Africa is not a country: Challenging the myths and stereotypes

As a child growing up in the UK, London in particular, I suffered from an acute identity crisis. I did not know it at the time, but being in a mostly White school called St George's the Martyr Primary School, I was like a fly in buttermilk. But I saw myself as White.
That is why when two Ugandans, David and Steven Iraka, came to the school, I joined the other White children in marvelling at how black they looked. “You look like you stayed too long in the oven,” I laughed, while teasing them as they looked at me as if I was born with half a brain. Being even darker than them, this seemed to be the near-literal case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Years later, my brother Martin and I went to the Grange School in Limuru, Kenya. Before it closed, The Grange was an international school nestled between the undulating hills of Limuru. I was so ignorant of my Africanity that all the local, bare-footed children  were dubbed “the Kikuyu”, by me!
Once, my English teacher, a Canadian called Mr Mackenzie, was asking the three Ugandan students in the class what tribes they belonged to. I was by far the youngest child in the class, so he started in descending order. Kwame Ejalu said he was an Itesot. Vincent Lukwago and Sport Rucekeri said they were Baganda, Sport is actually from Burundi. When my turn came, I just said what they said: “I am Buganda”. In those exact words!

My evident ignorance is what is tackled in the book, Africa Is Not a Country: Notes on a Bright Continent (2022) by Nigerian journalist Dipo Faloyin. Of course, I am not named by name but the name of my kind of ignorance is on insightful display in this non-fiction book that challenges the monolithic Western stereotypes that reduce a highly diverse continent of 54 countries, 1.4 billion people, and over 2,000 languages into a singular, helpless caricature of poverty, safari parks, and endless war.

I particularly liked the way the author tackled the White saviour complex in hit songs that were seemingly aimed at saving Africa from itself.
Do They Know It’s Christmas was certainly a phenomenon and its omnipresence every December in the UK has barely diminished in the decades since,” he writes. “For the recording [Bob] Geldof attracted the biggest artistes of the day, including George Michael, Duran Duran, U2, Phil Collins and Spandau Ballet.”
He adds: “The song was a gargantuan chart success. It was the number-one single in the UK for five weeks, selling 13 million copies worldwide to date and raising more than 10 million [Pound Sterling]. It climbed to the top of the charts in the US too, and in several other countries around the world. From its release and positive reception, this one song birthed an entire movement of celebrity-fuelled activism that could be used to attract large sums of money from a generous public. All this was achieved by painting a picture of a place that did not exist.”

Here, the book delivers an unsparing critique of Western media, Hollywood tropes, and well-meaning but condescending charity campaigns. Arriving in Ethiopia in 1986 when my father was appointed high commissioner there, I expected to witness all the horrors that the Do They Know It’s Christmas song conjured when it went: And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time”. As if snow is manna from heaven instead of hell freezing over.

The Kony 2012 video campaign is assailed too, proving how American media buccaneers stripped Ugandans of agency and harmed local economies (e.g., destroying Uganda's tourism). This book is a must-read.

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