Africa is not a country, but what if we made it one? Channeling African similarities for comprehensive solutions.

Emmanuel Ajibade

June 10, 2025

Growing up in Nigeria, I vividly remember how we would get beaten for incorrectly listing the seven continents of the world in our elementary Social Studies classes. One was not permitted to miss even one or mess up the names. Africa, just like the other continents as we learned, was a vast landmass made up of diverse nations. It was made clear to us how these countries were different and Africa was not homogenous. This distinction became a point of pride, a shield against the ignorance of those who just lump all of our identities together, probably due to unfounded narratives they were exposed to. We would tell them that we aren’t one monolithic entity, we are Nigerians, Kenyans, Ghanaians, Egyptians, South Africans, Congolese, and we are different.

Are we?

In October 2020, Nigerian youth took to the street in a movement represented by the hashtag #EndSARS. Years of pent-up frustration at police brutality by the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) drove them to occupy strategic places such as the state government secretariat at Alausa in Ikeja, the Lekki toll-gate, and the Nigerian capital Abuja. The demonstrations spread to major cities of Warri, Ogbomoso in Oyo state, Port Harcourt and many more cities demanding for their lives to be protected from the very people who are paid to protect them.

4 years later, in June 2024, Kenyan youth also went to the street. This time using the hashtag #RejectFinanceBill in response to the controversial Finance Bill that was tabled before Parliament. Many Kenyans saw the bill as an unfair burden on the already struggling populace. The bill, which the government saw as a way to increase revenue amidst post-covid inflation and rising national debt, proposed significant increases in taxes with a primary focus on income tax, value added tax, and excise duty, although other areas were touched on as well.

In both cases, the reaction of the government followed a familiar pattern. An initial dismissal of protesters’ concerns gave way to attempts at appeasement, followed swiftly by crackdowns when it became clear that the movements wouldn’t be easily quelled.

In Kenya, the protesters were labeled as “misguided” and “manipulated by opposition forces”. This disrespectful attitude only fueled the movement’s growth, so the government shifted tactics. Protesters were met with tear gas and water cannons. The Police started arresting dozens of protesters, including prominent youth activists and social media influencers who had been instrumental in keeping the movement going. In one of their statements, the Ministry of Interior said, “Police will use reasonable force when protests escalate to criminalities.” On Saturday June 29, 2024 the Daily Nation, a prominent newspaper in Kenya ran with the headline “740 blank bullets, 18 live ones and 958 canisters of tear gas: Revisiting Githurai’s Tuesday night of mayhem” as they tried to recount the tragedy that fell on a tribe just because young people asked lawmakers to be fair and realistic.

In Nigeria, the government’s response was not so different. Tear gas, water cannons, unlawful arrests, and criminal police action were also employed. The government tried to counter these peaceful protests by introducing thugs to infiltrate the protests and turn it violent. All these hit a climax on October 20, 2020, at the Lekki Toll Gate in Lagos. As peaceful protesters sat on the ground, singing the national anthem and waving Nigerian flags, security forces rained fire on them. Some put the number of casualties at no fewer than nine, though the exact number of casualties remains disputed, perhaps unsurprisingly, by the government. But the event, which was live-streamed on social media, was a shock to the nation and the world.

Whether these protests were effective is still a matter of debate. In Nigeria, the government agreed to disband the SARS unit but many would argue that the core issue of police brutality is yet to be addressed. There is no evidence to show that real reform has taken place within the police department to reach the heart of the matter. There have, however, been panels of inquiry across the country to find out more about the protests. In Kenya, the finance bill was withdrawn and the President finally decided to not sign it into law; still, the underlying economic challenges remain largely unaddressed. The Kenyan president also dismissed his cabinet following the protests. However, many of those dismissed were quickly absorbed into the new cabinet and different positions of power.

Perhaps the most striking similarity between the #EndSARS and the #RejectFinanceBill is the central role played by young people. These movements were powered by a generation fluent in social media, adept at organizing online and offline, and unafraid to challenge the status quo. They leveraged technology to coordinate protests, document abuses, share information, and build international solidarity.

The youth-led nature of these protests speaks to a broader trend that we can spread around the continent. For me, this is a generation that everywhere around the world is more connected, more educated, and more determined to shape their nation’s futures than ever before. They’re rejecting the notion that they must wait their turn or accept the failures of previous generations.

The young people in these protests are not just fighting for change in Nigeria or Kenya. Over the last four years we have had demonstrations in Malawi, Uganda, Zimbabwe, Gambia, and Ghana all with the same message of demanding for the government to be fair to them.

What if our potential solutions were as interconnected as the challenges we face? Is it possible that this increase in connection across the globe could help us tap into a more united front for organising, creating stronger connections tapping into a deeper, Pan-African truth? Can we use these protests as a launch pad to create a different, possibly better, reality for ourselves?

History provides a compelling precedent for continental awakening. Between 1956 and 1968, Africa witnessed an unprecedented wave of independence movements, with 1960 alone seeing 17 countries gaining freedom from colonial rule. In the eight years that followed, about 15 more achieved independence status. This was no mere coincidence. Rather it was a result of shared strategies, mutual inspiration and a collective yearning for self-determination that swept across the continent.

The challenges facing African nations transcend borders with remarkable similarities. From youth employment driving migration and causing a huge brain drain here in Africa, to corruption undermining all of our fundamental institutions. Even our diplomatic relations have become questionable. For example, why would a plane ticket from Lagos to Nairobi cost more than one from Lagos to Qatar? The recent pandemics exposed the inadequacy of our health systems, and we were relying on aids to provide relief. These aren’t isolated national issues, they are very much shared African challenges. So, can we scale successful policies across the continent like the Rwanda health model, or maybe use the Nigerian Fintech ecosystem as a sample for other countries here? Is it possible to set up continental investigative alliances to fight corruption or create a pan-African food security network to manage droughts and storage across our climates?

The brave young protesters from across the continent are teaching that somewhere, somehow we have something in common. Will we learn? Or will we remain partially blind to our shared burdens and insist on our individualistic approach? Our borders may be drawn in ink, but our realities are written with shared experience. We are Nigerians, Kenyans, Ghanaians, Egyptians, South Africans, Congolese, and we might have more in common than we think.

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