Risking everything in search of a better life — these are the words that are often used to describe the stories of migrants who travel thousands of kilometers and take, among other things, the Roxham Road to enter Canada. Once on Canadian soil, newcomers face problems that test their physical and physical health. Mental health is rarely mentioned when talking about these exiles. Just like the question of well-being. But how does the irregular crossing of many territories affect the mental health of asylum seekers and what does the system offer to help them? La Converse looked at the issue while Roxham Road is about to close.
Risking everything for a better life
“I am a married man with three children, one of whom was born in Canada. I came here looking for a better life,” Louis Salomon tells us. His presentation was interrupted by another thought: “Before Canada, on my way, there were tragic nights on my way that I can't get rid of.” His thoughts seem scattered, memories rush through his mind, and he starts talking about his experiences. “I spent two nights in the Mexican forest. I saw bodies hanging from trees, emptied of their organs. There were wild animals, jaguars, pumas and flesh-eating birds,” Louis lists hastily. Benjamin, the deacon in training who accompanies him, is shocked by this revelation; he had no idea.
It is on a hot Friday in July that the Solomons embark on a most perilous journey across seven countries in just one month. They thus cross Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala and Mexico. Arriving not far from the border between the first two countries, they travel for five days through the Darién cork, one of the most ruthless and deadly jungles in the world. On this occasion, Louis also had a macabre encounter that will remain etched in his memory forever. “I discovered a man lying on the ground and I put my ear on his chest. He was almost dead, but his heart was still beating,” he explains. Despite his exhaustion, he picked up the stranger and placed him on his shoulders, but he couldn't carry him like that for very long. “My wife was pregnant and also needed my support,” he said. He says he was faced with a difficult choice: to abandon man or risk the life of his own family. “I finally decided to hide the man behind a rock, hoping that he could survive,” he reports in a breathless voice. “No sooner did I get away than wild animals emerged and attacked the man who was still alive,” he confides, bowing his head and fleeing our gaze.
Louis continues his story. He tells us that he will never forget the night of August 14, 2021. He is then in Mexico. He and 150 other Haitian migrants are waiting for the Senda De Vida Church to take them to Reynosa, a border town. His wife, being pregnant, has already left the region with another group considered to be a priority. At around 1 am, while the group was still waiting, the police rushed in to deport them. In a panic, Louis and nine others run to take refuge in the forest. Their fear quickly turns into horror when they discover 12 bodies hanging from trees. Witnessing incredible violence, Louis reports: “I cannot erase this scene from my memory.” Only he and another survivor named Jean survived this journey, the others ended up in the teeth of wild animals. Even today, Louis confides that this experience haunts him.
Rescued in extremis by helicopters, he finds his wife after two nightmarish nights. However, their ordeal is not over. Three months later, Louis, temporarily settled in Mexico, obtained a humanitarian letter granting him psychological consultation in the United States. The Solomons finally arrive at the Texas border, only to be given a deportation letter devoid of the least consideration. They then spent a month with Louis' big sister in the United States and managed to raise enough money to make the last trip to Canada. Exhausted and traumatized, Louis and his wife finally get on a bus heading for the Canadian border, hoping to finally find shelter and a better life.
Suffering, a systemic flaw
Stress, this plague with many faces, consumes Louis a little more every day. Anything he feels, whether it's fear or sadness, he links to stress. He is in the grip of states of transe from which he is struggling to get out, and his desperate wife sometimes tries to bring him back to reality. “Who are you trying to hit? Do you know where you are? We are in Montreal,” he said, whipping his hand as a demonstration. He only has disconnected whispers to offer him as an answer: “I'm not here, not really,” groans the Montreal North resident. Even his love for his wife is stifled by this invisible enemy that eats away at him from within. Too overwhelmed by stress, he can no longer show her affection. “Every loud noise, every cry of my little girl, her tears or her joys, make my heart beat faster and cause a cold sweat,” says this father of the family bitterly.
Arriving in Canada, the Solomons are facing a new and harsh reality. The first Canadians they met were employees of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Louis says that, during this first exchange, he felt a cold at home as freezing as that of the winter that welcomed them. However, this is nothing compared to the isolation and distress he experienced once he crossed the border. “I feel completely lost here. I don't know who to turn to... I went to PRAIDA twice (Regional Program for the Reception and Integration of Asylum Seekers). The first time I was given a transit pass and a meager $50 stipend. The second time I was told to wait for social assistance, but my daughter needed milk. I went home empty handed. I was so stressed, I couldn't sleep anymore,” laments the 47-year-old man, abandoned to his fate.
Last December, anxiety cost him his job at the Efficacy agency. “I was working and I couldn't help but think about my children in Haiti, especially my youngest son who needed money to pay for his school fees,” he says, desperate. As he ruminated, severe pain took hold of him. He then realized that a nail had been lodged in his thumb. The ambulance, the hospital, then finally the work stoppage: all because of the anxiety that had overwhelmed him. “When I am alone, thoughts invade my mind, and stress overwhelms me,” he adds, describing his anxiety. His employment contract was due to end a week later, but his accident prematurely ended his employment. Since then, Louis Salomon has been unemployed. This situation has been going on for months.
What fuels her anxiety is the lack of resources and information. “The police, the paperwork, the deadlines: everything is new for me. I feel more alone than ever, confronted with a system that seems hostile and incomprehensible to me. I had to face a hearing last month because I was unable to provide my Asylum Seeker Story (RDA) on time. The judge could have told me that I was accepted or refused in Canada and I would not have understood anything,” he says, upset.
At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder, “Why so much stress? Why so much anxiety? Don't they know we're already vulnerable? I just want to live legally.” Looking at his friend Benjamin, Louis adds: “In Canada, I only found Frantz André to help me. He was the one who helped me fill out the necessary paperwork for my RDA. It is also thanks to him that I met Benjamin Ntouo-Ngouoni, who drove me today and bought milk for my daughter yesterday.”
This misinformation misled Louis more than once. For example, he recently gave up his right to social assistance for fear of going into debt, despite the fact that he cannot find work. “I like to work, I like to make a living and to provide for my family. I went around nine employment agencies last week and was told that there was going to be work in March, but no, there was nothing. My fellow Haitians warned me that if I didn't stop taking social assistance, I would be in debt. I don't know what to do anymore, I don't know how to feed my family,” the asylum seeker explains to us.
Disconnection, anxiety, lack of attention, and the inability to sleep are just symptoms of a deeper condition. Her suffering is the result of a system that is struggling to serve asylum seekers. Louis also pulled out three cards from his wallet: two residences (one from Chile and the other from Brazil), then affirms that “the third card is a medical access card — in Brazil everyone has the right to health”.
For a man with huge responsibilities, Louis admits that he wants access to a psychologist. “I think it could help me and my wife,” he concludes.
“Canada did not open the front door for him, and so he went through the window”
A social worker for over a decade, Vincent Richard has held several positions with PRAIDA over the past six years. “There is a tendency to minimize what Roxham Road is, to think that these are people arriving by taxi and crossing the border with a whole facility to welcome them,” says the accommodation team leader.
The irregular nature of the passage through Roxham Road has a major impact on the mental health of the people who have crossed it. “Most people who use this path are forced to make a long journey across the Americas, passing through ten or even fifteen borders before reaching Canada,” he exclaims. For the Solomons, for example, the journey was particularly difficult, with 13 countries crossed. He explains that these people who cross the Canadian-American border through the United States cannot properly appear at a border post because of the Safe Third Country Agreement. “An asylum seeker already told me that Canada did not open the front door for him, and therefore that he went through the window. Arriving in Canada this way is very expensive financially, physically and psychologically,” adds Mr. Richard.
Once in the country, these people are arrested and sometimes detained for additional checks. “This does not create a benevolent situation, but causes anxiety from the first contact,” continues the social worker, who has already worked in welcoming asylum seekers. “Despite all the explanations we give them, many still consider themselves illegal persons.”
For Mr. Richard, it is important to understand that each asylum seeker has a unique experience and that the issues are different from one person to another. However, he notes that many of them suffer from depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder. “They are often in a state of survival for an extended period of time, and once they are safe in Canada, their defense mechanisms collapse and their traumas surface again,” he explains with empathy.
“Navigating a new system is not easy for anyone, let alone for people who have been forcibly displaced for security reasons,” recalls the speaker. He reports that he witnessed the concern, fear, and shame of newcomers about their status. And for those who have had to leave loved ones behind, guilt and bereavement can turn into thoughts of suicide.
“The system does not offer equal opportunities”
“The system does not offer equal opportunities. For example, asylum seekers are not funded for French courses compared to permanent residents. This means that many have to make a sacrifice: a job or communication. The consequences of their choice, whatever it may be, are visible on their integration,” adds Vincent Richard. According to the social worker, the lack of accurate and accurate information worsens the feeling of being uprooted and confused. “there is misinformation within ethno-cultural communities and a misunderstanding of the asylum process. The process is not easy to understand even for those involved in the field. This stems from a systemic lack of accessibility and generates precarious situations that have an impact on their mental health and hinder their integration into the host society,” he explains.
Still talking about the inequalities in the system mentioned earlier, he elaborates: “There are many beneficiary attendants of Haitian origin who have been or are asylum seekers. They take care of our elderly and occupy essential positions that others refuse to fill. Despite their contribution, they are often underestimated and perceived as people who take advantage of the system by the general population who are unaware of the reality of people seeking asylum. They are reduced to statistics and dollars, forgetting the human behind every asylum claim story.. In reality, although they have access to social assistance, they try to get rid of it as quickly as possible. They are not proud to live from paycheck to paycheck and barely be able to make ends meet. They want to work and integrate into the labour market to contribute to the host society,” he recalls.
These representations affect their integration into society, because “we must also recognize that there is a problem of systemic racism. For example, discrimination in access to housing. It is easier for a Vincent than for a Mamadou to have an apartment” denounces the Québecois.
An anxiogenic process
Garine Papazian-Zohrabian, the scientific director of the Interdisciplinary Research Team on Refugee and Asylum Seeking Families, points out that the reality of refugees and that of asylum seekers in Canada is very different. Refugees are selected by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees from pre-determined border countries and then automatically granted permanent residence once they arrive at the airport. “This allows them to live in better conditions in Canada,” she explains.
For asylum seekers, arriving in Canada is only the beginning of a long anxiety-provoking process. “First, there is the anxiety of entering irregularly (for example, via Roxham Road) and the lack of a warm welcome. Then, they have to prove that there is a real danger of death for them in their country of origin,” she explains. The researcher states that the first response from the federal government to an asylum application should occur within three months of the initial application. “Currently, the system is so overloaded that applicants sometimes wait up to 15 months for a first response, which creates uncertainty for them, creating uncertainty among them, as cases may be refused and people deported,” adds Ms. Papazian-Zohrabian.
The lack of stability that permanent status confers dictates the lives of asylum seekers. “There is a lot of precariousness associated with this status. These people do not have access to the same care services. Only children under 18 are entitled to free schooling. The wait for a work permit is too long. Access to childcare services is non-existent, which limits their employment opportunities. All this deteriorates their living conditions [...] This leads to mental health problems, including anxiety, in people who seek asylum”, continues the researcher.
Moreover, the environment in which asylum seekers live plays a major role in their psychological recovery and in their integration into the host society. Ms. Papazian-Zohrabian, who also holds a position as a professor of educational psychology at the University of Montreal, points out that political decisions can strongly influence the atmosphere around them. “Article 15 of Bill 96 adopted by the National Assembly, which concerns all immigrants, prohibits the use of a language other than French six months after their arrival. It represents a major challenge for people in financial precariousness, who cannot afford interpreters. This situation creates problems of accessibility to information, legal services and care.”
Despite everything, the psychologist says that she does not have a heavy eye on the mental health of asylum seekers. She insists: “Yes, their mental health can recover, everything will depend on the conditions of their post-migration life, the reception and the integration services received.” She recalls that “these people have already survived a lot of difficult situations before arriving here and that they have as many areas of strength as they are vulnerable.” “When we talk about trauma, we are also talking about survival, about creativity. Asylum seekers find ways to adapt, develop strategies to get back on their feet and continue their journey. This ability to adapt is useful for them to integrate into the host society,” she says.
A “healing process”
One of the ways to support this recovery process is to create creative spaces that allow people to symbolize and express their experiences, their traumas, without the language aspect — what Garine Papazian-Zohrabian calls a “healing process.”
Paint, pencils, sheets of paper, and coloring books are spread out on the table at the Refugee Center (CDR) at the Art Hive. With citizens, newcomers, and staff, the creative process begins.
Miguel, an asylum seeker who comes out of a session with the legal department, takes colored pencils and an empty file and embarks on an ambitious mission to turn beige into a rainbow. “Around this table, so many people are sitting, and no one speaks the same language. But we continue to draw, to color, to express ourselves. By showing each other our creations, we build relationships. We overcome the word barrier and have a visual conversation,” explains Jude Ibrahim, the wellness coordinator, while Miguel asks for black paint in Spanish.
Refugees and asylum seekers are facing an overwhelming new reality. This puts health and wellness services out of reach. “I've often found that people only talk about their mental state when it affects all of their daily functions and when they can't sleep anymore, or they have nightmares, nightmares, constant anxiety, anxiety, and depressive and suicidal thoughts,” reveals the coordinator. “At the beginning, they have to worry about too many things: the legal process., the search for housing, the search for a job. Mental health doesn't matter at that moment because they're too busy with survival in the most basic sense of the word,” she clarifies.
Many beneficiaries like Miguel were referred to the Art Hive by the Legal Assistance Department, one of the most popular services. Recognizing the importance of meeting the diverse needs of refugees and asylum seekers, the wellness coordinator stresses the urgent need for a transcultural approach. “Culture is like a pair of glasses: it determines how we perceive symptoms, emotions, and mental health. How we experience these emotions can also vary from language to language. That is why it is crucial to approach mental health with cultural humility,” Ms. Ibrahim explains passionately. She discusses the difference between being culturally competent and being culturally humble. “Rather than imposing labels or diagnoses, it is essential to empower people to define their own experiences and to provide them with appropriate support and resources. At the end of the day, they are the experts in their own lives, and it is our duty to listen and to help in a way that is respectful of their culture.”
She also notes that adequate access to information is essential to dispel the feelings of confusion and despair that many refugees and asylum seekers may experience. The CDR offers group workshops, which provide a better understanding of medical insurance, for example, or focus on individual services in order to meet a social worker free of charge. Other workshops address the questions most frequently asked by asylum seekers. As part of her work, Ms. Ibrahim structures programmes to “promote continuity, empowerment and the inherent human dignity of each individual, elements that are often undermined throughout the migration process, especially for asylum seekers”.
The Art Hive is coming to an end and all the seats around the table are now occupied. Asylum seekers, refugees and citizens have joined the Hive community, some have simply stopped by, while others are waiting for workshops and appointments. Miguel, on the other hand, scrapes off the dried black paint with his key, revealing colored cracks under a darkened sky. He proudly contemplates his creation, a symbol of his hope and his beliefs: on the one hand, “God is love”, on the other, “Canada” and “Venezuela”. Meanwhile, Louis Salomon criss-crosses the city in search of employment and psychological help, seeking to alleviate his distress.
In the meantime, Roxham Road will be closed this Friday at midnight. Many people like Louis and Miguel are currently crossing jungles and borders hoping to reach a safe place. While this measure may help reduce irregular migration, several experts fear that it may in fact force migrants to take even more perilous routes, putting their lives at even greater risk.