HOLD IT NOT SO FAST WHERE DYA THINK YOU ARE GOING

One last story that I just couldn’t pass up, before I go on to our travels to Japan. Again the setting is in Toronto on January 26, 1980. It was on the occasion of our arrival from Peru. There we were standing in the line for Immigration and Customs in all our splendour. Bubbaloo in short white fur jacket and appropriate short skirt (ready to face the elements). Ron (our daughter) in a stroller. Myself, again, with my full length leather coat and raccoon collar. This along with, 12 large suitcases of Deysi’s, most favoured possessions. It was a very busy day in immigration and customs but I waited “calmly and patiently” for my turn.

I was not concerned with the fact that I had arrived with a new wife and baby, and had no permits, documents or permissions with which to enter Canada. Nor was I bothered by the fact that we had over 20 pounds of pure silver in our bags, purchased before the price went from $5/oz to $65/oz. Indeed I was an “ice cube” as those who know me can imagine! Our turn arrives and I man-handled everything up to the agent. He is standing there with a look of resignation in his face just wishing it had been another agent’s turn to receive us. He was right. The process for me bringing a new wife into Canada from overseas was that I had to apply in Lima, Peru and then we had to go to Chile for an interview.

Well I had thought about it and based on all my international travel experience at the time (2 years and one trip) the whole process seemed quite complicated. With my short remaining time in Peru I realized that it was not going to happen before I left for Canada. So on our arrival in Lima the day prior to departure, I called the consulate and explained my situation. The guy, there, again repeated the rules. I repeated the fact that I was going to leave the next day and asked him “what they would do to us on arrival”? He kind of sighed and said I don’t think they’ll do anything. Armed with that solid commitment from the government we left Peru and headed for Canada.

The next morning we found ourselves standing in front of an immigration official armed with nothing other than, my Canadian passport, Deysi’s Peruvian passport, and a passport for our daughter. “So” the agent asks “what are you doing here?” I explained that we had arrived from two years overseas and I was now returning home with my wife and daughter. This starts an interrogation into when, why, and how we had arrived with no paperwork for my family, I pleaded ignorance, which was the truth at this time.

In any event, I believe he finally reached a decision where it was going to be far easier to complete entry permits for Deysi and our baby; than to complete the forms required to kick my ass out of the country and back to SA in order to apply properly. So he ordered us to report to the Immigration authorities wherever we settled and get the situation resolved within 90 days. His decision was such a relief! I was so happy, I could almost have flown the rest of the way home without an airplane. Now only one small step remaining.

The last issue too deal with was 12 bags packed to the max with stuff I could not begin to describe, other than the 20 pounds of silver distributed amongst our possessions. Which (although it was purchased legal and was entering into Canada as a legal possession of mine) would have occasioned a major strip search of us and scrutiny of all of our goods had it been found. I might have been able to describe all of my possessions which took up one small corner in one of the bags! After a few agonizing minutes, we were finally, waiting our turn at the Customs Inspection checkpoint. Then while we were waiting, along came a group of 3 or 4 young long haired dope smoking hippie types. They were just arriving from Columbia, and now join us in the line.

We get up to the agent and he looks at our declaration but mainly, keeps his attention on the “evil looking dope smugglers behind us”. Poor kids had no idea of the attention they were receiving. He says to me “are you with those guys”, I give him a pained look and reply “does it look like it?” With his gaze firmly fixed on his next prey he gets his stamp and whacks a big ol’ emoji on my passport and says “you can go now!” I felt such a sense of relief that the 12 bags became as one, and we floated towards freedom. I’M BACK! The truth as I see it.