In the deep darkness of Immigration Canada

Was the Immigration Minister’s announcement regarding special measures for extended families in Gaza a decoy? The Elsayyed family has been waiting for a response to their request for more than a month, under bombs, and the Canadian government is in no hurry. Isn’t this an emergency situation? Could you imagine being in Gaza and waiting for the Canadian bureaucracy to save your life?

My name is Geneviève Nadeau. I am from Quebec, married to a Palestinian, citizen of Israel. My husband, three children and I live in the city of Haifa, in northern Israel. Like the rest of the world, we were totally stunned by the events of October 7 in the south of the country: the violence, the scale of the Hamas operation, the terrifying images.

And, like most Palestinians, we immediately feared Israel’s response in Gaza, anticipating (dis)proportionate reprisals for the October 7 attacks. Our darkest and most dismal scenario could hardly have corresponded to current reality.

But that is not the subject of this letter. This letter deals with a much more personal subject. You see, I have friends in Gaza — the Elsayyed family — who I have been trying to help get out of there since the war started.

Jehan, the mother, was an English teacher. Nasser, the father, responsible for teaching French at the Ministry of Education. The older brother, Amr (23), is a graduate in engineering with a specialization in renewable energy, while the younger brother, Mohammed (19), had just started his second year of medicine.

Haya (25 years old), the daughter of the family, a graduate in biotechnology, obtained permanent residence in Canada this year. She was therefore able to be evacuated by Global Affairs Canada emergency services on December 9. At the same time, a group of friends and I are trying to get the other four members of his family out of Gaza. Unfortunately, Immigration Canada’s eligibility criteria did not allow Haya to sponsor her parents or brothers.

We were therefore delighted when Immigration Minister Marc Miller announced on December 21 new temporary measures allowing extended family members to apply for a temporary resident visa for Canada — and thus be evacuated from Gaza by the emergency service. Finally, Haya’s dream and our deepest hopes could come true!

Even when we understood that the measures themselves would not come into force until January 9 — 21 days later — we remained hopeful, our hearts a little happier, our despair a little lighter, as we watched day after day to the destruction, to the desolation, to the deterioration of life in Gaza.

Even when we understood that only a quota of 1000 applications would be accepted, we remained hopeful, sleep a little calmer, anxiety a little attenuated by the prospect of a potential light at the end of the tunnel. I could talk to Jehan with hope in my voice. I could speak with Nasser with optimism. I was able to talk with Amr and Mohammed about what they would dream of doing once they arrived in Canada.

The Elsayyed family’s home in Gaza City was destroyed at the start of the war. They then fled to relatives, and there too, the building was hit by bombs. Since the beginning of November, the Elsayyed family has been in Deir el-Balah, with family friends who let them live in a room in their home.

During the three weeks, from December 21 to January 9, I prepared to complete the application as soon as the portal opened on the Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada website. I now know the names of all the parents, brothers and sisters of Jehan and Nasser, their dates of birth, place of residence, profession. I know where the four applicants studied, worked, where they lived, who their employers were. I got their profile pictures, copies of their college diplomas, their medical records. All.

On January 9, I was ready. I was going to save the lives of four people.

It took me three hours to prepare the application — which turned out to be only the first half of a two-step process. At 11 p.m., I pressed the “Send” button, and received an automatic response: “Thank you for contacting the dedicated team at Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC) for people affected by a crisis situation. Please be assured that we have received your web form and will respond to you as soon as possible. »

Hallelujah!

Since my sleeping hours are largely working hours in Canada, since January 9 I have been going to bed waiting for a response in the middle of the night. There are only 1,000 places — so if I receive the expected email from IRCC in the middle of the night, I intend to get up immediately and fill out the second part of the form. I want to make sure that my friends get 4 of the 1000 places allocated for them to go to Canada, so that I can save their lives, get them out of this hell that Gaza has become.

Then a day passed, two days, three… Then the weekend. So I wait for the start of the following week. And all week we wait. Every night I thought it would be tonight. […]

Still no news. Minister Miller’s announcement was made on December 21, a little over a month ago. Since then, I have wondered how many Palestinians have died, been injured, lost their homes, starved or frozen to death. But above all, I wonder if all of this wasn’t just a bad joke on the part of the Government of Canada.

Without a response following the first part of the temporary permit request, we are in uncertainty. We don’t know anything about the deadlines, we don’t know anything about the second stage of the application, we don’t know anything about the evacuation procedures. We are in deep darkness.

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