SELS Dialogues Journal Volume 3 Issue 1

Creative Pursuits
Toronto
by Prabha Jerrybandan
The winds had cooled from an unusually hot summer.
While most felt relief, Kaya moved with trepidation,
hugging her thin windbreaker that her boss had given
her when she began working in the spring of that year.
She welcomed the shelter of the hairdressing salon
where she worked all week except for Mondays when
it was closed. Voula gave her a slight smile as she
entered and she immediately removed her jacket to
bare her crumpled off white blouse, covering it again
with a black, canvas apron that was hanging on the door
of the washroom. She began sweeping the short, grey
hairs that were falling off the almost bald gentleman
that Voula had been grooming. He came in every three
weeks for a trim although there was not much to cut.
Kaya could not understand what the three homesick
Greeks were saying, but she knew from Voula’s
husband, Sotiros, that over fifty years before, he and his
wife had left their home in Athens and travelled by ship
to Halifax, Nova Scotia.
the hot coffee that she had emptied from the carafe
used to serve clients. She had finished cleaning the
floors and toilet earlier, but wanted to stay as long as
she could. Kaya liked it there. When she remembered
that it was Saturday, she relaxed her lips and smiled at
Voula who was counting out her pay.
The young woman looked smaller and smaller as she
moved towards the red and rusted bridge. It was dark
enough, so she carefully looked around to make sure no
one else was nearby before she ducked under the steel
structure. Her blanket was intact on the blue tarpaulin
that lay in the corner. As she let herself fall lightly to the
ground, she took out her phone to look at the toothless
smile of her Isabella.
On days when there were no clients filling up the two
chairs in the salon, Sotiros would tell Kaya about his
childhood in Kalamata.
“The sea near. Ah! So nice!”
His dark brown eyes looked dreamy as he fixed the
oxygen tube under his nose. Coughing intermittently, he
sputtered, “They no want me to go—the children.” He
pursed his lips and looked somewhat lost. Kaya felt her
phone vibrating in the pocket of her apron and glanced
down to see “Hija” on the screen. Moving close to the
front door, she whispered, “Hola, mi amor.” Her face
looked much older than the picture on her passport. It
was taken just one year ago before her move to Toronto.
Back home, her mother promised to look after her
six-year-old daughter. After all, Kaya was going to send
money for them and eventually they would all move to
Canada. Kaya would go back to school and get a job.
She would make lots of money and buy a house. As
the hands of the clock on the wall moved to seven and
twelve, the street outside looked dark. Kaya drank down
Author’s Bio
Prabha Jerrybandan holds a PhD. in
Education. She is a Professor of English and
ESL at Centennial College. She is particularly
interested in immigrant stories, Caribbean
literature, women’s studies, and incorporates
autoethnography and other life history research
methods into her academic work. Prabha’s
research surrounds experiences of marginalized
people, especially in the Caribbean, who are
at risk of being silenced or forgotten in the
published literature of the region.
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