On day two of her orientation for a cashier job at a McDonald’s in Toronto, Canada, Esther Umazi had a fork-in-the-road moment. She stopped to step into a Wendy’s to answer a fundamental question: “Is this all I came here for?”
It was snowing heavily outside, and having been born, trained, and worked on the hot Kenyan coast, that extreme cold was the fly in the ointment for her Canadian dream.
Esther arrived in Canada in late 2019 in pursuit of greener pastures. Her motivation to relocate stemmed from a question: “What next?” She had studied clinical medicine before starting her career at a donor-funded programme that ran a comprehensive care clinic for HIV patients at Makindu Hospital, and later worked at Kenyatta National Hospital under a similar programme, before rising through the ranks to become senior programme officer at the Centre for Health Solutions (CHS), managing large-scale HIV interventions across Makueni County.
Kenya’s fragile health systems, coupled with donor funding cycles, shrinking global aid, and the human cost of policy, presented a strong case for her to cross the pond.
“I was in a management position, sending people home whenever budgets were cut. It was terrible, watching lives disrupted overnight,” says the 39-year-old.
A friend who had moved to Canada earlier encouraged her to consider the country, as it had many opportunities in the health sector. She first landed in Niagara Falls before moving to Hamilton and finally settling in Elliot Lake. Elliot Lake, she says, is rural Canada, far from Toronto’s crowded job market.
“Going north was by design. Few people want to live here because of the weather, but that’s where opportunities exist. I didn’t want to scramble in Toronto with millions of others. I wanted a place where my presence mattered.”
In Niagara, she lived with a friend who offered temporary accommodation before she found her footing.
Esther’s first challenge was the juxtaposition many African immigrants experience abroad: the seesawing of one’s CV against actual experience in the new country. “My more than a decade of experience in programmes in Kenya didn’t matter as much as I thought it would—at least in the beginning. Employers often ask—as they did in my case—for one’s Canadian experience.” This sobering reality led her to the McDonald’s job she quit even before she had properly started.
“First, there was the language barrier. I kept calling my manager to the cash register because I mostly didn’t catch the orders. Either people spoke too fast or I was just unsettled, and something was pushing me away from the path I needed to follow.”
Esther Umazi.
Photo credit: Pool
The next job opening was a caregiving role at March of Dimes, supporting people with developmental and intellectual disabilities. This was a new frontier even for a person whose entire adult life had been spent in healthcare. “From managing county programmes to caregiving—it was humbling. But I told myself, it’s a stepping stone. Let me just get in.”
Finding herself as a frontliner during Covid-19 heightened her anxiety further. She often cared for patients confirmed positive, sitting with them for hours in isolation rooms. “My PPEs were, in my considered judgement then, only for my symbolic comfort.” Ironically, this process birthed her breakthrough. Canada created special pathways for permanent residency for frontline workers. Her long hours and countless year-long shifts qualified her for permanent residency. “I call it God’s timing and alignment. This was a time I seriously thought of going back home. Separation from family did not help either. Having ageing parents in the middle of a pandemic was worrying. Remember, everyone thought Africa would not survive Covid-19 due to weak health systems.”
Like many Kenyans abroad, Esther’s story is founded on sacrifice. The biggest was leaving her family behind. Her first December in Canada was devastatingly lonely. “Back home, Christmas meant going to shags, meeting everyone, eating, laughing. That first Christmas, I was alone in a shared apartment, glued to the phone the whole day. I almost broke.”
Discipline over motivation is a maxim she lives by. “Discipline will remind you what you aim to achieve even when your motivation has faded.” Her way back into leadership came through effort and carefully curated choices. After caregiving, she became a community coordinator in an HIV clinic in Guelph—a city in southwestern Ontario—supporting women and linking them to resources. From there, she secured a leadership role with a Toronto-based organisation working on children’s mental health. Her efforts and choices soon started paying off.
At one point, she had two offers: managing a remote hospital in northern Ontario, or overseeing national programming in Toronto. The hospital paid more, but her mentor advised her to pick scope over salary. Esther chose Toronto. That choice paved the way to her current role as executive director for Elliot Lake Women’s Group, a women’s shelter supporting survivors of domestic violence and their children. For her, it feels like destiny.
As her career took shape in Toronto, she sought to give back. She co-founded Daring in North America (DNA), a platform sharing information about Canadian pathways, career alignment, and survival tips for newcomers. In May 2025, Esther founded the Black Women Empowerment Initiative Canada (BWIC), a sisterhood space for mentorship, financial literacy, and emotional support.
“Being a Black woman here comes with unique challenges. BWIC is a safe space to share, learn, and lift each other.”
While still at it, she is also linking with other Black leaders to create youth and women’s networks in predominantly white communities. For newcomers, she has become a go-to mentor, answering questions, reviewing CVs, and encouraging others not to give up.
Esther Umazi, 39-year-old Executive Director of Elliot Lake Women’s Group at the Black Women Empowerment Initiative launch in Toronto, Canada, May 2025.
Photo credit: Pool | Nation
From her journey, Esther draws lessons that she now passes on to others considering careers abroad. She believes that networks are everything. The people you leave in Kenya—your colleagues, mentors, and family—remain part of your professional path, and it is unwise to burn bridges. At the same time, building new connections abroad is essential.
Patience, she argues, is indispensable. Canada, in her words, “will teach you patience.” Success rarely comes instantly. Re-establishing credibility, adjusting to new systems, and proving your worth takes time. Comparing yourself with others only adds frustration. Equally important is the humility to start small. Moving from a senior programme officer in Kenya to a caregiver in Canada was not a failure, she says, but a strategy.
She also places great emphasis on the power of roots. Though she now lives miles away from her village in Mombasa, she carries her upbringing and Kenyan resilience with her. For her, migration should never erase identity; it should deepen one’s ability to give back.
For Kenyans hoping to move to Canada, Esther offers advice. “The first step is preparation. Not just sharpening your skills, but readying your mindset.
Migration is rarely smooth, and one must expect to start small. Do your research. Many newcomers underestimate the complexity of professional licensing and the nuances of workplace culture. Building the right connections early can open doors faster than endless job applications. It means showing up, volunteering, asking questions, and letting people see what you can do.”
