Category: MIL-OSI

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Miki Flockemann, Extraordinary Professor of literature, University of the Western Cape

South African-born literary scholar Dennis Walder recently published an evocative life story called Amid the Alien Corn: A Son’s Memoir. In it, he tracks how, even as a child, he became aware that his mother Ruth was withholding something of herself, and her past, from him. This disquiet comes to a head after her death.

The book paints a rich and entertaining description of Walder’s childhood and young adulthood. He grew up near Cape Town in the 1940s and 1950s with his Namibian-born, German-speaking mother and estranged Swiss-born father. But, as you read, this shifts to a single-minded quest to get to the bottom of the contradictory accounts Ruth has given of her past.

After completing a degree at the University of Cape Town in the early 1960s, Walder decided to leave apartheid South Africa, vowing never to return. In 1981, he was nevertheless drawn back to interview renowned playwright Athol Fugard for a book, and to take stock of what was happening in the country.

In fact, Amid the Alien Corn is patterned by departures and returns between South Africa, the UK, Namibia and Germany. It offers fascinating glimpses into the social and political landscapes Walder moved between. In South Africa, there were interactions with members of the almost forgotten African Resistance Movement. There are also vividly described encounters with cultural figures, among them Gibson Kente and Nadine Gordimer.

But it’s his mother that’s at the heart of much of this beautifully written book. As a scholar of South African literature, I was impressed by the complexity it achieves. The reader is drawn into Walder’s search for the truth about Ruth’s life, but he also warns us:

Nostalgia poisons your ability to understand your place in your own narrative, therefore in history too, while drawing you in.

This idea, that emotion-laden memories might hide the truth about one’s life story and its place in history, is what I consider one of the most rewarding aspects of the memoir.

Beyond a memoir

The book’s prologue begins with Walder’s journey to Cape Town in 1992 when he was 50, to bury Ruth. He moves between his own coming-of-age experiences and his attempts to uncover information about Ruth and her parents, who moved to Namibia in the early 1900s from Germany. In the process, Walder makes us aware of how personal histories are connected with wider events.

The cover is dominated by a striking black and white photo of Ruth, who appears to exude self-sufficiency, even determination. She has an enigmatic not-quite smile and holds the viewer’s gaze. This easy first impression is soon unsettled by references to her fragility, her often contradictory accounts of past events. Her “tight smile” indicates a determination to keep words unspoken.

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Read more: Darker Shade of Pale: why I wrote a book about my grandfather and how it changed my view of him

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As Walder later reminds us, the French philosopher and scholar Roland Barthes describes family photographs as offering only “fugitive knowledge”. Our interpretations of what we see depicted are unreliable.

At the same time, the title (from English poet John Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale), invokes the biblical Ruth, a figure of exile, loss, displacement and unbelonging.

This sense of unbelonging is shared by an intellectually precocious and sensitive young Walder. He’s uncomfortable in his own skin while growing up in apartheid South Africa and its oppressive race laws.

Family secrets

Walder’s quest to know more about Ruth’s past leads him and his wife Mary MacLeod to the archives and to genealogy researchers who trace family origins in Windhoek, Cape Town, Bad Liebenstein and Berlin.

Without compromising, he grapples with the possibility that his search might uncover his family’s complicity with colonial history.

His task is made all the more difficult by Ruth’s evasiveness. She recalls the family history selectively. She falsely claims her father Albert Liebenstein was an only child, as was she. Like the Stolperstein monuments (literally stones that you stumble across) in German cities to commemorate the places where holocaust victims and survivors last lived, Walder’s pursuit leads to unexpected discoveries and living relatives he hadn’t been aware of.

He notes his unease at the growing sense that Ruth’s memories, as told to him or imagined, are becoming his own, uninvited. Taking on Ruth’s memories is a way of mourning a mother he felt he did not really know or understand.

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Read more: Learning from the story of pioneering South African writer Sindiwe Magona

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Ruth’s presence after death lingers in places like the grand Villa Lanwers in Windhoek, owned by her father when he was a successful tradesman. Now listed as a heritage house, it becomes a site of memory he feels it is “a duty not to forget” on her behalf.

His grandmother Margarethe’s grave in Windhoek becomes the site of another burial. The couple place a headstone there in memory of Ruth and her mother and father.

Yet there are also bitter realities here, given that the mass graves of the indigenous Herero and Nama inhabitants executed by German colonisers during the century’s first genocide were not dignified with burial rites.

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Read more: 5 great reads by South African writers from 30 years of real-life stories

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It would be a spoiler to tell what Walder discovers. But the reason Ruth kept her secret remains unclear by the end. One could speculate that it was to protect her family, or herself, or that she simply tried to erase a personal history that felt too difficult – or even too shameful – to live with.

Whatever the “truth” of her silence may be, the son’s memoir is, if not a record, a memorial to Ruth’s life. But the book’s dedication, “For the Forgotten”, takes in a much wider sweep of humanity, across time and place. It prompts readers to reflect on similar silences within their own and other families.

– Memory is not to be trusted: a South African memoir traces the search for a family secret
– https://theconversation.com/memory-is-not-to-be-trusted-a-south-african-memoir-traces-the-search-for-a-family-secret-276198

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Suleman Lazarus, Visiting Fellow, Mannheim Centre for Criminology, London School of Economics and Political Science

For a young man growing up in Ghana or Nigeria, few dreams burn brighter than becoming a professional footballer. Icons like Michael Essien (Ghana), Jay-Jay Okocha (Nigeria) and Nwankwo Kanu (Nigeria) didn’t just win trophies. They escaped poverty, provided for their families, and earned the respect of entire communities.

Football, in much of west Africa, isn’t just a sport. It is a promise.

This promise has led to an elaborate trafficking scheme that claims many young, African victims every year. Victims are lured with promises of football trials, academy placements or opportunities in Europe, only to end up in exploitative conditions in Nigeria. They may be confined, stripped of their documents, and forced to solicit money from relatives, while their devices are used in further fraud schemes run by traffickers.

I am a criminologist who has also researched the socio-cultural dynamics of online offending and victimisation for over a decade. In a recently published paper I examined how deceptive football recruitment can be a form of trafficking.

The paper focused on the case of 76 young Ghanaian footballers who were trafficked to Nigeria for fake trials in 2025 (before being rescued). I examined how digital tools, legal loopholes and emotional appeals were used to entrap the victims.

I concluded that this case was unlikely to be exceptional but part of a wider, emerging form of exploitation in which traffickers weaponise young people’s sporting ambitions through digital deception. That conclusion draws not from this case alone, but from a wider body of research showing how football ambitions can be channelled through exploitative recruitment networks, deceptive intermediaries, and precarious migration pathways.

The key argument is that football migration, cyber-enabled fraud, and human trafficking cannot be treated as separate domains of research. Treating them in isolation has harmful consequences, because this fragmentation creates the very blind spots traffickers exploit. I suggest that prevention requires coordinated regulation, athlete protection, digital monitoring, and stronger oversight from sport and regional bodies.

I also challenge the policy framework that treats sport aspiration and cybercrime in west Africa as separate domains.

Hijacked dreams

The 76 young Ghanaian men were trafficked to Nigeria under the guise of football trials and academy placements.

Recruiters used Facebook posts, WhatsApp messages and targeted digital ads to present themselves as legitimate scouts, complete with the language, branding and rituals of real sports agencies.

When the victims arrived, the reality was very different. Their phones and identity documents were confiscated. They were confined to overcrowded compounds and cut off from the outside world. They were then coerced into contacting their own relatives and fabricating stories about training fees and travel costs to extract money from families back home. Their phones – and the trust embedded in their contact lists – were turned into instruments of fraud.

Some were pressured to recruit their peers, turning the scheme into something resembling a coercive multi-level marketing operation. Eventually, authorities intervened and the victims were rescued.

But the damage – financial, psychological and social – had already been done.

Why football makes such effective bait

To understand why this works, you have to understand what football means in this context. For young men with limited access to education or formal employment, football represents a socially sanctioned path out of precarity. Families invest emotionally and financially in these dreams. To be offered a trial with a club in another country is not just an opportunity. It is a validation of everything a family has hoped for.

Traffickers understand this intimately. They don’t need to drag victims across borders by force. They simply need to make an offer that feels too real, and too meaningful, to question. The coercion comes later, once victims are far from home, stripped of documents and dependent on their captors.

This is a shift from more familiar trafficking patterns. Unlike the well-documented trafficking of women and girls for sexual exploitation, this case involved young men trafficked between two African countries for what researchers call “forced criminality” – being made to commit fraud against their own communities.

Blind spot in policy and research

Sport-enabled trafficking barely registers in anti-trafficking policy or academic research. Most frameworks still focus on sexual exploitation, domestic servitude and irregular migration to Europe.

Intra-African trafficking, particularly through digital deception and aspirational manipulation, remains largely invisible.

There is also a structural problem. In both Ghana and Nigeria, cybercrime enforcement and anti-trafficking responses operate in separate silos. But this case shows how those two worlds overlap: digital recruitment, physical confinement and coerced online fraud are all part of the same operation.

Treating them as distinct policy problems means traffickers can exploit the gaps between them.

Research shows that some Nigerian cybercriminals move to Ghana to expand and protect their operations. The free-movement protocols of the Economic Community of West African States, designed to promote regional integration, also play an inadvertent role. With minimal border checks between Ghana and Nigeria, traffickers can move victims across borders with ease and near impunity.

What needs to change

Policymakers have been cautious about linking football to trafficking, partly because football is widely seen as a source of hope, prestige and opportunity in many communities. But that reluctance is itself a vulnerability.

Several things need to happen.

Firstly, Ghana and Nigeria must improve cross-border intelligence sharing and coordinate enforcement, specifically around sports-linked fraud.

Secondly, awareness campaigns need to reach not just young men, but their families – the people who unwittingly provide the emotional and financial fuel that traffickers exploit.

Thirdly, digital platforms like Facebook and WhatsApp, which serve as the primary recruitment channels, must take more responsibility for flagging fraudulent sports content.

Fourth, broader institutional reforms are also necessary. Ecowas, Fédération Internationale de Football Association (Fifa) and national sports ministries must strengthen agent licensing, regulate intermediaries more rigorously, and embed athlete-protection measures into football governance.

The 76 Ghanaians trafficked to Nigeria are not an anomaly. They are a warning. Where football dreams are powerful, they will be exploited, unless the systems around sport, migration and digital life are brought into alignment.

Football has lifted many young men out of poverty across west Africa. That possibility is worth protecting. But protecting it means being honest about how the dream itself can be turned against the dreamers.

– Human traffickers are using football dreams to lure young Ghanaian men to Nigeria – how to stop it?
– https://theconversation.com/human-traffickers-are-using-football-dreams-to-lure-young-ghanaian-men-to-nigeria-how-to-stop-it-277536

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Christian Moretti, Senior Researcher, Paul Scherrer Institute PSI, Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich

The cost of electric vehicles (EVs) has long looked like a barrier to adoption in Africa. Most researchers didn’t expect battery power to become affordable enough to replace petrol or diesel on the continent before 2040.

But falling battery costs, surging global EV production and abundant solar resources are changing that view.

Our new research shows that EVs, particularly when paired with off-grid solar charging, may be cheaper than petrol- or diesel-powered cars in many African countries in the not-so-distant future. However, several factors are still limiting up-take. We argue that financing is a big one.

We are researchers working on energy policy, life-cycle assessment and low-carbon technologies at ETH Zürich and the Paul Scherrer Institute PSI. With African university partners, we’ve spent the past two years examining whether African countries can proceed directly to electric mobility, bypassing older technology. This study came out of the need for context-specific evidence to assess whether EVs can play a meaningful role in the region’s transport future. This could improve local air quality and also transform the emissions trajectory of one of the world’s fastest-growing transport sectors.

The main challenge is not whether electric mobility makes sense technically for the African context – it does – but rather, how to make financing work at scale.

High interest rates, risk premiums and limited access to long-term credit still make electric vehicles unaffordable for most Africans. But in lower-risk countries such as Botswana, Mauritius and South Africa, the financing conditions today are already close to making costs the same for electric and fossil fuel cars.

Our research shows that if an EV is purchased with cash upfront, excluding taxes, in certain scenarios it would be cost-competitive already today.

There is a need for focused research into scalable financing solutions to unlock accelerated growth of EVs in Africa. We outline four potentially relevant points for researchers, African policymakers and international finance institutions.

Financial de-risking alongside indirect public subsidies

Africa’s EV market is growing fast, reaching US$17.4 billion in 2025 and expected to hit US$28 billion by 2030, despite currently being less than 1% of the total on-road vehicle fleet.

Our research looks at the total cost of ownership competitiveness of EVs across 52 African countries in six passenger vehicle segments: small and medium two-wheelers; small, medium, and large four-wheelers; and a minibus segment. We also looked at three timeframes: 2025, 2030 and 2040.

We found that, for more than half the countries examined, financing costs would need to fall by 7-15 percentage points for EVs to reach cost parity with conventional vehicles by 2030. That drop can reduce lifetime financing expenses by thousands of dollars, often enough to shift a vehicle from being unaffordable to firmly within reach.

Technology risk is no longer the problem: EVs are now commercially mature and widely used around the world and increasingly in Africa.

Country-specific risk is more the problem. It reflects several perceived or actual investment risks such as macroeconomic or institutional instability, currency volatility, or unfamiliarity with EV business models among lenders, which results in elevated purchase prices.

Indirect subsidies such as tax or import duty exemptions for EVs are helpful and popular in many African countries.

But to accelerate and sustain EV adoption, countries may also need tools that transfer financial risk from private lenders to public actors. This could lower the overall price of the vehicle.

Among these tools could be credit guarantees, concessional loans and blended finance structures. In practice, this means governments or other public financial institutions would absorb part of the risk associated with EV loans. This would make lenders feel more comfortable to finance EVs. By absorbing some risk, these instruments could lower interest rates to levels that make EVs more affordable – speeding up adoption and shortening the window where public subsidies are needed.

EVs as financial assets

EVs are well suited to de-risking. Cars and charging systems are standardised assets with predictable cash flows. Loans can be bundled and securitised, meaning individual vehicle loans are pooled together and converted into tradable financial products. A similar thing happens with mortgages, but not with most infrastructure projects. In this sense, EV financing could be simpler and more scalable than traditional development finance.

Packaging thousands of small EV loans into investable products could attract pension funds, insurers and impact investors – capital pools far larger than traditional development aid.

Multilateral development banks play a critical role here, not as primary lenders but as market makers. By helping structure financial products, setting standards and offering partial guarantees, they can crowd in private capital at scale.

Public financing to reinforce private sector momentum

Private companies are already proving that electric mobility can work in lower-risk African markets.

In Kenya and Rwanda, firms offering battery-swapping, leasing and pay-as-you-go models for electric two- and three-wheelers are expanding rapidly. These business models reduce up-front costs for consumers and generate operating data that builds confidence among investors.

The opportunity now is to secure public funding to build on these early successes. Private firms can bundle vehicle loans and charging assets into regional portfolios, spreading risk across countries and customer segments. Once these portfolios are established, public actors, like development banks or climate funds, could scale them, particularly in higher-risk markets. They could help to, for example, build pan-African EV financing platforms that channel capital smartly across high and low risk environments.

EV policies and country-specific financing conditions

Financial de-risking efforts for EVs in Africa must be developed along with broader EV policy. Clear, predictable national policy frameworks can reduce investment uncertainty and directly lower financing costs.

Kenya’s National Electric Mobility Policy is a leading example. In addition to offering incentives to increase EV adoption, the policy strengthens regulatory frameworks and supports expansion of charging infrastructure. It encourages local EV manufacturing and assembly too, potentially helping to create opportunities for green economic growth.

This does not mean every country needs aggressive EV mandates tomorrow. Within the continent, there are strong cross-country differences in both financing needs and policy environments for e-mobility. Some countries may require more public intervention than others.

Effective policy measures may include:

• temporary import duty exemptions

• targeted purchase incentives for lower-income buyers

• fuel tax reforms

• clear strategies for phasing out high-polluting used vehicles.

Policies should be time-bound and regularly reviewed, avoiding long-term fiscal burdens as EV prices fall naturally.

Targeting incentives towards smaller, mass-market vehicles can also improve equity. This would ensure that public support benefits first-time buyers rather than wealthier households.

The evidence is clear, Africa does not need a technological breakthrough to electrify passenger transport. What it needs is cheaper capital and supportive policy environments for accelerated EV adoption.

– Electric vehicles could soon be cheaper than petrol cars in Africa – if financing barriers fall
– https://theconversation.com/electric-vehicles-could-soon-be-cheaper-than-petrol-cars-in-africa-if-financing-barriers-fall-275732