Kwang Jun Cha
Kwang Jun Cha: My Immigrant Story
In 1965 when I turned 24 years-old, there was no job available in the labour market in my homeland South Korea. I was then selected as a miner to work in Germany (At that time, West Germany). The work was difficult under 1,000 meters, but I worked happily because of the good wage. One day in October, 1966, my junior classmate In-Sook came to Germany as a nurse. I was elated at her presence. We ended up falling in love and got married on October 14, 1977. As my three-year contract came to an end, the door to immigrate to Canada opened up. We filed our immigration papers, and received an approval with ease. Like that, we got on the plane to Canada on November 8, 1968.
There was a snow storm in Calgary when we landed at the airport on November 9, 1968. It was very cold. Although it was only five minutes from the flight traps to the terminal – what actually seemed like a temporary compound – it was too cold that I had to wrap my wife’s ears with my hands until we got into the building. In those five minutes as I walked into the building, I pictured Dr. Zhivago writing letters in cold weather in Siberia, the sound of the cold breeze by his window, and the warmth in Dr. Zhivago’s room with boiling kettle.
Ah! At that moment, at that short moment, I thought, “Have I perhaps been exiled?” Our immigrant life in Canada began like that. Everything was abundant in Canada. There were many jobs, and it felt like everything that the government did was genuinely for the good of its citizens. My wife and I both secured a job within a week of our arrival – me as an engineer at a mechanical factory, and my wife as a nurse at a nursing home. At first, we struggled due to language barrier, and racial and cultural differences, but we got through them with thankful heart and hard working. Along the way, we found favour from our supervisors and colleagues. We quietly adapted to the socially and economically well-knit community, and our life naturally became stabilized. On October 17, 1969, my daughter (Sandra So-Young) was born. It was the happiest moment in my life.
On October 15, 1972, a Korean church was established in Calgary. I have been attending this congregation ever since, and have been living every day receiving much love from God. On May 9, 1974, I finally received my Canadian citizenship. Prior to the moment, I had been gloomy because I felt like an international nomad (diaspora). After receiving this citizenship, I was thrilled to have much-needed sense of belonging.
I haven’t thought about what my existence means for this nation and for the world, but I believe I have spent the majority of my life as an exemplary citizen. I myself had small dream and purpose. Because my second base – Canada – which I selected myself is the best country to live in the world, I thought my dream came true. Moreover, if I am a member of this country that has a multicultural policy, wouldn’t that itself be meaningful for my life? I have a goal. No, more like a wish. I turned 76 years old. I may not be able to contribute back largely due to my age, but I wish I won’t be a harmful human being. It is my big wish that my children would remain healthy, kind, happy and beneficial to the community. I also do have regrets. Because I spent my youth in overcoming various restraints of being a foreigner, I couldn’t spend much time in doing my favourite things like painting and calligraphy. If only had I intentionally made some time, I could have done them all. Alas. I am pretty satisfied looking back all my years in Canada. I’ve volunteered as president of a Korean-Canadian association, and served as elder of the church. Before, I thought rest of my life would have no extra space for anything. After retirement, however, I looked up to the sky, and there was a white blank space that I haven’t filled in. Yes, the blank space. That space must be empty because of my unfulfilled love. Perhaps the meaning of my life would made complete when that blank space gets filled with my love. In the blank space, let’s write my beloved names that I haven’t been able to call out: South Korea and Canada. And on top of an imaginary house in my hometown, let’s draw a gourd and red peppers. Let’s write down names of my childhood friends and mountain streams where we used to hang out. Ah! My missed and beloved ones.
To Senator Yonah Martin, in celebration of Canada’s 150th anniversary. Kwang Jun Cha, resident in Calgary