Country Roads Take Me Home


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Love sitting in the front seat while someone else drives along country roads in the UK. For me the UK feels like home, having lived there for 3 years growing up and visiting my family every chance I get even though it empties my pockets. But the immigration officer looks at me like I am coming to steal something. Brown skin, Canadian Passport, I shouldn’t be trusted right? As the officer finally gives me back my passport, he stresses that I am not allowed to work in the UK. He reminds me “not even in your mother’s little shop”. Yeah, right. In their fantasies, I visit frequently and stay the whole six months of visa working and living illegally in the UK and they can finally catch me. Once, an officer even refused to believe that I am a student back in Canada at University of Toronto. I offer to show my student ID, and he says “can’t trust that”. I think he only trusted his own prejudiced instincts. I think they get tired going through a whole shift without finding one interesting case, so they probably pick me  out to go do background checks for 30 minutes in a back room. Not even an apology for wasting my time. That was a rant, but I had to.

Folks on the other side of the border say it’s my fault because I don’t speak up. Because I keep my zen and only ever answer in single words or short phrases to anybody.

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