Job search post-PhD: The bad, the ugly, the insane, and everything in between

Have you ever had a job interview with an all white panel and then have them look straight into your face and ask you: What does diversity mean to you?

Welcome to my world!

This has been a series of blogs about my PhD experience. This is the climax or anti-climax depending on how you look at it. You should read the other blogs in the series to appreciate the story in its fullness.

Twende Kazi!

It is a year to the end of my PhD and I am panicking big time. I am working HARD on my thesis. I have to finish in time because my scholarship is timebound. I do not have money to sustain myself beyond the life of the scholarship. I am working like a DOG! At the back of my mind there is the question- so, you finish your PhD, then what? Do you stay in Canada or North America broadly speaking or do you return to the ‘shithole’? I am heavily invested in the conservation field in Africa, so I am more inclined to go back. But what will you do after returning? If you tell any of the other Africans there you would like to return, they think you are CRAZY! I start looking for jobs a year to the completion of my PhD. I was open to the idea of starting a job as I finished my PhD. I was just terrified at the idea of finishing the PhD and having no job. I send out numerous applications. I also send some to North America but my main focus was in Africa/Kenya rather. Africa is a country! I do not hear anything back from all my applications. I am panicking! I am getting stressed. The headaches that I used to deal with in the first year return. I start having nightmares. I am feeling like a total failure at this point.

I decide to change strategy and write to organizations directly and introduce myself and my skills. One of them actually responds and they ask me for a Skype call. The lady conducting the interview is white. Oh I had checked their website and all their staff except one were white. This is a conservation organization working in Africa. She tells me that they are always looking for talent. We talk about my work experience, interests, etc – the usual stuff. At the time I had a Ghanian housemate. After the call she turns to me and asks:

Why is that lady interviewing you? You should be the one interviewing her!

She was actually pissed by all of this.

Me: Welcome to the CONservation field in Africa. Power is fully consolidated in white hands. If you are going for a job interview in this field, you are likely or let me say guaranteed to be interviewed by a white person(s). They are the ones who will decide your fate. This is especially so in the NGO arena. There may be some African faces at the interview but those are not the power holders.

The lady does not contact me after that. I guess she found me to be deficient in TALENT. I reached out to the one African working in the institution and asked him why that was the case. He told me that is just the way it is. Then he told me not to bother applying for a job there – look elsewhere, he says. By the way, Africans from countries that have more self-determination cannot understand the predicament those of us that work in the conservation empire find ourselves in. It is complicated discourse.

I keep sending out applications. I am writing my thesis, I am working (for survival), I am looking for jobs! It is hectic. The more time passes, the more I panic. At some point I see adverts by a university that was starting in Africa. They were talking about innovative methods of teaching, change, transformation, etc. They sounded like my kind of people. They advertise for some teaching positions and I apply for some of them. One time, the dean (who happens to be from Vancouver) contacts me. She tells me that she will be in Vancouver and we should meet. I see this as a very positive prospect for my job search. We meet in a café and have a very nice conversation. She then tells me that I would hear from the recruiting team. She also set up a meeting for me with the president/founder of the university. I was thinking my chances were good. After a couple of weeks, they contact me and we set up an interview. Part of the interview was to deliver a lesson to a mock undergraduate class about climate change. I had been a teaching assistant for a course on climate change in my university, so I drew from some of that material. Part of the panelists included a white man who had the most disinterested look on his face during the full duration of the interview.

Feedback after the interview?

Oh you do not seem to know much about climate change nor wildlife conservation?

Really?

Wildlife conservation? Where did that come from? Bizarre!

I told them off nicely and continued with my search. This position was to be based in Mauritius by the way. I was not really keen on moving to a whole new country, so I was not not too sad.

I applied for a project officer position at the African Union. They sent me a response saying I am not qualified. Not qualified? I even thought I was overqualified and I was thinking that I could start low and rise through the ranks. All because of love for Africa. Haaaa!! It is one of those abusive marriage kind of relationships. I decided to go for a higher level positions – I never heard nothing back from those. I applied for a managerial position in an African conservation organization. They sent me a response saying I am not qualified. Note: I had done consultancy work for this very org, but they told me I am not qualified. The plot thickens!

I was now beginning to feel like it was going to be absolutely impossible to find any work. At some point I had conversation with a fellow PhD student from Turkey. He had just finished his PhD and got a job – through connections/referrals. He told me as he got close to finishing his PhD he could not sleep. He used to wake up in the middle of the night and look at his wife and child and have a panic attack. He just did not know what to do. I realized that this job search thing is a huge source of stress for many PhD people. He is the one advised me to create a website. I do not think my website has ever helped in my job search, but I am glad that I have it.

After some months, I got another invitation for an interview. I was very optimistic about this one. It was for a role focusing on Africa, but based in Europe. I thought that could work. My house internet was not very good and this interview was happening very early in the morning. I took my 45-minute bus ride to campus to take advantage of university internet. The interview starts. The whole interview panel is white. I am taken aback but I keep a straight face and get through it. Towards the end of the interview one of the white ladies asks me: What does diversity mean to you?

I answered the question. I will never forget this as long as I live. This was an assault to all my senses and intelligence.

After the interview, I convened a Kamkunji with my Nepali and Ghanian friends to discuss this phenomenon. What? How dare? I did not get the job. The regret came weeks later.

There was a conference on campus. My supervisor advised me to attend because there were big shots from the Forestry sector and it would be good for networking. I find this thing called networking so hard. I generally find it difficult to talk to strangers. I really challenged myself and really talked to everyone and anyone I could find. One of the big shots wanted to go greet his colleague who worked in forestry. He did not know how to navigate campus so I offered to take him. It was a 20-minute walk and it was raining. I was hoping that would lead to a job but he flatly told me that they were not recruiting. I sort of gave up on job applications for a while. I started thinking of what business to do when I get back to the ‘shithole’. I signed up for a soap making course. I paid CAD 70/KES 5600 for that. I thought I could start that business nikirudi. At some point I started thinking that if it could get so bad, I could get a job at Starbucks serving coffee. Then I remembered that I had met a Kenyan scholar at a conference at the beginning of my PhD. He told me I should contact him when I complete my studies because they offer post-docs. A post-doc is …ah this is actually hard to explain. Its basically a research position but with pay. I was not too keen on post-docs because I felt like that would be like doing another PhD and my brain was fried at that point. Some post-docs are also teaching positions. Anyway, I reach out to him and then he tells me to get back in touch when in Kenya so that we can meet and discuss some possibilities.

I graduated and returned to Kenya without a plan other than to contact this scholar- and start making soap for sale! We have several meetings and work out some research project. The next hurdle was to secure funding for this project because their organization did not have enough money to fund the whole thing. It was to be a one year project. In the process of finding funding for the research project, my would be boss (a PhD holder and African) told the potential funder (a non- PhD holder, but white) that: PhD’s are cheap labour, so she should not worry about high salaries (for me) and things like that. Beggary can make you do and say strange things. Also, the power of the white-skin PhD can make people do strange things. This is not all. The white lady from the organization giving/considering to give funding is just a pill. And its one of those organizations that give you little money and break your back with bureaucracy and useless budgets and other nonsense. Ah bure kabisa!

By this time I have spent so much time and money attending meetings with these guys. I am getting totally TIRED. Luckily, a friend contacts me about some consultancy project and I get on board. I had told everybody and anybody who cared to listen that I was job hunting. That is how this friend contacted me. We work on this consultancy gig for a couple on months. Its my line of work so quite enjoyable and it takes my mind off thinking about this proposed research project, job search, etc. This also keeps me away from starting my soap business. Oh I had also gone to one of the malls and seen that there were so many people selling soap. That kind of poured water on my business idea. Also, I was not too confident about my soap business because the one I made in the class gave me rashes! On the flipside it smelled so good. I had used all my favourite essential oils- lavender, lemon verbena, lemon grass.

While working on the consultancy gig I always looked at Linkedin from time to time and sent in applications when I found a suitable job. But by this time I was totally JADED. I was just sending them in for the sake of it. Then one day I saw some job and lazily submitted an application. Surprisingly, they called me back. I had a series of job interviews and got it. I had sent over 300 applications and only got one. Job searching is a job in itself. Such a drain. The job is in my beloved field of conservation and is interesting so ninachapa kazi sawa sawa. At some point, I hear about a disease that is spreading around. COVID is the name. I am not too interested or concerned. I do not think it has something to do with me as such. I am just happy the disease has not emerged from Africa. If it had emerged from Africa, we would not hear the last of it. These African SavaGES have eaten bats again! The outbreal of Ebola showed me things. I was in N. America at the time and travel was a nightmare. I would go to the USA and return to Canada and the immigration officer asks me – have you been to Africa? Yeah, because Africa is a village- you can be in Ethiopia in the morning and walk to Sierra Leone to have lunch. I wish these people knew how hard for Africans to travel within Africa. Things unfold so quickly and within a very short time, I have no job – because of COVID! Ninapigwa na butwaa! Whaaaaat? It is back to the drawing board.

So now I am at it again. Sending in applications. Sometimes not bothering. And so on and so forth. Then I see a job in the very organization I told you about earlier in this post. The one where the white lady was interviewing me and my Ghanian housemate asking WHY! That one. I apply. They contact me. The same lady contacts me actually and asks to have an introductory call. It is a managerial position in the field of conservation. I have a look at the website. The staff is still SO WHITE. There are a few sprinkles of the darker races of the earth hapa na pale but it is pretty white. We have a short conversation-not more than 15 minutes. At the end of it she tells me that they will contact me about the next steps in the interview process. After about a week she sends me an email saying that I will not proceed with the interview process because they consider me to be unqualified for the position. Apparently, what I have is academic experience and they are looking for someone with hands on natural resource management experience.

The NERVE!

This field of conservation will be the end of me aki!

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I have academic experience? Me? I thought that I have more natural resource management experience than academic experience, but what do I know? I threw out all that stuff about not burning bridges blah and told her exactly what I thought. I not only burned the bridge, I bombed the bridge. Punda amechoka! Punguza mzigo! Why bother to call me if you do not think I am qualified? You can decipher about my qualifications or lack thereof from my application package, can’t you? Why waste people’s time with these calls and all this fluff? Given my vast experience in job searching, I think that a person looking for job is a very vulnerable person and should be treated with kindness, whether they get the job or not. Should I ever be in a position of power or in a position to interview people, I will do my level best not to traumatize people or just to be plain nasty. People can and should use power responsibly. There are too many bullies – ALL Over!

Why not look for jobs in universities, research agencies – such places? Aren’t those some of the places where people with PhD’s are supposed to work? Ideally, yes. BUT Kenya is not a merit-based nor straightforward society. When is the last time you saw job ads from these institutions? Most of them do not advertise. To get a job there you need to know someone or go and present yourself to say a Head of Department in the University and beg for a job. I am not quite comfortable with this method of job searching. I prefer the other more straightforward method of applying for jobs and going through the interview process. What is the issue with this one of kuomba kazi? I just feel like you will be beholden to the person who “gave” you the job – either in reality or emotionally. It is a burden I do not want to deal with. I am also afraid of sexual harassment. The thought of going to these offices occupied by men (yes, most of them are men) terrifies me.

So, I am thinking of starting a biashara of selling fabric from west Africa but then there is this COVID thingy! There is an excellent article by Dr. Mordecai Ogada about the politics of the origin of COVID. I am not sure who has eaten bats, pangolins, snakes, or whatever else and if the source is from these so-called wet markets – All I know is that I have nothing to EAT – metaphorically speaking. At the peak of COVID I used to have these stressful dreams. In one of them, I was with my uncle. We saw a lioness. I told him to just leave it alone. He did not listen to me. He went ahead and kicked it in the stomach! The lioness was F-U-R-I-O-U-S. None of us needed to be told what to do next. Run for dear life. We ran and ran and ran!!! The lioness was behind us in hot pursuit!! We got to a small house that was raised on stilts and barged through the door and barricaded ourselves inside just in time. I was so angry with my uncle I was not talking to him. Hapo ndio COVID shenanigans zimenifikisha! Naomba serikali inisaidie!!! na iingilie kati!!

THE END.

I am trying to monetize this blog. Please share widely within your networks. There might be other people who might like these ramblings.

Other blogposts in these series (in order):

  1. How to apply for graduate school in north America
  2. Surviving in the west as an African graduate student: Stories from the first year of my PhD
  3. Tips for surviving in the west as an African graduate student
  4. Racism in the west: Stories from an African graduate student

Surviving in the west as an African graduate student: stories from the first year of my PhD

If you have not read my previous blog on how to apply for graduate school in North America, I suggest you start with that one. This is a follow up on that. So, after getting the visa and all, I prepare to leave to the land of milk and honey-as is portrayed to those of us in “shithole countries”. I flew from JKIA – Heathrow – Vancouver. One of the first things that I noticed at YVR (Vancouver airport) was beautiful carvings and art of the indigenous peoples of Canada. I thought to myself: ah these people really respect indigenous people and their culture. Let me just tell you – ignorance is very, VERY bad. This was a very naive thought, as we shall see below.

I was on my own. I had booked a hostel where I would spend the night because university accommodation would not be open at that time. I took a taxi from YVR to the hostel. On the way, I noticed a few potholes or roughness on the road. You mean they have such here? I checked in the hostel with my massive baggage. My room was on the third floor. None of the three people at the reception offered to help me with any of it. Quite the welcome! Did I say it was in Winter? I settled into my room and barely slept that night. Jetlag. One of my professors came and picked me up and dropped off at my university accommodation. I had been used to living in a big house with a nice view of the Ngong hills and now I was living in a studio apartment..by the way, this is a fancy name for a bedsitter. And the rent was CAD 800 per month. That is about KES 64,000. I had read on the university website that one could find accommodation outside the university but I did not know how to go about that. I decided I will start by living on campus and figure it out from there. 

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I had been in touch with some students in my department and one of them and her husband came to take me grocery shopping and show me other places to buy stuff. They told me that I should buy second hand things in a thrift store as this would be cheaper. My first shopping bill for a few items at the supermarket came to CAD 80/ KES 6400. I was beginning to see first hand, just how expensive Vancouver can be. These new friends helped me do a few other things to settle in. I spent the first few days familiarizing myself with the large campus. One of the first places I visited was the Museum of Anthropology on campus. Here again were stunning displays of First Nations art and  other collections. There was a gallery for almost every continent. The African one was small and the sign clearly indicated that these objects were derived from missionaries and colonial officials who had been in African countries during the colonial period. Having worked in the heritage field and having known a little about the politics of museums, I was not too surprised. But I just felt violated being in that African section. I got out of the Museum at 5pm. As soon as I stepped out, I realized it was dark! Dark at 5 pm? Winter. 

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I met my supervisors after a few days and we discussed the classes I would take. I found the teaching method to be too boring and unengaging. This is a top-tier research university so the emphasis is on research. I was the sole African student in all the classes I took. It was an uncomfortable experience. In one of the classes we had to do group work. I, of course, ended up in an all white students group – all women. I made a mistake of citing wikipedia in one section of the assignments. One of them launched into lecture mode about how that is not an academic source. I felt quite vindicated when I learnt that there is a professor in the same university who allows the use of wikipedia a source. This is controversial. Some of the information in Wikipedia is even more factual than what you find in some academic papers. The politics of the aKAdemy! There was general cold treatment from the whole lot of students in my group. When they gave me attitude, I returned the favour. I could not wait for all these classes to end so that I could focus on my research. I did not want to deal with these twits and their racism. In one of the classes I met a student from Nepal, who would become a dear, dear friend. She still is. The sole good thing to come out of all the classes I took. Two of us at a fireworks show on one of the beaches in Vancouver. She is probably the main reason why I survived the whole PhD thing without a mental breakdown!

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I registered to participate in two conferences on campus. The first one was in the faculty of forestry. I gave a presentation about forests and indigenous knowledge systems and even won an award for that. I also attended another conference organized by indigenous peoples. At this conference I met a student from Nigeria. She was in the Faculty of Education and asked me if I had met the Kenyan professor who worked there. I hadn’t so he offered to introduce me. We talked about housing and it turned out that she was living on campus and also wanted to move out to find cheaper housing. We agreed to stay in touch and look for housing together.  This student shared with me about two important tips for survival – shop in the dollar store and also buy no name brands. I will explain about these in the next blog post.

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I had been doing my financial calculations on how to survive in Vancouver and things were just not adding up. I was under immense stress. I used to have these massive headaches that could just not go away. I had carried some little savings and even that was dwindling quite fast. One day my mum calls me and asks: are you experiencing racism? I do not recall what I told her. I had not fully grasped the nuance of racism there as yet. We talked about financial difficulties and family members suggested that they could contribute and send some money. I say NO because the place is so expensive it will just end up bankrupting everybody. I could not sleep on some nights. I started applying for jobs!! I heard nothing back from most of them. A friend who had studied in the USA told me that he had done a job related to raising funds for the university from the alumni. This job happens in a call centre. You call alumni and fundraise for the uni. The more you raise, the more you are paid. I applied for that job, got I interviewed and I got it. I hated it. I am person who generally hates begging and I just found it too difficult. Call it what you may, but FUNDRAISING =begging. You call people, they hang up, those who pick up quickly drop the phone when they realize it’s about money, and to make matters worse, the majority cannot understand your accent!! One day I called and someone picked the call. I spoke to her. She said she did not have money to give. She was disabled and on a wheel chair, and was willing to donate her time if that option was available. When I shared all of this with my supervisor, he told me they were not interested in such offers. They were only concerned about raising money. I could not wait for the shift to end each day I had to go there. I was MISERABLE. I did not last for two weeks in that job. I quit and was back to the drawing board. Luckily the Nigerian student I had met told me that she had found housing outside campus and if I did not mind, we could share that house. It was a two bedroom house and each one of us would pay CAD 500/KES 40,000. We would be commuting on the bus for 45 minutes each way. This was a glimmer of hope. If I cut my rent cost, the financial pressure would ease. We pursued this option. At the end of the semester we moved into this house. How I hated campus housing. It was like living in a dorm!! I felt the sweet smell of freedom when I started living off campus.

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One day while I still lived in campus, I met a Canadian man as I was walking to the faculty. He stopped to chat. Where are you from? What are you studying? Then he proceeded to say: be wary of Canadians, they will smile at you, but stab you in the back when you turn away. This was a total stranger. We said our goodbyes and each of us went on their way. While I lived on campus I borrowed a heater from the administration because it was too cold. I was supposed to return it by a certain date. I exceeded that date and had to pay a fine. The admin sent the floor representative to my room. A white woman. She can smiling but I later learnt that she went and reported me to the admin that my room was too hot. The admin lady gave me a lecture about how their heating system cannot go as high as temperatures in “Tropical countries”…yada yada.  The only good thing about living on campus is that I found a 5 dollar note in one of the flower beds. I was so excited that day!

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Oh I forgot to tell you something else. I had my umbrella stolen the very first class I attended in the faculty of forestry. It was raining. I sat in the lobby to wait for my class to start. I forgot my umbrella there and when I went to check, it was missing. This was one of those small umbrerra!! umbrerra! hawkers start selling in Nairobi once it starts raining. Now I had to buy an umbrella and that cost me CAD 20. This one was also stolen later on. Yes, there are thieves in Canada too. I really felt the pinch of spending so much on an umbrella. This was the most expensive umbrella I had ever bought.

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One day while I still lived in campus I decided to go to the student union building to get free food in order to cut costs. Someone had told me that there is a group that gives free food there on certain days. I went there and there was a few people lining up with food containers. I was so ashamed. I was like..am I actually lining up for food aid!!?? I did not last 3 minutes on that line. I went back to my bedsitter. I drafted a letter toy former boss asking him for my job back because this PhD thing was simply not working out. I was ready to call it quits before even a semester was over! Somehow I ended up not sending the letter. Then I met a Kenyan professor who taught there and we talked at length. I shared all my sorrows and frustrations. He told me to try look for jobs in the department and he told me that my supervisor should be supporting me in all this. He also underscored that quiting was not an option. He told me that such opportunities do not come by just like that. The scholarship I had was extremely competitive and he made me realize that I should appreciate that no matter how hard things were. He also linked me up with other African students. One of them was so wonderful. She was a nun from Uganda. When we first met, she told me: I know you must be feeling like a fish on land! She understood my struggles. Luckily after the first semester one of my committee members had some research funding and attached me on that project and I started earning some money. I also moved out of campus and was saving on rent. I survived the first semester. 

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One of the major stresses I had was thinking that I would be stuck there and not even be able to afford a ticket to go home. When I started working, my sole interest was saving money in order to get a ticket to go home. By August, I had found the cheapest ticket possible with the longest layover in Europe, but I was happy not to be spending another winter(December -March) there. I thought I would kiss the ground at JKIA like Arafat would do in the Gaza strip. I spent that winter in Kenya laying the groundwork for my research. I had at this point figured out my research topic. That was also quite a HUSTLE. At the beginning I wanted to study community forest associations and forest governance in Kenya. As I read through various literature, I shifted my topic to understanding people-forest relationships through the lens of indigenous knowledge systems. At some point in my first year, I met a fellow graduate student from Peru. We got talking about research methods. She showed me a book she was using- Indigenous research methodologies by Chilisa Bagele. She lent me the book for the weekend. Once I started reading it, I was hooked. I had never heard of indigenous research methodologies never mind, indigenous theories. This was a watershed moment.

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Here was a book by an African scholar who spoke to my struggles, thoughts, experiences. I had always thought of research as a dry sterile experience characterized by formulating hypotheses, being OBJECTIVE, detached , etc. Chilisa challenges all of these notions and advocates for research processes that tap into our emotions, feelings, experiences, etc. Her work led me to the work of other Indigenous scholars like Maori scholar Linda Smith, Canadian First Nations scholars like Wilson , Kovach and others . All these scholars were calling for a critical examination of conventional research methodologies and proposing novel research strategies that get to the core of the struggle of their communities. From this point, my research got really interesting. I could see a whole new world of possibilities. 

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Indigenous scholarship led me to indigenous politics and struggles. I got really interested in this because it resonated so much with the struggles of African people. For those that are not familiar with this, Indigenous People/First Nations are the original inhabitants of North America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand. Like Africans, their lands were conquered by through unparalleled European greed and savagery, their land was stolen, and in some cases they were hunted down to extinction. In the Case of Canada, deliberate attempts were made to exterminate them through amongst other methods giving them blankets laced with leprosy. At the time of conquest the population was estimated to be between 300,000-500,000. By 1867 this had come down to 100,00-125,000. Do the math! For those that remained, they were told their culture and norms are barbaric and that’s they should be civilized/ be like Europeans. Deliberate strategies were put in place by the government to achieve this mainly through what was referred to as residential schools. Indigenous children were striped from their families and enrolled in these institutions established in collaboration with churches. The legacy of these schools is a dark one. Massive molestation of children by clergy and other forms of abuse were documented. Indigenous scholarship is firmly hinged on this painful history and is unapologetically aimed at emancipation of indigenous peoples from multiple and intersecting forms of oppression. Their works resonated with me because, as I said, it mirrors the struggles of African societies. 

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Ultimately, the first year was rough, baptism by fire. In the next blog I will share some tips for survival for African graduate students.