The Long Game: When Solutions Aren’t the Goal (Yet)

by Echo Nomsa VanderWal

Every day—suffering or protests.
Cries from so many in pain, needing help.
Facilities needing supplies and medications.
Reaching out to the institution that, for 20 years, has stepped in with solutions.

The past few days, I really struggled to know what to write.

Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to write anything.
Because most of what I was doing this week wasn’t writing… it was self-talking.
A lot of it.

Trying to sort through the ache of watching so much human suffering—and knowing, deep down, that solutions are fully within reach.

And yet… the very decisions that would allow people to thrive keep getting avoided.

You have watched the pattern for years—people searching for solutions where there are none, while pretending the real ones don’t exist.

And in the meantime, people suffer.

Children grow up without parents. Unnecessarily.
Elderly parents bury their children. Unnecessarily.
Families are torn apart by something so… heartbreakingly unjust.

And because God created us to ease human suffering, it brings a heart-pain that cannot be explained.
Because you know it didn’t have to be this way.

Since I was 8, I’ve known this calling.
First, 20 years of preparing and learning.
Then, 20 years of answering the cries of the suffering.

But what breaks you isn’t just the suffering—it’s watching those who actually bring solutions get blamed for the collapse they’ve worked so hard to prevent.

Because somehow, there’s a kind of “acceptable” corruption that most seem willing to ignore the kind that feeds the powerful few while making the weak pay the price.

And then there’s the imaginary corruption they invent to discredit anyone who threatens their control.

I watched it play out in March 2025, when paid newspaper articles were weaponized—not to expose wrongdoing, but to silence those getting too close to the truth.
Articles funded by the very people with the most to lose if real accountability ever takes hold.

That betrayal still waits for justice.

And when you try to help—they’ll use your compassion against you.
Let you carry the burden.
Take the blame.
Hide your inputs.
Patch the cracks—all while they protect a broken system just a little bit longer.

But here’s what I’m learning:
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is step back—not because you don’t care, but because you care too much to let your life’s work become part of their cover story.

Because you’re not the problem.
You’re just inconvenient to those who profit from the problem.

But then comes the part I don’t like admitting: Wanting so badly to help, only to realize… solutions aren’t actually the goal.

Sometimes they aren’t looking for answers.
They’re looking for cover.
They’re looking for someone else to carry the cost while they keep benefitting from failure.

And when you fill the gap, it feels like the right thing to do.
But over time, you realize:

By helping too much, you become part of the problem.

Your compassion keeps the system alive just a little bit longer.

And yet… it still feels wrong to let things fall.
Because the most dangerous lie of all is that nothing better is possible.

So here I am, saying it out loud—because I need to hear it, too:

It’s not wise to hold up what needs to fall.
It’s not wise to pretend.
It’s not wise to be used as part of someone else’s cover story.

We are here for the long game.
To build what lasts.
To wait for something better to rise.

And after 20 years of saying yes to every cry of human suffering, finding solutions that most said were impossible, retraining the heart, the mind, and the soul is a process.

Because when stepping back feels like walking away…
you have to remind yourself—again and again—that true compassion builds what lasts, not what covers.

And in the middle of all this, I was asked to step onto a platform—not to defend myself, but to speak for what’s still possible.

The podcast title?
“Supply Lifeline: Innovation, Crisis, and the Future of African Healthcare.”

And while the title sounded complex, the questions weren’t hard at all.

Because the answers are so simple.
Painfully simple.

Very basic principles—
Integrity.
Transparency.
Controls.
Accountability.
Ownership.

And maybe most importantly: Treat others how you want to be treated.

That’s all it would take for us to finally move from surviving to thriving.

Our days of being victims must come to an end—not because someone else saves us, but because we choose to save ourselves.

The truth is—the solutions are right at our fingertips.

We don’t need more ideas.
We don't need to keep “bench marking”.
We need more courage.
The real question is:
Will we be the ones who are brave enough to do what needs to be done—
even if it involves personal sacrifice and a new way of doing “business”?

And here’s what is sure:
We can rise to the moment by calling, or be forced to face it by accountability.
Either way, there is no other path forward.

The only question is when we’ll stop avoiding what’s already the only way forward.

I’m still watching. Still hoping.
Maybe you are too.