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2016 was a tough year for Isioma Oye-Onwuka (MBA’23). The 18-year-old had just left her home and family in Nigeria to start business school in New Jersey. The political and economic uncertainty of her home country, coupled with the tumultuous 2016 U.S. election, meant what was supposed to be a joyous and exciting time was stressful and fraught. But Oye-Onwuka is nothing if not persistent. She graduated four years later…during the height of a global pandemic. 

For a year after graduation, she drifted. She couldn’t go home to Nigeria, but she needed a visa or a work permit to stay in the U.S. When her sister announced she was moving to Nova Scotia, Oye-Onwuka decided to join her. “I applied to Dal, and I think I made the decision and moved within two months,” she says with a chuckle. With her characteristic determination, she began her MBA in 2022. 

Economic inflation and a global pandemic

“Things started to look a lot better for my family, until they didn’t,” she recalls. As the eldest grandchild, it was always the plan for Oye-Onwuka to study abroad. But economic upheaval and global pandemics have a way of derailing even the best-laid plans. 

Figuring it out

Her trademark grit came into play once again: “I was just like, I’ll be damned if I have to start again,” she says. “Also, I’ve moved here. I have an apartment. I have a part-time job. I’m making friends. I’m trying to figure out my career.” She began researching scholarships, bursaries and other forms of financial assistance – of which, she notes, there are far fewer available for international students. 

“It made me grow up,” Oye-Onwuka says of that trying time. “I don’t think, up until that point, I’d realized I was grown.” She suddenly understood it was all up to her. “If I want this to happen, I have to put my big girl shoes on and figure it out.”

It was while Oye-Onwuka was “figuring it out” that she received a lifeline: a bursary from the Faculty of Management’s emergency fund, which is supported by annual contributions from H���� Fund donors. When she saw the “amount owing” number on her student account tick down, Oye-Onwuka was relieved and rejuvenated. “It really gave me hope and drive when I was tired,” she says. 

The legacy of collective giving

Oye-Onwuka finished her MBA and now proudly includes those three letters after her name in every email signature. She’s currently working at Dal’s Creative Destruction Lab while she sorts out her requirements for permanent residency. She’s building a life here that would not have been possible without the financial assistance from the various donors who gave to her faculty.

“I’m still trying to figure out who I am and what I like to do outside of survival mode,” Oye-Onwuka says. She’s grateful she has that opportunity at all. “Until you’ve been on the receiving end of giving, you really don’t fully understand its impact,” she says. “I have big aspirations for my life, and I know I’m going to be giving back when I’m able to so I can have that same impact on someone else.”