They came to Canada to chase a dream. Now they’re being forced to leave and feel betrayed

The Liberal government has set aggressive targets to rein in the number of temporary residents in the wake of public outcry over the runaway population growth amid a national housing crisis and rising costs of living. It also cut the annual intake of permanent residents by 20 per cent to 395,000 in 2025, 380,000 in 2026 and 365,000 in 2027.

The measures are meant to tighten the rules and restore confidence in what some critics call an “out-of-control” immigration system. As a result, many study and work permit holders are at the end of their rope — unable to renew status or obtain permanent residence — and must go home. 

The Star spoke to some former international students and foreign workers who have recently left or are leaving about the repercussions of Canada’s unfulfilled promise, as well as their new life and future. 

Some are struggling. Others have found opportunities they couldn’t get here. All are still chasing that elusive better life.

Oliver Benzon Martinez finished an undergraduate degree in advertising in the Dominican Republic in 2018, and was lucky to have found a “good job” at a call centre, answering customers’ inquiries for multinational companies.

The desire to build a career and have a better life led him to Canada, a country he grew to know not just through vacationers he came across on the island but also from recruiters promoting international education — and immigration.

After almost four years in Canada working hard toward that goal, the 30-year-old was forced to leave in November when he ran out of legal options to stay.

Benzon Martinez arrived in Canada in May 2021 with hope that a postgraduate program in project management delivered in Toronto through a private-public partnership by ILAC College and Georgian College in Barrie — with a $17,000 tuition fee — could land him a job in the field and ultimately permanent residence here.

He took a $12,000 loan to help pay for his education, and later a line of credit in Canada to cover other costs.

When he graduated at the end of 2021, the only job he could find was as an order selector at a grocery chain. The pay — $31 an hour — was very good by Dominican standards and he stayed there for almost three years until his work permit expired in October. A month later, he returned home to live with his mother. 

“It’s impossible to stay in Toronto without status,” said Benzon Martinez, whose warehouse job did not qualify him for permanent residence. “A cash job would probably pay $15 to $17 an hour. You’re not going to make it. I have many debts. I can’t stop working.”

Benzon Martinez now works at another call centre in Santo Domingo for an American radiology company. He is paid $4.50 (Canadian) an hour, considered a decent wage though he can barely make ends meet. Since he left his home there more than four years ago, the cost of living has surged; even the price of deodorant has tripled.

He feels betrayed by the Canadian government that rolled out the welcome mat to temporary migrants then quickly pulled it away.

“There was lots of promises,” he said from Santo Domingo. “I did the best I could. I played by the rules. And I worked hard to contribute. See where I am?”

It upsets him most that he couldn’t even access EI — a social safety net that he contributed to. He lost his job because he no longer had a valid work permit, which means he couldn’t possibly be employed legally and was deemed not job-ready. “I feel scammed.”

Benzon Martinez plans to pay off his debts, save money and go to a trade school to be an electrician, hoping a red seal certification would one day give him a better shot at returning to Canada.

Ash Haque studied hotel management and culinary art in his native Bangladesh, and had further training in Malaysia before landing in Portugal in late 2018 on a temporary resident permit to work in hotels and restaurants.

During the pandemic, he lost his position but then learned that Canada had a labour shortage and was looking for immigrants. A restaurant owner in Vancouver Island offered him a job and sponsored his work permit. He arrived in the summer of 2022.

Haque loved the community and his job as a line chef. He and his wife felt settled enough to start a family and had their first child last August. A month later, his work permit extension was refused, even though his boss was eager to keep him.

The family returned to Bangladesh in November and moved in with his mother, with money borrowed from his brother in Greece and a friend in Germany for the flight.

“I’d never imagine this situation in my life,” the 36-year-old said from Dhaka, where he’s still looking for a job. “I have left everything and all my dreams in Canada. Trudeau and (former Immigration Minister) Marc Miller kicked me out.”

Haque said he refused to make a fake asylum claim or pay an employer for a bogus job offer, as some migrants have done to remain in Canada. 

“I feel like a victim. This is affecting genuine migrants like us,” Haque lamented. “I had had the opportunity to stay in Portugal and Europe. I feel like a loser.”

A Canadian education and the potential for permanent residence were appealing to Zihao Jin, who came here in 2018 to study computer science at the University of Toronto before switching to cognitive science and linguistics.

Born and raised in the United Arab Emirates, he knows what it’s like to be a guest in a country. Even though his parents have lived and worked there for years, the family’s temporary resident status — including his — is still tied to their work. People who remain undocumented face a hefty fine if they don’t leave.

But at least the rules have been clear and consistent, he said.

Despite a science degree from a reputable university that cost $58,000 a year in tuition, the lack of professional and social networks made it impossible for Jin to find a meaningful job when he graduated from U of T in May 2022.

He worked in a restaurant and later in retail before returning home earlier last year, even though his three-year postgraduation work permit wouldn’t expire until December 2025.

“It looks like the Canadian economy relies on international students to fill blue-collar survival jobs,” he said from Dubai.

It was difficult to leave Canada after six years, but he was happy to be with his parents and find a job through networking as a manager at a software company for electrical vehicles. Jin didn’t feel his time in Canada was a waste, but he wished it could have turned out differently.

“Leaving Canada wasn’t the end of the world,” said Jin, 26, who appreciates the exposure and personal growth in his time here. “I miss my friends and the fun times we had. I miss trekking and camping in Canada’s beautiful wilderness.”

Maria Alfaro has a university degree in law in El Salvador, but opportunities were scarce. For years, she worked for an airline company in a job unrelated to her education.

She was looking for a career change when she came to Canada for postgraduate studies in 2019, first enrolled in a human resources management program at St. Clair College and later in organizational management at Cambrian College.

When she graduated in April 2021, she quickly found a job as an administrative assistant at a Toronto law firm, where she stayed until her work permit expired last July.

In November, she flew home to live with her mom, a pensioner. She found a job in two weeks, working remotely as a legal assistant for an American law firm. She makes half what she made in Canada, but for the first time, she can put her legal knowledge to use.

“Housing is expensive in El Salvador and I wouldn’t be able to live in the city if not for my mom,” said Alfaro, 40, who followed a path to Canada similar to her friends, who had come earlier and are now citizens here.

Alfaro is continuing her French lessons and retaking her English test this summer, hoping stronger language skills, along with her legal work experience, can boost her chances for permanent residence next year.

“I don’t regret being in Canada,” said Alfaro. “I’m just sad I didn’t get the opportunity to stay like my friends.”

Enyang Liu has spent half his life away from Mongolia, first studying in high school in the U.S. before moving to Canada in 2018 for university, because of the comparative ease of obtaining permanent residence here. At least, that’s what his relatives here had said.

After four years — and $120,000 in total tuition fees — he graduated from Western University in media studies in June 2022. He was tutoring university students and later got a seasonal job as a photographer before moving from Ontario to Alberta to work as a freelance videographer. He feels he has disappointed his parents for what they had invested in his education. 

Unsure if he would ever get a decent job with his education, or permanent residence in Canada, he applied for a master’s program in data and communication specialization at the National University of Singapore. He starts in August.

Liu said he got a great education from Western, but is disappointed by the limited opportunities Canada offers, and permanent residence would have helped make up for the underdelivered promise. 

“I was making a living wage but it’s not what my heart’s set on,” the 26-year-old aspiring documentarian said from Calgary. “I really feel like I could’ve achieved more in Canada but I didn’t.”