In July, 2008, I, Princess Rachella, Intrepid African American Girl International Journalism Consultant, pulled up stakes once again and headed to Nairobi, Kenya. Through my various adventures, I've concluded that if I get any MORE explosively fabulous in these prequel years to "THE BIG 5-0," I will have to register myself with the Pentagon as a thermonuclear incendiary device.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

What You Resist, Persists

I was thinking about that blogpost title yesterday, as I read a news item about slums in Kenya. It reminded me of my plaintive rant last week about visiting Kibera, one of the biggest slums anywhere. Re-reading that post, I realized it came from a deep well of frustration, even helplessness about the level of poverty in this, and many other African countries.

Yesterday's stats didn't help. It seems Kenya ranks among countries with the most slums in the world. In fact, 70 percent of urban dwellers in Kenya live in slums like Kibera. Nairobi alone has 160 of these "settlements," where about 55 percent of the city's 4 million residents live...or I guess I should say they exist.

To stay sane, I try to keep reminding myself of the Biblical reminder that the poor will always be amongst us, and maybe it's healthiest to just accept that a percentage of the world's population will always struggle and suffer. Or, maybe I should just do like so many other people have done, roll up my sleeves and help when and wherever I can, like so many folks are doing in Haiti at the moment. One person can't eliminate the problem, but if you're doing things that make you feel like you're easing the horror for just one person, maybe it helps you sleep better at night.

I'm still struggling to find the right formula for myself in that regard. But in the near term, I realize that instead of dreading the Kiberas of the world, I need to stop resisting the reality of urban Third World poverty--at least while I live in such close proximity to it. AND when I keep being drawn back to witness it. I'll be going back to Kibera later this week, and this afternoon I realized I was already clenching my jaws and tensing my muscles and steeling my nerves for the journey. I'll be visiting a radio station there, and eventually conducting a workshop for journalists.

So it's probably time to just release the fear. Not of personal harm, but of psychological devastation. After all, if I fell apart, Kibera would remain, just as big and bad as ever.

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