When I look back, I see a life – from birth to childhood to adulthood – that never flowed smoothly, a collection of fragments punctuated by unforgettable journeys. I want to share a few of those pieces with you: my escape from war and the long, challenging path of exile from my native home to my chosen home in Canada.

It was a cold February day in 1998 when my wife, our three children, and I landed at Edmonton International Airport. Identifiable by our UN refugee bags, we were soon met by our settlement officer. With nothing but a suitcase and empty pockets, I carried within me dreams too big to measure.

I was born in a small village in Kurdistan called Ashkawt Saqa, where every day was a journey – not just a physical one, but an inner voyage of growth, revelation, and survival. Our journeys, though imperfect and fraught with hardship, hold beauty in their constant call for change and learning.

My first journey began at the age of seven when our village school opened its doors. As my father walked me inside to register, he said, “Son, I do not want you to go through life like me. This is your journey to learn; hurry up.”

Attending school was my first internal journey seeking knowledge. It was a privilege no one in the village had ever experienced, including my parents, igniting in me a passion for learning. Yet, that journey was abruptly cut short. I could not finish first grade before the Iraqi regime unleashed war upon our doorstep – burning our village, our school, our books, and my dreams.

Forced to flee and move to Erbil, the bustling capital of Kurdistan, I undertook another vital journey. Leaving a familiar life in an innocent village where I knew all my neighbors and where my identity was connected to street corners and other spaces, I now had to navigate a city that I knew nothing about.

I began anew on the path toward knowledge and self-improvement. In high school, stifled by a crowded home that hindered my studies, I discovered the sanctuary of a local library. While others played outside, I lost myself in reading and writing, which meant escaping reality and exploring new ideas – even as a dictatorship sought to impose its will.

As a young writer, I often employed symbolism to evade censorship. Without the benefit of creative writing classes, my love for reading evolved into a passion for prose. In 1979, I published my first collection of poetry, Dance in the Evening Snow. Despite heavy censorship – the Iraq regime stripped away any poem that did not conform – I persisted.

Then, in 1986, in a tragic twist, the secret police arrested me. A blindfolded prisoner, handcuffed and humiliated. In a cell designed for 15, sixty of us were packed like sardines.

I spent two years in prison without trial or legal representation, only to be pardoned on Saddam Hussein’s birthday, in the regime’s attempt at manufactured humanity. The scars of the inhumane treatment I received in prison have never left me.

As the years passed and the pain grew unbearable, I resolved to embark on another journey – something I had once only read about. Trusting smugglers to guide me to safety, I found refuge in Turkiye, where I claimed refugee status with the UN and was offered a lifeline: Canada.

I still remember my Grade 9 geography teacher describing a distant land called Canada, with its vast forests, serene lakes, and breathtaking landscapes. I often wondered what it would be like to wake up in those woods. Compelled by that childhood vision, I resolved to make Canada my home and its forests my backyard.

Rebuilding our life from scratch in Canada was yet another formidable journey. Through every hardship, I never abandoned my passion for writing. In 2007, I was honored as PEN Canada’s first writer in exile – a recognition that opened many doors.

It also expanded my literary relationships. With the support of the University of Alberta and the Edmonton Arts Council, I published my memoir, The Man in Blue Pajamas. I also published a collection of poems titled Trying Again to Stop Time with the University of Alberta Press. They have both become bestsellers, and I have won several awards.

Here, as I reflect on all the pieces of my story, I realize it is not where you begin that matters most, but where you grow into the best version of yourself. My journey is far from over; I will continue to seek out the moments, places, and experiences that help me become even better.

Jalal Barzanji  is a poet and novelist, based in Alberta, Canada.