Dr Amina, you are incredibly talented, and you have achieved so much. What drives you? Maybe tell me more about your early life.

My early life has shaped my adult life. I have heard people say, Amina, you are lucky with where you are. Things seem to come naturally to you. Well, maybe luck has something to do with it, but I strongly believe you cannot really appreciate where you are without challenges. Many adults were born rich but live a very unfulfilled life. A few months ago, someone reminded me about the power of the personal story, which I seem to have lost as I have gained more experience and academic credentials. So, I hope you have a bit more time as I will tell you my personal and very candid story.

Yes, over my life, I have had some achievements. I have pushed boundaries, and I have travelled to many countries around the world, both for work and training and holidays with my children. However, it all did not start out that way. I thank my neurodivergence, even if it took me over 40 years to understand my neurodivergence and my upbringing for where I am now. While many would talk about a stable childhood with parents who supported their dreams, mine was the opposite, actually. I have struggled to fit in the neurotypical world. I have masked to the point of exhaustion. Now, this is not a complaint because it all makes me who I am today. Front and centre of all the mess that is me are my four daughters. They drive me to be better all the time.

My childhood

Allow me to start with a quote from one author I admire.

“It does not matter where you are coming from. All that matters is where you are going”, Brian Tracy

I was born in Mtendere, a shanty township in Lusaka, Zambia. My mum had ten children, and I was the tenth child. Growing up, my life was confusing because, being the youngest of ten (eight living at the time), I spent holidays and some weekends away from my mum. On some holidays and weekends, I lived with my older sisters or aunties. While my mum had little, the other houses I lived in had televisions, electricity, and decent food.

Nonetheless, I missed home and the love Mum had for me. In addition to the many houses where I lived, I moved around with my immediate elder sister, and we spent holidays with our dad. I felt shielded and loved by her. Unfortunately, when I was about nine years old, my immediate sister, who was my best friend, was moved from mum’s house, which eventually left only my brother, who was ten years older than me and myself alone. He was in secondary school, and I was in primary school. I remember the lovely days from about fifth to seventh grade, at home with Mum, my elder brother, and me. We did not have much, but it was a beautiful life; I had adjusted to not having my immediate elder sister at home. That said, we had other relatives living with us whom my mum was helping, so it did not really feel lonely. However, my life took a different turn when I was 12 years old. My mum got terribly ill, and it was decided that I was going to live with one of my elder sisters. Yet again, it was a change I had to adjust to. I was taken out of Lusaka to a town that was about a 12-hour bus journey to get back to my mum. I missed her dearly, though I now get to see her maybe two to three times a year and mostly for a few days at a time.

Invisibly Visible

As a young person, I often found myself sitting on the sidelines, visible yet feeling invisible. With all the changes, moving from house to house, experiencing both the poor and comfortable life depending on which house I was in, I wondered who I was and why I was not like everybody else. Sometimes, in some homes, I felt loved and cared for, even pampered a bit, whereas in others, I was invisible, and I had to work for my keep. I was sent to boarding school just before my thirteenth birthday, where I was to spend the next six years of my teenage life. We broke off from school every three months. Then it was but to my Ping-Pong life with no regular home to go to. By then, my mum was really not in a position to look after me, so it was sisters and aunties. I know she loved me very much, but it was the arrangements that had been agreed, as since her illness, she had not really worked to support me. I stopped going to my dad’s house for holidays at 14 years old due to the treatment I received from my stepmum. My sisters were paying for my education, so they made most of the decisions about my life.

Because I did not do very well in primary school and missed the pass mark by a few points, I was placed in a boarding school that fit my results; it was basic in both teaching and food. The food was mainly nshima and rice with beans and cabbage cooked in drums; occasionally, we had chicken or beef, but that was exceedingly rare, and it was the survival of the fittest. It was then, at the age of fifteen, that I took matters into my own hands, and my life started feeling like I was, for once, in control. I loved being at boarding school. I enjoyed a life where I had no expectations of anyone caring for me. It just felt right to me, and I became a bit of a troublemaker. I enjoyed being at boarding school so much that I hated having to go to my family for a month every quarter as I did not know which house I would end up living in for the month. Some I liked and was treated well, and some it was a struggle. The one thing I am lucky for is that I somehow grasped things at school quickly despite being a bit of a challenge for some of my teachers.

Curving My Path

After struggling to feel like I genuinely belonged for most of my life, I decided that I was going to work hard and do the best I could for myself. I did not know what my life would turn out to be or where I would end up, but I learned to grab opportunities and work hard to get what I wanted. Luckily for me, there was not much guidance on how to be, so I just made up the rules as I went. I took risks. I was free from my limitations as no one really told me what I could do. A few people told me I could not do certain things or amount to anything, but I took those comments as a challenge. So much so that I lived my life like I had points to prove until in my forties.

My life was also filled with the grief of losing both my parents suddenly. My dad when I was 21 years of age and mum when I was twenty-four. I had also lost my grandma and two siblings, who were my comforters by the age of eighteen. As of now, I only have two living siblings. It has taken me therapy and real reflection to begin to process some of my challenges and see the many positives and achievements as deserved.

So, as a neurodivergent and proud twice divorcee mother of four daughters spanning four decades, I have gained valuable insights into the importance of not settling for what is not working and navigating societal pressures. Drawing from personal experiences, I am committed to helping other women confront the challenges of balancing their professional and personal lives as complete individuals.

Now, I have turned my transformation into my work, and I help people to author books about their lives, whatever they choose to write about. I have contributed to a number of books, some of which have even won awards. I believe some of us are lost because no one told us the stories about our origins. I believe that through sharing and writing, we leave a legacy for our loved ones. I aim to help people to unlock their potential and start enjoying life like never before. I have spoken to audiences internationally about my life and career. I believe that writing books and impacting others through speaking have earned me the international keynote speaker and author credential. I am enthusiastic about equity and inclusion in leadership and improving organisational culture.