My Story
Photo: Vadim Gran
I’ve always been drawn to stories — first as a quiet, creative, curious kid, then as a bullied teen who learned to switch off that part of myself. Fortunately, improv helped me find my way back. :)
Growing up in Nairobi, Kenya, I spent summers lost in books, crafting (my books and art were scattered all over our house), dancing and watching TV. I loved it, my imagination running wild. We didn’t have cable, so with limited TV channels, I devoured whatever was on—90s sitcoms, telenovelas, soap operas I was too young to understand, and endless newsfeeds. I’d check TV listings, record my favorite shows on VHS, and rewatch them endlessly.
Without knowing it, I was absorbing everything — characters, comedic timing, genre, motives, settings, story structure. I didn’t have the words for it then, but my narrative brain was already at work.
I was lucky to attend a school that nurtured creativity, rewarded effort, and encouraged extracurriculars like music, dance, and theatre. It had one of the biggest performance theatres in the city, known for its grand musicals and pantomimes.
My big stage debut came at age 7 in Peter Pan as Nana the dog — no lines, just barks. Later, I had a small role in The King and I and took part in elaborate class plays, where every production felt like a full-scale event. These early performances sparked my love for storytelling and the stage.
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I absolutely loved seeing how serious adults were about play. It mattered. This mattered to them as much as it mattered to us kids.
My first taste of improv came through extracurricular LAMDA Speech & Drama classes, where we’d gather to play improv games, work on character development, and focus on expression. We practiced memorizing and performing poems and monologues with intention, enunciation, and emotion, culminating in an evaluated performance each semester.
Regrettably, I dismissed the performing arts as a potential career path, perhaps because it wasn’t seen as a core subject and felt more like a nice addition to the “real” curriculum. And I didn’t personally know or see anyone grow up and pursue a creative or artistic path. Shame.
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Playing small
Around 12 or 13, the focus shifted to academics and the pressure to get into a good university, leaving little space for my creativity. Moving from a diverse, well-rounded school to a competitive high school that prioritized sciences and business was a shock. While I did well academically and made friends, my creative side was stifled, and the bullying I faced made it harder to express my authenticity. My self-esteem took a hit, and I retreated into academics, tying my worth to grades and falling into a cycle of school-homework-sleep-repeat.
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Nairobi 🇰🇪→ Montreal 🇨🇦
At 18, I moved to Montreal for university, juggling a full course load with a 20-30 hour workweek to pay for school. The commute was long, and the balance between work, school, and life was non-existent. I was constantly sleep-deprived and burnt out, but I pushed through without really questioning why. I didn’t have anyone to guide or ask me “Hey girl, you good? Why are you doing the most? Why is your job so far away? This is not normal - or okay!”, and I just followed the outdated/immigrant M.O. of “do more, work harder” mentality. Looking back, I realize I could have used some guidance—maybe even a reminder to slow down—but I kept going, determined to make it work.
The moment that sparked the beginning of everything.
During my fourth year, I found the time and courage to attend an improv workshop at Montreal Improv. It was a gift to myself, reconnecting me with a curious, lively part of me. I had no idea how that decision would change everything.
After graduation, with friends leaving Montreal and stuck in an unfulfilling desk job, my commitment to improv solidified. I dove in headfirst, and soon, things began to take off. I dove in headfirst, and soon, things began to take off. The community grew, performances increased, and I found myself in a creative flow I had never experienced before. At 23, I even wrote and performed my first solo comedy play, which was terrifying, exhilarating, and well-received.
The double life — person by day, performer by night — felt seamless.
I was the first South-Asian improvisor and among the first women of colour in Montreal’s improv scene, following trailblazers like Ana de Lara, Léa Rondot, and Vanessa Matsui.
I said yes (ok fine, Yes And) to every show or opportunity that came my way — house teams, new troupes, new formats, travel and improv festivals! In 2016, I took the leap into teaching, completing my teacher training and leading classes at Montreal Improv
Through 14 years of ups, ups, downs, and everything in between, improv remained my constant—through successes, setbacks, burnout, career changes, a global pandemic, an apartment fire, an injury, and more.
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What Improv had provided me was a form of inner child and inner teen healing, fueled creativity, a chosen family away from home, playfulness and ease, and quite frankly, the valuable emotional intelligence, kindness and leadership skills I was hard-pressed to find in a concerning number of adults at my day-to-day work.
On healing
Growing up in a constant state of hyper-vigilance, focused solely on everyday survival, being present in the moment and following the fun can be elusive. Improv, however, afforded me small and significant pockets of respite from this relentless state, allowing me to simply be, to embrace the present, and to sharpen those instincts. Moreover, the keen observational skills I developed during those hyper-vigilant years became a gift in these instances.
On survival mode
None of this happened overnight. Improv taught me how to keep showing up, even on days when I didn’t feel like it - which a lot of us struggle with. Showing up consistently for 13 years regardless of the expected outcome or any special circumstances resulted in steady progress and had me prepared for the opportunities that came my way. Just as lifting weights doesn’t immediately reveal your strengthened muscles, creative muscle growth takes time. I was also very lucky to work with people and mentors who believed in me before I believed in myself.
On discipline
Improv also strengthened my writing skills and led to sketch-writing, playwriting, wonderful collaborations, and many shows and festivals. Eventually I even got to be part of a TV writer’s room, and establish a career as a professional copywriter, working with notable brands and companies.
On writing
I didn’t go the traditional theatre school route. Once again, I got my bones in improv, armed with a diverse skill set including narrative training, character development, listening and responding, committing to a choice, exploring fears and desires, inner quests and outer quests, navigating a myriad of emotions, and most importantly, the ability to authentically bring myself and my truth to a performance.
On acting
Numerous factors and circumstances often conspired to make it seem like “this wasn’t supposed to happen.” But against all odds, it did. And I’m grateful. Growing up, the idea of living in another country without my family was scary; the thought of performing in front of anyone, let alone an entire audience was terrifying; a numbers-and-facts gal becoming a prolific writer made no sense; acting on stage or screen (Me!?) was beyond the realms of possibility.
To be honest, I’m not even entirely sure how I made it this far except to say that my journey is a tapestry woven with fun, fear, unrelenting hard work and countless miracles (many more stories to tell). It’s hard to convey the magnitude of stress, setbacks, moments of defeat and dissociation alongside all the “victories.” But through sheer grit, willpower, stubbornness and blind faith, I was determined to keep nurturing the very thing that brought me joy and refusing to up on some dreams.