Wortsheet:24

WMn 1 saw my first snowbanks through 1he porthole of the plane ill MirabelAirport.._Ifelt nakedJ if not
stripped bur rn 5pnl!of my short-sleeved orange pullover purchased at the refugee camp on Malaysla

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before weleft for
Canada.In sote of myloose knit brown sweater made by Vietnamese wome'!- I felt cold.Several of us-on the plane
made a dash for the,Wondows,our mouths wbde,our expressions)tunned. Alandscape so white, lo
p:e,could

only daule us,bltnd"us,intoxicate us. "' t.'i ..?

«v'•
,....-' -
was a place of de'!ghts.
In the airport, r was surprised by an the unfamiliar sounds that greeted us and the strange food,vet I knew that
this
-
Later at school, my first teacher on canada walked with us,the seven youngestin the group of Vietnamese.
like a molher duck, she walkedahead of us,asking us to follow her to the haven where we would be children
again,
simply children,surrounded by colours, drawings,trivia. When she bent down to me,placing her hands
on mine to tell me, "My name Is Marie-France,what's yours?" Irepeated each of her syllables without
blinking. Ihadn't understood a word she'd said,only the melody of her voice,butit was enough.More
than enough.Unfortunately, from all!he momings with this English teacher,I remembered only one
sentence: my boat number is JCG033B. It tumed out to be totally useless because Inever had a chance
to say 11.My mother wanted me tolearn French as fast as possible,Englishtoo,because my motl'.l!!
i:longue had become uses.

I have a photo of my father being embraced by our sponsors,a family of volunteers to whom we'd been
assigned. They ofteninvited us to their white house with its perfectly mownlawn and flowers lining the
entrance and a
carpetInevery room. They were the personification of our American dream. Their daughter passed on to
me her dresses that had become too small,one of them a blue cotton sundress with tiny white flowers
and two straps that tied on the shoulder. Iworeit during the summer,but alsoInwinter over a white
sweater.During our first winters, we didn't know that every garment hadits season,that we mustn't
simply wear all the clothes we owned.When
we were cold,without discriminating, without knowing the different categories,we would put one garment over
another,layer by layer. ike the homeless.

The town of Granby sheltered us during our fim year 1n canada The pupilsIn my school fined up to invite
us home for lunch so that each of our noon hours was reserved by a family. And every time, we went back
to school with nearly empty stomachs because we didn't know how to use a fork to eat rH:e that wasn't
sticky.We didn't know how to tellthem that this food was strange to us. We could neither talk to nor
understand them. But that wasn't the main thing. There was generosity andgratitude In every grain of the
neeleft on our plates,By the do en they showed up at our doors to grve us warm
clothes,toys,1nv1tanons,dreams

My fnend Johanroe held out her hand to me m the same way She hme l!llenthou&h Iwore a hat with a
McDonald's logo. Johanne also took me to the movies,even though Iwas weanng 1sh rt bouaht on s,ale
for e1&hty e11ht cents, with a hole near one of the seams.After the ftlm Fame she taught me how to
sine the theme sone '" Enchsh,althoughIdidn't understand the words,or her co.,..ersanons With her
sisterand her p;irents around their fireplace.

For a whole year, Granby represented heaven on eanh Icouldn't 1mag1ne a better placein the

world by Kim Thuy

H-does the writer share her Ideas and fmpn!Ssions when she arrives Jt MlnlbelAltpott. C4nllcb1