My academic journey started when I decided to run away from Nigeria—I’m joking! I was supposed to go to medical school, but I was fortunate enough to get a United World College (UWC) scholarship. I went to Pearson UWC and did my International Baccalaureate. Then I got another scholarship to go to Trent University in Ontario, where I double majored in chemistry and economics and minored in English. After that, I moved to Texas and did my PhD in chemistry at the University of Houston. Next I did a short postdoc at the National Cancer Institute in Frederick, Maryland. After that, I went to industry briefly. I’ve been in different academic positions ever since.

I was already behind because I didn't speak French and I was constantly changing schools. Once we had a more stable situation, I couldn't keep up anymore, I couldn't catch up. It was a shock for me because in Algeria, I was always top of the class and, suddenly, I found myself last. And all my dreams, everything I wanted to do since I was little, I knew it was no longer going to be possible. I had to find another solution.

I wanted to be the exception to the other kids, but in the right way. We have a lot of suffering in our part of the world, but that suffering is, in a way, a blessing. Obviously, I could not afford to go to school without a scholarship, so that meant I had to excel in order to get one.

From the time I was a child, I was told I would be an actor. Deep down I did know that too, but I was rebellious. I went to Jamnabai Narsee School, and then the American School, where my grades were really good. My parents weren't keen on me going abroad to study, but I was adamant, so I took off for Boston University. I started getting film offers on a summer break here, so I never returned. But I really enjoyed my psychology class.

There were situations that were hard for parents to turn down. It's difficult to turn down a chance to star with Laurence Olivier, to say, 'No, she has to go to school'. They had a big decision to make ... I was interested in everything. I wanted to be a scientist. I would've loved to go on and on at university. But you can't do everything in life.

I started studying in France, where I passed my medical exam and my state doctorate. When I returned to Africa,I wanted to specialize in a field of research that is important to my compatriots. Malaria kills thousands of people in Africa every year. I want not only to fight this disease.

I wanted to continue with school because my mother was denied an education and she always told us if she went to school she would have been a different person, so I talked to my dad and told him I can only go through the genital mutilation if he lets me go back to school.

I didn't fail out. I dropped out. I did not fail. I was actually a pretty good student. My problem was that I didn't know what I wanted to study. What was I going to go in? Undecided? I took a class on Zionist theory. I took classes that interested me, that weren't necessarily for a specific degree. Then I realized and spoke to my parents and I said, 'I do love what I do and I want to pursue it.' They were like, 'Oh, why don't you just drop out.'

In high school, I was very good in math and physics. I wasn’t good at much of anything else. Some people are good at a lot of things. I don’t know how they choose what to do. I couldn’t do athletic stuff, I wasn’t artistic, I have no musical ear, and I wasn’t good at writing. So I was pretty narrow in what I could do. I wasn’t thinking, “Can I do science?” I was thinking, “That’s the only thing I can do, so let’s do it."

I went to college to study drama where I discovered I had no talent and after a period of dropping out majored in cultural anthropology which of course meant more masks and dancing … I studied what interested me and so I had to become a writer because my education had left me unsuited for a decent well-paying job.

My mother was mistrustful of the education system, so it was all right with her if we didn't go to school. She was taking us to Truffaut films, and I was busy getting through a Knut Hamsun book or something, so she felt satisfied we weren't wasting our lives watching The Brady Bunch. Because of where we lived, I would've had to go to Belmont High, so the year I was supposed to start high school I tried to get into the High School for the Performing Arts, which had just opened. I sent them a tape of me playing blues guitar and some short stories I'd written, but they didn't want me.

My own education, which is the one I know most about, has been haphazard, a hit-and-miss affair that was and continues to be thoroughly delightful. I came into the world with two priceless advantages: good health and a love of learning. When I left school at the age of fifteen I was halfway through the tenth grade. I left for two reasons, economic necessity being the first of them. More important was that school was interfering with my education.

Another motivating factor was when Professor Solomon Irein Wangboje came to my college and selected the best painting for the cover of his book, ‘Art for Secondary schools’. I was really elated and inspired to see my art on the front cover of a book used by the entire school. When I finally opted to study fine arts, my parents were not excited at all. Even my mother who was an artist told me art was not recognised in Nigeria and that if I wanted to be successful, it was better to study some other course like law. They felt I could do something more ‘prestigious’ and more acceptable in the Nigeria of that time. I insisted because I believed I had enough passion and skill to forge ahead. However they gave me full support while I was in school. I received the best student prize at the University of Benin, the same prize she had received ten years before. My artistic project during the National Youth Service earned me a national award. By this time, I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me I was on the right path.

That sense of being an outcast continued into high school. “I just wasn’t popular; I cried a lot, I was very shy. I would cover my head with a blazer. I wouldn’t be able to talk – I just was a loner. And my only escape was the music room.