Africa is a land of contradictions—rich but poor, awake but asleep, proud but subdued. We walk on gold but beg for coins. We produce thinkers but follow influencers. We carry spirits stronger than mountains, yet we surrender to imported gods.

And perhaps, this is the tragedy of our time.

The Loud One and the Silent One

When John Pombe Magufuli rose in Tanzania, he shocked many. He was loud, direct, uncompromising. He made enemies in the West and among local politicians who feed from the West. They called him “dictator.” But we knew. He was not loud for himself—he was loud for his country. He fought corruption with his sleeves rolled up, built roads, and dared to push Tanzanians to work, not to wait for aid.

Compare this to Ibrahim Traoré of Burkina Faso, another son of Africa rising against neo-colonial chains. Young, unshaken, willing to break ties with those who still see Africa as a minefield for their own gain.

Now imagine Magufuli and Traoré in the same government. Africa would have seen a new dawn. They would have clashed, yes—for leadership that strong does not sit quietly. But their clash would have built something: accountability, self-reliance, courage. A model for a free Africa.

The Silent Dictator

Yet, here we are with another kind of leadership. Jakaya Kikwete, once our smiling leader, now the quiet hand behind politics. A man not in the seat but on the throne of influence. He smiles, he dines, he lives well, while the country crumbles. Tanzania’s politics is in ruin—remote-controlled leadership, not of vision but of personal interest.

The intellectuals are silent, fearing their salaries. They once cried “dictator!” at Magufuli, yet now they watch in silence as democracy bends under remote control. This silence is not wisdom. It is cowardice.

Tanzania was once a country of thinkers. Today, it is a country of influencers. Brainless noise. Empty gestures. While at State House, a leader unfit to run a kiosk is ruling a nation, waving the flag of grants and begging bowls.

Is this the destiny of Nyerere’s land?

Spirits Over Imported Gods

But the crisis of politics is not separate from the crisis of spirit. We have been taught to abandon our gods, our ancestors, our spirits, and kneel before imported ones. And so, we pray for what we already have.

God gave us Africa. He gave us fertile soil, endless minerals, rivers that cut through deserts, forests that breathe life into the world. Yet we kneel and cry: “God, help us.”

This is like a father paying school fees, buying books, and sending his son to class—only for the son to come back and ask, “Father, please come sit in the exam and write for me.”

No. That is not faith. That is laziness disguised as holiness.

The spirits of Africa—our ancestors, our land, our heritage—still wait for us to call upon them. Not in whispers, but in action. Not in fear, but in courage.

Blood and Freedom

If we fear blood, we fear freedom. Every nation that is free today paid with sacrifice. The chains of colonialism were not broken by silent prayers but by loud resistance.

Yet today, we are scared of even speaking truth, let alone shedding blood for freedom. And so, we remain colonized—by aid, by loans, by propaganda, by puppets sitting in high offices.

Magufuli shed blood in words. Traoré sheds it in defiance. The question is: who else will rise?

The African Lifestyle

The African lifestyle was once simple yet dignified. We lived close to nature, eating from our own land, guided by spirits, united by community. Work was not punishment; it was life. Respect was not bought; it was earned. Leaders did not serve Western grants—they served their people.

But today? We live on borrowed time, borrowed money, borrowed gods. Our cities grow, but our souls shrink. Our youth dance for likes instead of land. Our elders eat in silence, while nations burn.

And yet—the African spirit has not died. It sleeps.

A Call to the Living

Nyerere, Mkapa, Mwinyi, Magufuli—our past leaders rest or watch from beyond. But Africa’s future cannot come from them. It must come from us. The intellectuals who choose silence must break their chains. The youth who fear must learn courage. The leaders who bow must learn to stand.

Africa is not poor. Africa is not weak. Africa is not lost.

Africa is waiting.

The spirits call. The blood whispers. The land trembles. The ancestors watch.

The only question left is: Will Africa rise, or will Africa vanish?