In this week’s episode, both of our storytellers share stories about times their deepest secrets were discovered.

Part 1: Growing up in Ghana, Pauline Owusu-Ansah hides her secret desire to study lizards.

Pauline Owusu-Ansah is a first year PhD student whose passion for evolutionary biology didn't fade off despite growing up in a place where scientists are known to be just medical doctors or engineers. Her story, "The lizard's leap..." capture's a journey from curiosity in Ghana, West Africa to becoming a scientist in this part of the world.

Part 2: Saad Sarwana’s secret identity as a standup comedian threatens to ruin his burgeoning physics career.

Saad Sarwana also know as “The Standup Physicist” has been a comedian for 25+ years. He has performed in every major comedy club on the east coast, and over 25 states. As a certified geek, Saad hosts the “Science Fiction and Fantasy Spelling Bee”. Saad is also a four time MOTH StorySLAM champion, has appeared on the Story Collider podcast six times, and is Arizona Story Collider producer. As a Physicist/Engineer, Saad has 40+ peer reviewed papers and is the past president of the US Committee on Superconductor Electronics. Saad had appeared on multiple Scifotainment (Scientific Entertainment) shows on Discovery / Science Channel, including over 100 episodes on the TV show “Outrageous Acts of Science.”

Episode Transcript

Part 1

I am wandering through the Kakum National Park. It is located in Ghana, West Africa. And as I go down on the sandy rocks, my height hits something.

I'm actually on this trip with my friends. It's our final trip as junior high school. In Ghana, junior high school students are students who are being prepared to enter senior high school. So, like, this is our final trip and I plan to make good use of everything.

Pauline Owusu-Ansah shares her story at Palais de Congress in Montreal, QC in July 2024. Photo by Melissa Dupuch.

I have my camera in hand taking all the pictures I can, because I need to go back and then show them to my parents. Of course, I'm a finalist and I'm going to senior high school.

Little did I know that something was about to happen that would change the course of my life and that would really cause me to take a different career path.

As I stroll along these sandy rocks, my height hits something, and I saw two lizards. I mean, we are all scientists, right? You know lizards, the way they dance around, chasing each other circular round motion, so it's like a never ending choreographed dance.

Now, there's something about their gular folds, the fiery oranges of their scales, it's like a deep mixture of blue and orange. It's so nice. And as of that very moment, everything just flashes off. The laughter of my friends, I can't even hear anything. It just disappears. Even the hum of the insects and, of course, the echoing sounds of these birds. All I can focus on is these two lizards that are darting around. Their skin glistened with the sunlight and I just think about it. I'm like, "This is so cool."

On our ride back home, I'm seated right beside my best friend. She's called Georgia. Georgia is a very loud person. At that time, we had been friends for just five years. She's so loud and loyal.

So, I tell her, “Georgia, don't you think studying lizards will be the best thing as adults?”

Georgia looks at me like this, and she's like, “Yo, who the hell studies lizards?”

Well, I can't even blame her because in my country Ghana, why would you even study lizards? See, we have lots of problems that Africans haven't even solved. And now this is me going to study lizards. Everyone on the bus just laughs at me.

But there's something that keeps coming into my mind. I'm like, there's something about this. It's so fascinating. Maybe I just have to forget about it. Because in my country Ghana, a serial science student like myself can't just walk to my parents, a 13 year old, telling them that, "Hey Mom, Dad, I want to become…” should I call it a lizardist? “I want to study lizards.” I can't. I dare not.

Eventually, I start my senior high school education. I'm studying science. I'm reading biology, physics, chemistry, trying to read molecular biology. It was so difficult, not to talk of organic chemistry.

So, I still do something. Even during the lunch breaks, I find a way to sneak into the library and then read the journals, because in my country, only a few schools have these libraries. So when you go there, you're expected to just study all the big chemistry, the physics and all of that. And this is me going through all the journals, reading about reptiles, lizards and all of that.

I later find out that these lizards are known as the Agama lizards, and I still hide it.

So, I complete my high school and I have to select a program. In Ghana, if you decide to read a very serious program or pursue a career, as a science student you are expected to read medicine or engineering. Any other profession is seen as unserious. So I have to find a way to tell my mom that I'm going to be an engineer.

So I tell her that, “Mommy, I want to pursue environmental science.”

And then she's like, “What's that?”

And I told her, “Okay, Mommy, with environmental science I can come out and later go to graduate school to pursue environmental engineering.”

She's like, “Yeah, that's my daughter. Wow!”

So I get to final year. I find a way to hide my final year thesis projects from them, because I do something around conservation biology. And after school, I am so honored to be posted to an expert research company where I work as an environmental scientist.

So I am the first daughter that makes my parents proud. Because even when she goes around her friends and they ask her, "What's your daughter reading?" She's like, "Oh, my daughter, she's reading something, something, but it's engineering. She's gonna be an environmental engineer."

And they're like, "Wow, that's so cool."

One time, I am walking back home with Georgia. We need to catch the bus. Then my friend, again, Georgia, if you remember the one who told me, “Who the hell studies lizards,” she's now my co worker. Georgia went to school to study arts, so she's now a sustainability officer and we all work in the same company.

Then she tells me, “Girl, you know, I realize that you've still been reading things about lizards.”

I'm like, “Wow! How did you know?” Because I've been hiding this from people.

And she's like, “You know what? You know, we all share the same laptop at work.”

In Ghana, privacy is nothing. It is here that you guys take it seriously. We don't care. I can just walk into my friend's home and then go to her room, check everything. Africa for you.

So she tells me that, "Pauline, you know what? I think you love this. Why don't you just pursue it?" That's the very first time I've seen Georgia be serious.

She tells me that, "You know what? There's nothing you can do. Just pursue it, because how long are you going to keep hiding this?"

So I thought, “How am I going to tell my parents?”

She tells me, “Girl, see, you forget. You're 20 years. If you tell them, they'll have nothing to do. I mean, just hide this for now, and then later when they find out there's nothing they can do.”

Mind you, a 20 year old graduate still living with their parents. Because we in Africa again, we do not really care. You live with your parents until marriage.

So I go home and I start thinking about what Georgia said. This time, it's not as shameful as she said in the bus. This time, it's more nerve racking. I told myself that I really need to pursue this.

Now, I need to have an idea. So I decide to stay up very late in the night, use my daddy's Wi Fi and then the PC to go through graduate school options. Of course, there's no way I'm going to study conservation biology in Ghana. I dare not. So, I look up schools here in the US and I started.

Finally, in three months’ time, after putting in all the applications, the applications come out. The decisions are out and I get into Miami University. I'm so happy.

Wow. Thank you. That really helped me.

I'm so happy. But then again, the thought of having to tell my parents that their first daughter is going to read conservation biology, pursue a PhD, that how else am I going to tell them.

The night before I tell them, I'm just in my room walking up and down, rehearsing the words how I'm going to stand in front of my daddy. Because in Africa we are afraid of our daddies. So how am I going to stand in front of him and tell him that, “Daddy, I am going to read conservation biology.”

No, I have to make it more, you know, “Daddy, I'm going to read conservation biology.”

So that morning, the walk from my room to my parents’ room is the longest walk of my life. Because their room is just close to mine. But, see, my legs were literally shaking. My palms were clammy. I could literally feel my heart beating.

I finally get to their door. I close my eyes and I still think, “Am I really going to be able to tell them this? How are they going to take it?”

Then finally, I walk in.

Now, I see my daddy and my mommy on their bed. Even the steps from their door to their bed was the longest walk of my life.

I finally get there and I'm like, "Mom, Dad."

They're like, "Yeah, how is our engineer doing?"

I'm like, "I'm fine, Mommy. Mom, there's something that I need to tell you."

My mom was like, "Yeah, tell me. Why?"

“I just got admitted.”

And she's like, "Yay, Environmental Engineer, finally."

I'm like, “No Mom, it's something Conservation Biology.”

“Conservation what?”

“Yeah, Conservation Biology.”

“What's that?”

Let me give you the African accent, “What is that? Conservation Biology?”

“Yes, Mommy, I want to study lizards.”

My dad just looks at me like this, up, down, and then he just walks off. I could see how disappointed he was. He was so angry and annoyed at me that he didn't even get close to me. He just shuts the door behind me and I could feel my stomach churning with nervousness.

So it's left with my mom and I in the room and she looks at me in disbelief. She also walks off.

Right now, I've literally just sent my parents out of their own room and I'm the only one in their room.

See, the next couple of days, the following three days were the worst of my life. Everything had just become so quiet. Our breakfasts were now served in the most quietest cave. The once loud African home had become the quietest one. I couldn't even hear the ____ [10:13] songs of my daddy's guitar. My siblings were not even happy. I don't know. They were very young, but they could feel the heat and tension in the house.

Sometimes in the night, I'll just look myself in the mirror and I will tell myself, “Is this even worth it, losing your family's love over some lizards? Is it really worth it?” It was so sad. Imagine a 20 year old facing the choice of either choosing your family's love or choosing what you really want to do.

Finally, the fourth day comes. Then I hear my door open. See, the way I just walked up to the door, that was my dad, because for the past three days no one was talking to me. Our lunches were served quiet. Everyone would just see me and then pass by. I could see my mom trying so hard. You know, mothers have this way of trying to calm the nerves of their partners, but it wasn't working.

So, my father finally walks in and, God, my heart was beating, because what exactly was he going to tell me? Was he going to ask me to get out of his house? I was broke. How else was I going to rent an apartment?

So, I just get up and I face him. Then my mom also walks in. See, their faces are so disappointed. My mom is trying hard to smile, but the smile was not even coming.

So I'm like, “Dad…” and then he's like, “Keep quiet.” He said, “Keep quiet.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Pauline,” he finally lets off the words, “you know we love you and we've worked our way so hard to put you through school. We've had just these menial jobs to bring you up, just so we could also have the bragging rights to boast to our friends that we were the parents of medical doctors or engineers. But you've decided to pursue this, what lizard course or whatever you call it. And after thinking it through, there's nothing we can do.

So we are just going to tell you that we love you so much and congratulations on your admission.”

Imagine having heard the word "congratulations" four days after being admitted. Yeah, it was sad, but at that very moment it was the best words.

Then he looks at me, opens his arm and he hugs me.

If you're conversant, or if there's any African here, you know how hard it is for an African dad to hug you. Because in Africa, dads are seen to be that fury. You know, they'll come and look at you like this. It's only mothers who hug you. So that day when my daddy hugged me, his arms were so strong, but for some reason they had become very soft.

So he hugged me so tight and my mom also joined in. As of that moment, everything just fades off. I could feel the love. I could feel that moment of honesty. And, finally, my mom also joins in. My siblings, I have three siblings, knowing and seeing how my dad and my mom have finally got close to me and then talked to me, they also rush in and then hug me.

Today, my mom, anytime she calls me, she's the happiest. You should see the way she explains to her friends that her daughter is studying lizards. She is the happiest.

And my friend, Georgia, she calls me and she's like, “Hey, lizardist, how are you doing?” I love them so much.

This is my story. Thank you.

Part 2

I was finishing up graduate school and I needed to find a job. And after sending out hundreds of resumes, I finally heard back from a company I'd applied to.

So, I was all scheduled for my interview. I'd read all the online help guides about how to answer questions like, "What's your biggest weakness?" and I was all set to interview.

I'll date myself. I got directions using a website you might have used when you were younger. It's called MapQuest

So I drove in. As I'm driving in, the area is looking familiar. Have I been here before?

I walked in, I checked in at the front desk and the receptionist asked me to wait on the couch outside.

I look at my email and I'm going through what I'm supposed to do today. I'm scheduled to interview with two people, the hiring manager and one of their senior engineers.

The hiring manager walks in and as soon as he sees me, his face changes and he has a huge grin on his face. He's like, “Aren't you the comedian who zinged me a couple of weeks ago?”

Saad Sarwana shares his story at the Salt Palace Convention Center in Salt Lake City, UT in September 2024. Photo by Danielle Waters.

Let me explain. While in graduate school, I started doing stand‑up comedy as a hobby. It had to be a hobby because I was on an F1 student visa and you're not actually allowed to work in the US. If I got paid, I'd actually be breaking the law and be taking jobs away from real Americans.

So I'd been doing comedy as a hobby and, apparently, this manager had been on one of my shows and our interaction might have more of some playful banter with some few insults thrown in.

So he takes me over to his office and he starts. I'm hoping for a regular interview because I'm brushing off the comedian comment that he'd made. But it doesn't go well because he keeps on bringing up the show and how I'd insulted him, and he wants his revenge.

I'm trying to talk to him about my resume but he keeps on bringing it up. It's like a complete train wreck. I'm sinking lower and lower in my chair, but I'm thinking to myself, “I can recover. He's not the technical guy. I still have an interview with the senior engineer. I can make this happen.”

After he's done, he walks me over to the senior engineer. I think his name was John or Jim or something. His introduction should have been, “Hey, John, this is Saad. He's gonna be interviewing for the position of test engineer,” but that's not what it was.

It was like, “Hey, John, you know how you'd regularly interview engineers? Today, you get to interview a comedian.”

Being introduced as a comedian completely puts a damper on the whole interview. This guy starts off by telling me some Not Safe for Work jokes. He then continues to tell me ideas for bits I should use in my stand‑up. And while I'm trying to tell him about all my test skills as an engineer, “Hey, I can make automated measurements. I know how to use LabVIEW,” all he's talking about is his favorite comedians and his favorite bits.

I walk out of that interview and I'm like, “This has gone badly.” But I know what I'm supposed to do. All the help guides say I'm supposed to write a thank you note and tell them how much I enjoyed myself and how much I want to work there. So I sent off those emails. I never hear back.

But I look at the positive, because that's what my parents taught me. Look at the positive. I'd finally been recognized as a comedian. Maybe I shouldn't give up on this comedy thing. I just need to keep my walls separate so that they don't interfere.

I eventually get a job in superconducting electronics and I make sure I don't tell my colleagues that I do stand‑up, because that whole interview thing is still at the back of my mind. It's not like I'm hiding it, but I just don't want to publicize it, right?

While doing stand‑up, I meet a lot of other professionals, like lawyers, bankers, who also do stand‑up, but what they do is they use stage names. And I'm like, “Should I use a stage name?” People already know me by my name, so I keep my name both for my IEEE membership and for my page on Myspace.

The way I like to explain it is, this is how my life was. I was in a hybrid superposition of a physicist and a comedian. But when I was interacting with people, I always collapsed to one state. When I was with my graduate student friends and colleagues, I'd be the physicist, and when I'd be with my comedian friends, I'd be a comedian.

I continued to do this for many years, until the 2014 Applied Superconductivity Conference. The chairman of the conference, who's sitting right there, asked me to give a little five‑minute presentation before the keynote's presentation at the banquet dinner.

Now, for the comedian in me, this was too great an opportunity to be overlooked. This was 2,000 people. I usually was used to performing for hundreds of people. This was 2,000 of my peers. And this was an opportunity for me to prove that it was possible to be both a physicist and a comedian.

So I accepted this offer and I went into the conference. I was supposed to give two presentations at the conference. On Wednesday, there was a banquet dinner night, and I was supposed to perform at the banquet dinner for all of 2,000 people at the conference. And on Thursday, I had my talk in Hall B, Room 202 on an RSFQ switch matrix for a multi‑band analog to digital converter.

That room was seats about 150, 200 people, but we all know it's only about 20% full, right? We know all these things, because there are 20 other parallel sessions going on. It was fine, I knew that.

So on Wednesday night, I go on. It's a packed room. I'm really nervous. But since it's a superconducting crowd, I try to do a whole bit using PowerPoint, which is the tool of a scientist, about how cold the crowd is. And it's available on YouTube for those of you who want to watch.

But I do jokes like, “This crowd is so cold, it feels like a Bose‑Einstein condensate.” And I get roaring laughter. It goes much better than I ever anticipated. I'm feeling on top of the world.

So when on Thursday, I get to my room to present my research talk, the room is packed. People have come to watch the jokes, so that's what I give them. I throw in little jokes in my presentation.

It took 15 years, but I'd finally achieved physicist‑comedian quantum entanglement.