Mama The Executive: Part III
Mama, Kofi Annan, and President Clinton
After arriving in New York, Wagi wandered the streets of Queens and Manhattan, shocked by it all. The lights, the cars, the fashion: she took it all in. According to her accounts, she even watched Purple Rain in the movie theater and nearly had a heart attack. This was the 1980s in New York City: the era where Michael Jackson, Lionel Ritchie, Diana Ross, Sade, and the early beginnings of modern day hip-hop reigned. Wagi, more of a homebody than a party animal, spent her early days in the US watching The Cosby Show, Different Strokes, and The Jeffersons: shows she’d introduce to me once I was elementary-school aged, and wholesome TV series I fully intend to pass down to my children.
Once the shock of the United States and New York City wore off, Wagi realized she needed to find a job. She set out to office buildings with her resume in hand (or “CV”, as she called it). After 3-months of living with her close friend and job hunting with no success, she received a call one day inviting her to take a secretarial typing test at the United Nations. Back then, that was how secretaries were tested prior to hiring: they were given a typing exam to see how quickly and accurately they could type on a typewriter. (To all my early millennials, think of this as the ultimate Mavis Beacon test. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’re not an early millennial.)
Now if you read my previous post in this series, you’ll know that Wagi was graduated at the top of her class from her competitive secretarial school in Addis Ababa. So what do you think she did on that test?
Crushed it
Crushed it
Crushed it
If you selected ‘Crushed It’, you’re a smart cookie! She crushed it and landed a role as a secretary at a world respected coalition tasked with maintaining world peace. No big deal.
Soon after, she began working for a young African leader named Kofi Annan. They hit it off and as he grew in his position and authority, he continued to insist that he keep his secretary and his trusted advisor. Through the years, Uncle Kofi and his wife, Nane, became family to us. They hosted my mom’s baby shower when she was pregnant with me. They came over to our home for dinner, and we went over to theirs. Ama, Uncle Kofi’s daughter, had a posh British accent and a fabulous sense of style. The Annans weren’t political powerhouses to us: they were family.
In 1996, I was came home from the second grade and was on pins and needles because I had prayed for Uncle Kofi to “get the cool job” aka. he was nominated to become the seventh Secretary General of the United Nations and we were awaiting confirmation that the appointment was official. He would be the first Black man and the first Ghanaian in this role, and our whole family was anticipating the news.
I distinctly remember the conversation when my mom called our house phone to tell me that the appointment was official. She was excited, but Wagi’s excited voice is about as hype as mine on a regular day: she was so demure, so cool, calm, and collected. I often asked how she managed to keep her cool about 99% of things, whether good or bad, and she always said something prolific (it was usually about how God is in control of it all, anyway.)
Wagi had made it. From a teenager who lost her father and struggled to keep the lights on, to a new immigrant aimlessly wandering New York City trying to find a job, my mother’s life transformed Cinderella style. In her 10-year career as the Executive PA of the Secretary General of the United Nations, Wagi traveled to nearly 100-countries, dined with royal family members and dignitaries, slept in palaces and 5-star hotels, traveled in helicopters and private jets, ate lavish meals cooked by Michelin star chefs at private residences across the world, and experienced a world very few of us will ever see.
And yet, if she were still alive today, she may very well be embarrassed that I am writing this. Because you see, Wagi never lost sense of her deep humility; she never lost her connection with her humanity; she never thought herself to be any more or less important because of her career. She was reflective, often remembering the times in her life when shit hit the fan and she was traveling to courtrooms with her mother who was grieving not only the loss of her husband, but the loss of all they’d ever owned. She never forgot that. Even during the height of her career, she stayed humble, and when people clamored all over her to hear of her lifestyle and her experiences, she somehow always managed to turn the conversation back to them, earnestly asking about their children, their work, their lives.
Wagi’s life story is the perfect depiction of life’s ups and downs and what incredible women do when faced with lemons: they make some damn good lemonade.