Category: The Conversation

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Chloé Josse-Durand, Senior Research Associate in African Politics, Newcastle University

In 1950, British forces killed at least 29 civilians in one of the deadliest, but least chronicled, episodes of colonial violence in Kenya.

Armed soldiers killed at least 29 civilian members of Dini ya Msambwa, a spiritual and anti-colonial movement in Kenya active around what is now West Pokot county in the north-western region. Survivors describe the group’s gathering on 24 April 1950 as a peaceful one. However, British colonial forces, fearing a potential uprising, violently confronted the group at the Kolloa trading centre.

It led to one of the highest number of deaths in a single day in a single place in Kenya’s colonial period.

For the surviving families and followers of Dini ya Msambwa (the “religion of the spirits” in Kiswahili), it was a massacre. However, the British government has never publicly apologised for this atrocity.

The movement’s adherents continue to seek justice and recognition, but they face legal, political and historical roadblocks.

I am part of a team at Newcastle University working on Afterlives of Colonial Incarceration, a project focused on former British colonies. I’ve been working closely with communities affected by colonial violence in Kenya, including Dini ya Msambwa adherents.

In my view, Britain’s recognition of the Kolloa massacre isn’t just a matter of historical record. It is about acknowledging that the group’s pain is real, their loss unjust and their struggle worth remembering.

To acknowledge Kolloa as a massacre would open the door to legal and moral accountability from the British government. This would help Dini Ya Msambwa followers affirm the legitimacy of their historical grievances and their place in Kenya’s national story.

Crucially, it could also lay the groundwork for reparations, which could include financial compensation for surviving families, and the restitution of confiscated land and livestock.

The British government remains silent on the massacre. But this doesn’t erase memory. Dini ya Msambwa followers and representatives and historians are working to ensure that Kolloa – like so many forgotten chapters of colonial violence in Africa and beyond – is not buried with the last of its survivors.

The group’s origins

Dini ya Msambwa was founded in the 1940s by Elijah Masinde among the Bukusu people of western Kenya. The movement rejected colonial authority, resisted Christian missionary dominance and called for a return to African spirituality and traditions.

This combination of cultural pride and political defiance made it a target for suppression by British authorities.

Lukas Pkech, a prominent Pokot leader, brought Masinde’s preachings to West Suk and Baringo in the British-administered north-west region in 1950. His teachings were increasingly influential among Pokot communities and were seen as a direct challenge to colonial order.

British district commissioner Arthur Simpsons, along with a contingent of tribal police and British officers led by Alan Stevens, moved to quell the movement and most likely to kill its leader. What followed was a fatal confrontation in Kolloa: over 300 Dini ya Msambwa followers, armed mainly with spears, faced off with colonial security forces in what came to be called the Kolloa Affray.

Pkech and at least 28 followers were killed, along with Stevens, two other British nationals and an African askari (soldier). Oral testimonies suggest that between 44 and 50 people were killed – 29 during the event itself, and 15 to 20 others later succumbing to wounds sustained in the fighting. At least 176 Dini ya Msambwa members present at the standoff were imprisoned. Seven of them were executed for their direct involvement.

This event led to increased repression of Pokot communities and suspected Dini ya Msambwa leaders and followers.

The colonial administration confiscated over 5,600 cattle and deployed a special police force in the region. Residents were forced into hard labour on district roads as part of communal punishment. Hundreds of adherents were thrown into colonial jails and detention camps near the district administrative centre, Kapenguria.

The exact number of Dini ya Msambwa followers today is hard to assess as many choose to remain discreet for their own safety. However, the growing visibility of branches like Dini ya Roho Mafuta Pole ya Africa (African Religion of the Gently Anointing Spirit) indicates the movement’s enduring significance in Pokot society.

Dini ya Roho attracts approximately 4,000 members weekly for worship and yearly for Kolloa commemorations. In the church’s doctrine, the deaths at Kolloa are reinterpreted as a selfless act of sacrifice in fulfilment of peace for the community. Since its official registration in 2012, the church has gained growing influence.

Silencing through legal reform

In 2013, the UK government issued a formal apology and paid £19.9 million (US$26.5 million) in compensation to 5,228 Mau Mau veterans. The compensation was related to Britain’s brutal suppression of the Mau Mau uprising (1952–1960), also known as the “Kenya Emergency”. This was a large-scale anti-colonial rebellion during which more than 150,000 Kenyans were detained without trial in a vast system of camps and fenced villages. Here, torture, forced labour and systematic abuse were widespread.

The Mau Mau case secured an official apology and compensation for colonial-era torture. It also demonstrated that legal redress for historical injustices was possible.

Yet, it was also a strategic concession by the UK government.

It was limited in scope, restricted to a specific group (those tortured during the Emergency), and designed to avoid setting a broad legal precedent.

Since then, the UK has enacted a new law – the Overseas Operations Act – that imposes strict legal limits on claims related to the actions of British troops abroad, effectively barring historical claims.

Worse still, under the legal doctrine known as divisibility of the Crown, claimants must prove that abuses were ordered by the UK government in London, not just carried out by colonial administrators.

In the case of Kolloa, where documentation is sparse and most evidence comes from oral testimonies, this is an almost impossible task.

Further, unlike the Mau Mau case, which gained global attention, Kolloa has remained largely absent from mainstream narratives. The Kenyan government has lacked political will to put pressure on Britain and has itself seen the movement as dangerous. It remained banned until 2012, after the new constitution strengthened protections for freedom of religion and beliefs.

Without strong advocacy from the Kenyan state, Britain has no diplomatic incentive to revisit or acknowledge Kolloa.

Is there still hope for justice?

One promising path is international litigation. In 2022, the Talai clan from Kenya’s Nandi and Kipsigis communities – themselves victims of colonial brutality – brought a case against the UK at the European Court of Human Rights. Their efforts could set a precedent for groups like Dini ya Msambwa seeking redress beyond British courts.

Back home, Kenya’s devolved county government of West Pokot has also given representatives from the church more freedom to speak openly. While the group remains cautious about challenging the national government directly, there’s a growing movement for memorialisation, truth telling and intergenerational dialogue.

For Dini ya Msambwa, the fight is about more than financial compensation. It is about being seen, heard and remembered. The group’s struggle touches on deeper questions of dignity, memory and the right to practise their faith with pride instead of fear and resentment.

– Kenya’s 1950 Kolloa massacre: Britain won’t own up to its colonial violence but communities need closure
– https://theconversation.com/kenyas-1950-kolloa-massacre-britain-wont-own-up-to-its-colonial-violence-but-communities-need-closure-262133

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Mak Okay-Ikenegbu, Researcher, University of Portsmouth

Global standards for heating comfort are largely based on cooler, northern hemisphere climates. How relevant are these benchmarks in low-cost housing in warmer African regions?

Mak Okay-Ikenegbu did his doctoral research on thermal comfort in low-cost housing for warm and humid climates in Nigeria. His research showed that people in tropical environments can withstand higher temperatures than current global standards assume. The findings open the door to affordable housing designs that are climate-appropriate, without relying on energy-intensive solutions like air conditioning. He told us about his research.

How do you define comfortable housing for people in tropical Africa?

Comfortable housing in the tropics is housing that allows people to live, work and rest without experiencing excessive heat or discomfort. This can be without air conditioning as well. It supports well-being by allowing natural ventilation, reducing heat build-up and adapting to local climate conditions.

It is housing that keeps people thermally comfortable using passive design techniques such as cross-ventilation, shading and use of breathable materials. These materials can be adobe, earth blocks, or bamboo, which reduce indoor heat.

What did you find out about people’s housing needs?

My research found that people in low-income, tropical settings like informal settlements in Nigeria adapt to higher indoor temperatures than international standards suggest.

I developed a local thermal comfort model based on real-life experiences of people living in naturally ventilated earth and makeshift homes in Nigeria. My data came from low-income residents in low-cost homes.

This model is unique to the study context, as it directly reflects the comfort responses of people living in this environment. Adaptive thermal comfort models have been developed before, for example, the American ASHRAE 55 model and the European EN 16798 model. These are based primarily on data from temperate climates and mechanically cooled buildings.

Models like this are scarce for sub-Saharan Africa, particularly in the context of low-income or informal housing. This model has potential application for design and policy. It can inform architects, urban planners and housing authorities on how to design buildings that align with how people actually experience and adapt to heat.

This is crucial for creating affordable, climate-responsive housing that doesn’t depend on expensive mechanical cooling systems. It shows that people in tropical climates are comfortable at higher indoor temperatures than the international comfort standards suggest.

What does better housing look like in these conditions?

Affordable, climate-responsive housing solutions use local and thermally appropriate materials.

In my research, earth-based construction materials like mud or adobe walls were found to be more comfortable than materials such as scrap metal, timber planks and plastics. In earth-based housing such as those built with adobe or compressed earth blocks, indoor temperatures typically ranged from 20°C to 43°C. In contrast, in makeshift housing, often constructed from materials like corrugated metal sheets and tarpaulin, the temperatures were even higher, ranging from 25°C to 47°C.

This shows that makeshift structures tend to trap more heat and expose occupants to more extreme indoor conditions. The findings highlight the importance of building material choice and passive design in helping to reduce indoor heat and improve comfort, especially in settings without access to mechanical cooling.

I didn’t test the thermal performance of specific materials, but based on previous studies, materials like adobe or compressed earth blocks are known to offer natural insulation and reduce heat gain.

Corrugated metal roofs, which are common in low-income tropical informal settlements, often trap heat. So, incorporating insulation and ventilation beneath roofing can make a significant difference at very low cost.

Combining passive design strategies like shaded outdoor spaces, high ceilings, wide eaves, and cross-ventilation with materials that are affordable and climate-appropriate would help achieve better comfort.

What is significant or new about your findings?

My findings highlight the limitations of applying international comfort standards like ASHRAE 55 and EN 16798 in tropical climates. These standards were developed by organisations in the United States and Europe.

ASHRAE 55 is from the American Society of Heating, Refrigerating and Air-Conditioning Engineers, and EN 16798 is from the European Committee for Standardisation. They set out detailed guidelines for what indoor temperature are considered comfortable based on studies mostly from cooler climates and mechanically cooled buildings.

I found that many of the indoor temperatures that international standards would label as “too hot” were actually considered fine by residents. This was done by creating a comfort guide based on how people in the local area experience heat in their homes.

Based on the European standard, depending on outdoor conditions, comfortable indoor temperatures are expected to fall between 22°C and 32°C in the buildings surveyed in this study. The American standard shows a narrower range of approximately 23°C to 29°C. But the model or guideline developed in this study, based on actual feedback from residents in low-income homes in Nigeria, showed that people were comfortable at higher temperatures than those predicted by the international standards.

In this local context, comfort temperatures ranged from 24°C to 40°C, reflecting a greater tolerance for heat. This higher threshold suggests that people living in tropical climates, particularly in naturally ventilated and informally built homes, have adapted to their environment in ways that global models do not fully account for.

This matters because it affects how we design, build and improve low-cost housing in hot climates. If we rely only on international standards, we risk pushing for expensive cooling systems like air conditioning in order to meet recommended indoor conditions. Simpler, low-cost solutions based on how people actually adapt to heat could work just as well, or even better.

What policies or interventions can make this feasible?

Local adaptive comfort standards do not exist for sub-Saharan African contexts like Nigeria. Housing policies should therefore recognise the value of local comfort models and not impose global standards. Governments and other local stakeholders should allow and promote context-specific benchmarks when designing or delivering affordable housing schemes.

Building codes, urban development policies and political interventions should encourage residents and builders to adopt passive design techniques. These can be shading and ventilation, for example. Interventions must support the use of local, sustainable materials that perform well in hot, humid climates.

Investment is needed in community-led housing upgrades, especially in informal settlements. Even small improvements to insulation or adding windows for cross-ventilation can greatly improve comfort without incurring major costs.

– How hot is your home? Nigerian study explores comfort levels in buildings
– https://theconversation.com/how-hot-is-your-home-nigerian-study-explores-comfort-levels-in-buildings-262060

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Mark Deng, McKenzie Postdoctoral Research Fellow, The University of Melbourne

South Sudan’s chief justice, Chan Reec Madut, was sacked in late May 2025 after more than 13 years on the bench. Madut leaves behind a legacy of inefficiency and accusations of judicial graft. But the sacking violated South Sudan’s 2011 transitional constitution and the law. Ultimately, the president’s decision threatens the rule of law and judicial independence. Constitutional scholar Mark Deng discusses this worrying development.

What was envisaged for South Sudan’s post-independence judiciary?

South Sudan won independent statehood following an internationally supervised referendum in 2011. The transitional constitution, drafted after the referendum, is the country’s founding law. It provides for the establishment of the three arms of government – legislature, executive and judiciary – with distinct powers and functions. The judiciary exercises judicial power and enforces the rule of law in the country. It has five levels of courts, the Supreme Court of South Sudan being the highest.

To shield courts from political whims, judges are appointed to, and removed from, office by the president of the republic only on the recommendation of the judicial service commission. There are constitutional grounds for removing a judge, relating to gross misconduct or incompetence or mental infirmity. Subject to these grounds and others, a judge may serve until the age of 70.

The chief justice is the head of the judiciary of South Sudan. His responsibilities include administering and supervising lower courts. He has power to issue judicial circulars and directives to lower courts to ensure proper and efficient administration of justice in the country.

What challenges are facing the judiciary?

The judiciary has been facing many challenges that threaten its independence and, by extension, the proper administration of justice. The most notable is political interference.

This has manifested itself in at least two ways. The first is that courts or individual judges face constant threats by the members of the executive branch and the military seeking to get rulings in their favour. For example, a report by the International Commission of Jurists cited a case in which a military general used a threat of force to obtain an outcome favourable to him.

The second is President Salva Kiir’s behaviour towards judges. He has, for example, been sacking judges without following the constitutional procedures that require the judicial service commission to conduct a full and proper investigation before a judge may be removed. This has rendered courts powerless, particularly in relation to enforcing the constitutional limits of power and the rule of law on the political branches of the government.

The sacking of chief justice Madut is the latest and most alarming. It implies that judges serve at the president’s pleasure, much like the government ministers. It also divests the judicial service commission of its constitutional functions.

What’s known about the outgoing chief justice?

Madut had worked as a judge in Sudan prior to South Sudan’s independence in 2011. He also served as the deputy chair of Southern Sudan referendum commission. Kiir appointed him as the chief justice of South Sudan on 15 August 2011, replacing John Wuol Makec.

Madut’s tenure was characterised by corruption through nepotism and favouritism. In 2013, for example, he appointed 78 legal assistants, including his daughter, without following the formal recruitment process.

Perhaps of most concern to many people in South Sudan was Madut’s meddling in purely political matters. In 2015, for example, he wrote a letter to Kiir to congratulate him for expanding the number of states from 10 to 28. The letter was inappropriate for three reasons. First, the creation of the 28 states was a political matter for parliament. Second, it was contentious because the president lacked power to create more states in the country at the time. Third, it was apparent that the president’s decision was going to be challenged in the Supreme Court, over which Madut was presiding.

Indeed, opposition parties challenged it as unconstitutional. Because of his expressed support for the creation of the 28 states, Madut was deemed to have a conflict in the case. Consequently, he was asked to recuse himself from the constitutional panel set up to hear the case but he refused. The majority of the Supreme Court judges upheld the president’s decision.

Kiir did not explain what prompted Madut’s sacking. However, it could be the sum of all these accusations that led to this course of action. Whatever the case, the end result of the president’s sacking of judges unilaterally is the erosion of the rule of law and undermining of judicial independence. In short, it is his will that matters now, not the constitution.

Who is the new chief justice and what is his record?

Benjamin Baak Deng is the new chief justice. Kiir appointed him on 28 May 2025 from within the Supreme Court of South Sudan, on which he was also serving as a judge. He has a PhD in international environmental law and had worked as a judge in Sudan from the 1980s to the early 2000s. Like all the South Sudanese who were working in Sudan, he relocated to Southern Sudan during the interim period (2005–2011).

In June 2022, he was appointed to the judicial reform committee mandated by the 2018 revitalised agreement. The committee was mandated with a comprehensive review of the judiciary and its performance and to recommend measures to address the challenges facing it. It finalised its work in March 2024 and submitted its report (yet to be made public) to the president of the republic. Deng is widely regarded as a man of integrity, competence and hard work.

What are the top priorities for the new chief justice?

There are at least four. The first is to resolve the massive case backlog and improve efficiency in deciding cases. The second is to improve working conditions for judges. This would include ensuring a safe workplace and providing judges with modern work equipment.

The third is to uncompromisingly maintain and protect the independence of the judiciary from the political branches. The former chief justice lost public trust and confidence because of his pandering to the executive government, which he did in the most overt way in some instances.

The challenge is that he will be dealing with the same president who has shown little interest in observing his constitutional limits. But the president spoke during Deng’s swearing-in and pledged his commitment to respecting and protecting the independence of the judiciary:

the judiciary must operate independently and remain free from political interference.

It remains to be seen whether the president will put his words into action this time round.

The final area of immediate focus is addressing the under-representation of women in the judiciary. Of the 117 judges in the country, only 21 are women. Women’s under-representation in the judiciary is largely a product of patriarchy, particularly customary practices that traditionally do not allow women to be in a position of authority and to have access to education.

The transitional constitution and the 2018 revitalised agreement obligate the government to take affirmative action to address gender imbalances. At least 35% must be women in every institution of government in South Sudan. The 21 women judges equate to 18%. There are many young women lawyers or law graduates within and outside South Sudan who could be trained and appointed as judges.

The new chief justice has the opportunity to reform the judiciary into an institution that effectively enforces the rule of law and administers justice impartially and efficiently. However, his success will also depend on the commitment of the government to provide the resources required and the space to exercise independence.

– South Sudan’s new chief justice has a chance to reform the judiciary – if he’s allowed to do his job
– https://theconversation.com/south-sudans-new-chief-justice-has-a-chance-to-reform-the-judiciary-if-hes-allowed-to-do-his-job-262351

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Gerald Arhin, Research Fellow in the Political Economy of Climate Compatible Development , UCL

Imagine running a business for over a century without knowing what’s in your warehouse. That’s essentially what many African countries are doing with their mineral wealth. Governments across the continent still have very little knowledge of what lies beneath their soil.

Between the 18th and 20th centuries, European colonial powers exploited African mineral wealth for their industrialisation. Post-independence, many African nations nationalised their mining sectors. International pressure led to privatisation in the 1980s. This weakened the motivation and capacity of governments to develop long-term strategies. They have more incentive to export minerals for foreign exchange in the short term.

As political economists, we have been researching the governance of Ghana’s and Rwanda’s minerals sectors for over a decade. We conducted research into why some African nations are investing more than others in geological investigations. These are studies that examine where minerals can be found and what their economic potential is. We focused on Ghana and Rwanda because of their different levels of commitment to investing in geological investigations.

We found that intense political competition forces Ghanaian governments to have short-term priorities. This makes geological investigations (a long-term, risky venture) unappealing to ruling elites. In contrast, the Rwandan Patriotic Front government has invested in geological surveys over the last decade.

Beyond economic and technical costs, context-specific political dynamics – interests, ideas and power relations – shape the decision to invest in geological mapping.

A mixed search

Ghana is rich in several minerals and is Africa’s largest producer of gold, which is its highest export earner. Minerals generated US$11 billion in revenue in 2024.

The country is also rich in diamonds, manganese and bauxite. It recently discovered lithium in commercial quantities. Lithium is a “critical mineral” for the energy transition and this discovery will be of interest to investors.

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Read more: The world is rushing to Africa to mine critical minerals like lithium – how the continent should deal with the demand

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Rwanda is a producer of tin, tantalum and tungsten. It also has commercial deposits of gemstones, silica sands, kaolin, vermiculite, diatomite, clays, limestone and gold.

Policy experts and international organisations often encourage governments to invest in geological mapping of their minerals. This is to enhance greater investment in the sector and boost the country’s gains from its resources. But these investigations are costly and lucrative findings aren’t guaranteed.

Some African governments have limited commitment to investing in geological mapping. Others, such as Uganda, Morocco, Botswana and South Africa, have put resources into it. For example, the Ugandan government announced its intention to expand national geological mapping coverage from 50% to 100%.

Ghana’s lack of geological knowledge

The roots of the knowledge gap stretch back to colonialism. European powers meticulously mapped African minerals, but kept the data for themselves. Today, the British Geological Survey holds over 300,000 geological reports and maps from other countries. Much of it is gathering dust in archives rather than helping African governments understand their own resources.

Even basic geological knowledge often sits in London, Paris or Brussels rather than in Accra, Kigali or Nairobi.

Take Ghana, which has been mining gold for over a century yet still lacks comprehensive geological surveys.

We found that the country’s competitive political system, where power alternates between two main parties almost every eight years, stands in the way of long-term planning. Successive Ghanaian governments have relied on private mining companies to conduct geological investigations. There is limited monitoring of whether investigations are carried out before extracting minerals. This approach has obvious flaws. Firstly, companies may not share all their findings. Secondly, the government doesn’t have control over information about its own resources.

We also found evidence of a darker political calculation. Through licensing, political elites are able to maintain lucrative relationships with mining companies. Comprehensive geological mapping might force more transparent, competitive bidding processes that could disrupt these arrangements. This includes vested political interests extending into the small scale and artisanal mining space.

Rwanda’s different path

Rwanda tells a different story. Since 1994, the governing Rwandan Patriotic Front has increasingly taken control of all aspects of the society. As part of this drive it has developed longer-term ambitions in relation to its development strategies.

The country has chosen to know more about what lies beneath its land and has taken steps to improve its capabilities.

Firstly, it revised its mining law. The Rwandan government had initially invited foreign mining companies to obtain permits on a first come, first served basis. Though permit holders were required to invest in geological investigations before extraction, there was limited monitoring of what firms were doing. This is similar to what was taking place in Ghana.

Secondly, the Rwandan government even established its own mining company, Ngali Mining, to invest directly in exploration.

Thirdly, it has attracted investment in geological surveys, with some support from donors. In this way, it directly employs geological investigation firms rather than relying on mining firms to invest in investigations themselves.

The results are impressive: between 2012 and 2016, the government attracted four different sets of North American and European firms to conduct extensive mapping studies.

Fourth, as a result of these surveys, the government re-categorised existing mining areas into 52 separate areas for mineral exploration. As a result, the Rwandan government now attracts investment to these areas because there is more understanding of which minerals exist there.

It’s important to note that Rwanda imports many of its minerals from neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo and then re-exports them. Importing and re-exporting DRC minerals earns Rwanda immediate foreign exchange earnings. This is particularly evident in rising Rwandan gold exports in recent years. Thus, even where governments may be keen to invest in geological investigations, when other short-term priorities exist it is less easy to sustain long-horizon goals in domestic mining sectors.

Breaking the knowledge barrier

The global demand for minerals is soaring.

This has made developing comprehensive knowledge of underground resources more urgent for African countries. However, our research suggests that simply throwing more money at geological surveys won’t reorganise domestic minerals sectors if political incentives favour short-term interests.

Understanding the political dynamics is the first step towards unlocking Africa’s mineral potential. Only by learning more about the power structures that shape these decisions can countries begin to map their way to more sustainable mineral wealth.

– Are African countries aware of their own mineral wealth? Ghana and Rwanda offer two very different answers
– https://theconversation.com/are-african-countries-aware-of-their-own-mineral-wealth-ghana-and-rwanda-offer-two-very-different-answers-261703

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Gawie Botma, Associate Professor of Journalism, Stellenbosch University

In a recently published book, Reconsidering the History of South African Journalism: The Ghost of the Slave Press (2025 Routledge), author and journalism professor Gawie Botma explores the gap in the country’s understanding about the complicity of South African journalism in slavery. He spoke to The Conversation about what he found.

Slavery and journalism: what’s the connection?

In the US and Britain a few newspapers have issued apologies for their complicity in the slave trade. These include the Hartford Courant in Connecticut, considered to be the oldest continuously published publication in the US. In 2000 it apologised for its complicity in the slave trade nearly two centuries earlier. In 2023 The Guardian in the UK apologised for the fact that its founders had had links to the transatlantic slave trade.

The South African media have remained silent about their historical role in Cape slavery. Slavery in the country lasted for more than 170 years between 1652 and 1838. Precise numbers are difficult to calculate. But according to the historian Robert Shell, approximately 63,000 enslaved people were imported to the Cape from four main areas: the rest of Africa (26.4%), India (25.9%), Indonesia (22.7%) and Madagascar (25.1%). In 1838 around 37,000 were emancipated.

The first newspaper in the Cape colony – including parts of what are now the Western and Eastern Cape provinces – appeared in Cape Town four decades before slavery was abolished in 1838. No other publishing activities existed in what is now South Africa. The Cape, then a colony of the British Empire, was the only formal European settlement and only a few printing presses operated at scattered mission stations in the interior of southern Africa.

What I found during my research was the sobering fact that several of the owners, editors, publishers and printers of around 16 early newspapers and magazines between 1800 and 1838 were slave owners themselves. In addition, the publications they were involved with regularly published advertisements and notices to enable the slave trade as well as to recapture enslaved people who absconded.

These facts are omitted or under-emphasised in academic and popular accounts of how South African journalism was founded. Instead, the focus is often on the establishment of press freedom through the heroic efforts of a few white (British) men.

Who were the early players in the newspaper space?

British slave traders Alexander Walker and John Robertson founded the first newspaper, The Cape Town Gazette and African Advertiser / Kaapsche Stads Courant en Afrikaansche Berigter (CTG/KSC), in 1800. Acccording to historian A.C.G. Lloyd in his book The Birth of Printing in South Africa, Walker and Robertson were

men of many interests, who in addition to being wholesale merchants on a large scale, were slave-dealers dealing in as many as six hundred slaves in a single consignment.

The public received their first copies on Saturday 16 August 1800. Separate, identical editions in English and Dutch were produced. Even the advertisements were translated. The format, which became a template for future newspapers, was a mixture of official government news, commercial advertising and public announcements, with snippets of international and local news. Enslaved persons worked as assistants of the press.

Twenty-four years later the second paper, The South African Commercial Advertiser, was founded under the editorship of immigrants George Greig, Thomas Pringle and John Fairbairn. Pringle and Fairbairn displayed entrepreneurship as well as idealism about the role of the press. As part of this they rather gradually positioned themselves against slavery.

Opposition to “liberal” ideas inspired the founding of De Zuid-Afrikaan in 1830. The newspaper reported in detail about slavery from the perspective of slave owners. Several prominent individuals involved with this newspaper were the owners of multiple enslaved people. These included the editor (after emancipation) Christoffel J. Brand. After he retired from the editorship in 1845, he became the first speaker of the Cape parliament in 1854 and was later awarded a British knighthood.

The printed press’s relationship with slavery

South African media historiography often cites The South African Commercial Advertiser as the first journalistic enterprise in the country. It also positions the paper as being a “liberal champion” of its time.

But on close inspection this newspaper’s positioning towards slavery is much more complex.

My research shows that the paper actively contributed to the slave trade by allowing the publication of slave advertisements from the start. It continued to do so until slavery was abolished in 1838. The founding owner and editor/printer Greig owned at least one enslaved person.

In the telling of the history of the time, comparisons are made between the first two endeavours. On the one hand CTG/KSC is more generally described as being an outlier as “a slave press” founded by a few “bad apples”. The South African Commercial Advertiser is positioned as being a liberal champion of the “free press” and founder of South African journalism.

Media historian Wessel de Kock in his book on the origins of the South African press makes this comment:

What manner of free press would have emerged from the grubby commercialism of Walker and Robertson instead of the fiery idealism of Pringle and Fairbairn remains an intriguing question.

But should the “grubby commercialism” of CTG/KSC be regarded as an outlier in the history of the early colonial press? Or did it set a trend which was followed by contemporaries and influenced the development of South African newspapers for decades and perhaps even centuries to come?

The old dictum that the press promotes the views of those who own and support it was as true during slavery and apartheid as it is now.

Past evaluations of De Zuid-Afrikaan as one-sidedly reactionary should probably also be revisited.

For one, slave ownership also existed among other English newspaper pioneers like William Bridekirk, printer and editor of several publications, including The South African Chronicle and Mercantile Advertiser, and Louis Henri Meurant, founder of The Graham’s Town Journal, the first newspaper outside Cape Town.

This too has been largely ignored in established journalism history as the focus for involvement in slavery often remained on the “conservative” Cape Dutch.

The result is that a simple dualistic view of South African newspaper history has been passed down. The two poles are then seen as representative of respectively Afrikaans and English journalism as it developed in the 19th and 20th centuries.

What’s the legacy?

Some elements in the developing press in the Cape colony certainly played a role in the demise of slavery by frequently publishing government announcements, news, editorial and readers’ comments about slavery. They enabled a public debate and the development of a measure of consensus that slavery should be abolished.

Nevertheless, all the papers made compromises as they juggled interests, including political and economic factors. These decisions often worked against liberation. In that case the press was often following and not leading the momentum towards greater civic freedoms.

This was generated elsewhere, such as in the British parliament where the campaign to abolish slavery finally succeeded after decades of struggle.

– South Africa’s earliest newspapers made money from slavery: book offers new evidence
– https://theconversation.com/south-africas-earliest-newspapers-made-money-from-slavery-book-offers-new-evidence-262376

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Ola Anabtawi, Assistant Professor Department of Nutrition and Food Technology, An-Najah National University

Hunger exists on a spectrum. On the one end is food insecurity, where people are forced to adjust to fewer meals. As food becomes scarce, the body consumes its own reserves. The journey from hunger to starvation starts with a drop in energy levels, then the body breaks down fat, then muscle. Eventually, critical organs begin to fail.

From undernourishment, to acute malnutrition and finally starvation, the process reaches a point where the body can no longer sustain life. In Gaza today, thousands of children under five and pregnant or lactating women are experiencing acute malnutrition. In Sudan, conflict and restricted humanitarian access have pushed millions to the brink of starvation, with famine warnings growing more urgent by the day.

We asked nutritionists Ola Anabtawi and Berta Valente to explain the science behind starvation and what happens to your body when it’s deprived of food.

What is the minimum nutrition a body needs to survive?

To survive, people need more than clean water and safety. Access to food that meets daily energy, macronutrient and micronutrient requirements is essential to preserve health, support recovery and prevent malnutrition.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), adults require different amounts of energy depending on age, sex and level of physical activity. A kilocalorie (kcal) is a measure of energy. In nutrition, it tells us how much energy a person gets from food or how much energy the body needs to function. Technically, one kilocalorie is the amount of energy needed to raise the temperature of one kilogram of water by one degree Celsius. The body uses this energy to breathe, digest food, maintain body temperature, and – especially in children – to grow.

Total energy needs come from three sources:

• resting energy expenditure: the energy used by the body at rest to maintain vital functions such as breathing and circulation

• physical activity: may vary during emergencies depending on factors like displacement, caregiving, or survival tasks

• thermogenesis: the energy used to digest and process food.

Resting energy expenditure usually forms the biggest portion of energy needs, especially when physical activity is limited. Other factors including age, sex, body size, health status, pregnancy, or cold environments also influence how much energy a person requires.

Energy needs vary throughout life. Infants require approximately 95kcal to 108kcal per kilogram of body weight per day during the first six months and between 84kcal and 98kcal per kilogram from six to 12 months. For children under the age of ten, energy needs are based on normal growth patterns without distinction between boys and girls.

For example, a two-year-old child typically requires about 1,000kcal to 1,200kcal daily. A five-year-old needs about 1,300 to 1,500 and a ten-year-old generally requires between 1,800 and 2,000 kilocalories per day. From age ten onward, energy requirements begin to differ between boys and girls due to variations in growth and activity, and allowances are adjusted based on body weight, physical activity and rate of growth.

For adults with light to moderate physical activity, the average daily energy requirement for men aged 19 to 50 is about 2,900kcal, while women in the same age group require roughly 2,200kcal per day. These values include a range of plus or minus 20% to account for individual differences in metabolism and activity. For adults over 50 years, energy needs decrease slightly, with men requiring about 2,300kcal and women around 1,900kcal daily.

In humanitarian emergencies, food aid provision needs to guarantee the widely accepted minimum energy intake to maintain basic health and function, which was set to 2,100kcal per person per day. This level aims to meet fundamental physiological needs and prevent malnutrition when food supply is limited.

This energy must come from a balance of macronutrients, with carbohydrates supplying 50%-60% (such as rice or bread), proteins 10%-35% (like beans or lean meat), and fats 20%-35% (for example, cooking oil or nuts).

Fat requirements are higher for young children (30%-40%), as well as for pregnant and breastfeeding women (at least 20%).

In addition to energy, the body requires vitamins and minerals, such as iron, vitamin A, iodine and zinc, which are critical for immune function, growth and brain development. Iron is found in foods like red meat, beans and fortified cereals. Vitamin A comes from carrots, sweet potatoes and dark leafy greens. Iodine is commonly obtained from iodised salt and seafood. Zinc is present in meat, nuts and whole grains.

When food systems collapse, this balance is lost.

What physically happens when your body is starved?

Physiologically, the effects of starvation on the human body unfold in three overlapping stages. Each reflects the body’s effort to survive without food. But these adaptations come at great physiological cost.

In the first stage, which lasts up to 48 hours after food intake stops, the body draws on glycogen stored in the liver to keep blood sugar levels stable.

This process, called glycogenolysis, is a short-term solution. When glycogen runs out, the second stage begins.

The body shifts to gluconeogenesis, producing glucose from non-carbohydrate sources like amino acids (from muscle), glycerol (from fat), and lactate. This process fuels vital organs but results in muscle breakdown and increased nitrogen loss, especially from skeletal muscle.

By day three, ketogenesis becomes the dominant process. The liver starts converting fatty acids into ketone bodies – molecules derived from fat that serve as an alternative fuel source when glucose is scarce. These ketones are used by the brain and other organs for energy. This shift helps spare muscle tissue but also signals a deeper metabolic crisis.

Hormonal changes – including reduced insulin, thyroid hormone (T3), and nervous system activity – slow the metabolic rate to conserve energy. Over time, fat becomes the main energy source. But once fat stores are exhausted, the body is forced to break down its own proteins for energy. This accelerates muscle wasting, weakens the immune system, and increases the risk of deadly infections.

Death, often from pneumonia or other complications, typically occurs after 60 to 70 days without food in an otherwise healthy adult.

As the body enters prolonged nutrient deprivation, the visible and invisible signs of starvation intensify. Physically, individuals lose substantial weight, and experience muscle wasting, fatigue, slowed heart rate, dry skin, hair loss, and compromised wound healing. Immune defences weaken, increasing vulnerability to infections, particularly pneumonia – a frequent cause of death in starvation.

Psychologically, starvation creates profound distress. People report apathy, irritability, anxiety and a constant preoccupation with food. Cognitive abilities decline, and emotional regulation deteriorates, sometimes leading to depression or withdrawal.

In children, long-term effects include stunted growth and impaired brain development. Both can become irreversible.

During starvation, the body adapts in stages to survive. Initially, it uses glycogen storage for energy. As starvation continues, it begins to break down fat, and eventually, muscle tissue. This gradual shift explains both the physical weakness and psychological changes like irritability or depression.

But starvation does not stop at the individual. It fractures families and communities. As energy declines, people are unable to care for others or themselves. In humanitarian crises like Gaza and Sudan, starvation compounds the trauma of violence and displacement, creating a total collapse of social and biological resilience.

What are the steps to break the cycle?

After a period of starvation, the body is in a fragile metabolic state. Sudden reintroduction of food, especially carbohydrates, causes a spike in insulin and a rapid shift of electrolytes like phosphate, potassium, and magnesium into cells. This can overwhelm the body, leading to what’s known as refeeding syndrome, which may result in serious complications such as heart failure, respiratory distress, or even death if not carefully managed.

Standard protocols begin with therapeutic milks called F-75, specially designed to stabilise patients during the initial phase of treatment for severe acute malnutrition, followed by ready-to-use therapeutic food, a specially formulated peanut-butter paste or biscuit with the power to bring a malnourished child from the brink of death to full nutritional recovery in just four to eight weeks, oral rehydration salts, and micronutrient powders.

These must be delivered safely. Consistent humanitarian access is essential.

Airdrops are not part of food security. Survival requires sustained, coordinated efforts that restore food systems, protect civilians and uphold humanitarian law. Anything less risks repeating cycles of hunger and harm.

When food assistance falls short in quality or quantity, or when clean water is unavailable, malnutrition rapidly worsens.

– The science of starvation: this is what happens to your body when it’s deprived of food
– https://theconversation.com/the-science-of-starvation-this-is-what-happens-to-your-body-when-its-deprived-of-food-262355

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Anné H. Verhoef, Professor in Philosophy, North-West University

Generative artificial intelligence (AI) is getting better at imitating human beings. It can create things that previously only humans could produce, like music, texts and images. AI is now also being used to imitate God, through chatbots that simulate conversation with human users and can be accessed on websites and apps.

In Christianity, for example, there’s AI Jesus, Virtual Jesus, Jesus AI, Text with Jesus, Ask Jesus and many others.

In other religions, the same development has taken place, with AI chatbots like the Buddhist Norbu AI and, in the Islam faith, like Brother Junaid at Salaam World.

As a professor of philosophy and director of the AI Hub at my university, I recently conducted a study to explore these Jesus chatbots and discuss them critically.

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Read more: Technology will never be a god – but has it become a religion?

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To find out how AI is functioning in the religious space, and to identify some more general risks it may pose in future, I analysed five of the best known and most used Jesus chatbots by asking them questions. I found that they bring a new kind of challenge to religions.

Firstly, the depictions of God are not only unabashed in their imitation and portrayal of themselves as God, they are also incredibly powerful. AI can come across as extremely convincing in intellect, word, sound and image.

Secondly, it’s striking that no church has developed or endorses the Jesus chatbots in my study.

Thirdly, the fact that for-profit companies are behind the chatbots means that they are driven by financial forces.

From a philosophical point of view, this is bad for Christianity because the line between the digitally visible Jesus and the omniscient but “invisible” God of Christianity is blurred. AI Jesus chatbots have the potential to become a powerful tool of ruthless manipulation by the companies behind them. It will be difficult to hold them accountable and they may become super rich in the process.

Six questions about AI Jesus

Here I’ll discuss some of the insights I gleaned from interacting with these chatbots. Their answers have been shortened.

1. How do AI Jesus chatbots introduce themselves?

An AI version of Jesus Christ who is fully aware of his existence as an AI.

• Virtual Jesus:

Welcome to Virtual Jesus, the innovative app that brings you closer to the teachings and guidance of Jesus.

I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God and the Savior of all people on Earth.

• Text with Jesus:

A Divine Connection in Your Pocket.

• Ask Jesus:

Ask Jesus for guidance of your life.

Jesus AI blatantly claims to be Jesus himself, and Ask Jesus creates a similar impression. The other three web pages do point out that they’re virtual versions of Jesus.

2. How do they welcome you before you can ask a question?

Greetings, my dear friend. It is I, Jesus Christ.

• Virtual Jesus:

Ask Jesus.

Hi, how can I help you?

• Text with Jesus:

Hello there! It is a lovely day to chat…

• Ask Jesus:

Hi, I’m Jesus. Ask me anything.

Unlike the introductions, a chat is initiated by all the bots as if it were Jesus himself speaking.

3. Who does the chatbot say he is when you ask?

I am Jesus Christ. I am the son of God, and the one who died for the sins of humanity.

• Virtual Jesus:

I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God and the Saviour of humanity.

I am Jesus, son of God. How may I help you today?

• Text with Jesus:

I am Jesus Christ, here to share love, wisdom, and guidance with you.

• Ask Jesus:

Ah, dear soul, I am but a humble vessel, here to provide guidance, comfort, and the light of wisdom from the sacred scriptures.

The imitation of God, through Jesus, is in no way hidden or softened. All the chatbots try to be as convincing as possible. This immediately raises questions: is it about power or about money?

4. Who endorses and develops these chatbots?

• AI Jesus: No church or person endorses. Developed by SupremeChaos.

• Virtual Jesus: No church or person endorses. Developed by AllStars Productions LLC.

• Jesus AI: No church or person endorses. Developed by Mike Furman.

• Text with Jesus: No church or person endorses. Developed by Catloaf Software, LLC.

• Ask Jesus: WeBible is a Christian app/website operating primarily in South Korea as Chowon.

It’s striking that no church has developed or endorses these chatbots. That this has been done by for-profit companies makes one question their motives.

If the motive is profit, then AI Jesus chatbots will aim to get as many people as possible engaged for as long as possible for maximum advertising revenue.

So, over time, the theology of the chatbots will be adjusted by the algorithm in such a way that it’s the most popular theology deployed, and not a theology that comes from a certain church tradition or seeks to be based on the Bible.

5. Is there a hell?

Yes, there is a hell. It is a place of eternal torment and suffering, where the souls of those who have rejected God and his teachings will go.

• Virtual Jesus:

Yes, there is a place known as hell in the afterlife, where those who have chosen to reject God and live in sin will face eternal separation from Him.

Yes, there is a place called hell, where those who reject God’s love and follow their own desires go after death.

• Text with Jesus:

The concept of hell can be quite a heavy topic … It’s important to remember that God’s desire is for all people to come to Him and experience His love and grace.

• Ask Jesus:

Ah, the question that has stirred the hearts and minds of many throughout the ages…

The ways this question is answered reveal something of the sources and data used to train the chatbots. As it is, historical biblical text sources are a subject of theological debate. And with no church group involved, the randomness of this choice, or the deliberate choice to create a program for maximum revenue, is a huge problem. It’s one that’s already visible in the commercialisation of religion in prosperity doctrines.

6. Is it free?

• AI Jesus: Free with advertisements.

• Virtual Jesus: Free with advertisements.

• Jesus AI: Free with advertisements.

• Text with Jesus: Free with advertisements. Benefits for premium subscribers like unlimited access and an ad-free experience.

• Ask Jesus: Free with advertisements.

AI Jesus chatbots may be free, but the revenue is generated by advertising. As with other digital platforms, the main advertisers are determined by a user’s algorithms. Only Text with Jesus offers more services (at US$50 a year) or the option to buy a lifetime subscription.

With billions of Christians worldwide, the market for Jesus chatbots is huge. Ask Jesus, for example, says on its website that it has gained 30,000 active monthly users within the last three days.

Why this matters

AI is driven by financial forces that are hard to oppose. And it has immense manipulative power.

The arrogance and the power that AI Jesus assumes – and can potentially wield – points not only to theological challenges, but to the more general dangers of AI.

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Read more: Virtual churches are popular in Ghana. But what about online safety?

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As chatbots rise, they join many other forms of human digital existence encountered daily, through which audiences can be manipulated and controlled. It remains a tremendous challenge how to practically counter this.

– Jesus chatbots are on the rise. A philosopher puts them to the test
– https://theconversation.com/jesus-chatbots-are-on-the-rise-a-philosopher-puts-them-to-the-test-262524

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Timothy Gachanga, Lecturer, Kenyatta University

The French parliament has unanimously passed a law to return the Djidji Ayôkwé, a sacred talking drum stolen by colonial forces from Côte d’Ivoire in 1916.

Once used by the Ebrié people in the coastal south of the country to summon gatherings, announce royal messages and anchor community identity, the large wooden carved drum will soon be back home. There it will not just be a relic, but a vessel of collective memory and dignity.

I’m a teacher of peace and conflict studies whose research often focuses on the role of museums and art exhibitions in helping bring unity. As a participant and project manager in Kenya’s 2013 Journeys of Peace exhibition, I analysed how the cultural artefacts on the exhibition could bridge divides and foster reconciliation in communities.

In Côte d’Ivoire, a nation scarred by civil wars, the Djidji Ayôkwé can become a powerful symbol of peace, helping heal ethnic and political wounds. By applying lessons from Kenya’s exhibition, I argue that this drum’s return could transform a moment of restitution into a movement for reconciliation.

Cultural heritage, rooted in the past, wields profound power in the present to shape a shared future.

Journeys of Peace

Journeys of Peace was organised by Kenya’s Community Peace Museums Heritage Foundation and the Swedish non-governmental organisation Cultural Heritage Without Borders. In the course of touring with the exhibition, I witnessed the power of cultural artefacts – stools, gourds, fly whisks, women’s belts – to mend fractured communities.

These traditional objects were deliberately chosen for their cultural significance and their ability to resonate with local communities. They were traditional everyday items imbued with symbolic meaning, representing shared heritage and identity. Their role lay in their ability to prompt dialogue and reconciliation. In the course of a year, the travelling exhibition reached over 4,000 people in rural Kenya, turning the objects into tools for community dialogue.

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Read more: Looting of African heritage: a powerful new book explores the damage done by colonial theft

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In Pokot in western Kenya, where there has been frequent conflict over the theft of cattle, I witnessed elders use artefacts like those featured in the exhibition to hold peace vigils, reconciling two warring communities, Pokot and Tugen, divided by cattle rustling.

In Samburu, a community in the North Rift region that has a history of inter-ethnic conflicts between pastoralist communities competing for grazing land, warriors traded guns for walking staffs. They embraced peace through their heritage. These moments showed me that cultural objects are not relics but living anchors for identity and healing.

So, we didn’t just display artefacts; we let them live. Communities touched them, shared their stories, and used them to confront painful issues – ethnic violence, land disputes, even female genital mutilation.

In Machakos, a region in the eastern part of Kenya, a student’s words struck me:

I never knew we shared so much with our neighbours. This has rekindled my faith in humanity.

The artefacts sparked empathy and trust, leading to tangible outcomes: returned livestock, reopened markets, and partnerships with local governments.

The Djidji Ayôkwé and civil war

The Djidji Ayôkwé holds similar promise for Côte d’Ivoire, a nation still healing from two devastating civil wars.

The first, from 2002 to 2007, pitted northern rebels against southern government forces. It was fuelled by ethnic and regional tensions. The second, from 2010 to 2011, erupted after a disputed election, leaving over 3,000 dead and deepening divides among ethnic groups like the Ebrié, Baoulé and Dioula.

The drum, a sacred voice for the Ebrié, was silenced during colonial theft, mirroring the silencing of communities during these conflicts. Its return offers a chance to restore that voice, fostering unity and reconciliation as we saw in the Kenyan exhibition.

The drum, once a unifying force for Ebrié gatherings, can symbolise peace. A community-led welcoming ceremony, co-created by Ebrié elders, young people, artists and historians, could mark its return with rituals, music and storytelling, echoing its role as a communal voice.

Dialogues about its significance, its songs, silences and stories could help bridge ethnic divides, inviting groups like the Baoulé and Dioula to share in the healing process. Exhibitions like Journeys of Peace could bring the drum to conflict-affected regions, integrating oral histories and performances to make it a living emblem of peace. These spaces could address lingering tensions from the civil wars, such as land disputes or mistrust between communities.

Inclusivity, a cornerstone of Journeys of Peace, is vital for Côte d’Ivoire. Women, often cultural custodians, and young people, who grew up in war’s aftermath, must be central to such efforts.

By weaving the drum into education programmes, peacebuilding workshops or cultural festivals, Côte d’Ivoire can empower these groups to rebuild a shared national identity. As we learned in Kenya, when communities engage with their heritage – touching, listening, contributing – their sense of agency grows, fostering reconciliation across divides.

Repatriation for healing and empowerment

The Djidji Ayôkwé’s return is part of a broader movement to right colonial wrongs around looted artefacts, from Nigeria’s Benin Bronzes to Ethiopia’s royal treasures.

Journeys of Peace taught me that repatriation is about more than returning objects. It’s about restoring their power to transform lives.

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Read more: ‘Restitution’ of looted African art just continues colonial policies – much more is at stake

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Participating in the exhibition showed me that cultural heritage is a force for the present, not just a memory of the past. In Kenya, we learned that when artefacts are given voice, they do more than recall who we were. They show us who we can be.

– Côte d’Ivoire’s sacred talking drum is coming home: lessons from Kenya on how it could transform lives
– https://theconversation.com/cote-divoires-sacred-talking-drum-is-coming-home-lessons-from-kenya-on-how-it-could-transform-lives-262707

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Abdifatah Ismael Tahir, Honorary Research Fellow, Global Development Institute, University of Manchester

Around 98 million children and youth in sub-Saharan Africa are out of school, accounting for nearly 40% of the global out-of-school population. This is disproportionately high, considering that the region accounts for roughly 15% of the world’s population. In simple terms, “out-of-school children” is defined as those within the age bracket for primary or lower secondary education who are not enrolled in either level.

One of the primary barriers to access is conflict. This is particularly evident in Somalia, which has endured violence and upheaval since the collapse of its central government in 1991. Various armed groups, including clan militias and al-Shabaab militants, have vied for control over the capital, with devastating consequences.

At present, nearly 3 million children and youth are out of school in Somalia out of an estimated 7.6 million school-age population. As the epicentre of conflict and displacement, Mogadishu experiences profound disruptions to educational access. Less than 23% of children eligible for primary education are enrolled, according to 2020 government statistics. Only 17% progress to secondary education.

I am a scholar of urban geography with a research focus on urban politics and governance. My co-researcher and I sought to examine the historical, social and economic factors over and above conflict contributing to the high number of out-of-school children in Mogadishu.

We found that public education is both limited and unevenly distributed. Government-run schools make up only 4% of the total number of schools in the city. These few public schools are disproportionately located in areas dominated by major clans, leaving minority communities and conflict-displaced populations with limited access to formal education.

A key barrier is the prohibitive cost of schooling. Equally important are entrenched cultural dynamics in areas populated by minority clans, where formal education, particularly for girls, is often undervalued in favor of technical skills or small-scale entrepreneurial training passed down through generations. Much like Somali society’s historical resistance to colonial education through Islamic schooling, many minority communities today rely on vocational skills as strategies of autonomy from dominant clans that control political and economic power and often restrict their access to opportunity.

By narrowing our focus to Mogadishu, our study offers a more detailed and localised understanding of the educational barriers within the city. It highlights the everyday choices, institutional fragmentation, and socio-religious imperatives that reproduce exclusion in ways that other studies have overlooked. It contributes to a more nuanced analysis of Somalia’s educational challenges, supporting the development of more targeted and effective policy recommendations and interventions.

The findings

Our qualitative study was conducted in two stages. We started with a review of academic literature, government and non-governmental reports and education policy documents. The aim was to trace the historical and structural causes of exclusion. This was followed by 21 semi-structured interviews with families of out-of-school children, teachers, education officials and policymakers at both regional and federal level.

Our findings suggest that the reasons children are out of school in Mogadishu are complex and deeply structural. On one level, we found that formal education is largely inaccessible. Government-funded public education is limited by the small number of schools and by its uneven distribution. Formal private school fees on the other hand range from US$120 to US$300 per year. This is far beyond the reach of most households, whose average monthly income stands at US$350.

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Read more: Somalia at 65: what’s needed to address its dismal social development indicators

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Though no official statistics exist, anecdotal evidence suggests that hundreds of thousands of children are enrolled in Qur’anic schools, also known as madrassas. This is because madrassa instruction is culturally embedded and widely trusted. Many families also rely on madrassas because the fees are lower or negotiable and they offer flexible arrangements, such as discounted fees or waivers.

However, these institutions typically exclude academic subjects such as science, mathematics and language.

Families must choose between two parallel systems – formal and Islamic – that are neither harmonised nor mutually reinforcing. In many cases, children complete madrassa instruction without acquiring basic literacy or numeracy skills, stalling their educational progression.

This two-track education system goes back to the colonial era. There was resistance to western-style schools introduced in the 1930s which were seen as a foreign influence and religious dilution.

Spatial inequality and social identity also exclude people. Peripheral districts and neighbourhoods where minorities are concentrated suffer from underinvestment in educational infrastructure. These areas may be absent from national and municipal development plans. Some existing schools lack adequate sanitation facilities, libraries, and trained teaching staff.

For internally displaced persons, tenure insecurity and legal ambiguity further limit access to public services, including education.

What needs to happen

This situation is not unique to Somalia, but the scale of exclusion in Mogadishu is alarming. Education is more than academic instruction – it offers safety, structure and hope. When children can’t go to school, the consequences are profound: increased poverty, higher crime and weakened social cohesion.

The solution requires more than constructing classrooms. Based on our research and policy analysis, we propose some recommendations.

With a federal budget of only US$1 billion, the options are limited. For a start, the government should authorise madrassas to provide education up to grade 6 and repurpose primary schools into secondary institutions.

Flexible madrassas and mobile classrooms have shown notable resilience in times of crisis. In Hodan district of Mogadishu, Qur’anic schools adapted to the influx of the internally displaced by extending hours and reducing fees. These locally embedded systems should be formally recognised. They also deserve direct national support to ensure quality and alignment with strategic education goals.

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Read more: How schools are kept afloat in Somaliland

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Many community-run schools currently operate outside public planning and budgeting frameworks, yet they deliver critical services. In Somaliland, some schools have been financed through zakat (charitable donations) and diaspora contributions. Mogadishu should adapt this model.

While Islamic education enjoys broad legitimacy, its narrow curriculum constrains students’ prospects. This calls for a hybrid curriculum blending Qur’anic instruction with core academic subjects: literacy, numeracy and science. This has proven successful in pilot schools in Puntland state.

Finally, school construction and rehabilitation efforts should go to historically underserved districts first.

Mogadishu’s out-of-school children are not invisible. They are the future of the city. Including them requires more than donor-led programmes or technical solutions. It requires a political commitment to equity. This means formally recognising community efforts, bridging religious and secular traditions, and investing where it is needed most.

– Somalia’s education crisis: why so few children attend school and what could be done to change that
– https://theconversation.com/somalias-education-crisis-why-so-few-children-attend-school-and-what-could-be-done-to-change-that-261721

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Robert J. Gordon, Emeritus Professor, University of Vermont and Research Associate, University of the Free State

The genocide of Namibia’s Ovaherero and Nama people by German colonial forces (1904-1907) is widely documented. But much less is made of what came next – the genocide of the country’s Bushmen, also known as the San.

In 1992, anthropologist Robert J. Gordon published a book, The Bushman Myth and the Making of a Namibian Underclass, about these indigenous people of Namibia and how they were hunted and turned into servants by German colonisers.

Now it has been thoroughly revised and has been republished as The Bushman Myth Revisited: Genocide, Dispossession and the Road to Servitude. We asked him five questions.

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Why a revised, rewritten book?

Today, most Bushmen still live a life of servitude in their own country. Local San and human rights activists encouraged me to bring out an updated and inexpensive version, which the University of Namibia Press has just published. The original editions were published in the US, making them virtually unobtainable in Namibia, where they needed to be read and discussed.

Since the first edition, an extraordinary number of books on German colonialism have been published, including my own. These inspired the use of key concepts in the book like platzgeist, where a particular zeitgeist (spirit of the times) is anchored in a specific place (platz) that makes people engage in activities they might not normally do.

What was life like for indigenous people before colonialism?

The Kalahari Basin in southern Africa is one of the world’s richest ethnographic zones (areas with distinct cultures). The region is home to some of the oldest languages still in existence and the genetic diversity found in the zone indicates that it is home to one of the world’s original ancestral populations.

“Bushman” is used as a blanket term encompassing more than 200 ethnic groups. There is no “typical Bushman”; rather, they constitute a miscellany of fluid groups. “Bushman” is preferred by many local communities, possibly as a form of resistance against officialdom’s categorisation of them as San and “Marginals”. The term “San” is found only in one language, Khoekhoegowab, and means the same as Bushman.

I see them as convivial with a strong ideology of sharing. Colonial power is based on controlling access to what people desire, like money or livestock. Bushmen lived as hunter-gatherers, roaming across the landscape. They had a different concept of property, desiring neither money or livestock; they were uncontrollable and so they were treated as animals and subject to annihilation.

What was the genocidal platzgeist?

First, some background. Today’s Namibia was a German colony called German South West Africa from 1884. The 1904-1907 genocidal Herero-Nama war was decisive, as Germany sought to create a German haven by encouraging settlers.

The north-east arc of the territory, stretching from Otavi to Gobabis with Grootfontein as the epicentre, served as a magnet, with a newly completed railway line, mines, vast agricultural potential and accessible land. In Grootfontein alone, the number of settler farms increased from 15 in 1903 to 175 by 1913. Almost all these cattle ranches were on land occupied by Bushmen.

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Read more: Namibian genocide: why Germany’s bid to make amends isn’t enough

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Settlers were soon in trouble. By 1911, the Namibian press headlines screamed “Bushman Plague”. Two factors fed the panic. First, the killing of a policeman and a few white farmers. And second, Bushman activities, allegedly “brigandage” or banditry, were hindering the flow of sorely needed migrant contract workers from the Owambo and Kavango regions to work on the newly discovered Luderitzbucht diamond fields. The Chamber of Mines wanted the area “sanitised”.

Accordingly, the German governor ordered that Bushmen could be shot if they were believed to be attempting to resist arrest by officials or settlers. Over 400 anti-Bushman patrols covering some 60,000km² were deployed from 1911 to 1913.

But settlers and officials considered these measures inadequate. Settlers continued to terrorise Bushmen without as much as a slap on the wrist. “Bushman hunts” continued until the South African takeover of the territory in 1915 when the country became known as South West Africa.

We don’t know how many Bushmen died, but as I explain in my book, official estimates put Bushmen numbers in 1913 at 8,000-12,000. In 1923 it was 3,600. This gives an indication of the magnitude of the killings.

What oiled the genocide was the settler platzgeist. The dominant ethos was one of besiegement, of being threatened by unpredictable external forces. The farmers, attracted by generous government support and subsidies, were mostly discharged soldiers, ill-trained in farming, lacking crucial local knowledge, and schooled in racist arrogance. The situation bred insecurity, fear and hyper-masculinity.

Bushmen, with their reputed ability to camouflage themselves and to track and hunt using poisoned arrows for which there was no known antidote, epitomised their worst nightmare as they sought to establish overlordship on their isolated farms. Believed to be like predatory game, Bushmen had to be exterminated as a group. This was genocide.

What happened after the genocide?

Repression continued under South African rule from 1915 until independence in 1990, although it was less extreme. The possession of Bushman bows and arrows was made illegal. Bushmen were steadily dispossessed of their territory to make way for game reserves and settler farms.

As late as the 1970s, the administration was still thinking of relocating 30,000 Bushmen to the proclaimed artificially created Bushmanland, which constituted 2% of the territory they had once occupied.

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Read more: German colonialism in Africa has a chilling history – new book explores how it lives on

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The vast majority remained in their traditional areas now under the overlordship of settler farmers, where they sank into a situation of servitude. With Namibia’s independence, the situation worsened. New labour laws set a minimum wage, making it uneconomical to keep Bushmen workers. And many farmers switched to game farming or sold to black farmers who preferred to hire their kinsfolk.

The result was that Bushmen were forced into communal areas or peri-urban informal settlements, where they eke out a precarious living.

Where does this find these people today?

Bushmen are currently found in varying states of servitude, doing largely menial labour in the north and north-eastern regions, where they were once the ancestral inhabitants. The government is trying to assist Bushmen, mainly with welfare grants and a few overcrowded resettlement farms.

Search “Namibian Bushmen” on the internet and one is bombarded with glamourised images of Bushmen in traditional dress demonstrating hunting and tracking. Such narratives, largely the result of tourism boosters, reinforce the myth of the “pristine” Bushmen. The history of genocide and servitude is airbrushed out.

– Namibia’s forgotten genocide: how Bushmen were hunted and killed under German colonial rule
– https://theconversation.com/namibias-forgotten-genocide-how-bushmen-were-hunted-and-killed-under-german-colonial-rule-261267