The Right Turn

It’s crazy to think about where I was just a year ago and how much life can change in the matter of weeks or even days.

It all started on the morning of October 29th, 2019. I woke up early to wait for family to leave for work and school. As soon as that front door closed, I rushed to my closet to pack my luggage. I’d already separated the clothes I wanted to take with me from the ones I didn’t care about a few days before. Everything was carefully planned and prepared for this morning, and as I was shaking with anxiety and the doubts of “am I really doing this”, I brought my suitcase and my guitar to the front door, said goodbye to Fluffy (our cat) and hopped in an Uber. The next day, I’d made it to Malaysia. I’d successfully ran away from a dark place. I had no job or plan and barely any money that’s actually mine. For the next 3 months I would live life as a nomad, hopping from house to house, and almost constantly carrying a backpack on my shoulders. I worked one-off jobs helping out for events just so I could make some money to get me through the next day or two. I chose to walk whenever I could just to save money even if that meant walks that took me over an hour on a road that had no space for pedestrians. I had to survive.

You might be wondering; this sounds horrible, why is this dude talking about running away in a story about gratitude? In fact, how UNGRATEFUL could he be to lie and run away from his family who did nothing but raise him, treat him right and provide for him?

Well you see, I’m a transgender man from a Muslim-Arab family and as you can imagine, that’s not the most ideal life combo to have. While my parents did react better than you’d expect most (Muslim-Arab) parents to react, it still was not a life to live. We’re on semi-good terms now but that’s getting way ahead of my story so let’s back up.

As I was saying, my nomad life in Malaysia was not the easiest but I was beyond grateful to have made it out of my home country alive and be able to feel my soul enter my body again. It was amazing to feel like I could be myself again without fear of getting yelled at or punished in some way. Sure, I’d broken up with my 5-time (at least) cheating girlfriend and was messed up over that but I was still in way better shape than I’d been back home. I also had amazing friends who supported me and fed me when I was low on cash. Anyway. 3 months in Malaysia pass by and here’s where the story starts to get… interesting.

Wait! I realised I’d forgotten to mention that when I got back to Malaysia I registered as an asylum seeker with the UNHCR and my application wasn’t going so smoothly due to misunderstandings and missed appointments, so I thought I wouldn’t get the chance to be resettled to a country, like Canada, for example, for a couple years. I thought that until then, I just had to somehow find a job in Malaysia and survive. To be honest, I was a smart kid with a first-class degree under my belt so it seemed like getting a job wouldn’t be too difficult...however, I was a foreigner and no company wants to be burdened with sponsoring your work visa no matter how great you are.

So yes. I was a registered asylum seeker, with protection from being forcibly sent back to my home country but no protection from much else. Towards the end of January, I had to get ready for my visa run. If you don’t know what a visa run is, it’s when your visa is about to expire in the country you’re in so you leave to a nearby country for a couple days or a week and then return to the OG country to renew that visa. Usually you can get away with 2-3 visa runs before anyone gets suspicious so I thought “this is my first one, I’ll be more than fine”.

I decided to hop on a plane to Jakarta, Indonesia and within my first hour of being there, I was ripped off by the dude selling the SIM cards but whatever, we won’t talk about that. I was just grateful to land in one piece (major paranoia, I know) and to be able to get a cab to my accommodation. I stayed in this cool Capsule Hotel, I’d show you photos but I’m too lazy to get my phone right now. My breakfast for the next 6 days was sorted: 4-6 pieces of toast with jam, chocolate or peanut butter every morning. I would spend lunch wondering if I’m worth eating a meal to survive and dinner was usually a packet of your cheapest chips (or crisps, for you British people out there). On my 3rd night, I had an older Egyptian man treat me to a packet of oreos and an ice cream sundae… That was nice, very grateful for him. However, I now realise how creepy that would’ve been if we were both 20 years younger…

BACK TO THE POINT OF THE STORY, I’m sorry I get so distracted. The week in Jakarta flies by and I’ve enjoyed it despite the lack of luxury because I got to meet some cool people and explore the city in the most budget way. I get to my last day where I’m flying back to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and everything seems to be going smoothly. I get on the plane, enjoy some in-flight entertainment and I’m pretty excited because I had a job interview lined up the next day. Everything was working out perfectly and according to my plan.

I land in Malaysia and go through everything just fine until… I got to the immigration desk where they stamp you into the country and the officer has a lot of questions. He asks me why I stayed so long, why I’m coming back in blah blah and I tell him that I’ve come back for a job interview. He won’t have it and he writes on a little piece of paper, sticks it into my passport and points at this office behind me telling me to go there. I think “oh no… here we go, this isn’t good” and I make sure to inform some of my contacts about what’s going on. I get into the office and none of the officers there are believing me either and I’m sent to a shady ass place where all the shady people go with their big suitcases of money. The officers take all my electronics and inform me I’ve been denied entry so I’ll be sent back to Jakarta. There’s no negotiation allowed and I see all my plans crumble in front of my eyes.

I get sent to the “waiting room” which is made of uncomfortable metal seating and it’s FREEZING cold. I wait one hour, two, three, four… I stop counting. I keep nodding away into my sleep and waking up again feeling colder than the last time. I had no phone to contact anyone, I had no idea how long they’re keeping me. Eventually after 15 hours of being detained in that room, I was given my stuff and put on a plane back to Jakarta. At this point I’m blacklisted from entering Malaysia for a period of time and I’m thinking I’m going to need to live in Indonesia and god knows when I can be resettled in Canada now. I have no idea how I’ll even survive in Indonesia when hardly anyone speaks English. I’m lost, scared and alone.

I land in Jakarta and see that the Indonesian UNHCR was made aware of my situation and have contacted me. I was also told someone was waiting for me at the arrivals area to help take me in and give me a place to stay while this mess got sorted. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be allowed into Jakarta either… and that I would spend the next 16 days behind bars. I guess it’s kinda cool to say I was detained at one point in my life, but it definitely wasn’t cool going through it. However, I’m grateful for it for a number of reasons. I met someone there who is a good friend of mine now and I’ve been able to help him work towards getting resettled into a good country for him as well. Being detained also got me closer to my religion and God, I was praying more often and feeling peace despite the circumstances. I learnt how to appreciate the little things and live on very little. I carry those lessons with me always today. However, the biggest reason I am grateful for the horrible circumstances I went through in those months from August 2019 to February 2020 was that they all led me to where I am today. In fact, being detained accelerated my case as an asylum seeker and I was probably one of the fastest resettlement cases to date.

I thought it would take me years to move to Canada and to live comfortably, but here I am on the 26th of November, 2020 as a Canadian permanent resident with an amazing job, good health and a relatively good relationship with my parents. Before all this happened, I thought I’d still be in Malaysia right now, back with my toxic ex and working a job that could easily fire me and put me back at square one when I lose my work visa. Instead I am where I always dreamt to be and I can’t ever complain. I’m so grateful for every bad thing that happened to me in the last year because everything led me to where I am today. In fact I am grateful for ALL the suffering I ever endured in my life because it led me here. Now, I never doubt the plan that God has laid out for me and when things don’t go my way and take a turn, I know that this is the right turn, whether I see the good in it already or not, I have faith.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that nothing genuinely gets me down anymore (except missing my family of course, funny how that works). I’m grateful to say I’ve gone through some of the worst things in my life that I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to survive but here I am today. I’m so thankful and so in love with life. I hope that someone reads this story today and it gives them the hope and strength they need in a dark time to keep going because I SWEAR and I promise you that it gets so so so much better. You need to stick around to see it because it’s freaking magical.

Everyday is a gift. Count your blessings and I’ll leave you with two of my favourite verses from the Quran:

“With hardship comes ease” - Surat Ash-Sharh (94:5-6)

“They were planning, and Allah was planning, and Allah is the best planner.” - Surat Al-Anfal 8:30