ARE AFRICAN COUNTRIES FINDING THE LOST MUTUAL LOVE THEY HAD FOR EACH OTHER?
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I believe borders are arbitrary. This belief was strengthened last year when I travelled out of Nigeria for the very first time. The journey, an exhausting and exhilarating December road trip, wasn’t to any of the exotic or popular places that other people go to on their first trip abroad, no. My first journey outside Nigeria was to Lomé, Togo.
I got selected to represent the University Of Calabar at the Pan-African University Debate Championship (PAUDC), a debate competition involving several universities across the continent. Last year’s edition was hosted by Université De Lomé, right at the heart of Togo’s capital.
We didn’t have money for flights or a straight bus to Lomé, so we broke the trip into two days; Calabar to Lagos on the first; Lagos to Benin Republic and then Benin Republic to Togo on the second. Two days. Two borders. I was excited.
Our borders prove that Africa is still a reflection of colonialism. Our continent, big as it is, was once shabbily divided, split and cut like pieces of cake, and shared to conceited European men in a little conference room. Those men then picked up their flags, swords, guns, and chains, and paid us an unfriendly visit.
They took our lands and our people. They made those who remained to work for them, to fill their intemperate pockets with riches from our own natural resources. They cut off the hands of those who refused to work, and severed the legs of those who tried to run away. The deaths were brutal and innumerable.
At some point, we had enough. We fought back against the colonial monsters, losing several battles but eventually winning the war. Cries of independence spread across the continent. One by one, we were free.
Unfortunately, the colonizers had planted evil seeds before they left our continent. They had sowed tares. And while we slept, at ease in our new-found liberation, those deep-rooted weeds began to grow. Their fruits: civil wars, violent secessions, and genocides.
Some ethnic minorities felt constricted by the borders that the colonizers had carved. They wanted out, but their demands were deemed illegitimate. New battles for freedom ensued. We became both the chained and the chain owners. The hate and violence worsened, and then came the mass murders.
Shocked by gruesome massacres like the Rwandan genocide, we rose again, a united Africa. We bonded in love, we healed together. We formed the African Union (the OAU then), vowing never to fight each other again.
That promise wouldn’t be kept by everyone anyway. But at least, some learned their lesson. Today, Rwanda wants to establish visa-free travel for all incoming African nationals. It wants to eliminate the territorial restrictions to African “togetherness.” Borders are arbitrary.
All I did on the bus to Lagos was my debate study. The PAUDC debate format emulates the British Parliament procedures, and one of the basics of British Parliamentary (BP) debate* is that motions are given only 15 minutes to each round. You’re not allowed to use the internet or ask anyone for help — well, unless they’re your debate partner. All you have access to is their knowledge, your knowledge, and a dictionary.
I knew, from looking at previous PAUDC editions, that most of the debate motions would be related to Africa. So all the news I watched and all the articles I read were Afro-centric..
I found out about the Nigerien coup. And that two countries with relatively recent coups, Burkina Faso and Mali, were showing strong support for their West African neighbour — much to the chagrin of ECOWAS. The West African organization was livid. They dished out sanctions immediately. Frozen Nigerien assets. Border restrictions. There were even talks of an invasion.
ECOWAS leaders were very vocal, condemning the coup with unending indignation. But the three countries wouldn’t budge. United in a common struggle — to expel bad governance and free themselves from the talons of the French — they defied ECOWAS, disregarding all its demands.
I read all this in shock. Well, mostly because I seldom read the news. I hated it. There was always something depressing happening. There was always a bomb blast; a death or several deaths; a starving child or multiple starving children; a coup; a ton of sanctions.
But I had to read all this. BP debate tournaments like PAUDC require you to be extremely knowledgeable of world events. So, I took it all in, all of the depressing news. I took in the fact that a few West African states had come together to defend one, against the entire bloc. A bloc that was threatening war. War against countries that made it clear that they were ready.
I looked at the complex situation. Right there amidst the politics and misunderstanding lay a concept familiar to the black continent. It looked like unity, like solidarity. It looked somewhat like love?
When we got to the Benin Republic border, we had to change our currency. The Naira was immediately worth nothing when we crossed, we needed Francs (CFA). The timezone in my phone also automatically adjusted to Benin Republic’s GMT. It was apparent that we were in a different country.
Yet, amidst the loud French, I could not help but look back at the border station. Nigeria was right there. Just a few meters dictated the difference between Nigeria and Benin Republic. Yes, the lingua franca was different, but don’t we also have different languages in Nigeria? To me, we were almost indistinguishable from the Beninese.
The trip to Togo was exhausting. We didn’t understand French, so we got cheated severally. At the border, we were asked to pay more than we should’ve (we found out later), and the drivers we boarded charged us exorbitantly.
Had they not heard of the coup in Niger? Had they not heard how those three countries — Niger, Burkina Faso, and Mali — had banded together, stood strong for each other, and formed a formidable relationship? Why would anyone cheat their neighbour? Why would anyone cheat someone they ought to love?
We would’ve argued with those people, disagreed on the prices, but we didn’t know any French except “Je mappelle…” Besides, there was a debate tournament ahead of us; we saved the arguments for that.
I’ve felt heartbreak before. So, I understood the ECOWAS — they were hurt. Coups were not supposed to be part of the union, and Niger, Mali, and Burkina Faso had broken that pact. With the worst part being that they were flirting with who ECOWAS repeatedly told them not to, Russia.
I’ve also been in an unhappy relationship before so I understand those three countries. They wanted more freedom. They wanted to define their identity in a way they thought was best for them, but ECOWAS was having none of it.
Those countries would eventually leave the union. They left months after that tournament at Togo, and few days into AFCON, the biggest football tournament in Africa.
Sport tournaments, despite their competitive nature, are the most unifying events on the planet. And debate — at least to debaters — is a sport too. It was at PAUDC I realized that Africa could be united; not against some European enemy, but against the very issues that currently divide us.
We debated several motions at PAUDC. One was about eco-terrorism and the plight of the Niger Deltans. Another was about whether or not African tribes that sold other Africans in the slave trade should pay reparations. None about the Niger coup.
Every region of Africa — North, South, East, West — was well represented at the tournament. I met people from Namibia, Zimbabwe, Ghana, South Africa, Liberia, even Morocco. We ate together, joked together, and sang and danced to the same songs — mostly afrobeats.
We talked about our countries. We talked about our bad leaders, our cultures, our food, our families, our expectations for the tournament, our expectations for the continent. Not once did anyone ask, “Do African countries love each other?” To us, the answer was palpable.
I believe that a country is not its political class. A country is not an aggregation of their decision-making. It’s not “leave or stay in the ECOWAS”, it’s not “let’s slap them with sanctions.” It’s not defined only by borders, the arbitrary sketch of bloody European hands. A country is its people.
It was at Togo that I realized that true unity was possible. It was there, while debating and competitively disagreeing with others, that I realized we could attain some form of oneness, despite our differences. True unity. “True”, because people often conflate unity with love. The fact is, not all unity is love, but all love is unity.
My team crashed out of the PAUDC quarterfinals, sadly. The eventual winner of the tournament was Kwame Nkrumah University of Science of Technology, Ghana. And I just find that poetic.
The one university named after the strongest proponent of pan-africanism, Kwame Nkrumah; a university named after a man who believed that Africa can and should be united in mutual love, won the biggest debate tournament in Africa. Subtly, it sends a message.
We might insult each other over football. In fact, real xenophobia may persist. Terrorism and poverty may kill our young. Bad leadership may be a staple of the entire continent. But the answer to the question, “Are African countries finding the lost mutual love they had for each other?”, will depend on if you see these countries as the people and not their leaders or landmass.
It will depend on if you see the slew of young Africans trying to find that lost mutual love. It will depend on if you see the hate that some of us still have as nothing but another reflection of colonialism. If you see it this way, just like I do, then your answer will be the same as mine. It will be a simple, definite, and emphatic “yes.”
**PAUDC Nutifafa facebook page: https://web.facebook.com/PaudcNutifafa/?_rdc=1&_rdr
