Two Decades of Grace: The Journey of An Ethiopian Canadian

By Teklemichael Abebe Sahlemariam

April is a month of powerful contrasts for me. While I appreciate Shakespeare’s sentiment that “April hath put a spirit of youth in everything,” I also deeply connect with T.S. Eliot’s line, “April is the cruelest month.” It was an April, back in 2001, that tore me away from my home in Ethiopia, leading to four challenging years as a refugee in Kenya. That April truly felt like the cruelest. But my ups and down meant nothing when I think of the over 41 souls killed by government forces in that same month. Yet, another April, the one that brought with it a sense of new beginnings – April 2005 – marked my arrival in Canada, my cherished second home. So, for me, April embodies both the sting of exile and the joy of finding refuge.

I touched down in Vancouver on April 26, 2005, after two stopovers—first in London, then in Toronto. Everything I owned fit inside an International Organization for Migration envelope and a single suitcase paid for with a Canadian government travel loan that I would later repay. Exhausted, hungry, and anxious, I walked into the arrivals hall and froze: seven members of Dunbar Heights United Church stood holding a banner that read something like, “Welcome to Canada, Teklemichael.” Strangers—English-speaking and utterly unknown to me—wrapped me in hugs that dissolved every mile between Nairobi and Vancouver. That embrace became the measure of every kindness I would meet in Canada.

Church member Jean McTavish took me into her home, while Maggie showed me how to open a bank account, ride the bus, and decode baffling acronyms like SIN and GST. Two weeks later I met Ethiopian journalist Atikilt Assefa, who connected me to another woman, Tek(q)uwame I believe, who found me a job cleaning offices and malls in Vancouver. Another journalist, Lulu Kebede, persuaded me to take a one-week security-guard course; the licence kept me employed for three years while I studied.

Classes soon replaced day shifts while working as a security guard night shifts and weekends. I spent a foundation year at Langara College, tasted campus life at UBC during the summer of 2006, moved to Royal Roads University for graduate-level work, then returned to UBC Law, choosing it over an offer from the University of Victoria. After finishing my J.D. (the fancy designation that replaced LLB) in September 2010 I moved to Ottawa for an LL.M., which I completed in December 2011. After an adventure with ESAT for one year, I completed articling in 2013 and was called to the bar the following year. Nearly eleven years—and thousands of client files—later, I still feel a thrill every time I hear a judge, or an adjudicator says to me “Counsel, your submissions please” and I rise to say, “Madame/Mr. Justice, or Mr. Member, in my client’s respectful submissions…” 

None of this happened alone. Jean taught me the ABCs of Canadian life. Maggie worked with me day and night until the commas behaved in my essays, and many professors, such as Professors Bruce McDougall, George Elliott, and Mary Liston kept their doors open after hours. My late friend Jagdeep Singh Mangat helped me secure my articling position at his father’s firm, while Jane and Dom Shumka’s bursaries prevented tuition gaps from becoming chasms. Susan Silver, Sabina Harpe, Barbara Henderson, and many others kept me upright whenever doubt crept in.

The Ethiopian community carried me just as fiercely. Bisrat Lencha bought me my first winter coat when the Ottawa wind sank to minus thirty. Mersha and Meni sheltered me rent-free for nine months and treated me as family. In Toronto, spirited debates over ESAT and Ginbot 7 never blocked friendship or food; open doors greeted me in Winnipeg, Edmonton, Calgary, and every other city on my circuit. Everywhere I travelled, I found a home.

Law became my thank-you note to Canada. I have argued test-case refugee appeals for clients in Beirut, Istanbul, Pretoria, Nairobi, Kampala, and Addis Ababa and from China, Afghanistan, India, St. Lucia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Ghana, Zambia, Jamaica — some people who had never set foot on Canadian soil yet still deserved Canadian justice. Each successful judicial review reminds me why this country’s legal system commands my envy and respect: it takes human dignity seriously, even at great distance and even when the client has contributed nothing tangible to Canada. The contrast with Ethiopia, where ethnicity, religion, and gender still divide elites, is heartbreaking.

Now giving back threads through my days. Our firm funds an annual bursary at many Universities and schools in Ethiopia, supports newcomer ESL programs in Toronto, and trains volunteers from churches and mosques that sponsor refugees. More than twenty employees—Liyusew, Zelalem, Blen, Esayas, and many others —have launched or rebooted careers under our roof, and I continue to mentor articling students who remind me of a younger, jet-lagged version of myself.

Of course, in these many years, I’ve learned some hard truths through loss. Losing friends and family left a silence that no win in court could ever fix. My friend, Lieutenant Adane Wondie passed away a few years ago in Uganda. Then there was Kenan, just twenty-four, full of life, who drowned in Lake Simcoe back in 2020. And my friend Wendwesen, gone way too soon. Even now, the pain of losing JagDeep is still with me. But even in those dark times, there’s been this incredible Canadian kindness, a reminder that I’m never truly alone in my sadness here.

Twenty years ago, I arrived with a plastic envelope and impossible hopes. Today I stand on the shoulders of countless Canadians and Ethiopians who believed in a newcomer with an accent and a dream. If I have missed your name, forgive me; the list is longer than any page. May the next twenty years find me offering, and the same welcome, warmth, and second chances to every newcomer who steps into this country searching for the light I once saw through the arrivals-hall window.

Editor’s Note : Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com

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