And so, we moved into his one-bedroom, partially finished basement in British Columbia, Canada. It didn’t even look like a home. It was a weird mishmash of living room, dining room, bedroom, and storage area. Legally, he didn’t have a permit to finish his basement, so we had to live in an unlivable space. The living arrangements were meant to underscore the hierarchy. Upstairs, Mounir lived with his real wife and his real children. As the second, inferior, illegal wife, my mother was relegated to the basement with her children.
