Dr Aysha Edwards: Caribbean Girl…

With a postgraduate degree in Emergency Medicine from the University of the West Indies, he worked in medical institutions in his country for five years (and was involved in politics briefly as an independent senator in parliament) before coming to Kenya in 2017 where he joined Nairobi Hospital. for three years. He then joined AAR in 2020 as Director of Clinical Services and worked his way up to his current position as CEO.

You wouldn’t say she’s an island girl by looking at her but you can hear it in her pronunciation; Thika Road is Tika Road, Bat-day birthday, and afterthought after-tot. He laughs unmistakably from the island; monatomic, bulbous and filled with sunlight and coconut white.

(laughs) You don’t know it’s heaven until after you leave. I grew up in a fishing village, so I ate a lot of seafood. It’s a very close-knit community, very religious. I remember as a child going to the Methodist church with my grandmother at 7 am and after that, I would go with my aunt and grandfather to the Anglican church at nine. So two services. Then Sunday afternoon school.

For the first 11 years of my life, I was just a girl. I have an older brother and a younger sister. After 11, I got two sisters. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother who made me who I am. A lot of my confidence comes from him. When I lived with him, he got up at 4 in the morning to read the Bible and pray together.

My grandmother was the first female ambulance driver in Tobago. She works hard as a working woman, wife, grandmother, etc. He gave of himself and gave to the less fortunate. For my birthday, my mom would take us to give to the less fortunate. I was loved and protected as a child. My dad respected me and thought I was a star – until I got a little sister. (Laugh)

Yes, I spend a lot of time at the beach. Literally walking distance, less than 10 minutes. Summers were fantastic. Before we moved to Trinidad, the bigger island, we lived in Tobago, but my father worked in Trinidad.

Tobago is a smaller island, maybe with a population of 1.4 million? I remember when I moved to Kenya, one of my friend’s mothers, she is a lawyer, asked me, ‘Where are you from?’ I told him. So he quickly Googled, looked at the population, and asked, ‘Do you have a street?’ (laughing loudly).

When I was about five years old, I saw many missionaries come to our island. Pentecost. Some of these missionaries were doctors and teachers, and I was amazed at what they did.

That causes a sense of duty and inner purpose for humans. My mother wanted me to be a lawyer but in high school, I discovered that I was very good at science and I knew that God had put me on this planet. That is my service to Him.

(Long pause) It’s a tough question, but I like it. Do I know that He wants me to do that or am I sure that God wants me to do that? (Pause) I think there is an inner calling within us that tells us where we need to be.

Then there is the desire for self. Sometimes the two converge. For me, the inner call is just the voice of God.

(laughs) No, I’m not one to take it for granted. My mother reminded me that when I was a child, I would say that I would live in Africa, but I thought it was in Ethiopia. In medical school, I thought I would live in Botswana because I met a lot of guys from Botswana and Malawi.

In Trinidad and Tobago, the concept of moving to Africa is not foreign to us. Of course, I didn’t plan to move but when I moved I knew some Kenyans living in Trinidad and Tobago. But coming to Kenya I immediately felt at home. I see a few people and maybe they have something to do with me. I don’t stand out physically, I can tell it’s different.

(Chuckles) The funny thing is, when I go home, people say, ‘Oh my God, you’re really African!’ And I was so offended. What do you mean I sound African? You know, when I first came to Kenya, I was like, ‘Oh my God, this is my nation. I can recognize it!’ I don’t feel out of the way. Second, the growing image we see in Africa is poverty. Everything is bad. When I told my friends I was moving, they were like, ‘Going to Africa? Are you serious? To live next to a lion?’ And this is an adult, by the way. (Laugh)

Anyway, I expected poverty, which I saw. But I didn’t expect to see wealth at the level I saw. Africa is like a paradox. I was also surprised by the sheer size of Kenya. My God, my whole country could sit in one part of Nairobi. When family and friends come over, they’re usually like, ‘People don’t tell you how big Africa is. They make it look like it’s a small, afterthought.’

No one talks about the power the continent has. I was struck by the beauty of Kenya, and the warmth of the population. Men here are smart. Sometimes I wonder if they have some of the exposure that kids do, let’s say, in America. Can you imagine what this country could do if we only invest in the youth?

My husband, who is also from Trinidad and Tobago, moved here for work, but before he did, we had a discussion. Do we have a long-distance marriage for two years or do we both move here for two years? We decided to move together. At the end of two years, they were like, ‘Okay, can we go back?’ I was like, ‘What? I stay here, I like it here. You are free to return.’ (Laugh). So we are still here. Against his will.

He did it. I wonder if he can say that he has settled here. If he could jump on the next plane, he would. I – on the other hand – don’t miss home too much. I have become a Kenyan. Kenya is home. I’m not going anywhere.

There are so many. As a woman, there is still a perception that you should be very quiet. A lady should not have a strong opinion on the matter. It is unlady-like. Saying it is bad for a woman. You are supposed to be a wallflower because this is supposed to be a ceremonial role. I’ve been in meetings where I was the only woman in the room, so I had to ask to be seen, to be heard.

Someone told me I should be like the German Chancellor. “You have to be emotionless to survive in this pool,” he said. Because when you show emotion you are emotional. But it’s not me, I’m a container of emotions.

There’s an older guy, who I sometimes go to for advice, and he says, “You’re young, you’re learning. When I was your age, I went through the same thing or worse. I think you’re better than me.” When you get to the table, stake a claim. Don’t be a wallflower. It’s not funny.

(Long pause) Very interesting question, Biko. This is difficult. (Rest). I don’t know. I know it helps to be an attractive male lead, sure. But for women, it can also cut both ways if you fumble and fail, it will be reduced to beauty. (Pause) But that’s a question I’ll think about again after this.

Where did you get that question from? (laughs) interesting. (Pause) I keep saying I need balance but I don’t believe in work-life balance. Different things have different priorities at different times. My community I will work with more. I’m an extrovert introvert but by nature, I like to be alone, yes but also with family and friends.

yes already. There are days when I’m like, ‘Yeah, but am I in the right place this time?’ To become a doctor you study for many years, you have to sacrifice a lot, and then at some point, you become management, and you think ‘So you went to school all these years, can’t you do management? title? Do you have to go that way?’

But I see him every weekend when we video call. My father too. My parents are now divorced. My dad is really funny. If I said I would come home, he would probably ask, “Why? Are you coming for money or are you bringing money for me?” (laughs out loud)

For the longest time I thought my name was Knock. Everyone calls me Knock. It was only when I was, maybe 4 years old, that I had to learn my name for some entrance exams, that I realized that my name was actually Aysha and not Knock.

Turns out Knock is actually my nickname because when I was a kid I walked into a room without knocking and someone yelled, “Knock!” Even to this day, I suspect I have an uncle who doesn’t know my name. They only know me as Knock.