What Tribe Are You From?
- Wendy and Bill
We were introduced to a fellow from the Congo whose name was Willie. He knew a little bit of English, a lot of French. When he first met us, it was all in a high-rise in downtown.
When he got up and we shook hands, he asked us, “What tribe do you come from?” That was it.
That was the most important thing to him.
And I said, “Well, I’m from Saskatoon.”
That was satisfactory for him. I was from the Saskatoon tribe. He had no idea where Saskatoon was. But for him, I was answering his question.
I thought afterwards, “Well, what a strange question.” But to him, it was an important question because in the Congo, what tribe you came from could mean life or death. The reason he came to Canada was because at that time in the Congo, he was from the wrong tribe and they were being persecuted.
Later, we learned he and his wife had been separated while fleeing. She was pregnant. He ended up in South Africa at the Canadian Embassy, claiming asylum. For two years, we tried to find her. Eventually, she came out with the American Embassy staff on the last plane that left Kinshasa before the airport closed.
She was put on the wrong flight — to Toronto instead of Montreal. We couldn’t find her.
I called the airport and asked for the lost and found. The lady answered the phone and said, “What did you lose?” I said, “An African lady with her child.”
There was a long silence.
Then she burst out laughing. “I’ve worked here for 28 years and never heard this.”
They announced in French. She showed up within five minutes.
They took her, provided her with hotels, meals, diapers—whatever she needed. She flew to Calgary the next day.
The reunion between Willie and his wife and child was overwhelming. They raced across our front lawn and embraced each other. We just stepped back and let them be. We were all crying. Some of the neighbours had wandered over. It was really heartwarming.
That moment reminded me why we do this. We’ve hosted many families over the years. One of our first families was from Bosnia. Language was a serious barrier. With the kids, it didn’t matter — toys are a universal language. But for adults, it was tough. We just did it. A lot of hand gestures, a lot of sharing food, walking, going to the zoo.
We’ve always believed: you just help people who need help. You don’t expect anything in return.
And someday, maybe I’ll need help. Hopefully, someone will step in and help me.