“Why don’t you seek asylum? Seek asylum, seek asylum.”
The words kept echoing in John’s ears as he stood before the immigration officer. Behind him, two policemen led away a young man in handcuffs — a Jewish acquaintance he had once met in court. The man’s calmness under arrest only deepened John’s own anxiety.
His student visa had expired. He was now living in the country illegally. One unlucky man in a vast world, he sighed.
“Plead guilty, plead guilty!” another detainee urged his friend. John wondered if there was any way left to plead his own case.
A Flight Through the Storm
Through the airplane window, the wings sliced the cloudy sky like a weary bird. John leaned against the seat, overwhelmed. In just a few months, everything in his life had collapsed. He wished he could soar beyond the clouds to where God dwells, to ask Him why.
Job had once demanded answers from God, only to be silenced by the whirlwind. John felt the same — except he was no righteous man.
On that stormy Thursday in 1995, his deportation flight circled Toronto airport for half an hour before landing. From there, he was transferred onto Swiss Air, bound for Cameroon. He loved his homeland, but not like this — shackled by shame and disappointment.
To numb his thoughts, he fiddled with the earphones and let the radio drown him. Gloria Estefan’s voice cut through the static: “It’s too late now.” The words pierced him. Too late — yes, that was exactly how his life felt.
A Song in the Shadows
As the engines roared, his mind replayed a song he had written during his weeks in custody at Calgary Remand Centre:
I’m gonna tell you a little story.
So, stop whatever you are doing and listen.
I promise it will be interesting.
So you don’t really have to worry.
I was in Canada for five years,
Where I did spend about two months in prison.
I know you wanna know the reason…
He smiled faintly at the memory. The lyrics lived only in his head, never recorded, never heard. He lacked the voice to sing them — and perhaps the courage too.
The Dream That Collapsed
Just a year earlier, he had nearly touched his dream. In Thunder Bay, at the Thunder Bands ’94 competition, John had stepped on stage with his band. Under his stage name Jake Evalton, he was introduced to a roaring crowd. The piano, guitar, and drums rose in perfect harmony. The song, “Share Your Love,” was ready.
Then John sang — off key.
Stage fright gripped him. Earlier that day, he had drowned his fear in whiskey, hoping it would help. Instead, it betrayed him. The embarrassment was unbearable. Before anyone could scold him, he slipped out the back door, jumped into his old Toyota Tercel, and sped home through red lights, lucky not to be caught.
Slumped in the driver’s seat, sick and broken, he muttered, “It’s not easy to become a star,” before passing out.
Refuge
Now, on the flight to Zurich, the memories stabbed him like knives. Dreams lost, reputation shattered, freedom gone. Yet beneath the wreckage, a small voice whispered of refuge — a shelter not in nations, visas, or stages, but in God.
It is when the center cannot hold that one discovers where the true Refuge lies.
To be continued.
