2019 MAY 20 —–
After the Halifax Explosion Memorial Bell Tower I was soaked and very cold. I decided to spend the next few hours at Pier 21. Lucky for me, parking was free on this Victoria Day weekend.
Although I was well aware of the fact that my Dad came through here in 1929, it really hit home what a sacrifice my Grandfather made by emigrating to Canada. They sold everything to make the two week crossing on a the SS Estonia. They would have been cramped into tiny state rooms, separated because the ship lines put men together and women with children in another area. They would have arrived in this strange country, likely sea sick, with several hundred other scared and confused people. They would all have been herded into an assembly hall for their interview with an immigration officer to determine if they were immediately stamped as a resident of Canada or detained for a variety of reasons – poor health being one. My family, I discovered, was detained, but the manifest did not say why.
How frightening it must have been for my peasant farmer family to be shuffled from one area of this strange, huge building to another and finally to be held in the detention dormitories. There were probably Polish interpreters but they must have been overwhelmed and fearful of deportation, wondering if they had made the worst mistake of their lives. Another detention area, for those with security problems, consisted of rooms like jail cells, complete with bars on the windows.
Canadian railways provided special “colonist cars” that immigrants could board at the train sidings at Pier 21. A whole family could cross Canada for seven dollars. The train cars were very cheap but also simple, with fixed wooden benches. Families had to provide their own bedding and their own food. What little money my family may have had was spent to buy food for the 5-7 day train trip to their homestead in Alberta. Strange food in cans, to be heated up on a simple wood stove at the back of the carriage. They had probably never eaten anything out of a can, and probably struggled to even open the can.
Our guide relayed a story how when she came from China 5 years ago she was tired and hungry (she hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours) so she went to Tim Horton’s for a coffee but also bought a breakfast sandwich and hash browns. She had no idea what she had ordered and found that she hated it. Even though she had studied English in China, it was British English. Canadian English is different and has local idioms (try explaining son-of-a-bitch to someone – male puppy from a female dog??) She struggled for two years to understand what Canadians were saying. She still struggles today with words and phrases. Now imagine my grandparents who never spoke a word of English. Although their children (my father and his siblings) did go to school and all learned English well, my grandparents never learned more than a few basic words – let alone what hash browns are! (My maternal Grandfather did learn to say soon-oov-o-beech)
There was a small theatre that showed a short film where new immigrants, from all over the world, told their stories as to why they came to Canada. They tell of the struggles they went through and continue to experience as new Canadians.
Another exhibit told the history of Canada in a very brief but concise format that I wish had been used when I was in school.
I then took a sample citizenship exam – and failed miserably!! As born Canadians, we take this stuff for granted. We yawn in school (or maybe were not even taught) about women’s suffrage, Canada’s system of governance, the Winnipeg riot, the significance of the Quebec Act of 1774, who invented the worldwide system of standard time zones, or when ‘Sir Wilfrid Laurier Day’ is celebrated? We don’t care! I only noticed now that it is Wilfrid with an ‘i’ and not Wilfred with an ‘e’. Lets give’er! Throw the sled on the 4×4. Grab some toonies for a double-double. I got a mickey for later, eh. (Try to figure that out if you are new to Canada!)
There was an office outside of the paid museum area where an entire staff was dedicated to helping people find immigration and landing documents. I already had information and a copy of my paternal grandparent’s arrival to Canada, but now I wanted to find information on my maternal grandparent’s arrival. Nothing! They found information regarding his naturalization, but nothing more. They told me that not all manifests were in their database. It would have been a wonderful thing to bring back to my Mom.
Nearly one million immigrants passed through Pier 21 between 1928 and 1971. It was also the departure point for nearly a half million Canadian military personnel who served overseas during WWII.
Most memorable item: A tiny sign that said: You are at a Point in Time. What lessons will be your lasting legacy? What would you like to tell your great-great-great-grandchildren?
side note: While trying to absorb the historical and personal significance of Pier 21, I got a phone call from AirBnB saying there was a mix-up and the room I had reserved 6 weeks ago was not available. The Memorial Cup in hockey was on that weekend and it got double booked. I tried to find new accommodations and had a hard time. Finally, I found a place not too far away. It was the most elaborate guest house I had ever seen. It was practically a mansion! What a contrast to how my Grandparents spent their first night in Halifax.
An Old Lady with a Backpack 
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