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LETTER: To Quest 2019 graduates

Editor’s note: this letter was directed to students at Quest University, and copied to The Chief.

Editor’s note: this letter was directed to students at Quest University, and copied to The Chief. Gboko Stewart is a Liberian, who  — as The Chief has covered — was accepted to Quest and awarded funding to attend the school, but since the Ebola epidemic broke out, he has been unable to obtain a visa to study in Canada.

 

I want to thank all of you for painstakingly helping me wade through the process of applying for a study permit to attend Quest University Canada from Liberia.

As you are aware, it became a drawn-out affair and unfortunately, I wasn’t considered. It has been a pleasure knowing all of you at Quest.

I can’t help but say the entire affair has been one—for the lack of a better word—heck of a process, educational or otherwise; and I do hope it sparks debate about sorting out the thorns in the immigration process and perhaps an overhaul in the visa services of Canada.

Genuine intent to study from those in impoverished areas is most often seen by Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC) as a grandiose plan, however far-fetched,  to immigrate.

It would almost seem like the entire process of applying for a study permit, which has already consumed five years of my life, has led to the culmination of a degree of a life experience and a quest which, when summed up in words, cannot fill these pages.

The uniqueness of the education Quest offers had me completely drawn when I googled “Quest University Canada” in the latter part of 2013. I’m not known to give up so very easily. I have never considered myself a person fitted for the constructed role of society. Hence, when I came upon Quest, it became so appealing. I knew it was a place meant for me.

The more the hurdles appeared insurmountable in completing and conquering this quest, the more insatiable I became in my thirst to get there, attain a world-class education and above all, make my parent(s) proud.

 However, some things must come to an end. It doesn’t spell defeat or anything of the sort; it simply meant trying another route to get to a path which proved elusive from the onset. Or perhaps, just charting another course.

 Eight years ago, I graduated from high school and told my parents I wanted to study abroad in a school that would challenge my third-world intellectual curiosity. I did not want an education that would have been premised on the regurgitation of what is given by a professor.

They simply stared at me in bewilderment. Some of my siblings were all attending or had graduated from local universities and colleges in Liberia but here was I, their last child, with just a dream, a high school diploma, a Young Life volunteer experience, and an aspiring journalist—daring to dream big.

 I was wished the best of luck as they clearly could not afford it. In a world where talent is universal, opportunities are all but: money and resources are scarce. It was clear I was out of my luck with just a dream.

 But as former Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf stated during her acceptance of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, Norway in 2011: “If your dreams don’t scare you, then they aren’t big enough.” 

 My dreams really did scare me, though it is/was a valid one. As my friends went to school in Liberia and other parts of the globe and graduated, I scoured the nook and cranny of the internet, hoping that somewhere, a silver lining would be spotted. In 2012, I discovered Quest and two years later, I applied.

Following my admission, it became a roller-coaster ride when the Ebola virus hit Liberia. The rest is history.

In March 2018, at the behest of my dad, I applied for a visitor visa to come to the U.S. My family suggested that I take a break since I had lost my mom in August 2017, on the eve of my birthday.  She passed believing I made it to Quest.

The U.S. is closer to Canada—why don’t I just reapply for my study permit when I get there, I thought.  During this time I also met former Quest president, David Helfand at his Columbia University office in New York. During his departure in 2015, Dr. Helfand left nearly CAD 20,000 to be added on my bursaries.

I was optimistic about obtaining my study permit. The duration of my American visa was a year. I decided to extend my stay in America from three weeks to four months—this was done in anticipation of obtaining my study permit and flying out of Atlanta to Vancouver.

It is now all water under the bridge, so to speak.

To the class of 2019, we would have thrown our caps in the air next year.

My keystone project would have been something like “Bridging the gap of mistrust between government and people during disease outbreaks” or “Understanding The Façade of Being Closeted in Africa.” 

As the upcoming graduating class leaves from up the hill in April, do something today that your future self would be proud of. I’m proud of daring to dream big and serving as a motivation to other Liberians and Africans—passport privilege must never limit the size of your dream or your ability to conquer the insurmountable.

The world we live in is rapidly changing. We must rise up and live to the moment. With the education at Quest, there is no ounce of doubt in my mind that you are being prepared in the best ways possible to face the ever alternating vagaries of today’s unstable world.

 I’m back in Liberia and as always, fighting for the rights of disadvantaged women and girls; helping a female colleague to win a seat in the Liberian Legislature and back behind the microphone and the crinkles of the big pages of the newspaper. When I make my country a better place, I believe the world gets to be too.

Whenever fate throws me a stroke of luck, I’ll be sure to visit Quest.

- Gboko Stewart, would-be member of the Quest class of 2019.

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