Nobody Told Me Canada Would Pay Me to Have Children

Something happened to me in my first year in Canada that I was not prepared for.

I have a child. I know I have a child because I brought the child with me. What I did not know was that Canada also knew I had a child, had feelings about this, and intended to do something about it every single month.

The first time the Canada Child Benefit landed in my account I sat with my phone for a full five minutes. I called my mother back home. I said: they sent money. She said: who sent money. I said: the government. She said: for what. I said: for my Demi. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said: same Demi that you already have? I said yes. She said: Demi that was born in Nigeria? I said yes.We did not fully trust it for the first three months. I thought it was an error. I thought someone had made a mistake and that eventually a very polite Canadian official would send a letter explaining there had been a misunderstanding and could I please return the funds at my earliest convenience. I kept it to the side just in case. By month four I accepted that this was real.

I want to be clear about what this felt like from where I was coming from.

In Nigeria, having a child is entirely your own project. You made a decision. Here are the consequences. Sort it out. The government's involvement begins and ends with the birth certificate, and even that process will test your patience. Nobody is sending you anything. Nobody is checking in. You and your child are a private arrangement between you, God, and your village. Canada looked at my child and said: we would like to contribute.

I sat with that for a long time. Because back home I was the one doing all the contributing. The school fees, the uniforms, the feeding, the medical, the extras that always arrive when you have least budgeted for them. And yes, alongside my husband, but I am the one who knows the exact cost of everything. I am the one who carries the mental load of what runs out and when. I am the one who is always doing the arithmetic.

And then one day Canada quietly joined the arithmetic.

On my side. I told a friend about it when she was considering relocating. I explained the concept. The government assesses your household income and sends money every month for each child until they are seventeen. She asked me to repeat that. I repeated it. She said seventeen? I said seventeen. She looked at her two children and then looked back at me with an expression I completely understood.

I called my mother again after the first year. I told her the CCB had been consistent. She said: so Canada is helping you raise your child? I said yes. She said: hmm.Just hmm. But she said it in that particular way that means she has quietly updated her position on something and will not be admitting it out loud.

I have been in Canada for three years. I pay my taxes. I understand now why I pay them. Because somewhere in the calculation, a portion of what I contribute comes back as a monthly acknowledgment that I have a child, that I am raising that child largely on my own energy, and that this matters.

Nobody told me about this before I came. I would have packed faster.