Being an immigrant in Canada is an interesting experience,

I came to Canada with a Masters degree, imagining a smooth road to a successful career. But life taught me quickly how to get my hands dirty and quit complaining that I deserve better.

The only full time job I could find was loading trucks at night. Soon, I ended up working on the balconies (eventually starting my own company). I had to learn to park my ego aside and do what I am told.

I learned how to persuade my mind to not be afraid of heights because if I do, I won’t afford a roof over my head. I learned that I can persuade my body to stop hurting because I cannot afford a day off. I learned that the fingers and toes can get used to being frozen. And how to wake up for work dark early morning ignoring the brain screaming “NO!”.

I learned how it feels to be on the bottom of the ladder and to recognize same feeling in the eyes of people inside and outside the site. I learned that behind the tough big strong bodies there are usually hurt and frightened souls that are mostly kind.

I learned that one dollar tea earned by hard work is tastier than the $500 dinner that was paid for me at my home. I learned that my freedom is worth sacrificing everything for, including warm safe home and fancy cars.

I learned how simple and understanding struggling ones can be. How honest and direct. That they can be tough with you but then they will give you a hand when you need it because they didn’t hide anything bitter in the back pocket.

Being an immigrant taught me what compassion means, it taught me that when you treat people well they treat you well back. It taught me that love is the magic key that opens people’s hearts in any environment. It also taught me how to ask someone to f*ck off.

In this picture I am working with my friend Dave on the 27th floor chipping concrete and cutting off old railing in 2017. Dave is a native guy whose one ear is deaf because someone tried to shoot him but missed. However the sound was too strong for his left ear. Dave was teaching me how to survive in the prison, that was his home for 5 years. Dave’s wife was pregnant and he decided to change for his new coming baby. Dave is a big man with a big heart hiding behind a lot of swear words, tough looks and dirty (but funny) jokes. But once I saw his big heart I couldn’t avoid respecting him. We became friends. I haven’t seen Dave since 2017 but looking at the picture my heart feels gentle and loving.

I think his big heart and hands are playing with his 4 year old at this moment.

Here is to all Daves — unseen, unnoticed, unrecognized, dismissed but growing, learning and blossoming in their unique and beautiful way