In August 2015, we left everything we’d ever known.

That’s a big statement. A heavy one. Full of unknowns, challenges, and anxiety. But it didn’t hold us back; we were determined. Our adventure led us across continents, exposed us to diverse cultures and languages, and tempered us in ways we couldn’t imagine.

But it took a toll. We were untethered, wanderers between what had been and what could be. As the years ticked by, we understood fewer inside jokes South Africans shared. References flew way over our heads, the news made decreasing sense, and we fell out of touch with our roots. They didn’t understand us either. And while we sounded more like Canadians, reasoned more like Canadians, and found accord with Canadians, we had no actual claim to this place.

Fast forward to a sunny January morning, and everything changed.

Younger Canadians don’t understand why our new citizenship is so important to us. Like, what’s the big deal?

And sure, it’s nothing major. Just a seven-year-and-five-month journey to reach our ‘cast the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom’ moment. Wow, that was dramatic. 😂 But you get what I mean.

For us, three sheets of paper mean we could claim this offer of family, of a place. It means we belong. When you walk through the airport and the border agent says, “Welcome home,” it applies to us. Because we have a right to be here. It means we get to speak up about the government because we—nobodies from South Africa—get to vote. It means we get to put down roots again.

And I know this isn’t something many teenagers worry about, particularly if they grew up here. But where I’m from, things are different. Basic human needs aren’t always met, safety can be touch-and-go, and we wanted more for our daughter.

Plus, having a different passport than the good old Green Mamba opens a whole new world to us. 🤣

I cried during the ceremony. The moment was just too big for me. It felt like coming home. After so many years of being an outsider, being accepted as a part of this diverse and open people meant everything. And I know we’ll always be ‘other’ when compared to born and bred Canadians—how could we not be, with our completely different frame of reference? But this was an extremely satisfying end to a long-term story arc. Now, on to the next chapter.

And because I know someone out there wants to know what the timeline looked like for us, I’ll break it down for you.

• We applied for and received conformation of our citizenship application on 10 August 2022. Based on pandemic backlogs and our friends’ experience, we expected waiting times between 6 and 18 months.
• 1 December 2022: we received our summons to take the citizenship exam, between the 5th and 25th of December 2022.
• December 12th and 13th 2022: completed our exams.
• 3 January 2023: received our invitation to the citizenship ceremony via Zoom.
• 18 January 2023: became Canadian citizens. 🎉
• We applied for our passports in middle March 2023, and received them within 10 days.

Our first few months as Canadians have been epic. We practised our right to vote in the May 2023 provincial election, and I cried once again because I felt so privileged to be able to participate. 🤣 We could fly out of Canada with our new passports (and didn’t need visas 🥳) and enter the United States for the first time. Plus, we qualified for all the fast lanes through border control!

More than anything, I’m thankful. My husband kept fighting for us to reach our home despite many complications. For years, he didn’t give up. We probably wouldn’t have made it, had it been up to me. His tenacity awes me. Because of him, we’re where we belong.

And everything that happens from this point will become a family legacy. Imagine that—roots. One day, Kayla will look back at her life and see the same support network of family and friends that we left in South Africa. She’ll learn and grow, live safely, and experience the world in ways we couldn’t. Already, I see her evolution. And I’m grateful.

We made it, folks. We’re home.

Yolandie