Get To Know Our Interpreters

The Language of Hope: A Yoruba Interpreter's Reflection 

I will never forget the day I received a call to interpret for a woman who had traveled from the United States to Canada, carrying hope in one hand and a fifteen-page immigration form in the other.  She needed dialysis — life-sustaining treatment that was unavailable or unaffordable back home in Nigeria.  Canada was not just a destination for her; it was a lifeline. 

When I greeted her in Yoruba, I heard something shift in her voice.  The tension eased.  The fear softened.  For the first time in what must have been a long and exhausting journey through systems and strangers, someone spoke her language.  Not just the words, but the understanding behind them. 

The form was complex — medical terms, legal language, questions that required careful explanation.  The immigration officer on the line needed accurate information, and the woman needed to understand what she was signing.  As I moved between English and Yoruba, sentence by sentence, page by page, I realized I was doing more than translating words.  I was building a bridge of trust in a moment when her life depended on being understood. 

By the end of the call, the immigration officer expressed relief that we could review the document together so thoroughly.  The woman thanked me with a warmth that stayed with me long after the call ended.  She had been heard.  She had been understood.  And through that understanding, she could access the care she desperately needed. 

This is what being a Yoruba interpreter in Canada means to me.  It means that language is not just communication.  It is dignity.  It is access.  It is the difference between someone navigating a system alone in confusion or moving through it with clarity and confidence. 

Canada's strength lies in its ability to make space for all of us — for every language, every story, every person seeking safety, care, or opportunity.  When I interpret, I am part of that promise.  I help ensure that no one is left behind simply because they do not speak English. 

My heritage is not something I left at the border.  It is the very tool that allows me to serve this country and the people who call it home.  Preserving my language means preserving my ability to help others find their footing here.  And in doing so, I am reminded that Canada is not built on sameness — it is built on the strength of our many voices, speaking together, understanding one another.