TORONTO — One year after Canada embraced Syrian refugees like no other country, a reckoning was underway.
Ordinary
Canadians had essentially adopted thousands of Syrian families,
donating a year of their time and money to guide them into new lives
just as many other countries shunned them. Some citizens already
considered the project a humanitarian triumph; others believed the
Syrians would end up isolated and adrift, stuck on welfare or worse. As
2016 turned to 2017 and the yearlong commitments began to expire, the
question of how the newcomers would fare acquired a national nickname:
Month 13, when the Syrians would try to stand on their own.
On
a frozen January afternoon, Liz Stark, a no-nonsense retired teacher,
bustled into a modest apartment on the east side of this city, unusually
anxious. She and her friends had poured themselves into resettling
Mouhamad and Wissam al-Hajj, a former farmer and his wife, and their
four children, becoming so close that they referred to one another as
substitute grandparents, parents and children.
But
the improvised family had a deadline. In two weeks, the sponsorship
agreement would end. The Canadians would stop paying for rent and other
basics. They would no longer manage the newcomers’ bank account and
budget. Ms. Stark was adding Mr. Hajj’s name to the apartment lease, the
first step in removing her own.
