Africa, Today
I grew up in a post-independence Africa, in a time and place where freedom was supposed to be a given. The Africa of endless summers and harmattan winds trailing the monsoon. The Africa where time flows like an abundant, untamable river. The Africa of colorful flags, grand anthems, and pride.
It was also the Africa where, across almost every nation, we celebrated our deliverance from the yoke of imperialism—from the foreign powers that drew the borders and defined the shape of the states we now call home.
Yet even after liberation, true freedom still tastes like a distant promise. It lingers like the hope of tomorrow – yearned for with each new sunrise, but always slipping beyond reach.
Take, for instance, press freedom. According to the latest Reporters Without Borders index, only a handful of African countries offer a press environment that could be considered “satisfactory.”
Elsewhere, the situation is even more dire. In Guinea, 97% of women are subjected to genital mutilation (Le Monde), in utter disregard for their consent. Should we even begin to discuss the rights of disabled people, access to education, or the fragile state of democracy?
The Holy Culture
Beyond the tangled thorns of politics and power, the absence of freedom often hides in something considered sacred: culture.
But who dares to speak against culture? To question it is to be labeled a traitor, an outcast, a neo-colonialist. “Culture” silences the debate. It paralyzes thought. Yet, many of the deeply rooted failures in our societies stem precisely from it.
In Gambia, Parliament recently debated lifting the ban on female genital mutilation – a ban that had been law since 2015. The defenders of this backward step had one simple, resounding argument: “It’s our culture.” This time, reason prevailed. But that’s not always the case.
Culture in many African contexts is still seen as a monolith – untouched by time, immune to evolution, sealed away like a relic in a cave. And so we must ask: What exactly does this culture say?
Who Holds the Truth?
There’s a proverb from my country that asks: “Why ask your father if what your grandfather said is true?”
In many Global South cultures – especially in Africa – freedoms are not evenly distributed. They are hierarchized. They begin with old men and end, if at all, with young women and children.
Culture legitimizes power, often at the expense of virtues and responsibilities. It prioritizes hierarchy over harmony, age over wisdom, authority over dialogue. It grants the truth to the elders – not because of what they say, but because of who they are. What remains, then, for the youth to utter? “Yes.” “Okay.” “You are right.”
The Happy Thirst
And so, life goes on.
The young write of flowers blooming, of backs arching, of bodies warming under bedsheets. They dance their thirst for freedom away on TikTok. They cry it out in the stillness of their rooms. Why risk acts of unnecessary heroism?
They sing. They sip wine or beer. They offer themselves to a world that never truly looks back at them. They observe power from a safe, silent distance.
And when they write, they do so with caution – tiptoeing like one walks on eggshells. Every word carefully weighed, every truth wrapped in metaphors.
And yet, they laugh. They find joy in their sorrow, in the hunger for words. They are joyful in their thirst. So joyful, in fact, that the world forgets they were ever thirsty at all.
A happy thirst.
About the author
Wamo Nunyali is a Togolese blogger and writer exploring the intersections of culture, literature, and history. In 2021, he was awarded Blogger of the Year at the Togo Digital Awards. Passionate about storytelling, Wamo crafts immersive worlds through his short stories. He is one of the youngest members of PEN Togo and holds academic training in English and Marketing Communication.
