By Ajong Mbapndah L
A faded $10,000 cheque written in 1994 to Nelson Mandela has become an unexpected symbol of Africa’s unresolved political memory, as xenophobic incidents in South Africa trigger escalating responses from African governments, the United Nations, and the African Union.
The cheque, shared by Ghanaian entrepreneur Kofi Anku, was written by his late father, a medical doctor who financially supported the anti-apartheid struggle from abroad. What began as a private family document has evolved into a continental flashpoint, drawing attention to the relationship between historical solidarity and present-day tensions over migration, inequality, and belonging.
Across Africa and the diaspora, the image has ignited emotional responses that stretch far beyond social media. For many, it has become a reminder of the sacrifices made during the anti-apartheid struggle—and a question about whether that legacy is being honored in today’s South Africa.
Retired non-profit administrator Marina Osoba said the cheque represents a moral debt history will eventually recognize.
“All those who supported the fight against apartheid, particularly in Africa, will be vindicated,” she wrote. “Gratitude is the least deeply felt of all emotions. Now I see that is true. God bless your Dad, that was a huge sacrifice.”
CPA Lumanyi Namubatsi, an internal auditor at Kenya’s Parliamentary Service Commission, said the moment reflects a deeper contradiction in Africa’s political identity.
“Africa’s liberation was won through the hands of many nations standing as one,” she wrote. “We cannot honor our past while attacking our present. Our diversity is not a threat; it is our greatest resource. Let us replace suspicion with solidarity and hate with heritage.”
Many respondents across professional networks and public platforms referenced the scale of African support for South Africa’s liberation struggle, which included financial contributions, diplomatic isolation of the apartheid regime, cultural boycotts, and direct support for liberation movements. The cheque, in this context, has become a shorthand for a broader continental effort that stretched across decades.
But alongside this memory-driven solidarity has emerged a counter-argument, particularly from within South Africa, cautioning against linking historical support to present-day migration policy.
South African finance executive Paul Jele argued that while such contributions carry symbolic weight, they cannot be converted into political entitlement.
“The gesture is neither trivial nor forgotten,” he wrote. “Yet it remains precisely that—a personal contribution to an individual and a cause, not a perpetual lien on a nation.”
He warned against what he described as “retrospective benefaction” being used to influence contemporary state sovereignty, particularly in relation to immigration and domestic governance.
That position drew strong pushback from others who argued that violence against migrants cannot be separated from moral responsibility rooted in shared history.
Nana Mgbechikwere N., a PhD researcher, said sovereignty does not justify abuse.
“Then as a country, change your laws,” she wrote. “Bullying, harassing, attacking and killing foreigners isn’t the way.”
The debate has since widened into a broader continental conversation about migration, identity, and economic pressure.
Huroye Scott, a Liberia-born technology executive, said the current crisis must be understood within a wider African context of migration tensions.
“This sort of thing has to stop,” he said. “It shows lack of leadership. But we must also remember episodes like ‘Ghana Must Go,’ when Nigerians were expelled from Ghana, and even more recent cases involving refugees in West Africa. It has to stop—irrespective of who the victims are.”
Other contributors noted that xenophobia is not unique to South Africa, but said its recurrence in the country carries particular symbolic weight due to its liberation history.
Oluwaranti Ademola, a Nigerian education professional who previously lived in South Africa, described xenophobia as “a recurring decimal in the fabric of the country,” adding that governments have often responded reactively rather than preventatively.
She said African countries collectively contributed to South Africa’s liberation struggle, including ordinary citizens who raised funds during their school years.
“There is no justification whatsoever,” she said. “A situation where communities take law enforcement into their own hands to attack, burn, loot, and destroy migrant businesses is unacceptable.”
The controversy has also drawn responses from international institutions.
The United Nations Secretary-General has expressed alarm over reports of xenophobic violence and vigilantism in South Africa, warning that such actions undermine democratic governance and social cohesion. He called for accountability measures and restraint, stressing that violence against migrants is incompatible with human rights principles.
At the continental level, the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights issued a strongly worded statement condemning xenophobic attacks and vigilante conduct. The Commission said civilians have no legal authority to enforce immigration laws and urged South African authorities to dismantle informal enforcement networks and ensure prosecution of perpetrators.
South African authorities, meanwhile, have pledged a crackdown on violence targeting foreign nationals. International Relations Minister Ronald Lamola said the government would act decisively against lawlessness and intimidation.
“Acts of violence against migrant communities have no place in our constitutional democracy,” he said.
Police have reportedly been instructed to identify and arrest individuals involved in attacks, while government officials coordinate diplomatic engagement with affected countries, including Ghana, following protests over viral videos of harassment and intimidation.
Despite these assurances, criticism continues to mount.
Kojo Bedu-Addo, a sustainability specialist, said xenophobic tensions often emerge in environments marked by inequality and economic scarcity, where migrants are perceived as competing for limited resources.
Tolu Kolawole, a product strategist, said xenophobia is less a rational policy issue than a psychological response shaped by fear and socio-economic stress.
“Hatred of outsiders is not rational,” he wrote. “It is a survival response shaped by trauma, inequality, and weak leadership structures that fail to build identity and belonging.”
Others pointed to governance failures, unemployment, and inadequate public education as underlying drivers of recurring tensions.
Across responses, a recurring theme has been the erosion of historical memory. Many contributors said younger generations in South Africa may not fully understand the extent of African support during apartheid, from financial contributions to political solidarity campaigns.
Chartered analyst Mikelange Goudé said African history must be actively taught and preserved to prevent division.
“History needs to be taught, imparted and transferred,” he wrote. “This xenophobic attitude is shameful and does not represent who we are as Africans.”
For others, the cheque has become a moral symbol rather than a political argument.
Dr. Favour Okojie, a Nigerian entrepreneur, said the principle at stake is consistency of human dignity.
“Black dignity can’t be selective,” she wrote. “If it mattered then, it has to matter now.”
Yet the divide remains unresolved. South African voices continue to emphasize sovereignty and economic strain, while critics argue that state responsibility cannot be separated from moral obligation to protect foreign nationals.
As diplomatic pressure intensifies and institutions intervene, the cheque at the center of the debate has become more than a historical artifact. It now represents a continent grappling with its contradictions—between shared liberation history and present-day fragmentation, between solidarity and sovereignty, and between memory and lived reality.
Kofi Anku’s question continues to resonate across platforms, institutions, and governments: “What are we willing to do for each other?” In the growing tension between remembrance and reality, Africa is once again being forced to answer.
