Before crossing the border into the United States, Óscar, an asylum seeker, waited more than six months for a work permit that never arrived, condemning him to extreme poverty.
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“Is it expensive to print a work permit or what? If migrants have sense, they come here to work and pay taxes. “It’s work,” says the man who waited in vain for more than six months for a work permit.
Originally from Venezuela, Óscar has worked in the kitchen for over 10 years and has taught elementary school children in the past. He had only one wish: to be hired in Montreal as quickly as possible. Photo Chantal Poirier
During this time, he refused to work illegally and counted his expenses to the nearest dollar to survive in Montreal on $770 in welfare: $400 for his dilapidated studio, $97 for a U -Rail pass, $110 for his cell phone. The rest – crumbs – for food and medicine for the month.
Without a working oven or refrigerator, Óscar had his meal of rice and chicken prepared over three days to save on food. Photo Chantal Poirier
“I bought ugly fruit at a discount, almost all of my clothes are second-hand and I can’t spend anything,” Óscar confided with a sigh, a few days before he got in line to return to the United States .
The son of farmers and accustomed to the abundance of the Venezuelan plains, Óscar had to resort to damaged fruits and vegetables that were sold at a discount in the supermarket. Photo Chantal Poirier
He can’t help his family
Adding to this sad observation was the complete impossibility of sending money to his family in Venezuela, as he had done in the past.
“My sister just had a baby. She had to sell the air conditioner and her phone to buy essentials. If I could have worked, I would have sent him $500,” he regrets, his eyes moist.
Even his mother wondered what he was doing in a foreign country, unemployed while he was the only one in his family outside of Venezuela.
This constant fear weighed heavily on Oscar’s morale throughout the summer.
He spent his time alternating between walking around subway stations and a few hours clearing tables at a friend’s cafe in exchange for a sandwich.
“I experienced misery that I had never experienced anywhere else. Not even in Venezuela,” he says.
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