Rain, Resistance, and the Renaissance: Thabo Mbeki Ignites Africa’s Youth at UDSM

By Adonis Byemelwa

By the time the skies burst open over the Nkrumah Hall at the University of Dar es Salaam on May 21st, 2025, the atmosphere was already charged. Security personnel flanked the campus, the rhythmic hum of anticipation thickened by an ensemble of South African and Tanzanian student songs, swirling together in one pan-African harmony.

Over 30 students and professors from the University of South Africa (UNISA) had traveled alongside the former South African president, Dr. Thabo Mbeki, whose entrance was anything but ordinary. With academic robes, clenched fists, and weathered voices belting songs of struggle and unity, the crowd didn’t merely await a speech—they awaited a reckoning.

The rain was a fitting metaphor. A continent soaked in potential but weathered by corrosion—corruption, complacency, and the decaying credibility of institutions. But beneath the storm, a rebirth was brewing. And Mbeki, now deep into his senior years but unbowed, took to the podium like a prophet returning to the village square.

In a gathering marked by thunder both literal and rhetorical, the former statesman peeled back layers of African malaise with surgical precision. Instead of relying on the laurels of nostalgia or past revolutions, Mbeki did what few elder statesmen dare: he placed the burden and hope of the continent squarely on the shoulders of its youth.

"Africa's youth are not the future—they are the present," he seemed to say, without needing to spell it out. If they remain engaged, their collective voice could transcend the stale, senior-dominated narrative that has paralyzed reform. His challenge was sharp: stop waiting for the veterans. Become the vanguard.

With a voice heavy from decades in the trenches of politics, diplomacy, and intellectual warfare, Mbeki lamented the current erosion of democratic principles. “We make policies on paper—gender equality, youth empowerment, accountability, development—but where is the action?” he asked. It was less a rhetorical question and more a slap in the face of a continent often rich in declarations but poor in delivery.

Mbeki’s tone was far from nostalgic. If anything, it carried the weight of betrayal. He recounted how, four years prior, he was sought by Ivory Coast’s opposition parties to intervene in a political standoff. His guidance was ignored by the ruling class, resulting in a flawed election.

His caution to the African Union not to send observers was disregarded. The AU, he argued, had become complicit in a cycle of legitimizing illegitimacy. "We cry unity, yet disrespect the very principles meant to guide us,” he warned.

That skepticism extended to African institutions at large. ECOSOC, AU agencies, trade unions—entities meant to represent the voice of the people—have devolved into dysfunctional echoes of their founding missions. They arrive with fanfare, Mbeki quipped, only to vanish with the first winds of accountability.

But even as he critiqued, Mbeki’s remarks brimmed with reverence for what once was. He called for a return to the foundational ethics of Pan-Africanism—an ideology that once galvanized freedom fighters like Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X.

Citing Tanzanian scholar and political science PhD student Sabato Nyamsenda, Mbeki pressed for a renaissance that echoed the energy of black American liberation, this time rooted firmly in African soil.

He recalled, with evident disappointment, an invitation by the Chama Cha Mapinduzi Youth League in Zanzibar. There, he observed youth jostling for power not with ideas or ideology, but with money. “Even the youth are buying votes,” he noted with visible disgust, calling it a betrayal of the liberation movements that birthed modern African states. “This is not democracy. This is decay.”

And he didn’t spare his party, the ANC. Mbeki confessed that the once-revolutionary party now seemed adrift from its founding principles, veterans clinging to relevance while offering little in terms of substantive progress.

His prescription for the future was simple but powerful: crave skills, yes—but never at the expense of values. "We need loyalty to principles, not just personalities," he urged, calling for a revival of the ethics that defined Julius Nyerere's vision—equality, integrity, and the rule of law.

The former president of Tanzania and current UDSM Chancellor, Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete, delivered an equally rousing vote of thanks. He painted Mbeki not only as a man of vision, but as a “citadel of change.”

Kikwete reminisced about his student days in the same university halls, leading protests against colonial figures and authoritarian leaders. “Back then, education was a weapon for freedom. Today, it must be a tool for transformation,” he said, drawing roaring applause. He honored the university’s legacy in nurturing change agents like Professor Issa Shivji, who was also present in the hall.

Kikwete recounted the boldness of their era—when students dared to challenge British envoys, chant against apartheid, and embrace revolutionary ideals without fear. “Now, with independence achieved, what do we do with this freedom?” he asked pointedly. “We need an African renaissance, driven not by slogans, but by substance. And the youth must lead it.”

Indeed, the symposium, themed “The State of the Continent: Reigniting the African Renaissance,” became a crucible for critical reflection. UDSM Vice Chancellor Prof. William Anangisye praised the Thabo Mbeki Foundation’s commitment to scholarship, urging Africa to define its own intellectual path rather than mimic Western templates. His message was clear: African problems need African scholarship.

From the KIONGOZI Institute, Kadari Singo emphasized the need for leadership rooted in values, while also urging African governments to keep pace with global technological shifts like AI and cloud computing. For him, change would not come by rhetoric alone but through modernized, responsive leadership that can marry tradition with innovation.

Dr. Mbuyiseni Ndlozi, the firebrand political thinker from South Africa, implored Africans to reclaim their villages, not as symbols of poverty but as bastions of ecological harmony. “Why should we wait for white tourists to tell us our nature is beautiful?” he asked.

“Let us use our resources to uplift ourselves. Trade among ourselves. Educate ourselves—not to escape poverty, but to fight it.” He didn’t spare global politics either, pointing to Trump's trade tariffs as an example of economic nationalism that Africa must learn from.

Simon Shayo from Kiongozi Institute took a more grassroots view, arguing that real progress must begin with basic needs—maternal health, access to clean water, and walkable distances for women and children. “If Africa still struggles with these in 2025,” he said, “how dare we talk about a renaissance?”

And as the day wore on, as discussions moved from colonial scars to digital futures, from slogans to accountability, one message became indisputably clear: the time for polite panels is over. Action is overdue.

Sabato Nyamsenda, youthful but incisive, embodied the fusion of old ideals and new urgency. “Agenda 2063? That’s too late. We need an Agenda Now. Today’s youth must claim the same radical energy that once stirred the diaspora into revolt,” he declared.

By the end of the stormy day, Mbeki had become more than a guest of honor. He was crowned an agent of change by none other than Kikwete himself. The honor wasn’t ceremonial. It was a mantle passed, a call resounded, a torch relit. As students, scholars, and leaders filed out of the hall—some still soaked from the earlier rain—it wasn’t just clothes that were drenched, but spirits, soaked in the call for a new dawn.

If this symposium was any indication, Africa’s rebirth isn’t a far-off dream. It’s a storm already gathering. And this time, its thunder comes not from podiums, but from the determined footsteps of its youth, finally moving to reclaim their continent, not someday, but now.