass ceilings”.
The report describes a glass door as a “barrier that limits disadvantaged workers’ access to employment at high-wage firms” and a glass ceiling as a “barrier that limits access to high-wage jobs”.
According to Pendakur’s research, the combination of these hurdles leaves many visible-minority immigrants locked out of high-wage jobs in B.C., despite the fact that a majority are trained for such positions.
Since 1976, the colourful neighbourhood adjacent to Commercial Drive has hosted MOSAIC, a multilingual, nonprofit organization that offers services for immigrants.
Binders of job openings hang from the walls of the reception area. Nearby, people sit and fill out applications for every kind of position in the city. Down the hall, computer labs wait for new immigrants to begin their job searches in B.C. or write e-mails to family members back in their birth country.
Sitting in his second-storey office, Eyob Naizghi, MOSAIC’s executive director, described an immigrant’s landing in Vancouver as “overwhelming”.
“You cannot talk about employment before one settles the mind,” he said. “You have to find a neighbourhood you like, you have to find a school for your children, you have to know where you are going to shop, you have to know where you are going to do your banking.”
And then, according to Naizghi, it is often time for a “reality check”.
Naizghi, who came to Canada as a refugee from Eritrea in 1981, explained that many skilled immigrants arrive in Canada unprepared for the challenges they will face.
“They come here with a dream of practising their own profession,” he said. “Some of them have practised their profession for 20 or more years in their own country, as doctors, as nurses, as engineers, as managers, as IT people. And then they come here and we have a hurdle that we describe as ‘recognizing qualifications’.”
In B.C., professional accreditation is regulated at the provincial level, but rarely by the province itself. A multitude of acts give professional organizations the powers to regulate their own industries and set standards for accreditation.
For example, an immigrant trained as an engineer in Asia usually has to spend years retraining to continue as an engineer in Canada. Who is qualified to be an engineer in B.C. is decided by the Association of Professional Engineers and Geoscientists of B.C. in accordance with the B.C. Engineers and Geoscientists Act.
Miu Yan, an associate professor at UBC’s school of social work, told the Straight that many immigrants end up in low-paying jobs because of prohibitive accreditation processes. “For certain professions…like medical professionals and lawyers, they are almost undoable and can take years to get,” he said.
As a result, Yan continued, many skilled immigrants—especially those with families to support—find themselves caught in a Catch-22 situation. Immigrants arrive eager to use their skills and enter the Canadian work force. But their degrees are not recognized and they must go back to school. But if they return to school, they run the risk of burning through their savings and letting their family go hungry. The “solution” is to work in low-paying “survival jobs” that provide little money and even less time to attend school and study.
Yan described the whole immigration process in Canada as a “broken contract”. He noted that many prospective immigrants are only eligible to come to Canada if they have a postsecondary education. Furthermore, they are often recruited by the federal government because of their education and skills. In turn, Yan continued, immigrants arrive in Canada eager to contribute to society. But when they get here, provincial regulations often reject the very skills for which they were recruited.
“To a certain extent, Canada and the Canadian government or Canadian society is breaking a contract,” Yan charged. “You can imagine that people can be very, very bitter and unhappy about this situation.”
Yan argued that it is not only immigrants who are being deceived. He said that the federal government seems to believe that it is recruiting skilled immigrants for the improvement of the country. But as Statistics Canada’s unemployment figures for skilled immigrants to Canada show, the system is failing.
Jackie Ochieng was once an accredited social worker in Kenya. In 2003, she immigrated to Canada to attend UBC and start a new life. After graduating, she found herself in a variety of survival jobs and struggling to make ends meet. Ochieng said that she worked as a telemarketer, dishwasher, cleaner, and babysitter before she decided to go back to school and retrain to become an employment consultant.
Today, she holds that position as manager of SUCCESS employment services, a multiservice agency for immigrants to Metro Vancouver. Ochieng said that although immigrants were once largely ignorant of accreditation problems in Canada, the situation has changed.
“It has become common knowledge to know that if you move to a western country, chances are that you are not going to get a job in the same area [as you are educated in],” she said.
Ochieng described the situation as a spin on the “brain drain” concept. Western countries recruit developing nations’ professionals, which can result in a depletion of those countries’ most intelligent citizens. Then, when these immigrants arrive in places like B.C., their brains go unused and “down the drain”.
B.C.’s minister of advanced education and labour market development told the Straight that accreditation is an issue that his office is working to address.
“I think there has been a real change across the country in views to immigration,” Murray Coell said from Victoria. He noted that the entire country is experiencing demographic changes that will inevitably leave many employers looking to immigrants to fill positions in professions and trades.
Coell said that the ministry is working with 38 separate regulatory bodies to speed up processes of accreditation recognition and is also involved in a series of pilot projects that are “looking at a standardized accreditation process for professions or skilled trades”.
In 2007, 14,761 skilled immigrants arrived in B.C., down 1,927 from 2006 and the lowest level since 1995, according to an April 2008 report published by the Ministry Responsible for Multiculturalism.
Streamlining foreign-credential accreditation will help immigrants get back into the fields they left in their home countries. But it will not ensure they do. Ochieng said that another significant barrier to skilled immigrants finding work in B.C. is a lack of established networks.
“You have to know someone who knows someone who is hiring out there but who has not advertised the job in the newspaper or on the Internet,” Ochieng explained. “Although they [immigrants] might have all the skills, they don’t know how to access hidden markets and jobs that are not advertised.”
Immigrants to Metro Vancouver have noticed this problem and some have worked to correct it.
In 1990, Paul Mulangu and his wife were separated in a government crackdown in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Fearing for the lives of his children, Mulangu set off with his son and daughter for neighbouring Zambia. They walked for two days without food and water until they arrived at a refugee camp across the border. After “six very long years”, Mulangu told the Straight, his refugee claim to Canada was accepted.
But Mulangu’s life wasn’t given a happy ending just yet. A metallurgical engineer trained in Congo and Belgium, he found that his university degrees weren’t enough in B.C.
“When I came here, I couldn’t find a job in my field, which is why I ended up cleaning washrooms,” he said. “It is not about qualifications, it’s about who you know.”
For six months in 1996, Mulangu sat at home waiting for the phone to ring. When it did—usually no more than a few times a week—it meant that he had a shift cleaning bathrooms at Vancouver International Airport. He worked graveyard shifts and, without money for a baby sitter, often had to leave his children unattended at home. “It was a very terrible situation,” he said. “There was nobody there and no daycare.”
Desperate to improve his family’s situation, Mulangu enrolled in English classes at BCIT. (At the time, he spoke only French, having arrived in Canada believing that the country was bilingual.) His next step was computer classes at Vancouver Community College and then a program to train as an employment counsellor.
Mulangu said that in looking for employment in B.C., he recognized a need among new immigrants for equal access to job networks. His experience led him to found the Centre of Integration for African Immigrants. Today, the centre helps immigrants from any background with their first steps in Canada. Services range from helping newcomers find a home and school for their children to language training and, of course, employment assistance.
At the end of February 2009, the centre moved into a newly renovated, 8,500-square-foot facility at the corner of Carnarvon and Blackie streets in New Westminster.
Walking through unfinished walls and around electrical wire that remained exposed at the time of his interview, Mulangu excitedly explained everything the new facility will be able to offer immigrants to B.C. “We give people information,” he said. “With my experience, I know I can help people find a job.”
For more than 15 years, Zool Suleman has worked as a lawyer specializing in citizenship, immigration, and refugees. Suleman told the Straight that unemployment numbers for skilled immigrants of visible minorities are evidence that discrimination persists in B.C.
He argued that discrimination manifests itself in the exclusion of new immigrants from the “networks of entry” that Canadian-born, generally Caucasian workers enjoy.
All too often, Suleman explained, high-paying positions are quickly filled by applicants who have inside information on the opening and know someone within the company who can vouch for them or speak to their expertise.
“If you find that your social circle does not have people who are in good occupations or are in good jobs, it’s harder to get that informal information about what is going on in a job marketplace,” Suleman said. “For immigrants from visible-minority communities that are not well-represented in the workplace, this is a real issue.”
The result of all this? “Immigrants come here for themselves but they stay for their children.”
In 2005, the City of Vancouver established the Mayor’s Task Force on Immigration. Suleman served as a chair for the group. He said that one suggestion that came out of the task force was to create a council to focus on labour-market integration of immigrants.
On February 3, 2009, the Immigrant Employment Council of B.C. held its inaugural meeting at the Vancouver Foundation. Baldwin Wong, social planner for the city and former task force secretary, told the Straight that the council is now establishing working groups to address specific challenges that immigrants face.
Newcomers are looking for ways to take matters into their own hands, make their skills known, and penetrate exclusionary job networks.
Through internship programs, Wong explained, immigrants can get their feet in the door and gain local, on-site experience in the industry for which they were trained. Meanwhile, employers get an opportunity to observe skills taught at a foreign, possibly unfamiliar institution and can give someone a chance without making a long-term commitment.
Similarly, Wong continued, mentorship programs or volunteer work can supply qualified candidates with local experience and an opportunity to learn the ins and outs of local institutions while, again, minimizing risk for the employer.
Of course, Wong cautioned, finding time to volunteer can be very challenging when one must provide for a family. “Many people I know have to work more than one job to make ends meet,” he noted.
Speaking from SUCCESS’s employment office, Ochieng said that it was volunteering that got her where she is today. After arriving in Canada without references, she said, volunteering was a way for her to overcome a credibility gap.
Ochieng emphasized the need for new immigrants to break down doors that separate them from industry networks. The best way to do that: knocking.
“You have to go knock and find where someone is going on leave or retiring or going on maternity leave and where there are positions where managers are thinking of hiring but have not posted the job yet,” she said. “The government of Canada is great about having community events. Find them out. Attend them. This is free networking. This is where you meet people.”
In addition to collecting job postings, SUCCESS, MOSAIC, and the Centre of Integration for African Immigrants all help newcomers find interning and mentorship opportunities.
Kusina went so far as to describe volunteer service as a “prerequisite” to meaningful employment in Canada. He suggested that with the odds stacked against them, immigrants must make time.
Talking to the Straight in his living room, Kusina motioned to his 12-year-old son sitting nearby at a computer. “My son asks, ‘Dad, why are you not working?'” Kusina said. “He always used to come to my work at the university and look at all the books.”
Kusina took the job with Paladin because it offered a two-week first-aid course to new hires. He said that he wanted anything related to biology and Paladin’s training was as close as he could get.
“Despite the minimum challenges in my current job, I have begun to like and respect it,” he said. “It teaches me to be calm, considerate, and humbling when you are confronted by the day-to-day misfortunes of so many who need help.”
Kusina has worked as a security guard for Paladin since October 2008 and continues to attend job fairs and drop résumés off all over the city.
“I can teach, I like to do research, I like to work with communities. But they say I don’t have enough Canadian experience,” Kusina said. “I know what I want. It is going to take time, but I am going to get there. It is painful, it is ridiculous, but I am here and I am not going anywhere.”
NEW YORK (