The secret of getting ahead is getting started - Mark Twain

My PhD Journey: The Beginning

I have known no other field except academics. I made my entry into university teaching in 2011 after obtaining a master’s degree in communication studies. Soon, it became clear that I needed an advanced degree if I was to survive at the university. There were many reasons for this:

· Self-improvement – There comes a time when one needs self-actualization

· The money – A master’s degree holder earns less than a PhD holder for obvious reasons. I would look at my payslip and a colleague's (PhD holder) and scratch my head and say, 'okay, Anne, it may be time to make a move.'

· Capability. There are so many things a master’s degree holder cannot do at the university, such as supervise master’s students, be an external examiner, hold some offices, etc. I recall this university where I worked. I was the department head and organized defenses for students, but I could never sit in any defense panel? How could I? What would qualify me to sit in a defense panel? Besides, the money was good for the panelists. How I would salivate! And the soft nudging would come, “okay, Anne, it could be your time to make a move.’

· Promotion. Those in government institutions will forever remain tutorial fellows or assistant lecturers earning very little. The first requirement for upward mobility in higher education jobs is the PhD, then publications, supervisions, research funding, and so on, all of which count towards making one a professor. The more I pondered over these issues, the more I heard the clear, distinct voice urging me on, ‘Okay, Anne, please just make a move.’

· Job security. In came the Commission for University Education (CUE), rubbing it in our faces that by 2018, we would be shown the door if we did not have the coveted papers. It was not only CUE but other universities that picked up from this and started advertising jobs with the first condition being, ‘must have a PhD from a recognized university.’ ‘Okay, Anne, move!’

And move, I did. To a recognized university. 2013 January is the year my PhD journey formally began in a neighboring country, but after two years, it became clear that this journey would take not less than seven years. I didn't have the patience. I let it slide. Well, ironically, seven years have gone by, and I still do not have the glorious papers. Was I rash to cut short the journey? I think not because only one supervisor was struggling with me. I didn’t think I was growing a scholar in me. I was throwing concepts here and there without a real understanding of research. Forget my master’s degree at a local university. I doubt students are taken through a rigorous process to prepare them for research in some of our universities.

How did I end up in a neighboring country? See, back then, I worked in an East African country in which no single university offered a doctoral degree in communication. All the universities in Kenya that offered the degree did so through coursework, not research. Only this country that neighbors us offered the degree by research. I dived in. During registration, I met one of my classmates, a very young man from Uganda. A few weeks later, he told me he was lucky to have landed a scholarship to study in Belgium and left in a few weeks. By 2016, he had graduated while I still struggled to get a bearing. Not funny.

My classmate cited bureaucracy at my chosen university as the reason he sought studies abroad. And yes, I quit because of bureaucracy. After hanging around for almost two years, my second supervisor never even got a chance to look at my proposal. (Or if they did, I never got feedback). To make matters worse, upon enrolment, one is assigned a committee of four doctors. Once the supervisors have approved the proposal, the student defends it first before the committee before undertaking another defense at the School level. Just getting these four doctors together was the real headache. If three were within, one was out of the country. And the same process is repeated with a thesis defense. That is when I calculated and realized that this would be a 7-10-year journey and quietly bowed out.

While still working in this East African country, a foreign university came and established itself. And it was offering a PhD in communication! How excited I was! So, in 2015, I started my journey again. While the 2013 journey did not involve coursework, this one did (a story for another day). Faithfully and energetically, I started and completed. Then ‘kizungumkuti’ (issues) started at the research level. Clearly, I was not getting what I deserved. Now, you may not understand this. I hear you say, 'get the damn degree and move on,' but it's not that simple. I am a lecturer. I will be supervising PhD students. How will I if I don't even have the basics? What value shall I add to my students? My main supervisor then was (still is) a brilliant person but was sadly too busy. I do not blame her. We need systems that do not bog down lecturers and supervisors with too many responsibilities. I lost interest for about one year where I never as much as glanced at the title. Mmmh, after much careful thought, it was time to move since dropping out of the race completely was not an option!

Journey number three began in 2018. September. And remember, by this time, I am not getting any younger. Just seen an article by Prof. Amutabi decrying the age (50-60) at which Africans attain their doctorates compared to their counterparts in developed countries (20-30). According to Prof., the aged African can only use the degree to serve humanity for 10-20 years while the 20-year-old can serve for 50 years. Some truth right there. Back to my chronicles. The question was, where was I headed? The private universities in Kenya charge an arm and a leg. The answer arrived one solemn afternoon after attending the funeral service of a friend. While having a casual conversation with the widower, he said, ‘Why struggle? Go to Malaysia, and you will get your degree soon.’ That sent me thinking. Right there and then, despite the sombre circumstances, he connected me to his friend, a Nigerian who is a lecturer in Malaysia. I contacted her, and she suggested certain universities I should try. Mr. Google did a great job, and after weeks of searching and verification, I settled on Universiti Utara Malaysia (Had I known the place communes freely with the wild…). I applied, got accepted, put my documents in order, and on 13 September 2018, I began my third and possibly last PhD journey through Kuala Lumpur to Sintok aboard an Ethiopian Airlines plane. To be cont…