Credentials

I wonder what it's like to be an immigrant. I wonder what it's like to be an immigrant doctor now sitting behind the wheel of a taxi cab, carting people around the city because it's the only job open to them. What must it be like to know that you can and could help others in this city, when this city, province and country do not recognise your credentials. I wonder what it's like to be a physicist or an engineer now selling smokes and newspapers from a corner store. Is this the better life they'd dreamed of? Was it worth it to leave? Was it worth it to now be on the end of the lotto ticket fiend's derision and greed? To have a gun pointed in their face for the sake of the $35 in the till? I wonder what it's like to have someone look at you, despite the fact that you've owned your own business, run a large organisation, and completed a Master's degree and tell you, "you'd make a fine secretary." There are so many things about these situations that I don't get. How it must feel to know that you're worth more, capable of more, and to have only a few options presented to you. It must take a lot of patience, a lot of strength to accept what could only seem like a step-down for a time until others become convinced of your competence. On a rainy morning, it seems a bit depressing to think of these things. On a rainy morning, or any other, maybe it is. The world is unfair. How do we pursue justice and love and mercy in these situations?