I was 50 years old, and on a precarious trek through the jungles of Rwanda, when I first glimpsed my true vocation. Until then, I hadn’t been sure. I’d left school at 14 and married my first husband at 21. I’d worked in advertising in the 1950s, which was a bit like Mad Men but far less sexy. Patriarchy ruled and sexism was rampant. One day we were divided into four groups to come up with campaign ideas. When my idea was chosen, the managing director said, “Jan, that’s a great idea. We’ll get one of the men to do it.”
I did well, though, finally working in the exciting world of Hong Kong advertising, and building my own publishing company (and my second marriage) there. Even so, I think I had a niggling feeling that this wasn’t ‘it’.
While I
