My son is here with me. Finally.
He arrived in Canada on Tuesday but stayed in Toronto for a few days (which he forgot to mention before he got there) for a couple of interviews at the University of Toronto.
A few weeks back he mentioned in passing -very casually, that he might try and transfer his credits to a Canadian university. He’s currently doing the equivalent of an honours degree in History and Political Science in our hometown.
I didn’t know what to make of that cause he had repeatedly said he would never leave Colombia again. I didn’t want to get my hopes up and since he was so casual about it, I decided not to get excited.
Now that he’s finally in Ottawa with me, we went for a little walk and had a little chat.
Things are bad. He’s in the middle of a depressive episode. It hurts so much to see him like that. Damn my stupid, effing genes.
But that’s not all. He said he can’t wait to get out of Colombia. No, his actual words were “I NEED to get out of Colombia”. That’s where my heart skipped a beat.
He’s been threatened. Again. His life is in danger. Probably the only thing is his favour is his Canadian passport. They think it twice before acting on a North American citizen. But in the end, it won’t stop them. In Colombia, if you speak up your mind and they don’t like it, they kill you. End of the story. It doesn’t matter if you are comedian, a soccer player, a presidential candidate, or a university student. They kill you just the same.
So my son is with me for a week and a half. Then he goes back to that god-forsaken country.
And then what?