As a refugee, I learned what it means to be Canadian in a small prairie community

W hen she was five months pregnant, Johanna Isopuro received a cardboard box in the mail, the kind you pack when you are unexpectedly fired from your office job. But this one was painted a festive turquoise blue and adorned with stencilled yellow leaves. Isopuro opened it to find it packed to the brim with merino wool onesies, a knit reindeer blanket, a hooded towel with little ears, a fluffy snowsuit, and snow boots puffy enough to keep the smallest toes warm. There was a baby book of nursery rhymes, a stuffed toy, and a sleeping bag. There were also items for her: pads, nipple cream,...