‘I feel kind of selfish because I’m talking with you here in this fancy place and I’m so upset, but imagine being there – it’s 10 times worse,” says Ola Labib. The British-Sudanese comic took a break from gigging when violence broke out in Sudan last month. “It’s been constant anxiety,” she says about the conflict. “You can’t go on stage and make people laugh and be all happy when this is happening.”
In a rooftop cafe in London, she tells me her family were in Khartoum when the first clashes erupted. “My cousin flew to Sudan to surprise her dad for Eid but then she got stuck. When she had internet access, she messaged me saying, ‘Pray for me, forgive me if I’ve done anything to you.’ When people message you stuff like that, they think they’re going to die.”
Labib is returning to the stage this month, alongside comics Nabil Abdulrashid, Michael Odewale and Kyrah Gray in a fundraiser for medical aid for Sudan. It’s four years since she performed comedy for the first time, after encouragement from friends. “There were two audience members and they were both drunk,” she remembers.
“My opening line was like, ‘Oh, I bet you’ve never seen a hijabi in a pub before. The last time anyone saw a hooded figure in a pub was Frodo at the Prancing Pony.’ The two audience members didn’t find it funny but it just happened that the promoter was a Lord of the Rings fan. He asked me to come back.”
In the years since, Labib’s profile has grown quickly, after she appeared on Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled, Don’t Hate the Playaz and Mo Gilligan & Friends: The Black British Takeover.
Her husband, rapper and actor turned author Ramey Dawoud, is no stranger to the stage, either. Labib first saw him at a Hackney film festival in 2014. After she followed him on social media and sent a few direct messages that went unanswered, he announced he was doing a Ted talk in Sudan. “I booked flights there and got VIP tickets. I went up to him after he finished and pretended like I didn’t know who he was. We got talking, then my little brother said, ‘You do know who he is, you’re always looking at his Instagram!’”
Dawoud found it “funny and endearing but maybe a bit creepy,” she says. They had their first date by the Nile. “In Sudan you can’t be out past a certain time if you’re not with your husband or another male relative.” They were stopped by the police who asked what their relation was to each other. “I said husband and he said friend at exactly the same time. He’s an activist so he wasn’t afraid to talk back, so he repeated, ‘I’m spending time with a friend.’ I was hysterical because I was the one who would get in trouble. I thought on my feet and was like, ‘Oh, am I not your fiancee any more? Am I your friend now? Is that how it is? I’m gonna call my father right now and I’m gonna call off the wedding!’ … I was screaming at him. Even the police officer was a bit taken aback and asked, ‘Do you need me to mediate?’”
Labib took on comedy full-time in February last year after working as an NHS pharmacist. When I ask if she enjoyed her previous job, I’m greeted with an uncharacteristic silence. “I don’t think so,” she says. Perhaps naively, I had assumed Labib’s time in the NHS would be a comedy goldmine. Instead, she recounts numerous stories of racism and bigotry. She recalls an encounter with one patient: “She kept repeating, ‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’ I thought she couldn’t hear me so I spoke louder and louder. Then she was like, ‘Look, get me a translator, because I don’t understand the Indian accent.’”
As well as performing standup, Labib has a number of projects in development. Muslim writers have spoken about their difficulties getting authentic stories on screen and she has faced similar hurdles. “You can’t just be organically Muslim. They want you to be the haram [unlawful] Muslim. That’s why you get shows commissioned about Muslims that I don’t think represent what we are actually like. I wrote a script and it was taken to a very big streaming company. They said they loved it but that it wasn’t risque enough. If I wanted to do something risque, I’d write a sitcom about a hijabi who wants to go into the porn industry. It’s not authentic. OK, maybe there’s Mia Khalifa …”
She counts Dave Chappelle, Ricky Gervais and Slim among her comedy heroes. Gervais’s comments about cancel culture resonated with her: “There are loads of jokes I want to tell that I know that I can’t.”
Labib’s family, too, has had a big influence on her jokes. “My dad is really funny – people say we have the same personality.” Her brother was also formative in her comedy journey. “I had really hot friends growing up and my older brother always used to say, ‘You’re not doing yourself any favours hanging out with them – you should always hang out with people uglier than you.’ It got me down a bit but then he said, ‘Look on the bright side. This one is the beautiful one. That’s the sexy one. But you’re the one with a funny personality.’ That kind of stuck a little bit.”
Sudan Fundraiser for Medical Aid is at 2 Northdown, London, on 12 May
