In the densely populated urban slums of Korogocho, Nairobi, Community Health Promoters (CHPs) play a pivotal role in bridging the gap between healthcare systems and the local communities. One such remarkable individual is Wasiaya (aka Wasee), a CHP whose life story illustrates not only personal transformation but also the critical importance of mental health support, self-care, and ongoing training for CHPs.

A Role Model Born from Chaos

Wasiaya’s journey into community health work was anything but straightforward. Before stepping into the role of a CHP, Wasee’s life was marked by turmoil and emotional distress. Growing up in Korogocho, she experienced the harsh realities of urban slum life – domestic violence, substance abuse in her community, and the constant threat of gender-based violence (GBV). The lack of support systems and mental health resources left her feeling isolated and unable to cope with the trauma she carried.

Her chaotic past manifested in anger and emotional instability, making it difficult to navigate personal relationships and community interactions. Yet, these challenges shaped her and motivated her to change. “I was chaotic,” Wasee recalls. “I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions, and I felt trapped in a cycle of pain…”

Wasee’s transformation began when she was introduced to a training program by Amnesty International, focusing on GBV and Violence Against Children (VAC) prevention. The training not only equipped her with knowledge and skills to support victims of violence but also provided her with coping mechanisms to address her own trauma.

Working in Kisumu Ndogo, an area within Korogocho notorious for high cases of GBV and VAC, Wasee began to connect with survivors and support them in accessing health services and legal aid. Through this work, she found a sense of purpose and healing. “Helping others allowed me to heal parts of myself,” she reflects.

Mental Health Gaps: A Hidden Burden

As a CHP, Wasee quickly realised that mental health was an often-overlooked aspect of community well-being. Many community members, burdened by poverty and violence, struggle with anxiety, depression, and trauma. However, stigma and lack of access to mental health services prevent them from seeking help.

“There’s some stress that can’t be hidden,” Wasee says. “But people here fear judgment, so they suffer in silence.” During a mental health session in Mathare, another informal settlement in Nairobi, she witnessed how stigma silenced those in need of support.

For CHPs like Wasee, the mental health burden is twofold—they not only support their community but also carry the emotional weight of the stories they hear. “We carry the community’s struggles on our shoulders, but who carries us?” she asks.

In her experience, women are more open to sharing their struggles, while men often suppress their emotions due to cultural expectations. This gender disparity further complicates mental health interventions in Korogocho. “The ladies are able to share,” Wasee notes, “but men feel that admitting to mental health challenges makes them weak.”

One of the most significant barriers Wasee faces in her work is the broken referral system. While CHPs are trained to identify mental health issues and refer severe cases to healthcare facilities, the limited availability of mental health professionals and long waiting times often leave patients without support. “It’s hard to refer someone when you know they might not get help soon enough,” she says.

While CHPs are vital in linking communities to healthcare services, being a CHP means carrying the weight of the community’s health, encountering difficult conditions and significant struggles, including:

• Heavy Emotional Burden: CHPs often bear the emotional weight of community members’ struggles, leading to stress and burnout.
• Limited Mental Health Support: There is minimal access to mental health support for CHPs themselves, despite their exposure to trauma.
• Stigma and Discrimination: Mental health stigma in communities makes it difficult for CHPs to address these issues openly.
• Inadequate Training: Short, one-off training sessions are insufficient. Continuous and inclusive training is necessary for CHPs to stay effective.
• Referral Challenges: Limited healthcare infrastructure and long waiting times hinder effective referrals for mental health cases.
• Gender Disparities: Women are more likely to share their struggles, while men often suppress their emotions due to cultural expectations.
• Lack of Recognition and Support: CHPs are often undervalued and lack financial support and resources to perform their roles effectively.

Wasee believes that for CHPs to be effective, continuous training is essential. “One or two days of training is not enough,” she emphasises. “We need ongoing learning opportunities that are inclusive of all CHPs, especially in mental health support.”

Today, she is recognised as a role model in her community. Her journey from chaos to advocacy inspires other young women and men to join the fight against GBV and support mental health initiatives. Through her work, she is not only helping to heal her community but also breaking the stigma surrounding mental health.

“I found my healing in helping others,” Wasee says with pride. “But I also know that as CHPs, we need support too. When we are mentally well, we can serve our communities better.”

Wasee’s story is a powerful reminder that CHPs are not just service providers; they are individuals with their own struggles and triumphs. Investing in their mental well-being, providing continuous training, and creating supportive networks are essential to building resilient health systems in communities like Korogocho.

As the SHINE project continues to advocate for the mental well-being and agency of CHPs, stories like Wasee’s serve as a beacon of hope and a call to action for policymakers, healthcare providers, and community members to prioritise mental health at all levels.

Written by Freshiah Njoroge, a communication expert supporting the SHINE project, at LVCT Health