By Alpha Amadu Jalloh
Africa lost its soul long before anyone called for an autopsy. The signs were everywhere, written in the open sky like warnings from the ancestors, yet no one dared to read them. The continent did not collapse in a single moment. It perished slowly, painfully, piece by piece, as its hopes were dismantled by greedy leaders, manipulated elections, international criminal cartels disguised as diplomats, and foreign conglomerates who came smiling as partners but stayed as masters.
Kwame Nkrumah: “Colonialism and its attitudes die hard … that myth of colour inferiority … supported … the continuing exploitation under imperialism.”
The story begins in the season of elections, that sacred moment when nations pretend to choose their destiny. But in Africa, elections became rituals of deception. Citizens lined up under the blazing sun with voter cards that meant nothing. Ballot boxes were seized in the night like stolen goats. Results were rewritten in hotel rooms where the air reeked of whiskey, fear, and foreign interests.
Western powers rarely appeared in person, but their influence drifted through corridors like cold mist. Mining giants from Australia, Brazil, and China had already chosen winners before the people even voted. Rio Tinto, BHP, Vale, and countless others acted like emperors without thrones, showering money, promises, scholarships, and secret back‑door deals on the candidates who would guard their mining concessions. The West mastered the art of puppet strings while pretending to sponsor democracy. China perfected the art of the silent knife, smiling while tightening debt chains around governments desperate for infrastructure, stadiums, and highways that led nowhere.
The continent’s elections were never truly its own.
Foreign ambassadors, always polite and well-dressed, visited candidates at night. They were diplomats by profession but cartel bosses by trade. They did not smuggle drugs, but they smuggled influence. They did not traffic weapons, but they trafficked power. They promised training, security cooperation, and humanitarian aid while their real missions were hidden in classified cables. Their embassies were control rooms, and visas became currency. African leaders bent their backs to please them because power in Africa often came with the condition of foreign approval.
But the true tragedy was not only foreign interference. It was the leaders who allowed it. Year after year, African nations trotted out ancestors to rule the young. Presidents who should have been in retirement homes were instead sworn into office with trembling hands, dim eyes, and tired souls. These men had nothing to offer except nostalgia and greed. They feared young leaders because youth meant change, speed, and the threat of accountability. So they buried the dreams of the young under constitutions re‑written in midnight sessions.
The African Union watched silently. The AU sent observers who slept in air-conditioned hotel rooms while elections burned outside. They issued statements full of soft language and empty meaning. ECOWAS followed the same script, sending teams who talked of peace while endorsing stolen victories. SADC nodded along, choosing stability over justice every single time. Stability for who? For the old men who clung to power with the desperation of drowning sailors.
The institutions meant to protect democracy instead sheltered dictators.
Julius Nyerere: “We reject the glorification of the nation‑state we inherited from colonialism … We are all Africans trying very hard to be Ghanaians or Tanzanians.”
Whenever a young leader tried to rise, the world united to crush him. A bright mind with vision, determination, and courage was seen as a threat, not a blessing. This is especially true for a figure like Ibrahim Traoré, one of Africa’s youngest strongmen, who came to power in Burkina Faso through a 2022 coup. His bold ambition to reclaim national resources, expel foreign military presence, and build a domestic gold refinery paints him as a Pan‑African revolutionary. But Traoré is walking a razor’s edge: internal purges of his own military, digital surveillance, and the constant threat of assassination loom. His shift away from France toward other partners risks trading one form of influence for another, and his promise of democratic transition risks being hollowed out as his regime delays elections.
The children of the continent were never allowed to grow.
The elders who stayed in power became deaf, blind, and numb to the suffering around them. They built their lives on stolen futures and had no intention of facing divine judgment. They feared heaven because they knew their sins. They feared hell because they knew they belonged there. So they decided to enjoy life now, at any cost. Palaces were built. Private jets were bought. Families lived abroad while citizens drank contaminated water. They surrounded themselves with sycophants who praised them as visionaries while the continent crumbled like old clay under rain.
Greed replaced love for the people.
Ahmed Sékou Touré: “Guinea prefers poverty in freedom than riches in slavery.”
In the villages, ancestors whispered through the baobab trees, mourning the betrayal of their descendants. They had dreamed of a continent led by the brave and the young, united in purpose and spirit. Instead, they watched in anguish as their grandchildren voted for shadows, while leaders signed contracts that sold land, minerals, and sovereignty for foreign applause.
International cartels, camouflaged as development agencies and strategic partners, expanded their networks. They used language like stability, cooperation, and investment. But what they truly sought were resources buried deep beneath African soil: gold, diamonds, iron ore, bauxite, coltan, oil. They did not care about the people living on the land. The only value they saw in the continent was what could be extracted and shipped away.
Everyone wanted a piece of it, and no one wanted to heal it.
In classrooms, teachers struggled to explain democracy to children when elections had no meaning. In hospitals, doctors stitched wounds caused by political violence. In markets, women sold tomatoes under posters of leaders who had never lifted a finger to help them. In universities, students protested until they were beaten, tear-gassed, or jailed. Hope became a luxury. Optimism became a myth. Even prayer felt heavy.
But death does not always mean the end. Sometimes death is a pause, a moment before rebirth.
The continent lies on the ground now, scarred, exploited, and wounded. But beneath the grave soil, something still breathes. The youth are rising. They are reading. They are questioning everything. They are challenging the elders. They are refusing to accept that corruption is normal. They are refusing to bow to foreign masters. They are rebuilding identity through music, technology, activism, and education. They are tired of shadows ruling them while others pull the strings.
If the continent was destroyed by its rulers, it is being prepared for revival by those who love it.
The resurrection will not come through elections manipulated by foreign mining giants. It will not come through handshakes in AU headquarters. It will not come through loans that enslave rather than liberate. It will come from the youth who refuse to inherit a broken world.
The continent suffered, yes. But the question now is who will revive it, and when the time comes, who will have the courage to stand up and declare that enough is enough.
Until that day arrives, Africa waits, listening for the sound of footsteps from a new generation marching toward freedom with clear eyes, bold hearts, and unbroken spirits.
Disclaimer:
The views expressed in this commentary are solely those of the author and do not in anyway reflect the opinions or editorial policy of Africa Publicity
