The name is Teejay Volmar. A big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the Meadowlands area of Ottawa in the province of Ontario, Canada. I'm a third-year student at Carleton University, majoring in Criminal Justice. I recently moved to Canada from the U.S. I spent the past ten years in Brockton, Massachusetts. The City of Champions. I miss my old town sorely. It was so wonderfully diverse. Today, another town is in my consciousness. The city of Cap-Haitien, in Northern Haiti. Ever since the Earthquake hit, I've been calling my relatives frantically, trying to make sure everyone is okay. My parents, Francois and Elsie Volmar still live there. My folks don't like to venture to the capital city of Port-Au-Prince, the place that has been hit worst by the Earthquake but you never know. I just want to hear their voices again.
I've called my other relatives all over the place. I've called up relatives such as my cousins Mario and Nessa in Brentwood, New York. I also called my aunt Carmen in Copiague and my grandmother Clothilda. So far, no one's called me back. I certainly hope my uncle Bob, who lives in Port-Au-Prince, is doing alright. Man, I can't stop worrying. I'm a nervous wreck. I went to the local convenience store and bought some more phone cards to call up family members.
Again, nobody's picking up. Of all the days for them to be acting funny. The international community seems willing to help. I sure hope they do. There are many lives at stake. My beloved Haiti has enough problems. Why did we have to have a frigging earthquake on top of it? As if the political strife, the gang violence and the economic crisis weren't enough. I mean, we Haitians are a strong, resilient people but enough is enough. What you won't read anywhere is the fact that we're the most resilient people in the Western Hemisphere but the universe has got to give us a damn break. We've got enough problems.
I feel so awful about the whole thing. I'm an able-bodied young man. If I were in the Republic of Haiti right now, once I made sure my folks were alright, I'd be in the capital city trying to help. Unfortunately, I'm not. And I can't go back to Haiti to help my people. Why? Long story. Involves a complicated, international immigration deal gone haywire...ten years ago. I can't leave Canada...yet. More than anything I wish I could help my people. I'm going to send my relatives some money via Western Union...and I'm also going to donate to the international relief efforts which are trying to help my countrymen right now. We so didn't need these kinds of troubles right now. We're a small country with a rich history and unique culture. We're not the richest land out there but we hold our heads high in tough times. For this disaster to befall us now, well, let's just say that the universe is too cruel...
I went to visit my friend Rosa Torino after classes ended at Carleton University. Rosa and I have been friends for quite some time. This five-foot-ten, chubby and big-bottomed, dark-skinned Brazilian chick is one of my closest pals. When I came to Canada a few months ago, I was a wreck. In more ways than one. I had recently graduated from Brockton Community College with my associate's degree in Criminal Justice and lacked the funds to continue with my education. Moving to Canada and becoming a legal resident there seemed like a good idea, but I would miss my life in Brockton sorely. Brockton is the most diverse town in New England.
Fifty two percent of the one-hundred-thousand-person population is of African-American, Hispanic, Middle-Eastern, Asian or Cape Verdean descent. Moving to Canada meant living behind one of the few places in the world where I actually felt like I fit in. A big and tall young Black man walking through downtown Ottawa sticks out like a sore thumb in this bastion of Whiteness.
The same young man walking through Brockton doesn't get a second look from the locals. In the city of Brockton, Massachusetts, racial diversity is here to stay. Brockton is well on its way to becoming a Chocolate City, like the towns of Washington D.C. and Oakland along with Detroit and Atlanta. Like Harlem used to be before scores of African-Americans moved out and the Asians, Whites and Hispanics moved in.
Another thing I missed about Brockton is the gay nightlife there. There are lots of gay and lesbian clubs in the city of Brockton. For a bisexual guy like myself, it was a lot of fun. Ottawa doesn't really have a gay scene or much of a night life. Whether you're straight or gay, you'll soon realize nightclubs in Ottawa truly suck. And not in a good way. Rosa tried to get me to go out to a few clubs but the scene didn't appeal to me. Girls or guys, Ottawa's residents didn't appeal to me sensually.
These folks are strange. They're too fake. Also, there's an almost tangible racism in certain spots in Ottawa. Canadians like to say they're the most friendly people on the planet. I beg to differ. I've encountered a lot of racists in Canada. Mostly old white women ( and men ) who gave me shady looks when they ran into me at the mall or on the bus. I also ran into something weird. Racist Asians who gave me dirty looks simply for being a Black man entering their stores or restaurants.
