An Immigrant's Dream | Correr Es Mi Destino
Somali Woman at Starbucks, Ottawa (for the record, she caught my eye because she was shouting "no, fuck YOU!" on the phone!) He was walking fast, hands in pockets, hood on and head down to shield his face from a strong Northern wind that was brining the day's frigid temperatures to the minus twenties. It was very cold for a season called "early spring" in the rest of the world. Every few metres, he looked over his shoulder. I know this peculiar way of walking. I practise it too. It's the do-I-have-the-time-to-reach-the-next-bus-stop-before-the-bus-comes walk. When the bus is late, as it is often the case in Ottawa, it's better to get active than to freeze at the bus stop, especially if there is no shelter. He slowed down. "Don't go to the next stop," I advised. "The bus should be coming in three minutes." "Yes?" I shrugged. "Well, that's what the schedule says. Can't promise it's true but I'm been waiting here for a few minutes and I don't think I missed it." He paused, processing my