Edgelands
Exploring Society’s Margins
by Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali
EXCERPT
Transience
Returning to Toronto from the UK on Saturday, July 16, 2005, one thing was certain: I couldn’t go back home. At age nineteen, I had just escaped an arranged marriage. If I was going to come out of the closet for good I had to forge ahead on my own. The first day was filled with disappointments. I had no one I could stay with. In the city, I thought friendships could mimic the security of family, but it wasn’t to be. I tried checking into the old motels along Lake Shore Boulevard West but they wouldn’t rent me a room without a credit card or a hefty deposit, and my family had taken all my cards and ID. I walked into the rainy night and caught the 501 Queen streetcar back downtown. The warm rain made the streetcar loop smell funkier than usual. The sewage treatment plant nearby added its own flavour. I made it to Wolseley Street and slept in front of a classmate’s house. She had agreed to let me stay there, but I didn’t make it in time from the airport to meet her before she left to catch a train to Montreal. There I was, free from the constraints of familial ties and free to be me. Was this the cost I had to pay to be free? When it started to rain, I knocked on the door of the Salvation Army shelter at Tecumseh and Queen. I didn’t realize it was for women.
When dawn broke, I headed to the Ryerson University campus where I had studied to brush my teeth and wash my face. I used their free phone to call the youth hostel that used to be at the corner of Spadina and King. When I got there, I handed the young woman at the front desk my passport.
So...what brings you to Toronto!?
Vacation.
That’s great! This is your room key. You’ll be in there with five other guys. Feel free to help yourself to coffee and water. Also, we have a lovely patio out back for guests. It's a great way to meet other travelers.
I threw her a smile and went upstairs to shave and shower. A friend’s family was expecting me for Sunday dinner.
When I got there, I found my friend, her mother and a family friend chatting in their kitchen. They got up and took turns hugging me. During this commotion, my friend’s father entered the kitchen and for the first time since I’d met him, he embraced me. He held onto me. I didn’t understand what was happening since he’d never shown me that level of emotion before. If family was no longer an option for me, how far could friendships stretch? Would it be possible to reframe what I considered to be familial ties in this vast urban space, and make it work?
I spent the first week back in Toronto at that hostel. I believe it’s a fancy coffee shop now. I relied on the generosity of friends to cover my stay there and for everyday essentials. On Wednesday, I met up with a friend from Ryerson. I told her that I didn’t have any of my bank cards or ID.
Let’s go get them renewed then.
On our way, I let it slip that my IDs were still at my family’s.
Oh, that changes things.
What do you mean?
It’s your ID, meaning you can go get it.
It’s not that easy.
Let’s just go to the cops.
I went along with it. I wasn’t comfortable calling the police on my family. My sister had done it once before and it shamed my stepmother to have cops outside her door for the neighbours to see. On the other hand, this friend had rescued me from a life of confinement in the closet, feigning love for a woman. What she suggested carried more weight than any doubt I had.
We walked into the police station at Dundas and University and explained my predicament to the cop at the front desk. We were told to go up to Weston and Lawrence, where my family lived and call the non-emergency number. We were cautioned we might have to wait a while as our request would be queued. We tried our luck and took the subway to Lawrence West station. I sat nervously on the bus. I was worried about seeing people I knew. When we got there, a cop met us in under an hour. She listened as I explained my predicament.
I can go up there but I can’t go in without their permission. Hopefully the uniform will do the trick.
I didn’t blink at her suggestion of intimidating my family. She asked me to wait by the elevators while she spoke to my eldest sister. My sister asked her where I was and the cop called me over.
Listen, I need my ID and bank cards.
Mohamed! We were worried. We heard you’d gone missing in London.
Ma’am, may we come in?
She told us to wait until she could get her mother on the phone. She passed the phone to me.
Mohamed, what’s going on? Why are you there with the police?
Hoyo, I need my ID, that’s all. Where is it?
Tell your sister to get my beauty case. Do you remember the code?
Yes.
Pass the phone back to your sister.
We waited in the hallway and I got my bank and credit cards as well as my ID from the beauty case.
Before she closed the door, my sister said call us.
I pressed the cards deep into my pocket, relieved that I didn’t have to go through the process of replacing everything.
I didn’t think that was going to work! The cop seemed pleased with herself. She gave my friend and me a ride to Jane and Lawrence. Countless eyes were on us as she pulled out the plaza and waved to us.
What if they think we’re informers?
Who cares? You got your shit.
I gave her a hug and savoured the moment.
Back at the hostel, I tried hanging out with the other travelers. I didn’t know what to say to them. They’re here to experience the city. I was playing the part of a traveler but the reality was that I was transient. No fixed place had space for me. The last thing I needed was to be told what to see and where to eat.
A friend’s mother told me to go to Bay and Dundas and inquire about staying at a men’s shelter there. I lugged my suitcase to the shelter and the woman at the front desk asked me how old I was.
I’m 19.
You’re too young for this shelter. You can go to Second Base in Scarborough. You take the train to Kennedy and use the park & ride exit. Do you need fare?
Yes, please.
They’ll know you’re coming. Don’t stop off anywhere. You have two hours to get there.
I hadn't used that exit at Kennedy before. The only times I'd been to Scarlanka was to visit a friend in Malvern. I walked down Transway Crescent. Beside the Bethel Pioneer cemetery was the Salaheddin mosque. I turned onto Kennedy Avenue. Tucked behind Grace Church was Second Base.
I didn’t want to go in. My life had come to this, but there was nowhere else to turn. Going home wasn’t an option. Staying with friends who still lived at home wasn’t either. I thought I’d be freed by coming out but there was a cost to pay. The fact that I was all alone in a new country was setting in. I didn’t have secure bonds in this world. The city was roaring in the background as rush hour was in full swing. I took a deep breath and walked through the doors.