This happened soon after I arrived in Canada in the mid-90s. I was here on work, and had no thoughts of immigrating to Canada. I was a detached spectator as I observed Canadians - their strong civic instinct, the way they instinctively step aside to give you extra space, their constant care not to offend.
Now to the story. I was standing in line for a transaction in my bank branch situated in a hallway of a mall. The mall was open, but the bank and the stores hadn’t opened yet. It was usually a busy branch. My thought was - ‘if you’re there 10 minutes before opening, you can be the first to be served’. Apparently others had the same idea. There already was a line of a few people. I joined. I started thinking about Stephen Leacock’s masterly account of his encounter with a Canadian bank branch.
An older gentleman of Chinese origin requested us via a gesture to stand closer to the wall. He had a group of people with him. We complied.
The gentleman turned out to be a Tai-chi instructor, and the rest of the group, his students, a dozen or so of polite, smiling, older adults. The group started warming up. More people joined them.
After warming up, they started more sweeping motions. The additional participants and more elaborate motion needed elbow room, so the group started getting closer to us. Those of us in line squeezed closer to the wall.
The woman in front of me turned around and rolled her eyes. I just smiled. A minute passed. She must have worried about how that came across. She turned around again and said, ‘You probably think I’m racist!’.
Surprised, I said something to the effect of ‘What - that? Not at all’, although her comment planted that thought in my head. She got talkative.
“I grew up on this street. My parents still live in the same house. I bring my kids here on the weekends to see the grandparents.”
I nodded, for lack of anything to say. Encouraged, she went on. “All our friends and neighbours have moved away. This area, Agincourt, is now called Asian-court. You know what’s happening in Hong Kong, (indicating the Tai-chi students), they’ve all moved here. It’s hard to recognize my street. All my neighbours have moved out. This used to be a small strip mall with a grocery store we could shop at. Not anymore. I can’t speak English in this mall. On weekends, I drive my parents to Finch so they can do their weekly shopping. When I call this (bank) branch, I have to listen to a greeting in a foreign language and then press 7 for English. It’s as if my neighbourhood has disowned me.”
Then she talked a bit about missing a row of trees, a landmark from her childhood that was removed to make room for the expansion of the mall.
The branch opened with just one teller. When her turn came, she insisted that I go ahead of her, as she had a ‘complex thing to work out with the teller’. I thanked her and went in.
Real story. I think about it a lot now with the debates on immigration and neighbourhoods. Image credit: Freepik.com
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