Tanisha Mahgoub

Every morning in Nairobi, I take a deep breath and remind myself of how far I've come. Originally from South Sudan, my family and I fled the war and lived in Kakuma refugee camp in northern Kenya for many years. At 27, I still remember the crowded, dusty camp where opportunities seemed scarce, and modeling courses offered a glimmer of hope.

In Kakuma, the catwalk was marked with white tape in an unadorned conference room, stuffy with buzzing flies. French chansons played as we practiced our rounds, dreaming of a better future. Talent scouts often promised a way out, but many of us, including myself, fell victim to money-grabbing scammers. Despite the setbacks, I eventually found success and worked as a model in Paris.

Living in Paris was a whirlwind. I shared a tiny apartment with other models, hustling to castings and earning just enough to get by. The agency took most of our earnings, and in the beginning, we only received pocket money. Half of what I made always went back to my family in Kakuma, helping them survive.

After several successful advertising campaigns, I earned enough to move my family to Nairobi. They now live in a small apartment and have found work, earning their own money. It's a relief to see them safe and settled, and I visit whenever I can. They are proud of me for giving them a new perspective and a better life.

Despite the progress, I remain cautious, knowing how quickly things can change. Modeling has been my path out of poverty, but it's a precarious career. Every day, I am grateful for what I have achieved and the stability it has brought my family. But I am always mindful of the past and the fragility of our newfound security.