I arrived in Canada on December 2, 1947. I was twelve years old but with the mind of an old person. I wore a nametag, pinned to my coat with a safety pin. We went into a building with bars on the window. It looked like a prison to me and I worried that I had done something wrong. We had been told that Canada was a free country and that we would be welcome, but when we arrived, we were guarded like we were in a prison camp.
The customs officers took everything we had, and we were too afraid to mention this to anyone. What they put us through when we arrived in Halifax
was terrible. Finally, after they examined us, we were put on a train across Canada. On January 3, 1948 we arrived at the train station at the foot of Granville Street in downtown Vancouver.