By Ajong Mbapndah L *
Africa almost missed one of its most important stories this month. While television screens and social media feeds were consumed by dramatic scenes from South Africa’s immigration protests, another African leader quietly delivered a lesson that reached far beyond diplomacy. Namibia’s President Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah offered a timely reminder of the values that once held the continent together.
After the official ceremonies of her State Visit to Tanzania were over, President Nandi-Ndaitwah left the formalities behind and returned to Magomeni, the ordinary Dar es Salaam neighbourhood where she had lived as a young SWAPO representative during Namibia’s liberation struggle. She later travelled to Kongwa Military Camp, where liberation fighters from Namibia’s SWAPO, South Africa’s ANC, Mozambique’s FRELIMO and Zimbabwe’s ZANU trained under Tanzania’s protection.
She walked through the dormitory once occupied by Sam Nujoma, honoured fallen comrades and later planted a tree named Umoja—Unity—in Dodoma. It was a quiet itinerary, but one rich in meaning. Long before Africa spoke of regional blocs, trade corridors and continental integration, it was held together by something simpler: countries that opened their doors to one another when freedom depended on it.
That is the essence of Ubuntu, not as a slogan or conference theme, but as a lived African value. Tanzania gave shelter, Algeria issued passports, and Zambia, Angola, Botswana and Mozambique accepted enormous risks because they understood that the freedom of one African nation was tied to the freedom of another. They did not first ask what they stood to gain.
The timing of President Nandi-Ndaitwah’s homecoming could hardly have been more relevant. South Africa’s recent immigration tensions have exposed genuine concerns over border management, crime, unemployment and public services. Those are legitimate issues that every sovereign country must confront, but they have also shown how easily fellow Africans can become convenient scapegoats for failures whose roots run much deeper.
President Cyril Ramaphosa has faced the unenviable task of balancing public frustration with constitutional obligations and the protection of human dignity. It is a responsibility far easier to criticise than to carry. Julius Malema, for all the controversy surrounding his politics, has also been one of the more consistent voices arguing that fellow Africans should not be turned into enemies because of nationality.
The worst fears surrounding June 30 did not materialise. There were casualties, intimidation and painful incidents, but not the widespread bloodshed many had predicted. Credit belongs to the government, community leaders, security agencies and ordinary citizens who exercised restraint, yet the tensions exposed by the crisis cannot simply be wished away.
How did a continent whose liberation was built on shared sacrifice arrive at a point where fellow Africans increasingly see one another as competitors rather than partners? How did neighbours become suspects, and how did the language of solidarity give way so quickly to the language of exclusion?
Perhaps the saddest illustration came not on the streets but on football’s biggest stage. There was a time when an African team at the World Cup belonged to the entire continent. Once your own country was eliminated, support moved naturally to the next African flag. Cameroon inspired Africa, and so did Senegal, Ghana and Morocco.
Yet during South Africa’s opening World Cup match against Mexico, many Africans openly rooted for Mexico. It was more than a sporting preference. It reflected how political resentment had spilled into a space that once brought Africans together. Somewhere along the way, the continent lost more than a football tradition.
The tournament itself still offered a more hopeful lesson. Cape Verde may not have lifted the trophy, but the small island nation captured imaginations with its fearless performances. It stood toe-to-toe with global heavyweights and refused to be intimidated. That fighting spirit is what Africa needs in boardrooms, laboratories, factories, negotiating rooms and trading floors, not only in football stadiums.
Cape Verde also reminded the continent that its strongest examples do not always come from its largest countries. Small in population but big in belief, it continues to show that good governance, capable institutions and national confidence matter more than size. Africa’s smaller nations can lead when they are organised, disciplined and clear about where they are going.
The World Cup also highlighted a reality the continent rarely discusses honestly. Nearly every major football nation featured players of African heritage. Romelu Lukaku is the son of Roger Lukaku, who played for what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo, while Anthony Elanga is the son of former Cameroon international Joseph Elanga. Across Europe, many players carry African roots while representing the countries where they were born or raised.
Their stories raise difficult but necessary questions. Could a Nigerian child born and raised in South Africa one day feel fully accepted in a Bafana Bafana shirt? Could a Cameroonian engineer who has lived in Equatorial Guinea for decades be regarded simply as someone contributing to Equatorial Guinea’s future? If Africans can build successful careers in Europe, North America, Asia and the Middle East, why should mobility within Africa remain so politically charged?
Every country has the right to regulate immigration, enforce its laws and protect its borders. That debate should never be dismissed. But lawful migration, professional mobility and acquired citizenship should also be recognised as opportunities. Doctors, engineers, researchers, entrepreneurs and technology specialists strengthen economies regardless of where they were born.
If narrow nationalism becomes the guiding principle across Africa, some uncomfortable questions follow. Should Aliko Dangote have confined his investments to Nigeria instead of building businesses across the continent? Should South African giants such as MTN, now woven into the economic life of many African countries, have remained within South Africa’s borders? The logic quickly collapses.
Africa cannot celebrate the movement of capital while rejecting, outright, the movement and contribution of people. That is not the vision behind the African Continental Free Trade Area. The promise of AfCFTA extends beyond goods crossing borders; it is about creating a continent where investment, enterprise, innovation and talent can move more freely, generating opportunities that benefit Africans collectively rather than one nation at a time.
The deeper responsibility, however, lies beyond South Africa and football. Every African government that condemned attacks on its citizens should also ask why so many of those citizens felt compelled to leave home. Migration rarely begins at a border. It begins with conflict, corruption, unemployment, insecurity, failed elections and governments that do not create opportunity.
South Africa did not create all those conditions; it became one of their destinations. That is why the burden of reflection cannot rest only with Pretoria. It belongs equally in Abuja, Harare, Kinshasa, Mogadishu, Juba and other capitals where citizens continue to leave because hope has become scarce.
Nigeria has every right to condemn attacks on fellow Africans, but with its own struggles against insecurity, corruption, unemployment and bitter politics, it must also ask whether it is providing the continental leadership its size and influence demand. The same question applies elsewhere. Leaders cannot demand Pan-African solidarity abroad while failing to deliver accountable governance at home.
This is why President Nandi-Ndaitwah’s journey through Magomeni and Kongwa mattered so much. She did not return to Tanzania seeking applause. She returned to say thank you and to acknowledge that no nation wins freedom alone. In doing so, she reminded Africa that Ubuntu is not nostalgia; it remains one of the continent’s greatest strategic assets.
This edition of Pan African Visions explores many of the questions shaping Africa’s future. We examine Daniel Yu’s vision for tackling the continent’s employment challenge, Burkina Faso’s rupture with France, Ghana’s campaign for reparations, Zimbabwe’s constitutional manoeuvres and other stories reflecting a continent searching for new answers in a changing world.
These are different stories, but they share a common thread. Africa’s next struggle is no longer for political independence. It is for accountable leadership, stronger institutions, productive economies and a renewed sense of common purpose.
President Nandi-Ndaitwah did not pretend to offer every solution. She simply reminded Africa of something it already knew but was beginning to forget. The next liberation struggle will not be fought in camps like Kongwa; it will be fought in classrooms, laboratories, factories, courtrooms, polling stations and boardrooms. Perhaps that is why her walk through Magomeni became the most powerful moment of the visit. She was not asking Africa to remember her story. She was asking Africa to remember itself.
*Culled from July Edition of PAV Magazine
