Marian Ochola walks in the sunlight. Managing Director, Endeavor Kenya, is a magnetic force of energy.
She knows all about pain too. The story unfolds: While losing her father; She was losing her marriage too. But she didn’t lose her smile.
I stop to think about the courage it takes to reveal oneself fearlessly. It takes courage to bend down rather than walk out, so I made sure to cook the “World Famous Potato.” Then she started knitting, then returned to the stage.
What’s something exciting you’ve been doing lately?
Just exploring different themes of things. I’m a connector in the business, when you’re in ecosystem building, trying to get venture capital to founders who want to build companies at scale. You have to know everyone, and that makes you a public person. I’ve been immersed in talking about climate, but also as an all-rounder, doing interconnected things. My friend is hosting a monologue by June Sibi Okumu – she is a theater actress and I remember we used to work together at Moi University. She recently had us over for a focus group discussion, and I loved it.
With acting, I would never have guessed that. How was that?
My first gig as an actor was with the Mbalamwezi Players. It was a poetry, dance and music performance. I still have the photo on my Instagram of me doing what I love and getting paid for it. It was only Sh4,000 after weeks of rehearsals but my parents were in attendance. Did you know that I was supposed to be on a program on KBC directed by Kanzi Dina? It never took off because we never got sponsors. My father found out I was coming to Nairobi to act, and he was angry, and I had to stop. My children are teenagers and both love theater, and they participate in school productions every year, so I live vicariously through them. I’ll go back to the theater. I know I will.
Do you remember your first appearance on stage?
In primary school at Peter Kibukosia School in Umoja II, I used to give a public speech every year. I’ve been on stage for as long as I can remember. It helps me so far because everything is a script. Speaking is a performance and everything is a stage to convey the message.
Have you maintained that creative energy by picking up an instrument, or organ, “multipotentiality,” as you call it?
I don’t play but we have a music night at home every other Friday. The children play instruments and then I sing. But I also support my friends who work in the creative sector.
When did you realize that your children had great creativity in them, and was it from you or from their father as well?
It’s all me. My daughter can spin stories, especially when she’s caught doing something she shouldn’t. I read a lot of books and I was reading Julia Quinn, who wrote Bridgerton, and she says how she became a writer by weaving stories. It’s double-edged…the downside is that you’re making up stories but again, it’s really creative. I thought my son was going to be a computer scientist, and then he went to high school and chose theater and music and French and Spanish, and I was like, okay! (chuckle)
Were you like that when you were a kid too?
Yes! I have been in almost every club, even at Moi University. I even played netball at the national level when I was at Pangani Girls High School. You can tell I’ve been to Pangani because we’re all a little loud, haha!
I can tell. If you could choose a moment from your childhood that would be a good representation of your life, what would it be?
I was active, always somewhere I was supposed to be: rehearsal, church (I was raised Catholic) directing a play, had a lot of projects in progress and never learned to relax. But I think it’s also in my name…it’s called “Nyaweera” which means work or the person who works. I’m always working towards something.
What do you miss most about your childhood?
You can be too. There were no guardrails. There was no pressure, there was only freedom. My parents were very open about this as well.
Do you remember your surname?
I am a virgin, and I had every right, according to my father. He used to call me ‘brat’ but added an ‘o’ at the end to make it ‘prato’. It was supposed to be endearing (chuckle). No, it’s not!
What hasn’t changed about Prato since childhood?
That extreme stubbornness. This gets in the way even in my relationships. I have made up my mind and believe it can be achieved, and this is how it will be done. At Moi University, I ran for Muso (Moi University Students Organization) as Catering Manager, my slogan was “Usafi na Mapochocho” so people started calling me “Mapochopocho”. When my father heard that I was running for office, he called me up and talked to me about university politics and said, “Remember, Jesus died at the age of thirty.” You’ll have a brutal short life, haha! Where would I be if I didn’t have the guardrails now?
Assuming he’s alive, what does your father think of Prato now?
He’s gone, but I remember him telling me he wished he had half my courage, which reflects the chances they didn’t take. That was very touching to hear considering they raised me.
How did your father’s passing change your memories of him? Is it different than it was when he was alive?
My father used to say to me: “Nyawira, you can be anything you want.” He was my anchor when he died, my position changed, he was the first close person I lost. Now I feel like the wind under my wings.
What are your favorite memories of him being with you?
Going to Uhuru Park and sitting there and watching the boats and eating the hot dogs and the hawks coming down and picking up the hot dogs and how he would be so protective. Or how he removes the bones from the meat for his eldest son. Here’s a fun little story. There was a time when he was president of the Parent-Teacher Association, and we used to clean the classrooms as students, but there was a boy who refused to clean, pointing out that girls were supposed to do it. My father was called and told me I was fighting that boy. He criticized me in front of the teachers, but when we returned home, he told me that he was only doing it because of the teachers.
Did you hit the boy though?
Haha! I remember his name, Alex Amagona. He tried to hit me, but I was done, I was done. We were on the ground, and everything was out of war.
How do you raise your children differently than your father raised you?
The soul is the same – you can be anything you want. I tell them to do everything to see what sticks. I remember there were a lot of religious activities, but my kids and I are not very religious. A more flexible value system but not morally flexible.
Did you end up marrying your father? Your father was a stepping stone to achieving anything you wanted, but sometimes our husbands can be a cage. What is your experience?
And that’s why, after 10 years of marriage, I’m done. Girls like me who were raised by safe parents need to meet a guy who was also raised safe, a guy who isn’t insecure because of everything you are, especially when you have a big personality and have opinions. That’s why it didn’t work, Eddie. That’s why I try to raise my children safely so they don’t become this type of partner.
At the risk of intrusion, what was that breakup conversation like with the kids?
It was difficult at first. One day we were walking, and the kids were saying, “You two are so different.” Children are smarter than we think. They can tell when you’re staying up and not being yourself. Finally, you have to remember that children can see. They care about you both.
How did you stay mentally strong throughout this season and not let personal matters spill over to the professional ones?
You are one person, so you cannot be one thing at work. Be very open when you face challenges. Talk about it or ask for support. I told my manager what was happening, and I told my team as well. Interestingly, my team came later and told me things they were struggling with, and they said, “You gave us permission when you opened.” And remember that you are human. If you’re in a position of influence, and there’s a lot of stigma around a topic, and you bring it up, that gives people permission to do that.
I recently watched a conversation between author Simon Sinek and comedian Trevor Noah, and they said, “You build trust by asking for help rather than offering help.” Did you actively ask for help?
This is good wording. There is power in vulnerability and humanizing yourself – people trust you and come to you. When I told the team, they started coming to me. My divorce happened at the same time my father was dying. I was running from the hospital to the court. I even developed a health problem, and my doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong until the doctor asked me what was going on in my life. I don’t have an image to protect, people see me for me.
What did you benefit from that experience?
We all wing it. When you realize that it makes you more resilient when life happens and you have a faster recovery time because you don’t spend it in denial. Life is hard, and it’s not just for you. It’s hard for everyone.
How do you take care of Marianne?
I’m cooking. I read. I knit. We play a lot of music at home. Joyful creative endeavors.
What is your signature meal?
I’m a mountain girl, so I can work Why (potatoes) in six different ways.
Oh, my God…
Yes haha! Every meal should be eight. This is a commandment, and war will break out. Haha!
Other than potatoes, what is your idea of happiness?
I’m always looking forward to something. This is magic. Whether it’s a concert, a pop-up market, my daughter’s golf tournament, my son’s stage play, etc., this life is very much worth living.
What are you looking forward to now?
I’m out for two and a half weeks. It has been a difficult but fruitful journey. I’m in New York now, going to Amsterdam next week, then Madrid. When this is over, I can’t wait to see my kids. I’m looking forward to the wonderful weather in December and Christmas in Nairobi.
What do you need most in your life?
Good question. I need to make more time to see more plays and concerts, more time.
What fear are you working to overcome?
When you’re always looking towards the next thing, there’s always anxiety at work. Will people come? Will the event be successful? To be less hard on myself. You don’t have a point to prove to anyone. Carry less.
What is the soundtrack to your life now?
Oh, my God. Haha! I love Gramps Morgan People like you. I’ve built a good circle around me, people I love. There is always someone around me willing to lend a helping hand.
What do you apologize to yourself for?
Because I wasn’t more compassionate with myself.
What do you thank yourself for?
To not lose laughter and joy in small moments. I’m not a Debbie Downer, the kind of person who walks into a room and absorbs the energy. I am the sunshine, even in difficult times.
If you could tell me just one thing, what would you tell me?
You will be fine. You see that the thing you’re worried about now, five years from now, won’t matter. Trust me. You will be fine. I need to remember that more often too.
Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.