This First Person article is the experience of Sidra Mundia, who moved from Dubai to Regina in 2022. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see this FAQ.
When I stepped out into the city of Regina for the first time and the sun-kissed warmth touched my face, I saw floating clouds in the ocean of sky.
Coming from the big and busy desert city of Dubai, I used to hear honking horns all day and look at the skyscraper buildings so high that I could hardly see the sky. I didn’t remember the last time wind touched me because I was so used to sitting in an air-conditioned environment.
The weather was too warm to step out, so I secretly desired to live in a country with snow and more winter.
Moving to Canada is a dream for many people.
In the Middle East, those who obtain permanent residency in Canada are often admired and respected, and others frequently ask them about the process as if they have won a jackpot. That’s because for many families in Dubai, paying school tuition fees and covering expensive costs in a privatized education and health system is not easy. Canada’s promise of accessible services can seem almost too good to be true.
However, I’ve come to realize not everything that glitters is gold. Many people, including my family, were unaware of the challenges and sacrifices that come with this move.
In 2022, we packed our bags with excitement to begin this new chapter of life. I was happy and hopeful. I had long dreamed of doing things I’d only heard about — blowing dandelions in open fields and walking through falling snow. Now those dreams were only a flight away.
But soon after landing in Regina, I had what felt like a small heart attack: there were no highrise buildings, and only a plain land.
While driving to our hotel from the airport, the road pavement was worn out, the signal looked bare and unattractive, the streets were congested and the speed limit was 50 km/h. The cars seemed outdated, as if they had come straight out of a 1970s movie.
Within a few days, I realized there are no luxurious malls to spend the day and very few halal food options to go out dining. My first impression of Canada wasn’t positive; I felt everything was dull and disorganized.
As there was not much to do in the city, I chose to stay indoors.
My children were glued to their devices while my husband was struggling to make ends meet. While my kids were behind their doors, I was lonely and craving company.
Despite that, I ignored my children and left them on Wi-Fi. They were in their own world, and I was in my own world. I felt like I was failing them as a mother.
I recognized something was wrong with me, but I never knew what it was.
A few months later, I learned about the public library in Regina and I started making frequent visits there. That’s when I came across a self-help book section and picked one.
The book helped me to understand that overthinking can lead to negative thinking and suggested some strategies to overcome it. I started journaling about my thoughts, feelings and reactions. I learned to differentiate between my rational thoughts and irrational fears over the next couple of months.
As winter approached, I was very excited. I had never experienced snowfall before. I waited impatiently for the first snowfall in November. While closely tracking the forecast, I convinced my whole family to stay awake until 5 a.m. It felt as if it had been years since we agreed on something together.
As soon as the snow hit the ground, we ran out of our rooms to the backyard. The first snowfall changed everything for me. The wind hit my face and the snow covered the ground in silence. I could see my footsteps leaving prints in the snow. Even in the darkness, the sky lit up with the whiteness of the falling snow. I could feel the glittery snow begging my personality to shine again.
It was the moment I realized I’d pushed my kids away with my behaviour. After all, they were in the same boat as me. I called them to join us for our first snow fight.
As we chucked snowballs at each other and laughed, I felt as if a huge burden had lifted off my shoulders — as if the weather had changed within me.
From then on, I started going out often because the snow made me feel good. I felt as if nature held my hand. I felt connected again.
I understood that I didn’t need people to help me; I needed to help myself. I found myself in loneliness. I stopped talking to people who gave me negative vibes and started connecting to nature more.
Nature felt completely different from urban life — it was serene, peaceful and calming. The whistling wind and chirping birds replaced the chaotic noise of what had once been such a busy lifestyle.
I blew dandelions in spring, walked on crunched leaves in fall, felt the warmth of the sun in summer and watched the land of living skies where I don’t see the skyscrapers.
Instead, I see the sky filled with floating clouds touching the land.
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