Off The Cuff: A wry look at life

"Saudi Arabia!" exclaimed my five-year-old in his loud, squeaky falsetto as the judge was speaking, and all 135 heads turned to look at us. My elder son tried to disappear in his seat and pull his younger brother down along with him.

My wife, in her usual calm manner, told her eldest son, loudly for all to hear: "He's surprised, since Saudi Arabia was his home before we came here." And I thought the tall sergeant from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who was flanking the judge on her right, would march us all out of the courtroom.

I was back in Toronto for the citizenship ceremony. The people in the room were a little on edge as this was a major step in their lives. None of us had citizenship conferred on us before. For most of us, citizenship was an accident of birth. "Loosen up," quipped the court reporter. "The citizenship test is behind you. You passed." We all laughed nervously.

About four weeks ago, most of us in the room had to answer multiple-choice questions on the country, its history, geography and what our rights and duties were as citizens.

Today, each of us was given a lapel pin with the striking red and white, a small flag, and a card with the Canadian national anthem both in English and French. Most everyone had brought along a video or a still camera and were clicking away like Japanese tourists at each other and at the dais with the flags and the coat of arms.

The reason why my son shouted Saudi Arabia was because the judge announced that today 135 people will be taking the citizenship oath and that these people come from 38 countries as diverse as Afghanistan, Bosnia and Saudi Arabia.

Like most ads in newspapers here, the Saudi newspapers also carry advertisements by agents and consultants willing to help process papers of new emigrants, for a fee. But the ads in the Saudi newspapers always carried a disclaimer that it was not for Saudis, leading us to believe that it was illegal for Gulf nationals to emigrate. Apparently it was not so, as there was also a Kuwait couple in the group.

I thought this ceremony would be an emotional roller coaster for most of us, because shedding the country of your birth and adopting another land as your home is not very easy. But everyone was joyful, proud, and nearly kissed the judge when she welcomed us and recounted that the UN had rated Canada as the best country in the world to live in. (It's a minor technicality, but she didn't mention that the rating has slipped a notch down to second, with Norway in first place now.)

Like scarce capital which flows only into countries where there's political stability and proper long-term government fiscal policies, human beings, emigrants, also tend to gravitate towards nations which offer them opportunities for growth, a better standard of life, no political strife and where each individual life is deemed precious.

"Bon jour," said my elder son, greeting the judge with a flourish and a handshake when it was our turn to officially receive our citizenship cards and a certificate personally signed by the immigration minister. "Aha, but I didn't hear you take the oath in French," she replied with a laugh. Later, she stood and smiled and smiled as we all took pictures with her like she was a pop star or something.

Only two days later back in Dubai as I was lying in my bed and listening to music, I got the urge to check out my brand-new Canadian passport. I took it out, read each word carefully, saw my picture and felt the pages. Then I punched the air and said in a loud whisper, "YES!"