I’m thinking a lot about my time in Kenya this week. I reread a story I wrote for the IHT about the May 2012 Al Shabaab attack on Nairobi. Three years later, the government has not improved its strategic response or security infrastructure. Three years later, unfeeling, underfunded Somali militants continue to punish ordinary Kenya citizens. Plus ça change.
When I was still reporting from Washington, I covered President Obama’s 2010 African Youth Leadership Summit for the Daily Beast. That story led me to a few of the young people profiled in my book.
Four years later, Obama brought another crop of young Africans to the US for 6 weeks of living in diverse American cities, ensconced among us. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to chat up the special guests, and hear from them about what the US looks and feels like to them.
So I wrote “Coming to America” for the New Yorker. The most interesting part, to me:
Just one [of the fellows]—Murendeni Mafumo, from South Africa—was interested in public-sector work. Most had mixed feelings about their governments. “We all agree that our heads of state do not know what to prioritize,” Andry Ravalomanda said. In Nigeria, Alonge added, “we leave our destitute to die on the road.”
Cofie quickly challenged Alonge. Back home, she said, “If you have a family member that is destitute, somebody will take care of them. They don’t have that here, so they have to do what they do.”
This gets to the heart of the “Family” map I identify in the Bright Continent. The presumption of social solidarity is engrained, and fills the gaps where the state does not reach.
Last year, I wrote a story for the Washington Post’s “Spring Cleaning” issue. I think my sincere plea to “stop talking about problems that don’t exist” corresponds to the glibness that dooms hashtag activism like #bringbackourgirls.
The term “developing country” is a bit odd — as though societies start in the Stone Age and progress, inexorably, toward Las Vegas. It is better, though, than the old designation of “Third World” vs. “First.” Unfortunately, the “First World” has made a comeback, in the form of a self-indulgent and self-referential meme: first-world problems.
The phrase, which began as a Twitter hashtag but has infected offline conversations, is essentially a humblebrag disguised as a complaint. Bleating about traffic while en route to your beach house or venting that your favorite Moleskine notebook has been discontinued is a subtle way of flaunting your tastes and privilege. And no, your winking self-awareness doesn’t make it any less annoying.
I recently spent a month in Nigeria, straddling the end of 2014 and the beginning of this year. It coincided with a ramp-up in the election season--a pivotal one for Africa’s largest democracy and economy. I wrote about the rumblings of an upset for challenger and now president-elect Muhammadu Buhari. Beyond the security calculus, there seemed no way that the electorate could possibly reward Goodluck Jonathan’s hamhanded six years as head of state.
A few weeks later, Nigerians took to the ballot box to peacefully transfer power to the opposition. While I’m glad there was no wahala around the vote, I’m not one for high fives when it comes to elections in Africa. I wrote about my hesitations for the Washington Post:
While western nations have long viewed the “free and fair” African election as an end in itself, such elections carry no guarantees of improvements in the lives of voters. Political leadership the world over fixates on weak state institutions, elliptical “good governance” metrics and quadrennial votes, rather than the nimble, informal forces that truly drive development. I call this phenomenon “formality bias.”
...
Formality bias has [...] consequences. The private sector that drives 80 percent of Nigeria’s economy has been forced to sit on its hands for the duration of the 2015 campaign — Africa’s most expensive to date. Private companies, domestic and global, often hover over elections in uncertain young democracies, waiting-and-seeing if capital allocation, infrastructure investments, and product launches make sense. For months, “after elections” became the mantra of businesspeople across the country. The day after the announcement of Buhari’s win, the Nigerian stock market leapt to attention — up 2 percent to a three-month high. In that context, the election-driven loss of productivity and opportunity is breathtaking — up to $2 billion, per one analysis.
It would seem that David Brooks has read my book. Or something. It's odd. His weekend op-ed on “The Real Africa” reads like a slapdash summary of The Bright Continent.
Too many of our images of Africa are derived from nature documentaries, fund-raising appeals and mission trips. In reality, Africa faces in acute forms the same problems that afflict pretty much every region these days. Most important: Individual and social creativity is zooming ahead. Governing institutions are failing to perform the basic, elementary tasks.
I’m delighted that the points I have been making—that the trajectory of sub-Saharan Africa is among the most vital stories of the 21st century, and that we had better complicate our analysis—have taken seed in the intellectual firmament of the NYT Op-ed page.
The trouble with these op-eds (I learned this recently) is that they are so short. They fly by night. They necessarily lack nuance. But as to the matter of African modernity, I think nuance is sorely needed—perhaps why I think a reported book is the proper medium for this discussion.
[T]he new norm has also left millions behind. Poorly paid teachers are frequently absent or unready to teach a curriculum that is both dreary and dated. Many just skip the subjects they don’t know well. Classrooms are bulging, and some students show up too hungry to learn. The focus on primary schooling devalues high school, college, and vocational training. The millions of Africans who have left school “half baked” are out of the loop entirely.
Likewise, Brooks celebrates Africa’s juggernaut GDP growth. He rightly points out that extractives are less than a third of this growth; but like many thousands of essay-writers, neither questions the utility of the GDP metric, nor whether growth on its own terms actually helps the ordinary person in Africa. There is good literature on why slavishly tracking GDP is its own kind of trap. I write:
GDP is fundamentally tied to the state. Per capita figures are calculated at a national level, flattening variations among rural, urban, and peri-urban residents. Yoked into their respective state frameworks, Mali’s populous southern capital appears much worse off than rural Namibia—though arguably the reverse is true.
Further, my reporting suggests that jobless growth is a terrifying concern for a region where youth unemployment is at its highest level since the ILO began gathering such data, and where idleness and ideology fuse to create the Boko Haram threat.
While the booming GDP growth rates for African economies this decade are certainly cause for celebration, the youth of Africa have remained mostly untouched. [Former Nigerian Education Minister Obiageli] Ezekwesili described a young man asking her why the region’s massive growth hadn’t reached him in the form of a job. She cringed and called the failure to translate paper prosperity into tangible opportunities “the policymaker’s nightmare.”
Anyway, there's a lot more where that came from. I hope someone sends Brooks a copy of The Bright Continent to read--if he hasn't, ahem, already.
I wrote a story in the May Atlantic Monthly about the astonishing, leapfrogging evolution of mobile payments in Africa, and how much catching up there is to do in the OECD.
Highly related: Postal Banking. Because “a lot of Americans have scant access to banks and a lot of post offices have too little to do.”
“While the booming GDP growth rates for African economies this decade are certainly cause for celebration, the youth of Africa have remained mostly untouched.”
I submitted to “Ask Me Anything,” a quickfire interview series with the gracious team at Andrew Sullivan’s blog. Here I am talking about media perceptions of Africa.
Twenty years after the Rwandan genocide, I am reflecting on my own reporting trip in 2011. In addition to a fascinating story of rebirth, I found that candid and sincere conversation about politics, development, and the aftermath of violence was not easy to come by.
I concluded the silence in Rwanda has two sources: 1) an understandable reluctance to revisit trauma and 2) a troubling lack of free expression.
These sources are intertwined; it seems the country has traded liberty for security. Betty Mutesi, who works at the Rwandan Ministry of Finance, explained, in a way: "If you are running away from something, will you run faster? I think so.”
Low-frills Bridge International Academies has disrupted the operation of basic education. At the African Leadership Academy in South Africa, I found pedagogical innovation:
The educators who designed the curriculum follow Anders Ericsson’s pedagogy of “deliberate practice.” For their first semester at ALA, students are required to keep a diary of their every waking moment — designed to instill time management skills. Over the next two years at ALA, students are required to commit a long-term social service venture, an “original idea” that is developed by students and nurtured throughout the year, or a student-run business. They learn accounting. They face audits. They get out into the world and test their ideas. “The best way to develop as an entrepreneur is through practice and experience, not through theory,” says Swaniker.
In TIME, I argue that American schools should take a page from ALA, and teach entrepreneurship as a high school subject:
Why reserve leadership and business training for budding MBAs, and leave team building exercises the domain of annual workplace retreats? By starting young, the ALA incorporates inspiration, motivation, and self-improvement into a more organic growth trajectory. In American schools, “deliberate practice” could also integrate practical training in relevant disciplines from computer science to photography — perhaps rescuing shop and home economics from the academic dustbin.
Not only is it Black History Month, it is also Black Future Month. Be sure acknowledge the people in your community and abroad championing our culture. Be sure to follow Chinaka Hodge’s Black Future Blog to get an idea of who is carrying on the Black Radical Tradition whether it is in the arts, activism, politics, sciences, academia, parenting, etc.
The Bright Continent @thebrightcontinent-blog - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag