On 23 March 1991, civil war broke out in the West African nation of Sierra Leone. Over an 11-year period, tens of thousands of people were killed, injured or displaced. It was a very dark time in a nation previously known for its beautiful beaches, thriving tourism, and warm, resilient people.
For Kaday Conteh, a teenager at the time, it would mark the beginning of a tumultuous period defined by fear and pain – but also opportunity.
Kaday and her family, living in Freetown, were inevitably caught up in the chaos – but she considers herself one of the lucky ones. With her mother, she was able to escape to safety.
“It was a really, really difficult period,” she says. “But we were fortunate. We made it out. I wouldn’t say we were refugees in the classical sense, but we were fleeing the war.”
Kaday and her mother made it to the UK, leaving behind her father – a diplomat – and a brother. While she was grateful to be safe, she was keenly aware that many others didn’t have the same opportunity. Her family’s standing helped them leave, something she doesn’t take for granted. Having spent part of her early childhood abroad – including a few years in Moscow from when she was four – she was somewhat accustomed to living in foreign countries.
Once installed in the UK, Kaday commenced a law degree, earning a scholarship to Hull University and studying a double degree in law and French. Despite the scholarship, things were tight, and Kaday found whatever work she could – including picking vegetables, working in a bakery, and working nights in a fish factory.
“I think I spent more time working than I did actually attending lectures,” she says. “I just did whatever I had to do to get through.”
When life is short
Kaday is someone who radiates light as soon as you meet her. She has presence, and a quiet confidence that belies an extraordinary life which has led her to Perth.
After graduating from Hull and completing a Masters of Commercial Law at Cambridge, Kaday got a start with London firm Stephenson Harwood, which included a six-month stint practising shipping law in the firm’s Singapore office – a destination not everyone was keen on at the time.
“The office in Singapore had a bit of a reputation as being really tough, and it wasn’t the first choice for many people,” recalls Kaday.
“No one wanted to go, so I thought to myself, if no one wants to go, then I can get in! And, sure enough, only two of us applied for the two spots available. So, no competition whatsoever.”
And, yes, the work was tough – but Kaday’s work ethic and resilience ensured the experience turned out to be a formative one, and gave her a taste of what life could be like in a truly multicultural society.
“The managing partner of the Singapore office had a bit of reputation for cracking the whip,” says Kaday.
“But the thing is, once you were there, you realised that what he was really concerned about was ensuring that people who spent time in the Singapore office were culturally attuned, that they could get on well with his staff. He was a hard task master, but ensuring that people who spent six months there respected the locals was important. He had very high expectations in this regard.”
Kaday says that in Singapore she felt entirely at home – perhaps the most at home she has ever felt. Despite this, she returned to London and qualified into commercial property. Marriage and a daughter came along, too, and Kaday was settled.
Suddenly, though, in 2010 Kaday’s father, to whom she had been very close and whom she credits for making her the person she is, passed away. And this changed everything.
“He passed very suddenly, very unexpectedly, and it really forced a rethink. What was I doing with my life? Where was I going? What did I want to be? I just thought to myself, you know what? Life’s too short.”
Her father’s death prompted Kaday to again look towards Singapore, where she had felt so at home. She hardly saw her husband, who had a busy job in politics, and she wanted to spend more time with her daughter – something that seemed impossible within the London commute and juggle.
Fate, though – and perhaps the liberties of a rogue recruiter – had other ideas. “I was actually trying to get back to Singapore, but the recruiter went a little bit too far,” she laughs.
“Out of the blue, the recruiter – who was not fulfilling the brief whatsoever – said, there’s a firm in Perth and they want to talk to you. I said, where is Perth? Scotland? And that’s how I ended up at Clayton Utz.”
Culture shock
Kaday’s first six months at Clayton Utz in Perth were spent without her husband or two-year-old daughter – something she describes as incredibly hard. When they were finally able to join her, she describes the reunion as a “magical moment”. Ever the optimist, though, she sees the silver lining in the initial separation.
“On reflection, I think it was a good choice [to come alone], because it did mean that in the first six months, I could actually get to know people,” she says. “I wasn’t tied to the family routine. But there were certainly moments when I first arrived that I thought to myself, what have I done?”
To Kaday, Perth felt like a very small town, and she remembers fondly a kind neighbour who fed her one night when she had assumed the shops would be open late.
“Everything was shut, and I was absolutely shocked,” laughs Kaday. “I remember knocking on the door of my neighbour, and he just said, nah, this is not London.”
Another shock was the cold realisation that on St George’s Terrace – unlike in London – there were not many people who looked like her, and even fewer black lawyers working in top commercial law firms. It was this reality that inspired her to found what has become an important organisation for Western Australia’s African legal community.
“It was a challenge coming into a culture where there isn’t a lot of representation,” she says.
“And working at a top-tier commercial law firm just added another layer of pressure and stress. I was acutely aware that there weren’t any organisations or societies that catered for people like me.”
And thus, in July 2020 the Society for African Australian Lawyers Inc was born. Affectionately known as SAALI, the organisation aims to promote the visibility of members of the legal profession who have African heritage or identify as African Australian; provide a network for members to mentor, support and learn from each other; promote cultural diversity and inclusion in the legal profession; provide a platform to participate in law reform, advocacy and policy formation; support members of the legal profession who have an interest in African Australian affairs and/or enterprise; and develop and promote connections between the African and Australian legal market.
These are lofty ambitions, but if anyone can achieve them, it’s Kaday.
“For a while, I struggled with the thought of having a group that very much catered to a particular demographic,” she says.
“But then, looking at the experience of the Asian Australian Lawyers Association, I thought, well, if they can do it and they’re thriving, why can’t we? I would come across law students at the hairdressers, and I’d say to them, you’re doing law? I’m not seeing you in the clerkships or at interviews. Are you putting applications in? What’s happening?
“It started with those little conversations in the community. Just hearing about their experiences and the challenges they face in getting opportunities, I thought, we need to do something about this.”
And do something she did, establishing SAALI – of which she is President – and creating opportunities for support and connection. SAALI also works with industry with the aim of obtaining meaningful work experience for student members, including initiating the annual SAALI African Law Student Award which recognises emerging student talent. It’s a fitting contribution for someone who knows how tough life can be.
Never say never
For now, Kaday is settled in Perth. She is Special Counsel (Property and Projects) within the New Energy practice at Hamilton Locke, specialising in assisting renewable energy companies to secure land tenure and land access rights for the construction and development of renewable energy projects and infrastructure across Australia. She also sits on the board of Forever Projects, a not-for-profit that helps Tanzanian women break the cycle of poverty to create a self-sustaining future. She has two daughters now – the eldest of whom will shortly be heading off to university.
So, does Australia feel like home?
“Perth is now home, yes,” says Kaday. “My second daughter was born here, so she’s very much an Australian. Could I see myself living anywhere else? Never say no. I look at what I’ve done in my life – I’ve moved around. It is not scary for me. So, no, I wouldn’t rule it out.”
Wherever she lands in the world, though, Sierra Leone will always be her true home. But the reality of how she departed and what happened during that awful period has left a scar that few of us in Australia could ever understand.
“It is home, but there’s still a lot of pain I need to work through. Will I ever go back? Obviously, of course. The kids constantly ask when we’re going,” she says.
“I always believe the universe has a way of making your path clear, so for now I’m not making any conscious decisions. I’m just very much going with the flow. I’m going to see where things take me.”
