"Falling from grace to grass" (Bamum).

INTRODUCTION:

Much significant data about African women's employment and training experiences in Metro Toronto was collected during 20 in-depth interviews with individual women. Twelve of these interviews have been selected to present in some detail here because they: 1) document the experience of an African woman working in an occupation in which many African women work in Canada (nursing, teaching, clerical work, nanny/daycare); 2) reveal a particularly salient aspect of racial and gender problems women encounter (being unemployed); 3) illustrate the creative strategies the women use to deal with barriers and get on with their lives (self-employment, volunteer work).

We were interested in learning what it meant to be an African immigrant or refugee employed in or looking for work in Canada. Though the general direction of each interview was set by guide questions centring on the women's training and employment experiences in Canada, the women had ample opportunity to select what they viewed as most important about themselves and work in Canada. In addition to questions on training and employment history, women were encouraged to reflect upon their work identity, work problems due to racial, gender, class and/or cultural attributes, their family situation and their future plans.

The case studies illustrate the extent to which the women's employment experiences in this recessionary period, as well as their cultural location and future prospects in our multicultural society, have been shaped by aspects of social structure and organization over which they have very little control. Professional women have had to take up new careers, often revising their expectations downward, because their non-Canadian credentials and experience are devalued. Clerical workers' job histories are marked by lateral rather than upward mobility. Several women have taken up volunteer work when they faced barriers in the careers they wished to pursue in Canada. The women used the in-depth interviews to evaluate their experiences, to instruct us about how they view the social organization and culture of employment, to share their emotional responses to barriers and to describe the strategies they have used to deal with discrimination of all kinds.

The fruit of hard won experience, each account represents a cultural re-reading and re-collection of the past, present and future situation of African women in Metropolitan Toronto. Collectively, the accounts reveal the women's consciousness and understanding of the realities they face in Canada, and their strategies and options of dealing with them. They are eloquent testimony of the women's personal strengths, integrity, social skills and resourcefulness.

"...I remember, a light went on just at that moment, and I pursued that thing relentlessly".

I came to Canada with my husband and 4 children as a refugee in 1983. My husband had been in the diplomatic service and we became exiles in the neighbouring country to which he had been posted. I had taught 5 years at home before we left, and while we were in exile I taught biology and geography for 3 years to students in a private high school. When we came here, I hoped to get straight into teaching, so the first thing I did was take my degree and teaching certificate to the Comparative Education Service at the University of Toronto to have it evaluated.

The Comparative Education Service said that my degree, which is from a university in a Commonwealth country, was as good as a Canadian degree, but they told me that I needed to have my teaching certificate evaluated if I wanted to do any more academic work. So I sent it to the Ministry of Education. I don't remember exactly what happened next except that they didn't state clearly that I could teach in Ontario. Instead, they answered that I could look for a teaching job, and after I'd taught for 10 months my employer could sign a piece of paper to say that I had taught for 10 months. Then I would get a letter that would say I was eligible to teach in Ontario. So in 1984 I gave out my resume.

But nothing was happening, so I went to a Canadian Employment Centre. The counsellor said that it was going to be difficult or impossible to get back into teaching and that I should consider going into another profession -- that I ought to try some "non-traditional jobs". I ended up taking a 20 week course in electrical wiring and all those definitely non-traditional things. I supposedly did very well so I took another 40 week course, this time in woodworking, at George Brown College. I didn't find any of it easy. The electrical tools were frightening, to say the least, the table saws and things. When the course finished I interviewed for jobs in the woodworking industry. My resume showed that I had been a science teacher, but there I was looking for a job in the woodworking industry. Everywhere I went, people said, "Mame, you are looking for a job in the wrong profession". I was getting very frustrated because people just didn't think I knew what I was doing.

So I thought, this is not working. I should be looking for a job in the teaching profession. There had to be another way to get a Letter of Eligibility to teach in Ontario, because going about it their way didn't make sense. You had to prove that you could be hired before they would certify you. Meanwhile, I registered with GoTemp, the Province of Ontario's temporary employment service, and got a job with the Attorney General's Office where I worked on divorce papers for 2-3 years. But I continued writing back and forth to the Ministry of Education. Eventually I got a Letter of Temporary Permission. I sent that in and then I got a Temporary Letter of Eligibility. As soon as I got that, I found a job as a supply teacher. It wasn't until the fall of 1987 that I got my first teaching job. It was a challenge because I agreed to teach any level and I had only taught science to teen-agers. Meanwhile I kept applying for a full-time job.

Everywhere I go I talk to people. A teacher at one high school I supply taught at said, "You need to specialize". I thought, I can't specialize in micro-biology or geography. I'd really like to do English as a second language, but work with adults. And he said, "Why don't you look into taking a course in ESL". "And I remember a light went on just at that moment, and I pursued that thing relentlessly".

Do you know that York University would not allow me to take the ESL course at first because I was not a full-time teacher. I was very angry and I thought, I'm going to do this thing. So I talked to different people; I even talked to the Dean. In the end, they let me in the course but I had to take the English proficiency exam. I showed them the evaluation from the University of Toronto but they insisted. I got 78 out of 80.

I got a full-time job in the spring of 1989. During the summer I took the second half of the ESL course and in September I started teaching Grade 5 in a suburban elementary school. Not long after I was given an ESL class to teach half-days. In the morning I'd teach regular Grade 5 and in the afternoon ESL.

I liked seeing results with the ESL class. At first the children could not understand what I was talking about but after 3 or 4 weeks I would begin to get results. As it happened, the school had a new principal who was Jamaican and there was a Jamaican teacher on the staff. Two more teachers have come since I've been there -- one is from India. It's very interesting; things are changing.

We do team teaching. Ideally, we meet before classes to plan, but with 7 teachers it can get a little complicated. So you run into them when the bell rings, and you say, what are we doing today? And one says, "Oh, we are continuing with the comics". Some teachers are not comfortable with having another teacher in the classroom, but others like to work with someone else and get so excited when we discuss the progress of some of the students. Even though you have a schedule, it's not unusual to do something you hadn't counted on. Its a good challenge because it's really unpredictable. You have to be with it -- flexible. Having to live here and start over, it doesn't bother me.

Some of the children don't know how to take having a teacher from Africa. Many of the children from the islands assume I'm from Jamaica, but I haven't even been there. When they ask me where I'm from and I tell them I come from Africa, you see them take a second look, "Really?"

I think there should be a mechanism to find out the wonderful skills new Canadians bring with them, and if they've been teachers in other cultures, there has to be a way of making use of those skills and experiences. If there was a way of knowing how many people are teachers from different countries in a kind of a bank, so that if people from that particular country were interested in retraining, then, if they could be allowed to supply teach or do something directly to do with education profession, rather than being channelled into something completely different, like woodworking, it would be better. I think there's room to make use of the different skills foreign-trained teachers have. If things were organized better, it would help with the healing process. You leave everything behind when you flee to come here. And if you are told, "Sorry, you cannot continue to do whatever you know best, it delays the resettlement and makes things even more difficult. Integration is the ability to become a responsible, sharing citizen. If only someone would just recognize, much less organize, such a system. Even if they would just say, "We would like to know what you were doing before you came here". If only someone showed interest. But you have to start from scratch.

I learned teaching was not for me when I taught for a year at home after I finished my A/O levels. I have an in-born urge to excel. I love languages and something is driving me. I wanted to learn French and German and work for the UN as a diplomat. So in 1989 I came to Canada to learn French and take a 2-year post-secondary bilingual (French-English) secretarial course. My family paid my fees. I learned French really fast. After 4 months in French immersion I was ready to start the bilingual program in Nova Scotia.

I didn't know I would love school so much and thought I would go home when I finished, but instead I went on to Laval University. It was really hard in Quebec, I must admit. The racial issue was there; they didn't care whether we existed. I wanted to live in an anglophone milieu so when I finished I came to Toronto.

Through the employment centre at COFTM I got a job as a receptionist in the administrative section of a Provincial government office. They needed someone who was bilingual. There was a recurrent attitude -- it was a mistake to take a message. I was a receptionist but I wasn't supposed to speak to the public. It was really odd. Some employees asked where I learned French and when I said, "In Canada" they said, "Uummm". They said they didn't understand my accent. It was a tense place to work. I felt something was terribly wrong so I asked an African friend who also worked as a receptionist what she did. It wasn't what I was doing. Nobody talked to one another. It was like they were spying on me. My supervisor had his pre-conceived ideas. He said, "The Chinese bow down". I couldn't do that. He thinks Africans are cheap. I was let go after the probationary period. The supervisor wrote a letter itemizing my mistakes but he also gave me a letter to take to immigration because I wanted to apply for landed immigrant status.

I really liked the next job I got as a customer service representative at an entirely different provincial ministry. That job made me realize what I love; I had a good supervisor there.

Dealing with the public can be a very sensitive issue. At first I worked on the phones, but later face-to-face. I was fascinated by the publics' reaction to me. Sometimes they didn't trust me, even on the phones, because I have an accent. They want to speak to whomever is in charge -- somebody who speaks English -- so you put them through to anyone there. Some women want to speak to a man.

When they see you face-to-face -- black -- at first they think you don't know anything. They insist upon speaking to the supervisor. You call in a Caucasian. Sometimes clients would be surprised that the supervisor, who is white, would ask me if a certain procedure was right.

One of the things I like about being a customer service representative is that it sometimes involves public relations and counselling. To me, hearing people complain, listening to their problems and explaining how the administration works is not a waste of time. I know people appreciate my work by the way they thank me. People want to know that a person, not just the government, is really out there helping; they need to know that somebody is listening. A lady who was waiting a long time to be served watched me. When it was her turn, she asked me what my name was, and then she asked me to give a note to my supervisor. Later my supervisor showed me the note. The lady had praised me.

That was a temporary job and I left after a year and a half. There was no security and I had not gotten a pay increase, but I acquired one skill -- customer service representative.

My next job as a secretary was also a temporary one. I replaced someone on maternity leave. There was a woman there who didn't like me. It's a shame. Even though she had no authority over me, she complained to the supervisor about me. Small offices are dangerous, especially when they have all worked there for so many years. I was really stressed right out. I didn't like the way they corrected mistakes there. Normally, that is done in the privacy of the supervisor's office, not openly. I'm probably easy to manage. I got along well with the supervisor there; it was a question of power.

I love to go for interviews. While I was there I applied for two jobs in other departments but I didn't get either job, even though I had the right qualifications. I wanted to know why so I talked with my supervisor about it. I told her that my regret was that they didn't tell me where I went wrong in the interviews, even after I asked. I learned I didn't get the job from the "waves"; my supervisor couldn't believe it.

The tension in the office was really getting to me. I was under a lot of stress. I felt what it was like to be threatened again, but when I got to work I had to smile and be confident. I read a lot of books on self-healing to motivate me. I knew something was really wrong when I started having two recurring nightmares. In one, grass was burning and I was running away but I was also helping people escape. In the other, I felt I was in the presence of my grandmother. The books were not helping, so I consulted a psychic. At first I just phoned and described my dreams to the psychic. The fee was $50 for a 10 minute phone call. The psychic told me that fire is a symbol of energy and force, that I was capable and energetic. She advised me to hold on -- things would get better. This made me feel better, but I wanted to verify it so I went to see another psychic in person. Face-to-face visits with psychics are cheaper. That psychic gave me similar advice and I began to regain my old self-confidence. But I continued to explore the psychic's world more systematically. Some I found to be fraudulent, but others were helpful. I know I'm a capable person and they made me feel better.

People are attracted to me. They can't place me and ask me where I'm from. As soon as I say I'm African, you can see a change. Its so deceiving. All of a sudden, the respect disappears. I don't want to be treated like an Afro-American or Afro-Canadian. You're judged so cruelly here. I'm not ashamed.

About a month ago, I got a new but again, only a temporary, job liaising with and advising new and first year students at one of Toronto's universities. I've had to learn a lot of detail. I applied for another job there first. They told me it had already been filled but that they had another one for a lower salary. I refused to take it. They asked me how much I wanted. I told them $27,000. I'm sure I'm worth more. You have to be able to distinguish between a good and bad job offer. You have to be daring. Now I have marketable skills and I want a permanent job.

I'd like to go into public relations. I would still like to work for the UN. I don't know how I'm going to get in there. It would be a dream come true. That's why I learned French. I don't care about the racist thing. I just hold my head high and sail through. I don't know if I'm going to live in Canada forever. I'm not married. I don't know where my future husband will come from.

"I'm fighting with a whole country and I'm just an immigrant woman, so what can I do?... Even when the system is fixed, its not fixed for us, the Africans".

I came to Canada in 1990 two years after my husband, who came as a refugee. Our five children stayed behind with my husband's family at home. My schooling ended after Standard 7 and I worked as a trader until I came here. Even after I came, my husband's claim for refugee status had not been decided, so it took a long time for me to become landed. While I was waiting to get my work permit, I went to school. I enrolled in a nurses aid program. My husband paid the fees. After three years, by the grace of God, my husband got his papers and then I got mine too. I didn't collect any money from the government. That's what saved me. They said, since you've been in the country and your husband has been taking care of you, you can stay.

About the time I finished the course, my temporary work permit came through so I registered with an agency and did factory work. It was very hard because you don't get permanent work, not even for one month. There was one company I liked working for because the money was good. You were working with vegetables in a deep freezer. But the agency saw that I liked that place and stopped sending me there. They didn't want me to get a permanent job. This upset me. I didn't know what to do, so I went again to immigration and told them I needed an open work permit. It took a very long time, but finally I got it.

As soon as I got my open work permit, I started looking for work as a health care aid. I was praying that I can get work and finally I got a job in a nursing facility with about 50 beds. We don't have nursing homes back home and everything was new to me. I felt I didn't know anything at first, except how to work with the elderly, because I was trained to do that. Even when they told me to bring cranberry juice, I didn't know what it was. But I thought, maybe a year from this time I'll know everything. Sometimes they laughed at me, and I laughed at them. I was trying to do what I should do, and I was learning. Then finally I knew a lot about the work. I loved the elderly, and I loved the job. The company was giving us $9 and some cents. The starting pay at most nursing homes is $11 something, but because I didn't have Canadian experience, well, $9 was good for me.

I worked for almost one and one-half years at that nursing home, which is owned by a big company which has a lot of retirement residences around Metro. Then, in February 1993, I injured my back when I was helping a male resident from his bed to the wheelchair. It was only with a great deal of perseverance that I was able to finish work that day. My doctor recommended physiotherapy, which I had for 5 months, paid for by the Workman's Compensation Board.

I wanted to keep working at the nursing home so the company arranged for me to do modified work. In April I started work again, but the work was really not modified -- it still required lifting and bending, and my back still troubled me. One Sunday in May my back was in such pain that I went to emergency.

I have papers signed by my doctor saying that my back injury is permanent and that I can no longer work as a health-care aide, but my Workman's Compensation Board (WCB) worker doesn't believe that my back injury is permanent. She believes that the modified duties the company gave me no longer required lifting and bending, which is not true. I really loved working as a health care aide but I am no longer able to do that work.

To make things worse, the retirement company sent me a separating paper advising me that I had resigned. I did not resign from the company. I was injured on the job, and I believe I am entitled to retraining under the laws pertaining to Workman's Compensation in the Province of Ontario. Since the company has treated me unfairly, I contacted the Workers' Advisory Union about my case, but it is too soon to know whether they can help me or not. I want to retrain as a daycare worker, but Workman's Compensation refuses to pay for my retraining. They say that I quit my job.

My husband and I had sent for our children. By the time the children arrived, I could no longer work as an Health Care Aid because I had injured my back. However, because the family needs money I signed up with an agency to do factory work again. The agency I registered with wasn't calling me very much so, instead of wasting time, I thought it would be good to go back to school and learn something else. When I was registering my kids for school I enrolled in an English skills development course with the Peel Board of Education. I sent a separation paper to the agency I had signed with.

The Unemployment Insurance Commission (UIC) called the agency, which told UIC I had quit. I didn't know that I had to get a UIC counsellor to approve my school and that I would be disqualified from getting UI if I went back to school. I want to get Grade 10 so I can take the daycare worker course. I didn't even know that courses had to be approved by UI. So now I have this problem with the Unemployment Insurance Commission too. They say that I don't qualify for retraining because I quit my job without cause and that they don't know anything about my previous job where I hurt myself. It is very heavy with me.

When I went to UI they gave me a form to fill out. I filled it out and underneath I wrote that was my appeal. Three days later I got a letter from them saying that I don't qualify for unemployment insurance, that I'm entitled to an appeal and that my appeal hearing will be next week. But it wasn't my intention to appeal. I thought that what I wrote on the form was my appeal.

The only thing I knew is that I had to give them respect, that I had to go for the hearing. A man from my church helped me with the legalities, but I went before the appeal board by myself; I didn't have anyone to defend me. You know, this is government, its not an individual, and the men that hear your case want their job to stay. So, you cannot expect them to be on your side. They have to be on the government's side and go according to the law. They are not going to do more than what the law says. If you are going to school, you have to go to a school that is approved. That's what the law says. But because I didn't know, I committed myself. So I knew what I was going to face. I didn't fight. I just let them finish whatever they had to do, and they turned my appeal down. The Workman's Compensation Board has rejected me, and now the Unemployment Insurance Commission has rejected me. Though they didn't send me back home and I'm alive, my back pain is still there.

I think the Canadian government has done a lot for me for allowing me and my kids to be in the country. The kids are going to grow, and maybe they will have lots of opportunities here in Canada. But this Workman's Compensation Board case worker -- how she shouted at me on the phone. You can't believe that she can talk to someone like that. Once when I went to see my doctor, I told him everything. And the doctor said, "She shouldn't say that". So he called her and he talked to her and he told her there's no way that I can go back and work as an health-care aid. Then she didn't mind the doctor at all. The doctor told me that. She just didn't want to listen. And then I told him that I want to give this to the lawyer, and my doctor said, well, if it were him, he would do the same.

So you can see how Africans are being treated in the country. When you are at the working place, they like you, but when you get hurt, or you are sick or something like that, they just throw you out like garbage. They don't care about you anymore. Everybody wants his or her work to stay; nobody wants to get involved; nobody wants to be my witness. And even the nurse who was there when I got hurt, who signed the worker's report or injury report and everything. She was there and she knew it. And I'd been working with her for a very long time; she knows how well I work. Even now when it happens like this, everybody's out and its me alone. What is she going to get from me when she miss her job? So she better keep her job and be quiet.

Even when the system is fixed, its not fixed for us, the Africans. Not for us. They will try to do anything that will make us feel squeezed. I wrote to my member of provincial parliament and I told him about how the Workman's Compensation Board had treated me unfairly and how I am entitled to retraining. The man at the Workers' Advisory Council said that was the thing to do. When I look deep in my heart, I think I have the right, and even if I dig into it, very, very deep, maybe I will win this case, but it's life and death to me sometimes; that's how I see it. I'm not going to stay in my home all the time; sometimes I can go out, but these people are around me anywhere where I don't know, so. Even they can let somebody kill me, because I'm worried, and because I want stand for my rights, and I'm immigrant.

Sometimes I just want to ignore all this, because it is breaking my head. I have to forget about it and think about myself and my family. I was reading the Chapter 3 in Corinthians in the Bible, Verse 35.

Since you became alive again, so to speak, when Christ rose from the dead, now set your sights on the rich treasures and joys of heaven where he sits beside God in the place of honour. Let heaven fill your thoughts; don't spend your time worrying about things down here...

It would be good if I didn't have to think about the nursing home, Workmen's Compensation, The Workers' Advisory Board, or UIC, my schooling or the employment agency, because all these organizations -- it's not just one person I'm fighting with -- I'm fighting with a city. I'm fighting with a whole country and I'm just an immigrant woman, so what can I do?

I am 37 years old. I came to Canada as a visitor in 1991 to join my husband who came in 1986. My husband had lived in exile in another country before that, so we were apart for almost 10 years. My husband got his landed papers about a month after I arrived and I became landed too. Our two year old daughter is very precious to me since I waited a long time to have her. When am I going to have another one?

I trained as a nurse at home and had several years experience working as a professional nurse before I came here. After graduating from high school, I went to nurses training school for 3 years and then trained for an additional year as a midwife. I began working as a general nurse in a civilian hospital in 1981. In 1987, I went to the military academy for 8 months. Up to 1991, when I came here, I worked at the military hospital, so its almost 10 years of professional nursing experience that I had when I came to Canada.

Back home, I was among the "higher class". My parents were both school teachers. I was the first woman to be made captain in the army in my country. I was in charge of about 30 people. I had my own bungalow with the boys' quarters. Every weekend someone would come and clean my house; every afternoon a person came to iron my uniform and shine my boots and everything. I told them I was going on holiday when I came to Canada, but I really ran away from the military set-up. That's why I didn't have any papers about my work at home after I left the civilian hospital in 1987. The College of Nursing asked me to take the nursing refresher course at George Brown because it looked like I hadn't been practicing nursing since 1987. Foreign-trained nurses have to pass the nursing certification examination before they can nurse in Canada. I just passed the nursing certification exam two weeks ago (November 1994).

I worked as a health care aide before enrolling in the nurses' refresher course at George Brown. My daughter was small, and I needed to get some Canadian experience. When the whites finish their nursing program today, they can get work as RNs, but when we go to hospitals, they tell us we need one or two years' Canadian experience, so what can you do? Even if you want to work as a volunteer nurse, a hospital won't let you touch anything because of legalities. They will let you observe if they like you, but you are not going to do anything as a nurse. So how can you get the two years' experience in Canada to start with?

A friend suggested I go to two agencies. I mentioned her name at one, and they didn't even interview me because they liked her. But the first time they sent me out I just cleaned someone's house. Coming here was like falling from the top, dropping, falling from grace to grass.

Working as a health care aide through agencies, I never knew who I was going to have to deal with. I believe in God and sometimes I prayed to the Lord to change my face. Even if the person is racist, I would hope the angels would be with me and that person wouldn't see me as a black. Sometimes I was lucky and I got those that loved me. They didn't even want me to go when the job ended. The work of agency nurses is difficult because they send you to a different hospital almost every day, so they never see the sort of person you are. The moment they see you, they have already judged you. To walk into a new place is not easy. The lady at the agency I contracted with to work as an RN said that every time she sends me somewhere she will let me go earlier so that they will show me around.

I was annoyed when the College of Nursing asked me to do the refresher, but fortunately I was able to get a student loan and the course really helped me. We were colonized by the British, so from kindergarten on all our schooling is in English; we write our exams in English. Even if you speak English well, if it is not your first language, there are so many words that you might meet in the exam -- you know what the question is asking, but one word can twist everything for you. Language is a big part of the problem. Most of my mates here from home wrote the Registered Nurse Exam 2 to 3 times, but I wrote it only once. So, if they tell someone to do the TOFEL, it helps if they are able to learn the English here; it helped me.

In the clinicals which are part of the refresher I learned a lot about the legalities of being a nurse in Canada -- it was really helpful. Our cultural background is different, and the way we do our work is different from the way things are done in Canada. Let's take documentation as an example. Its called charting here; we call it nurses' notes back home. When you are writing nurses' notes back home, you sign your name once, in the morning, that's all. But here you have to sign your name every time you enter something, at the end of your shift as well as at the beginning. During the clinicals, our tutor warned us never to leave a space, because if you leave a space, even if you've signed your name, if a person makes a mistake they will sign in the space you left and push the problem on you. That's a tough thing, these notes.

What I learned about the psycho-social aspects of nurse-patient communication in the refresher helped me pass the exam. At home, we don't tell a person with cancer that s/he is going to die. We tell the relatives or wife or next of kin -- mostly next of kin -- and its up to them whether to bring the news to them. They believe that if you tell someone..., in 6 months time they will die. The person might even die before the 6 months. Another important cultural difference in therapeutic communication is that here you ask a patient, "Do you want to talk about things?" You don't give them advice -- you carry the person to express what's on their mind and what they should do themselves, which we don't do back home. There we go straight ahead and start advising.

The instructor was okay -- she gave each one of us the mark we deserved. Still, the comments she passed about Africa annoyed me. She would say that there is research that shows AIDS is from Africa and hunger is African. For this lady, anything that is bad is from Africa. I did well in class and got high marks on exams. She asked me if I was a British-trained nurse because she found it hard to believe that I was trained in Africa. At times, some of their questions grieved me so much. Still, the refresher helped me regain my confidence which had gotten a little shaky, due to the way some people treat us, during the almost 3 years I have been working as a health care aide.

Compared to the Chinese and the Japanese nurses, we nurses from anglophone West Africa do okay with English. We can speak and write, but our accent can be a problem. You have to have patient. But if a Chinese nurse and I apply for the same job, they will take the Chinese nurse before they take me, even though the Chinese nurse's accent is not good. People don't complain about Chinese nurses' accents the way they do about ours.

The nursing profession is a caring job, but we only care for our patients. Our fellow nurses, there is always problem between us. Any place many women are working, there is that competition, but in Canada racism is added to make the situation worse. The difference is just that at home it is a black doing it to a black, but here it is more exaggerated because a white nurse is doing it to a black nurse.

I'm confident that eventually I'll get full-time work as an RN, but until then I'll still be working for an agency. But the woman at the agency I just had an interview at was very nice. I told her that since coming here 3 years ago I haven't worked as a nurse. And she said that she used to work as a nurse and she understands. I didn't hide anything from her. She told me, the only thing left now is the references that I give.

"These days, my husband treats me with respect, because he knows I work, and I use strong words... I feel force in me" (Naira). "You are giving me shame" (Simba, Naira's husband). "You see this woman. I can't progress. Look at the way she uses her money. She bought a washing machine" (Simba). "To be honest, all those years I was home I was protected from racism, naive" (Naira).

I had a university degree and experience as an elementary teacher -- infant school is what we say back home -- when I came to Canada, but I didn't get a teacher's permit here. Soldiers stole my certificates. I took daycare training and just now I am working at a daycare centre with underprivileged single mothers. After almost 20 years of marriage and 5 children, I left my husband. Because I was the one that left, he has custody of the children, but when they reach the age of 12 they can decide which of us they want to live with. Until I got this job through the social worker I was on welfare for about a year. The divorce is still pending. And then this job I'm in -- it's terrible.

My husband is actually a good father, but unfortunately, not a good husband. There are many separations in our community. People say -- 5 kids -- why did you run away from your children? And I say, I didn't run away from my kids, I ran away from their father. I wanted to acquire peace of mind. I didn't have a child for 7 years. When we were in exile, I made up my mind to leave him finally, but I stayed. And then the first child came. I was quietly depressed. There was a time when I felt no self-esteem. I just felt there was nothing more left in me...helpless. Through this separation I have been very depressed. It has not been easy.

Shortly after our first child was born, my husband was jailed as a political prisoner. We were living in exile and I worked teaching to support the family -- there were ten of us. After about a year, he was released. Amnesty International played a big part in that. But we didn't come to Canada as refugees. We came as independent immigrants.

When we first arrived we stayed at Welcome House. There was an opening for a daycare worker there and a Canadian lady, who knew I had been a teacher, told me to apply. When that job was over that same lady, who has since become a friend, told me about an opening for a daycare worker at a centre run by a religious organization. I got the job and worked there for about 6 months, quitting when I became pregnant with my second child. Then I stayed home and kept having babies. Each year I had a baby -- three times. During those years I was always at home. People were always dropping over and passing phone messages through me; I was like an operator. I enjoyed having company and having a good time but I was locked up in the house to the point that some people thought it was my culture to be in the house. I felt somehow my life was wasted. All the same, I meant it. I've cooked so much chicken in Canada I must be a Kentucky House. Not to boast about it, but I even held 3 weddings -- I was the mother to give away the bride. I used to organize Christmas and birthday parties for friends all the time. I was busy running all over the place. I even fund-raised for his library. Its all gone now. Things change and people change. When you start analyzing your life, you ask yourself, what have I really achieved. I felt I didn't achieve anything. I felt terrible -- empty, and I felt I needed love. So now I'm alone. I don't regret it so much, but I miss my kids.

My husband is an intelligent guy and well-respected. He knows his work and relates well with his colleagues. This man is so nice to everybody. I told him so many times, I wish he did all those good things for his family -- we would be a happy family. Once at home he went for a holiday and when I saw him far away, coming, I left his family and ran to meet him to take his suitcase and give him a big hug. That's what my parents used to do. When he saw me come, he said, "You are giving me shame. What will those people think about me? Your time is later". My morale was killed completely, up to this time. I don't know about his culture. I mean to be happy. Why must one hide happiness? Because your aunt is there you shouldn't show them. People do not change. As they say, the doctor cannot cure himself.

I used to do the laundry at the laundromat. I would go in the snow, stuffed with so much laundry. So I bought a machine. In front of people -- white people we met when we were first in exile and had known for 10 years -- he said, "You see this woman. I can't progress. Look at the way she uses her money. She bought a washing machine". And they said, "What, with all those children you haven't had a washing machine until now? What are you talking about? Its a good thing she bought one because you certainly need one". And I felt better. They were really teaching him. His thinking is backward. You still want me to wash by hand in North America -- a family of seven and no machine when people already have machines at home? He thinks I'm brain-washed by the white ideology. He doesn't see there's a problem, but he surely misses my service very much.

I used to have a big mirror in the basement. I loved that mirror because I could talk to it like another human being. It became my counsellor, my friend. One day when I was doing my laundry I was dancing alone with my mirror, and my husband came downstairs on the steps. I didn't know he was there. He stood there looking at me until the music stopped, and he said, are you crazy? You're dancing alone? And I said, well, who else is going to dance with me -- it's just me and my mirror.

After I had my fourth child, I got a job at as an Assistant Teacher taking care of the children of women who were in an ESL class in an elementary school. Another African woman and I worked together on some multicultural events there -- cooking, decorating the walls with our African cloth. It was really good, and I started telling folk stories to children in Grades 1 through 4, teaching them to sing and how to put babies to sleep in my langauge. They liked it a lot.

My friend from Welcome House had tried her best to assist me over the years. She pushed me to get a teaching certificate so I could get to the level I wanted. She saw the skill in me but I would pull in because I had my problems. Finally, when I was pregnant with my fifth child I returned to school and earned a certificate in Early Childhood Education in a 7 month program at Ryerson. The British educational method I was schooled in is a lot different. Here, a teacher is supposed to let the children explore and discover things for themselves. Your role is just to guide them. The British way is more directive. I think there should be a balance between the two methods.

In this job I have now I'm supposed to be teaching parenting to young mothers. There's one particular woman -- she's 20 and she has a young child -- who says, "I'm Canadian, born here. I've worked here more than you and I know more than you do." Each time I try to bring something which I was trained in, she says, "No, that doesn't work here." There's only one woman there who treats me with any respect. They regard English as your second language and, if you have an accent, they think you don't know much. Even when they know your idea is good and use it, they will never tell you they appreciate it. Instead, they say its their idea. So, I'm always doing things anybody can do, like clearing the sink. I'm there like a cleaner, seriously, not like a teacher. We have skills that are being denied, but they use them in their meeting like its their idea.

To be honest, all those years I was home I was protected from racism, naive. Dealing with this job has shown me clearly what a lot of people have gone through. When people used to talk about racism I'd think, maybe they don't behave well, but now I see it really exists.

For a silly reason they have extended my probationary period at work by two months. My daughter became very ill. My husband stayed with the other children while I took her to the hospital and stayed with her until 1 in the morning. When I called the daycare centre in the morning to let them know I couldn't come to work that day because my daughter was in the hospital, the supervisor told me I should have phoned her the night before. She said I made her work difficult. I don't contribute at meetings any more because they don't appreciate what I say, and they are punishing me on top. I'm dealing with my workplace but I don't want them to destroy me.

So now I live alone in this big house and I'm not afraid. That itself shows I've changed. My kids come on the week-ends and on holidays. And these days, my husband treats me with respect, because he knows I work, and I use strong words. I'm building myself up. I feel force in me. At times I feel... there's a job for me somewhere that I haven't gotten to. Maybe one day I'll get it...I have to feel that, if I put all my experience together there is a certain job that will describe exactly who I am and I will get it....But up to this time I haven't gotten the job I really want. I really want to get a job as a teacher, where I can feel and do what I really want to do. When will I teach?

"Most of us have knowledge -- the bottom line is that we don't have any capital."

I came to Canada as an independent immigrant 8 years ago with my husband and two children. During the 5 years we lived in exile in Africa I worked as a secretary for a UN organization. My husband was an artist and had a university degree. The economic hardships and barriers we encountered in Canada were hard on our marriage and we eventually got divorced.

My business got started in 1992 when a friend and I organized a community function and it went on from there. We used to do things for the community and asked, why don't we do this as a business? People heard about the events we organized by word of mouth, and now many people in the community, not just those from my country, come to see the African musicians and performing artists I promote. Even though we are in a recession and my friend moved away, my business has expanded. This winter I brought a theatrical group from home and two bands from Zaire before the public. I also rented a hall in the basement of a building on the Danforth where people could come and relax two Saturday nights each month. I had DJ, served food and sold drinks. On the coldest night, 25 people came out.

Everybody needs entertainment, even people on welfare will spend money on entertainment. People need a social atmosphere to get motivated and to feel they're accepted by the community. Some Africans are intimidated the by system. I try to bring them out and bring people together. We need to create jobs for ourselves if none will do this for us, and to involve our children so that they don't end up on the street. It is a way to fight the system and stay off welfare.

I have taken two very useful courses on how to run a small business -- one at a neighbourhood high school and the second at George Brown. They helped me develop a detailed business plan, and I got tips on how to keep my books, research a location, and deal with customers. But the problem with going into business is implementation -- you need capital. The courses cannot help you get that.

My ambition is to open a larger, permanent locale at which artists can perform, but at present I have to rent everything -- hall, musicians. By the time you get home, you're left with nothing, so I finance my promotional activities out of my earnings from my full-time job.

I took my business plan to the Better Business Bureau, which will match loan applicants' capital, but I didn't get a loan because I don't have capital. I also tried getting a bank loan but the banks were impossible because I don't have any collateral or someone to sign for me. Most of us have knowledge -- the bottom line is that we don't have any capital.

G. ANIKI

When I came to Canada as an independent immigrant from an anglophone East African country in 1991, I had been a banker for 8 years. I didn't really expect to get into the work force right away because I didn't have Canadian experience and I didn't have the complete skills required for what I wanted to do. I wanted to do banking and continue with my career so that I could eventually send for my daughter. So I went straight into school full-time for six months, taking adult education classes at a neighbourhood high school. I paid $40/course for most of the classes, doing bookkeeping, keyboarding 1 - 2, Bedford accounting, Lotus 1-2-3, WP 4.2 and 5.1, D-base -- all those, and I did French too.

When I started looking around for a job I approached two agencies advertising that they helped people get into banks. Since I already had training and experience it was a shock to me when they said they only took people without training. I didn't understand and explained that it would be good for me to start at the bottom and they should give me the chance to work as a teller.

I talked to some people from my country about my problem and they said I should contact an African organization downtown. So I went there and it ended up that I began doing volunteer work at another African organization two days/week answering the phone and working on the computer. They offered me free transport. While I was working there I got involved in a project that gave me the background to do community work. I organized workshops and focus groups and had to be in touch with a lot of people in the African community. When the project ended I went back to my volunteer work but I didn't feel I was being very productive so I began to look seriously for a banking job again. I walked into the Royal Bank, Scotia Bank -- I even went to Barclays -- but there was a freeze. No one was hiring; they put my resume on file.

After working on a couple of temporary jobs which enabled me to improve by computer and book-keeping skills, I found myself on welfare. Some people I knew had begun doing some health-related work in Toronto. I had some experience with sick people back home. I was still looking for paying work but I volunteered at an African health organization. There was a job incentive program there, offered through Canadian Employment and Immigration, who pays a portion of the salary and the employer tops it up. The organization hired me for that job. I attended a 3-day course organized by the City of Toronto Department of Public Health to prepare me for a health educator role.

Due to serious internal problems, the executive director of the organization and I left. Motivated by our desire to do health related work and our ideological engagement in this kind of work, and with the community behind us, a new organization was formed. We put in a lot of hours and energy everyday, even week-ends, and were not paid. The need was there, and you knew that someone had to do it. If you could do it, maybe others would come and join forces and move the whole thing for the betterment of the community. We survived and proved to the funders that we could do the work, even without money.

The major difference between our organization and the organization we left is that our organization is driven by women. Three members and the chair of the Board of Directors are women; one is the youth representative. At the staff level, the Executive Director is a woman, and I am one, and the volunteer coordinator is a woman, a very community-oriented person too. It's very satisfying because we built the organization together and we all have the same interest and level of commitment.

Though this has been a very trying period for us, it has given us a chance to see those who can really hang in there and those who have come just for selfish interests. We always try to work with volunteers, but some people are not really genuine. They come hoping that they will get contracts; as time goes on, they drop out. Financially we are really strained, but at the same time, we have some very, very committed volunteers, who have been there for us, and they keep coming in, to organize, to do the newsletter, and help with the distribution.

Just now I am taking some courses to strengthen my case and have some Canadian credentials. If you are going to live here for a long time people want to know how you've been upgrading yourself. I've been looking at labour market trends. The economy is supposed to be recovering. So I'm trying to get back into banking, but its not easy. I don't know. I see myself getting stuck in community work in the next while. There's a lot of work to be done.... and not many women want to fight or get tired. But someone has to do it. The men are only fighting among themselves. It so happens that women do most of the work in most organizations, but the men get all the credit at the top. Here I'm doing something and its for a cause and the change, I can see it, and its helping, finally. Maybe in banking it would be just for me.

When I first came to Canada, I didn't even know that you can get a job by volunteering, because volunteering is something you do at your own will, no one has to push you. If you volunteer because you think you can get a job that way, then you can't be a good volunteer. What if you don't get a job? It can be very demoralizing if you don't get hired. I realize that its better to volunteer, actually, when one has a job. That's the way it should be, so you can choose which area, which agency, where you want to put your energy.

I worked as a medical secretary at home using a computer word-processing program called "Page-maker". My husband was a computer technician. In response to publicity from the Government of Quebec, my husband and I, along with another couple, decided to migrate with our children as independent immigrants in 1992. I was determined to reenter my career in Canada. When we settled in Montreal I took a course to learn the computer programs that are used in Canada. A counsellor advised me to take a course that lasted a year. It was not expensive. But I felt I didn't need a year-long course so I enrolled in a 6 month course which I paid for myself -- $4000. I couldn't get work when the course finished but I did find a situation as a volunteer in a hospital. The supervisor in the department to which I was assigned would only give me routine tasks. She wouldn't let me work on the computer. I got so frustrated. Finally I took a photo of the computer we have at home, which happened to be the same model used in that hospital department, and brought it in to show the supervisor. By that time, however, our relationship had become so strained that I just left.

Everywhere we applied for jobs in Montreal they asked us if we knew English, so we moved to Toronto. I have had a few paying clerical jobs but they have just been temporary. I am continuing to look for paying work but I have also been looking for a volunteer situation, preferably at a medical clinic, so that I can improve my English. So far I haven't found one. I finished Level 3 LINC a few weeks ago (March 1995).

I came to Canada in 1970 to join my husband, who was in school. I had my teacher's certificate -- post-middle -- and 4 years' teaching experience. My sole aim was to get a job and help the family. At home, with post-middle you can work at every level in the schools. I thought at least I could work in a day-care. They evaluated my degree as equivalent to Grade 12. When you get here you are in such shock. There were so many barriers. Try to get a factory job, if you're lucky, or a cleaning job. Your fellow workers wonder why you are working in a factory since you speak English. When the bosses want decisions, they come to you, but when there are promotions, they hire Italians. So you quit. Your self-esteem is gone and you're at the bottom.

I quit a factory job to go to Humber College to do Family and Nutrition. I got my diploma and was even on the Dean's List. Still, I didn't get a job. The diploma from Humber was the same level as the diploma I brought from home. After awhile you see it was poor judgment to quit the job because you need the money. I went back to the factory I knew best. They were glad to see me.

Meanwhile your children come along and you still want to be a teacher in Canada. So you take night classes, but you are too tired. You don't have time for the children; you don't have time to read. Everywhere there are barriers. And before you know it, you have four children. You decide to get a job you can handle so that you can be there for your family, and then your marriage has broken down. You are back in the factory, still dreaming of becoming a teacher.

If I can type my problems will be solved -- CANACT skills program, microskills, with a life-skills component. If I had gotten into that when I had just come to Canada things might have been different. It was designed for new Africans -- misplaced Africans. Everyone was like you -- there was a bonding. You understood one-another; most people had some problems. Four months, including placement. That's where I learned to type. If it was the first model of experience in Canada, you could make it. It was good. I go back for life-skills and support. The Centre closed for lack of funding. I was there in '84-'85, about the time Rexdale Microskills started up. Microskills -- that was the government's plan then.

Fortunately or unfortunately I got a job downtown. It didn't work. The money was not enough, so I thought, I'll go to school to be a programmer. Another bad decision. Horrendous course. But you couldn't get a job.

Finally I found a job working with the Board of Education as a multicultural assessment translator. I tutor children two times each week until they can blend into the system. At least I am using my teaching skills. And now I have drifted into community work. I am on mother's allowance and family benefits. Because I am working for a non-profit community agency I get an additional $200 each month. At least I can help some women so they won't go through what I've gone through. I call what I'm doing "teaching without walls". I have decided that money is not so important, but I would still like to be a teacher.

In 1989 I was sponsored to work to Canada as a nanny by the grown son of a family I worked for at home -- I had a work permit. My education ended after Grade 7 when I became pregnant. After my child was born I worked in the family's factory. The son lives in suburban Toronto. While I was with them I learned to type and to do WP5.1 in an ESL course. I also took dressmaking. After 3 years, I quit that job and moved into my own apartment. I got a job as a sewing machine operator in the garment industry. When the business closed six months later, I was one of 18 employees laid off.

A counsellor at the Immigrant Women's Job Placement Centre advised me to enroll in a 6 month daycare assistant course at the Learning Enrichment Foundation (LEF). I was eligible for the course, which included a job placement component, because I was on welfare. Each week, students received 2-days' classroom instruction and worked 3-days on placements in daycare centres. The staff assured us that we could get jobs upon completing the programme. When I got my diploma certifying me as a day-care assistant I also got a letter of congratulation from Bob Rae, the Premier of Ontario. I worked as a supply worker during the summer for different day care centres associated with LEF, replacing full-time employees who were on vacation. But in the fall there was no more work. Only 8 or 9 fellow students got full-time jobs. In fact, you go for an interview and you see several other people you were in the programme with.

A woman who also took the LEF programme advised me not to use the LEF teachers as references. I made several job applications but did not heed her advice. Three employers seemed interested in hiring me but in the end they took a student in the daycare diploma course at LEF. Once I overheard a telephone conversation between a potential employer and an employee at an employment agency I went to. During the conversation, the employer inquired about the possibility of placing LEF students at the daycare centre advertising the position. I was very deceived.

The same thing happened to a woman I know. She lost her job after she wrote a letter to those responsible for the daycare programme at LEF because she spoke out. I want other women interested in going into the daycare assistant certificate programme to know about the placement problem and not have to go through what I'm going through.

Now I am back working as a nanny, but this time I live out. With the daycare assistant diploma, I could take care of 5 small children in my own apartment, provided it had two bedrooms. I would like to do that, but just now I can only afford to rent a small bachelor apartment. How long am I going to be ... (a nanny)? I won't learn anything at home. I will die like this. You don't grow up. When you grow old you are poor.

"You spend your life educating yourself. You lose it; it's like history".

I have a university degree in electrical engineering in Africa and a Masters of Science in energy Management from and American Ivy League University, which I attended on a UN scholarship. Before that, I trained as a television technician with an expatriate company at home and studied telecommunication in Italy so, in addition to English, I speak Italian. I worked as an electrical engineer in a fertilizer plant and headed the Renewable Energy section of the Ministry of National Planning in the country I come from. I also participated in a World Bank sponsored research project that was administered by the University of California. When I was at university in the states, I worked as a tutor and a security guard. I had opportunities in the US but my student visa didn't allow me to work.

I thought things would be brilliant in Canada when I entered as a refugee in 1989. My son was with me but my daughter had not yet been born. I did not know where to start, where to go, and knocked on every door. I took 3 or 4 computer courses at a local collegiate institute and through their co-op programme got a placement at the Ministry of Consumer and Commercial Relations where I worked for 3 months. There was no permanent job when the placement ended so I was unemployed again. I learned about the Employment Supportive Initiative from a pamphlet. The social worker helped find day-care for my son and gave me many references, such as the Soul-Support Mother's Programme on St. Clair. I followed them all up -- some were very helpful and some were nasty. Through the Province of Ontario Civil Service newspaper, Job Mart, I located a 2-year internship programme with low pay available at certain provincial ministries. I sent applications but only got back letters acknowledging receipt of my applications. People told me I was crazy. Getting an internship is impossible. In the end I got a short-term part-time job doing energy analysis. When it ended I offered to work for free, but they didn't want me.

I was so depressed. I was not sleeping well. Sometimes I think that the fact I was over-stressed caused the car accident I was in. I broke both ankles and one of my wrists. I am still going for physiotherapy and have been on disability insurance since, but that runs out next September. Nobody wants to be on welfare. They say that job priority goes to applicants who are women, visible minority, handicapped, or natives. Now I fit 3 of those 4 criteria.

Out of all the job applications I made, I got 2 interviews. One was with the Ministry of Energy but I didn't get the job because I didn't do well in the interview. The Human Resources counsellor told me I was weak on the "sales-pitch" section, but they also said I was overqualified. I was raised in a culture which trains women to be shy, not to talk with strangers, not to talk with a man. We have a saying: "Don't tell people what you can do or who you are. Let them say who you are". Because I was shy to say I was an engineer I took a programme to learn interview techniques. It is very hard to change.

A few months ago I answered an ad for an energy management job with a firm in Mississauga. The employer was enthusiastic when we spoke on the phone because my background corresponded exactly with what they were looking for. He asked me to come for an interview, despite my accent, but I didn't get the job. I regret to this day that I answered the two questions he asked me -- "What is your SIN number, and what country are you from"? African women refugees are not preferred as workers by employers. You lose it. It's like history. You spend your life educating yourself. You come to Canada.

There is much family breakdown in our community. A married woman with five children who wants to get a divorce called me this morning because she needed someone to listen to her troubles. Her husband doesn't have a job and he doesn't help with the children. We have organized an engineering association. People trained in medicine have also organized. We meet with members of the provincial and federal legislatures at every opportunity to inform them of our situation.

I have 7 children -- 3 over the age of 18 and 4 under. Our family entered Canada as refugees in 1992. I speak Italian like my own language but I did not speak English when I came. From the time I was 17 years old, I worked as a health educator, nurse and midwife. At the time I earned my diploma in 1976, nursing was an occupational specialty you took after 9 years of basic education. I completed high school by taking correspondence courses. I gave tetanus shots, oversaw pregnancies, and lead nutrition classes to build healthy kids. I also worked in hospital delivery rooms delivering babies. After fifteen years of experience, I quit that work to go into my own business. My husband had a business which required us to travel occasionally to Italy and Germany. And we had a big hotel. I did all that in my country, but here -- nothing.

Before coming here we were always healthy, but in Canada our family has had a lot of serious health problems. My husband suffers from depression and has diabetes and underwent serious surgery. I cared for her mother, who was bedridden for several months, until she died last fall. My youngest daughter has seizures.

I have worked hard to learn English and am determined to get work. I took ESL courses part-time for 2 years and a 2-month full-time LMLT course, in which I learned job search techniques and how to sell myself. But I couldn't get a job. It is difficult to get job. When they interview you, they tell you, "you haven't Canadian experience". I have been in Canada for two and a half years, but am still without work.

Now I want to go to high school and take more English. Next month I will take two English and a geography course to get my Grade 10. After that, I will see. I would like to take home day-care for children. When I finish Grade 12 at this school I will take six months of day care and I will open my own day care centre in my house. I will try that. Meanwhile, if I can get even a makeshift job, I will take it to pay my bills.

This afternoon I am going to apply for a job that a friend told me about. I would like to have it to have my own money. I was a respected woman, and now I have nothing. I hate to go to the welfare office and ask for things. And I have four kids to care for still, and they all need money. I prefer cleaning houses to taking money from welfare. To help my children I am willing to take any job and learn English. I would even love to be a homemaker, because I know how to care for old people -- to change diapers, to clean them. I would appreciate getting a job like that. A job is not a bad thing.

But begging is the worst thing in the world. Some welfare workers say, "Why don't you search for a job? Why don't you go to school?" They don't treat you with respect. We are mature people who know how to solve our problems, but they ask you so many crazy questions and they say, "You have to sign this paper, you have to". They phone you every month to ask you if you going to school. We know we have problems. We are a mature people who know how to do things but we don't know how to sort our problem without money. So In my prayers I ask Allah to have a job -- a plain job, a good job, to have some money of my own.

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