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.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Youth Is Wasted On The Young

I usually make a valiant effort to avoid the innerworkings of Kenyan political and media drama. To be honest, it's too demoralizing. There's just too much I don't understand about the cultural and socio-economic imperatives at play. I can only use my American imperialist template to try and explain and assess, and that usually leaves me frustrated and sounding a bit too dismissive.

But this past week, I'm as guilty as the average Kenyan of being mesmerized by the fate of one Ms. Esther Arunga. The face above belongs to East Africa's modern day Helen of Troy, a young woman considered the epitome of Kenyan beauty, grace and sophistication. From the moment I landed in Nairobi, Esther Arunga's name was invoked as the hottest thing since pili pili pepper, the one woman that every man would do anything to have.

Until about a month ago, Esther was one of the most popular television newsreaders in the country, written about in every Who's Who column for being prettiest, best dressed, most desirable, etc. Many young girls wanted to grow up and be her, and her parents were bursting with pride over this glowing young jewel, who not only was a talented media darling but also held a law degree.

Yesterday, Esther Arunga was arrested, and today her face was plastered on the front page of a local newspaper. She didn't do anything illegal that we know of. If she's guilty of anything, it's of being criminally naive. You see, like millions of others before her, Esther appears to have succumbed to the lure of what's alleged to be a local cult, and has behaved in ways that startle even a seasoned, seen-most-of-it journalist like me.

I'll just hit the highlights for now. It seems that about a year ago, Esther moved in with this local jazz saxophonist who had started his own "Finger of God" church, and who claims to be a protege of American evangelical preacher Benny Hinn. He also allegedly encouraged her to quit her newsreader job because she wasn't being paid enough. (You know, that's the only part of this saga I can relate to. I'm positive that Esther not only wasn't being paid what her fame and persona are worth, she was probably getting a 3rd of what her male colleagues get.)

This twisted tale gets better. Esther also broke off her engagement with a guy whom she then claimed was a member of the Freemasons, and who planned to ritually sacrifice her on Valentine's Day. She announced her plans to run for Vice President in 2012, as a running mate to Mr. Saxophonist, and accused many local politicians and powerful leaders of being in league with Satan. And she publicly pledged her love for another guy who is alleged to have faked emails claiming that Benny Hinn had anointed him the 123rd most anointed human on the face of the planet, and that Pepsi Cola had dropped Tiger Woods as their spokesperson and was considering him as the replacement.

You can't make stuff like this up, people. Well, I suppose you could, but it wouldn't be nearly as bizarre. And I've only given you the bare bones. Honestly, I've found myself eager to get my hands on the morning paper to see what the latest installment will be. I also find myself praying that whatever happens, Esther will emerge from this story whole and healthy. My gut tells me she'll never, EVER be taken seriously again, and that makes me tremendously sad. From one woman of African descent to another, I know how hard she worked to be taken seriously, to be viewed as professional, talented, poised and confident. All that effort has been obliterated, thanks to a week's worth of media coverage.

Granted, I'll never know the full details of why Esther made some of the choices that led her to this place, but I'd be willing to bet that Mr Saxophonist saw his opportunity to latch onto a high-profile young woman's frustration and emerging sense of self worth, and he twisted it into something impulsive and self-destructive solely for his own benefit.

The good news is that as of today, Esther is out of jail. Whether her family and friends can get through to her remains to be seen, but the situation instantly reminded me of another reason I'm glad to be who I am and the age I am. I swear, just let some little bandy-legged musician even think about asking me to quit my job, move in with him and his wife, and start announcing my State House ambitions.

The only finger involved in that scenario would be my middle one, right after I recommended a radical new way for him to play his saxophone. And I think I'm speaking for grown-assed women around the globe when I say that.

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