I swapped a life of comfort in Bangladesh for an empty fridge and blizzards in Canada

This First Person article is the experience of Mohammad Akib Hossain, an international student studying at the University of Regina. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ. This story is part of Welcome to Canada, a CBC News series about immigration told through the eyes of the people who have experienced it.

The wind howled through the empty streets as I stood at the bus stop, my fingers numb despite being buried deep inside my jacket pockets. The sky was a dull shade of grey, mirroring the weight I carried within me. It was one of those mornings where I questioned everything — why I left Bangladesh, why I came to Canada, and whether I even belonged here.

Then, just a few steps away, I saw a child playing in the snow, her laughter piercing through the silence of the frozen morning. She twirled, carefree, until her tiny boots slipped on the black ice. In an instant, she fell. Within seconds, her parents rushed from behind and picked her up.

I lifted my gaze to the vast Saskatchewan sky, and as a gust of cold wind hit my face, a sharp realization washed over me — I was on my own now. No matter how hard I fell, there would be no one to pick me up and put me back on track.

I was born into a privileged household in Bangladesh and always received more than I asked for. I used to wake up at 10 a.m. to a healthy breakfast served to me on a silver platter, without having to worry about washing the dishes later. A fancy seven-seater car waited at my doorstep to pick me up and drop me off at school. I was shielded from struggles, never having to leave my comfort zone as I lived under the protective shadow of my parents.

Yet, something inside me yearned for more — not just a Canadian degree from a foreign university, but the chance to do something on my own. I wanted to step beyond my privileges and grow as an individual, standing on my own two feet. I wanted to experience life in a developed country — one where everyday safety wasn't a concern and where I could raise my voice in support of social justice issues without censure.

In 2021, I looked at everything I owned and thought about how to pack 19 years of my life into two suitcases. I didn't know what to bring besides a few winter jackets and a heart full of hope that I would find a new home in Canada. 

Instead, I found myself in a strange in-between. 

The same me who never had to worry about transportation now ran after buses through blizzards to reach university on time. Instead of breakfast waiting on the kitchen counter, I now stood in the aisles of a grocery store, translating Canadian dollars into Bangladeshi taka to see if I could afford my groceries on a student budget.

I took on a minimum-wage job with the students' union as a student advocate. Between working 10 hours a week and school, I barely had enough time to cook for myself and study.

I didn't tell my parents because I didn't want them to worry — even though they probably could have helped financially. They had already done so much to support me and pay my tuition fees at a university on the opposite side of the world, so I never told them when I was struggling with my time management or paying for groceries.

The uniform of discomfort was one I could never take off.

When I saw that child slip at the bus stop that one frigid morning, I had a sense of realization that if no one was there to pick me up, I had to stand on my own. And so, I did.

I started pushing myself out of my comfort zone, embracing the opportunities and resources available around me. I began volunteering and by connecting with people from different parts of the world, many of whom were in the same shoes as me, I found a sense of purpose.

Last year, I helped the University of Regina host its fall orientation for over 1,000 international students from all across the world as an ambassador leader. 

Six months later, a South Asian girl walked up to me at the university and said, "Thank you so much for the work that you do." 

She told me I'd made her feel at home on that orientation day and she'd hope to do the same for other students someday. 

I didn't even remember interacting with her before that moment, yet I had somehow left an impact on her.

I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. But on my way home that night, all I could feel was my heart swelling with happiness as tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. 

My work felt like it had paid off. I was part of creating a world where newcomers didn't have to wake up every morning worrying about "fitting in," but instead were welcomed with open arms — regardless of their background.

The same person who arrived in Canada always being taken care of had now become someone who takes care of others. 

The feeling of living in the in-between still haunts me to this day, but I would go through it all over again. Pushing myself out of my comfort zone has shaped me into the person I am today - someone who's figured out how to balance studying, volunteering and yes, even shopping to fill my fridge and cooking for myself!

I am proud to call Regina my home, because of the community I built around myself. A community where people feel welcome, recognized, and at home.

In the end, I truly found a home 11,500 km away from home.

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