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This is My Journey from Turkey to Canad. my story of Struggle and Hope My name is Mustafa Erkara, and my life has been anything but easy but every struggle has led me to where I am today stronger, wiser, and full of hope. I was born in Çumra, a small farming town in Turkey, where life moved at the pace of the seasons. My parents were hardworking farmers, and from them, I learned the value of perseverance. But even as a boy, I knew I wanted more than the fields could offer. I left home to become a heavyduty truck mechanic. I loved working with my hands, solving problems, and the satisfaction of fixing what was broken. For years, I saved every lira, dreaming of opening my own repair shop. When I finally did, it felt like victory—until it didn’t. The business failed. Competition was fierce, costs piled up, and soon, I had nothing left. Defeated, I returned to Çumra, back to my parents’ farm. There’s no shame in hard work, but there is shame in feeling like you’ve let your family down. I spent long days under the sun, my hands calloused from labor, my mind racing with questions Was this it Was this all my life would ever be One night, my cousin told me about Canada. They need skilled workers, he said. People like you. For months, I wrestled with the idea. Leaving Turkey meant leaving everything—my family, my language, my pride. But staying meant staying stuck. So, with my parents’ blessing and their life savings, I took the hardest step I booked a oneway ticket to Edmonton. Canada was nothing like I imagined. The cold was brutal, the streets unfamiliar, and my broken English made even simple tasks humiliating. I remember my first grocery trip—I pointed at vegetables like a child because I didn’t know the words. I worked odd jobs warehouse labor, cleaning, anything to survive. Nights, I studied English until my eyes burned, repeating phrases until they sounded less foreign. The loneliness was crushing. Back home, I was someone—a son, a friend, a man with a place in the world. Here, I was invisible. But slowly, things changed. I made friends at work, other immigrants who understood the struggle. I found a Turkish grocer who sold the spices my mother used. And bit by bit, English stopped feeling like a wall and started feeling like a door. Today, I’m still climbing, not yet successful by the world’s standards. But I’m happy. Every small win—understanding a joke in English, getting my first construction job here, seeing the rockies for the first time—feels like a triumph. Life is still hard, but now I know hard doesn’t mean hopeless. Canada gave me a second chance. And this time, I won’t waste it.