Before joining the Bertha Challenge Fellowship, I believed that real change belonged to the powerful, those with influence, authority, or global recognition. I often questioned whether ordinary individuals could truly shift systems or rewrite narratives. But the week I spent at the Bertha Retreat did more than challenge that belief, it gently dismantled it and replaced it with something far more enduring. I left with a deeper conviction: change does not always arrive in loud, historic moments. More often, it is born in the quiet persistence of determined people who refuse to look away.

This year, the Bertha Challenge poses a powerful question: How is the collusion between governments and corporations driving the assault on the rule of law, civil rights and a free press and how do we push back to protect democratic accountability? Sitting with this question alongside fellows from different parts of the world made me realize that the struggle for justice is both deeply personal and profoundly collective.

From the very first day, something shifted within me. Listening to the fifteen fellows speak about the projects they are nurturing was humbling. Each story carried courage. Each vision carried sacrifice and, in that room, it became clear that if each of us chose to do just a little more, the world could soften into something more just and compassionate.

One moment, however, caught me completely off guard: meeting my role model, Dr. Thuli Madonsela. I first came to know of her during the 2019 South Africa’s state capture period through newspaper stories. To me, she had always represented the image of a courageous African woman, one who stood firm in the face of power and spoke truth when it mattered most. For years, I imagined what I would say if I ever met her. I had so many questions ranging from what gives you the courage to continue? How do you stand when the ground beneath you is shaking? Have you ever wanted to walk away? among others. 

But when I finally stood before her, I froze. I found myself simply staring until she noticed me. For a brief moment, I almost feared that meeting someone I admired so deeply might unravel the image I had built in my mind. Yet, gathering courage, I approached her and what followed was nothing like I had feared.

One of the most powerful things she said was this: "In the struggle for change, we should not be overly concerned with influencing the majority. Instead, we should find a few people willing to walk the journey with us because lasting impact is often built by committed communities, not crowds."

That insight settled deeply within me. It re-framed leadership not as popularity but as shared commitment. In many ways, that moment ignited something in me and prepared me for the work ahead throughout the fellowship year.

One evening, we gathered at a local restaurant and shared a traditional meal called INJERA. Between laughter, storytelling and the ease of new friendships, I realized that movements are not built-in conference rooms alone. They are nurtured around tables, in shared silences, and in moments of simple joy.

Beyond these experiences, the retreat became a sacred space for connection. The fellows were remarkable warm, thoughtful and bold in their visions. I found genuine joy in learning about their work as we begin this journey together.

It was also a time of self-discovery, understanding my own strengths while learning from others’ experiences. I developed a deeper appreciation for the role of media and journalism in protecting Environmental and Human Rights globally. Watching the mini-documentaries created by some fellows reminded me that storytelling is not merely an art, it is a form of resistance and a preservation of truth.

As I left the retreat, one truth stood clearer than ever: Change is not reserved for the powerful, it belongs to the committed. When determined individuals come together around a shared vision, they create ripples that can reshape the future.

The Bertha Retreat was not just a meeting. It was a reminder that the responsibility to build a more just world rests with each of us.