Immigration is often presented as a problem in political debates and yet it is also synonymous with hopes, possibilities and discoveries, both for the host society and for newcomers. The duty went to meet various communities in the regions to better understand their reality. Today: the Colombian community of Granby.
Most of them arrived in Granby as refugees at the turn of the 2000s. Today, they are at the head of a restaurant, a grocery store, a non-profit organization or even a ‘a garage. The Colombian community (and, more broadly, the Latin American community) of Granby has become so important that it is not uncommon to hear the language of Cervantes echoing in the streets of the city – and even in its churches, where masses are celebrated in Spanish.
However, when Geovanys Pertuz Bolano, his wife and three daughters settled in Granby in 2003 after being accepted as refugees, there were only a handful of Latin American families living in the city. “We came here because of the violence in Colombia, explains the man, seated at the Sabor Tropical restaurant on rue Saint-Antoine, which he owns. Our family had reported to the police, which caused us to be persecuted. »
Since his sister-in-law, who had arrived two years earlier as a refugee, had been directed by the Canadian government to Granby, Geovanys and his family also set sail for Haute-Yamaska. “We arrived in November. We found the cold very hard, but we immediately liked the tranquility of Granby compared to Colombia,” continues the 53-year-old man.
Thirteen days after his arrival in Quebec, the father of the family began taking francization courses. “The youngest learned much faster than me,” he says thoughtfully. Then the man found a job in the agri-food company Bonduelle, which produces, among other things, canned vegetables.
And eight years ago, driven by an entrepreneurial spirit, Geovanys bought, with his wife and one of his daughters, a restaurant in which the smells of sancocho, a typical Colombian soup. “At first it wasn’t easy, so I kept my other job too. […] We came here to work,” he says, brushing aside criticism that immigrants live off society.
While a customer comes to buy piece of queso — Colombian cheese rolls — Elsy Pertuz, one of Geovanys’ daughters, replaces a few groceries on the shelves along the wall of the restaurant.
“I arrived in Granby when I was 9 years old, says the young woman of 29 years. At first, I didn’t understand anything at school. During French lessons, a francization teacher came to pick her up to teach her the basics of the language of Molière. And gradually, the gibberish of the early days became a dialect she learned to master, then to love. “I still meet my francization teacher, and I greet her every time,” she says, still grateful.
Today, the mother of two, who wants to study nursing, does not want to live anywhere else but in Granby. “I think it’s easier to fit in in a small town,” she says. I like that it’s quiet here. There are no traffic jams, and everything is close and easy to get to. »
The flavors of the country
A few meters further on, on Principale Street, Diana Marcela Rivera serves a succession of Quebec and Latin American customers who have come to buy tortillas, corn flour, plantain chips or even black beans at the Latin Market, a grocery store that she founded in 2011.
Like all the other immigrants she met, the 41-year-old lady remembers the exact date of her arrival in Canada: November 10, 2004. She too arrived as a refugee. “My uncle was killed in Colombia, and my grandmother suffered from extortion, says Diana, installed behind the cash drawer of the Latin Market. We were chased by an armed group. We moved from town to town so as not to be found. »
Little by little, about thirty members of his family arrived in Granby. “We didn’t know anything about French or even English, but from the start, we were very well received. And today, it’s the seasoned businesswoman’s turn to reach out to newcomers — or even agricultural workers — who cross the door of the Latin Market in search of the comforting aromas of their country of origin. origin.
Wilser Godofredo Mendez Nicho is coming to buy some coconut drinks and some baked goods today. “I arrived yesterday from Guatemala to work on a dairy farm,” he explains in Spanish. I’ve been coming here for five seasons to earn a better salary. The 28-year-old, who regularly visits the Latin Market, says he feels welcome in Quebec.
Cilo Orozco Pertuz worked in the chicken processing industry before becoming a mover. Today, he comes to buy spices at the Latin Market. “I arrived as a refugee about fifteen years ago,” he says, adding that he has always been well received in Granby. Over the years, a few racist comments have sometimes been made, but they are the exception, he says: “Sometimes, for example in bars, there are people who are a little drunk and tell us to go back to our country . »
Pay it forward
Almost all of the immigrants encountered in Granby were welcomed by SERY (Solidarity Ethnic Regional of Yamaska), the organization dedicated to welcoming them to the region. “We are a one-stop shop,” explains Frey Alberto Guevara, Executive Director of SERY, who himself was welcomed by the organization when he arrived in Granby 19 years ago as a Colombian refugee. “We don’t just take care of reception and settling in, but also of school integration, early childhood, francization and employment assistance. »
Immigration stories are often success stories, he says, but they don’t resonate in political debates. “We talk about immigration by talking about figures, but we do not take into account the human beings who are behind it,” he laments.
When he arrived in Granby, Frey Alberto Guevara was first a janitor in a CLSC, before being hired by SERY as a school worker. A position that allowed him to develop an integration model that has since become popular in Quebec. “I became the first intercultural school community worker,” he says. The man then continued to climb the ladder to become general manager of SERY. “You have to see immigration as an investment,” stresses Mr. Guevara.
Pablo Contreras also left Colombia to settle in Granby, after a detour through Sherbrooke and Saint-Hyacinthe. But not as a refugee: “My parents wanted me and my brother to have a better future,” explains the 29-year-old who arrived in 2006.
After the shock of the first few days — “we didn’t know the language, we didn’t even understand how to take the bus” — the family settled in wonderfully, he says. So much so that Pablo has launched a business, Cleaning Vaporax, a car detailing center located on Principale Street that hires six employees. And that his parents have become foster families for the DPJ.
“There are now two little blue-eyed blondes who are part of our family,” he says enthusiastically. They call me their brother and they travel to Colombia with my parents, whom they call mom and dad. An additional proof that, when we have received, we often try to give back.