Why I Abandoned My Canadian Citizenship Application
As you know, for the last twenty years of my fascinating life, I've lived in the North American country of Canada, which derives from the word "Kanata," meaning "settlement" or "village" in the Laurentian Iroquois language. Canada is only 156 years old. It was established and gained sovereignty on July 1, 1867, although it remains a dominion of England, meaning a territory under British control.
Just recently, a few months ago, after twenty years of living in this country, I decided to abandon the process of obtaining Canadian citizenship, which I'd been working on for twenty years. Why did I make this decision? That's what I want to tell you. Perhaps my story will help someone already here, or someone just considering connecting their life with this beautiful country of beavers and lobsters, as well as rampant feminism, gender obscurantism, legalized drugs, and euthanasia. And also, the genocide of all citizens and residents of this territory, recently legalized by the government!
If you want to know my opinion on this set of dubious rights and freedoms, and the true reasons that forced—yes, forced—me to make this difficult decision, then you'll have to be patient and listen to my story.
Please remember that this incident is my personal experience, as is my subjective opinion of everything that happened to me. My narrative is in no way intended to humiliate or insult anyone. I will simply tell you my truthful account of events, and every fact I share here is supported by evidence.
As you may recall, I first set foot in this North American country on October 1, 2003, mooring my yacht at the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron Club when my daughter and I arrived from England. We planned to go to Australia, but in Bermuda, as often happens in life, we unexpectedly ran out of money, and we turned not left, toward the Panama Canal, but right, toward Canada. Why didn't we go to the United States? Well, at the time, I really disliked the aggressive foreign policy of the United States, and Canada, from a distance, seemed more democratic, free, and intelligent. Years later, I continue to dislike American foreign policy, but I've also been forced to change my mind about Canada's domestic politics. As the saying goes, good things can be seen from a distance, while bad things can only be seen, alas, up close.
It was then, back in 2003, on October 1st, that my fascinating journey and up-close, very intimate acquaintance with this country of stunning landscapes, legalized homosexuality and drug addiction, and the lawlessness of some representatives of the local immigration authorities, the justice system, and the legal profession began.
It all began with a yacht inspection. It would seem like a routine matter, checking documents we didn't have. I was traveling with a Soviet Union sailor's passport, as you recall. We inspected the yacht with divers for weapons, drugs, and illegal immigrants. Then, three days later, we returned with a dog and inspected it again, since surveillance had yielded no results and we weren't caught red-handed hauling sacks of contraband off the boat at night. This is par for the course for Canadian immigration authorities. They'll show off their profound lack of professionalism more than once!
Next, a two-week interrogation at the local immigration office, at the hands of immigration officer Elisabeth Campbell, who was gritting her teeth with hatred. Oh, and not only did I remember the full name of this "champion of justice," who, as a fresh-faced immigrant might imagine, guards the interests of her country, but I even mentioned her in my book, "When the Horizon Screams," in gratitude for her unwavering attention to me over the decades! Here are the lines from the book, verbatim:
And so we arrived in Canada. A kind, hospitable, and very peaceful country. A land of beavers and lobsters. A land of beautiful landscapes and a complete lack of work in our field. A country where, after our arrival without documents, as you may recall, immigration authorities inspected our boat several times and interrogated Alexandra and me for two weeks! During the second week of interrogation, I asked the officer, "Why have you been asking the same questions, phrased differently, for two weeks now? What are you looking for? We told you everything, showed you all the documents explaining our situation. Why?"
"In the entire history of Canada, no one has ever come to us like this, so we ask the questions here, and you answer, understand?" The officer spat out the answer, glaring with hatred and contempt. I still remember her name...
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