My trip to Toronto some three weeks ago was the longest in planning and execution that I ever experienced. The reason bordered somewhat on the reduction of the frequency of my foreign trips. In the last five years or so, I have not been as regular as I used to be in foreign lands. My priority had shifted to other engagements. My appetite for foreign trips was no longer voracious.
I was still grappling with this self-imposed lull when 2023 happened on the country. The strangeness called the Tinubu administration had ventured into the scene, disrupting to no end everything that defined our everyday life and living. But before that strange happening, we had concluded plans to have my son, Nkem, travel to Canada for his postgraduate studies. Everything was set. He left the country just weeks before the swearing of Bola Tinubu as the president of Nigeria.
Some six months after he left the shores of Nigeria, I began to make plans to go and see him over there. I had a ready visa begging to be used. So that was not an issue. The hangup was one of convenience. It was one postponement after the other. It was as if something was always planted to stand in my way. The regress continued until I was able to arrest it some two months ago. November was the lucky month. I worked hard to ensure that nothing stood between me and the seemingly long-winded plan this time around. I had my way.
On arrival at Lester B International YYZ Toronto, I walked into the waiting hands of my son. We embraced rapturously. After the warm welcome, he asked me almost involuntarily, “Daddy, have I changed?” My answer to him was “No”. He had not changed in a way I could consider visible or significant. Only 30 months separated the day he left Nigeria and the day we reunited at YYZ Toronto Airport. Besides, we connected with each other on a fairly regular basis via video calls. There was therefore nothing new to see. He remained the authentic Boy George of the house, now growing into a man, that we saw off at Murtala Mohammed Airport, Lagos in May, 2023.
The weather in Toronto that evening was mildly cold. Wintry seasons are hardly new to me. I had experienced them severally in Europe and America in the past. And so, I coped well with the weather I met in Toronto. But that intermediate weather lasted for only 48 hours. On the third day, Toronto suddenly went wet and wild. Extreme cold set in amid frigid winters. The wet and wild Toronto that I allude to here is real. It is not about the popular family waterpark in the Greater Toronto Area where families converge for all manner of fun sports. In it, you have the ultimate water playground that is packed with excitement for kids of all ages, among other attractions. But the wetness and wildness that I refer to here is natural. It is elemental. I walked into it without knowing exactly when I did.
Before I was engulfed by the cold discomfort of wet and wild Toronto, I had been told a day earlier that Canada would experience snow fall. But I did not imagine its gravity until the doors were thrown open for me to look outside the next morning. What I saw were snow-encrusted surfaces. Parked vehicles had all turned white. So were the roofs of the houses that I could sight from where I was. Even the road to walk or drive on was covered by layers of white snow.
But it was a more involving experience on the day I was scheduled to visit Scarborough, one of the six local boroughs of Toronto. On that day, I learnt to walk on snow. The locale was Lawrence Avenue East by Paulander Avenue. Wisdom dictated that you pick carefully where to place your feet to avoid a fall. I fought off both the snow fall and the chill that came with it. For someone who was visiting Canada for the first time in Winter, I was told that the timing was wrong. I should have come at a better time. But that did not matter to me. I fought off the inclement weather with cheer. But the real challenge for me was the way the cold was attacking my nostrils. The discomfort was something to worry about.
But my real engagement on that day took place at the Toronto Financial District in the Downtown area of the city. The district is the heart of Canada’s finance and banking industries. It is known for its Bay Street’s high-rises which house corporations, law firms and the Toronto Stock Exchange. While there, I experienced its massive PATH underground network which, I understand, has about 30 kilometers of walkways. It has an array of hundreds of shops and a number of major attractions. The bustling district is serviced by Union Train Station which empties hundreds of people into the territory on a very regular basis. The hustle and bustle that defines the environment could make a first-time visitor think that the whole of Canada wakes up and goes to bed from the district.
While there, I seized the opportunity to visit my son’s office located on the 12th floor of one of the skyscrapers where the conglomerate called “Industrious” operates from. My son, a software engineer, belongs to the Tech Industry that operates from this district. While in his office, I got a first hand knowledge of what his job entails and the challenges that go with it from time to time. After taking me on a brief tour of the cozy office complex, I prayed for him as a father would naturally do for a son. But beyond the prayers, Nkem is doing well on his own. Armed with focus and agility, he has been able to blend beautifully into this environment that hosts the new whiz-kids in the Tech industry.
After my tour of the financial district, I returned to Brampton, my base, to be with the Umolus. My relationship with Edwin and Bibian Umolu, a Nigerian family, is as old as my marriage. I met them through my wife, Chinyere. We all lived in Lagos for many years and related as family friends before they relocated to Canada. When Nkem ventured into Canada for further studies, they were there for him. And when I visited some three weeks ago, they hosted me in a most memorable manner. I thank them profusely.
Regardless of the shortness of my stay in Canada, I still lost out on some happenings in Nigeria. It was actually the clashes between my planned trips and my engagements in Nigeria that took a long toll on my finding a convenient period to travel. I was stalked by the same issue this time around. I had scheduled to join hundreds of other Nigerian editors for the 21st edition of the All Nigeria Editors Conference (ANEC) in Abuja. But there was a sudden change of date. The new date ate into the days I had programmed to be in Canada. Opportunity cost reared its head here. Even though I am passionate about the activities of the Nigeria Guild of Editors, I missed out on its 21st ANEC. Canada was the opportunity cost. But my consolation is that both activities ended well. And as the inimitable William Shakespeare would tell us: All’s well that ends well.
QUOTE:
“The wet and wild Toronto that I allude to here is real. It is not about the popular family waterpark in the Greater Toronto Area where families converge for all manner of fun sports. But the wetness and wildness that I refer to is natural. It is elemental.”
