One-Way Ticket
By Dany Laferrière (page 1 of 5)
I disembarked one '76 summer morning, in the midst of Olympic euphoria in a worked up Montreal. The immigration officers were trying to spot any terrorist arrivals in the crowd. Some African countries had decided to boycott the Montreal games because of the participation of South Africa. And even in the airplane itself, the rumour circulated that because of the African boycott, Blacks weren't being warmly welcomed in Montreal. People have no idea of the number of rumours that circulate in an airplane coming from the third world. It's a wonder how false tourists coming from the poorest countries on the planet could, without even leaving the plane or receiving any information besides that concerning the weather, know in such detail the frame of mind of the Canadian immigration officers. Someone on the plane remarked that these expulsion measures didn't concern us for the simple reason that, even if we were black like them, we were not Africans but Haitians. It must be made known to the Canadian authorities before we're driven away because of our colour. In this case it would be racism, a woman said. Someone added that you could possibly understand the rather brutal attitude of the Canadian officers towards the Africans who boycotted the games (even if they had a good reason to do it) but extending this to the Haitians who were participating all the same with a strong delegation of three athletes accompanied by twelve officials, could be nothing but pure racism. Is it necessary to explain that Haiti isn't Africa? All Blacks are not Negroes. And the Haitians who won their independence from Napoleonic France by blood and by sword, since that first of January in 1804 continue to refuse to be confused with these Africans who didn't gain their independence until recently, in the '60s. Well, it's like that in Haiti: patriotism is never far away. And a spark can light the powder keg. It was for good reason that a Haitian friend later describing the difference between Quebec and Haiti said that if in Quebec blood smells like eau de Cologne, in Haiti it's the eau de Cologne that smells like blood. I think we were almost ready to land when a man behind me suggested that precisely, in a case like this (the boycott of the Olympic games in Montreal because of the presence of South Africa) we should align ourselves with our African brothers. All the Haitians on the plane applauded and promised to refuse the Canadian entry visa, to protest the participation of South Africa in the Montreal games. Naturally everyone knows it will happen differently in reality.
I had a strangely easy time with the immigration officer. The usual questions were asked. I was well prepared. A friend who had already lived in Canada had explained the matter to me: the only thing the immigration officers hate is when you don't respond directly to their questions. In Haiti it's straight out impolite to simply answer a question. It's imperative to make a little digression; otherwise the speaker receives his answer like a slap in the face. When I was asked my name, while the officer held my passport in his hand with my name spelled out in full, I didn't think, like my predecessor, that the immigration officer didn't know how to read, or even that he thought I was an idiot. I simply told myself that Canadians (at that time in Haiti, Quebec didn't exist, we knew only Canada which to us was a totally French country) are different from Haitians. That's another good reason to travel. The immigration officer quickly understood that I was ready to cooperate. To him, a man from the third world who directly answers questions that appear common (name and address for example) without attempting any supplementary explanation, well this man has already made half the journey towards the dreaming integration in the welcoming country. The idea is to quickly make good little Canadians out of these immigrants, to have them swallow the habits and customs of the country as fast as possible. The officer smiled at me as he returned my passport.