1990, she spoke Polish, Russian and Italian. Not a word of English. She was 20 and had just fled her native Poland with her mother and younger brother. Their departure hadn't officially been an escape. After all, The Wall had come down a year earlier. "But we weren't exactly free to leave," she said.
When the trio arrived in Toronto, her mother immediately got a no-English-required job working in the kitchen of a friend's Italian restaurant. But the restaurateur didn't have a second vacancy for the younger woman. What else might she do? "I am a trained hairdresser," she announced to him in Italian. He happened to know the owner of an upscale salon in the city. After an interview – in Italian – the salon-owner gave her a chance. Her clients didn't realize she couldn't speak English.They just thought she was shy. She didn't take ESL lessons because the classes conflicted with her work schedule. She learned the language by watching TV.
Many things in Canada baffled her. Supermarkets in particular.
"I couldn't believe it. People weren't fighting over food." In her homeland, the shops never stocked enough, so neighbours would turn against each other over something as small as a stick of butter. She and her brother took shifts outside the store, lining up for three days to make sure their family was at the front of the line on the day the shelves were stocked. One day, she mysteriously arrived home with two packages of butter in her grocery bag. She still doesn't know how it happened – but she knows her family celebrated.
Today, her English is perfect. She is the most stylish stylist in the rural Ontario salon where she works. Her husband doesn't understand why she still hoards food.
