An Apology Wrapped in Regret to Young People of Africa

Allow me to start with what sounds like an insult. But I promise it is not. We your parents and grandparents, owe you an apology. An unreserved, full-bodied, unvarnished apology.

We messed up. We really, really messed up. Big time!

We were handed nations fresh from the womb of independence, brimming with hope, fertile with possibilities. We inherited the keys to kingdoms of gold, oil, cocoa, and diamonds. There were also palm trees and rivers that could sing wealth into eternity. And what did we do with them?

We squandered them.

Oh, we were dreamers once! We spoke of African Renaissance, Nation Building, Pan-Africanism. We wore flowing agbadas, khakis, and safari suits while delivering long speeches about “development”. Somehow we developed only our bellies. In Nigeria, it has been christened stomach infrastructure. We were so busy attending conferences in Europe. We were writing policy papers for the World Bank. But then we forgot to fix the potholes outside our own homes.

We built mansions of corruption and decorated them with imported greed. We danced with dictators in ballrooms of deceit. When democracy knocked, we opened the door, but only to turn it into a puppet show.

Yes, we are the generation that did not build institutions and industries. Yet we succeeded in building personal empires. We allowed tribalism to strangle unity. Religion was used to create divisions. Poverty spread like rabbits in the farmlands we abandoned. We sold your future for a brown envelope. We mortgaged your destiny for a seat at the table of foreign donors.

For the record, we even turned the Diaspora into a mere remittance machine. The Diaspora is the very lifeline that should strengthen the homeland. We ignored your voices abroad, refused you voting rights, and reduced you to photo opportunities during election season.

We apologize. Truly, we do.

“We couldn’t build nations but mastered the art of building excuses. We bequeathed you slogans where we should have left you systems.”

But my dear sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, listen carefully now. We have forfeited the moral authority to tell you how to lead. But we have a duty to warn you how not to lead.

• Do not repeat our laziness. Leadership is not about big speeches or shiny motorcades. It is about rolling up your sleeves and doing the boring, unglamorous work of building institutions that outlive you.
• Do not outsource your agency. Stop waiting for Europe, China, or America to save you. They have their own interests; yours are your responsibility.
• Do not romanticize the past. Our heroes were human. Learn from them, but do not idolize them to the point of paralysis.
• Do not become the social media generation of noise. Tweets don’t fix roads. Hashtags don’t feed the hungry. Memes don’t build economies. Turn your activism into actual systems.

Please, break this cursed circle. For the sake of your children, our grandchildren, and those yet unborn, you must dare to be better than us. You owe it not just to Africa, but to humanity.

“If we were the bridge generation, we turned that bridge into a tollgate of greed. Now you must rebuild it. Not for us, but for yourselves and our grandchildren.”

I know you may want to roll your eyes. “Look at them,” you may say, “after destroying everything, they are now giving us advice.” Yes, we are guilty. But even guilty parents can whisper hard-earned lessons into the ears of their children.

We have left you a broken continent, but also a blank canvas to paint on. Paint it boldly. Write your own story. Do not be satisfied to just survive; insist on thriving. And when you build the Africa we dreamed of but never delivered, do not be too harsh on our memory. Remember us, not as villains, but as a cautionary tale. See us as a proof that good intentions without courage are useless.

So yes, this is an apology, drenched in satire but washed in tears. We failed you. But you, African Youth, must refuse to fail yourselves and our grandchildren.

“Do not inherit our silence. Question everything. Challenge everything. Tear down what doesn’t serve you and rebuild what will serve generations.”

Closing Thought

“We resign our self-proclaimed seat of wisdom and hand you the steering wheel. Drive carefully, but for heaven’s sake, drive forward.”

History has placed in your hands both a burden and a blessing. May you carry the burden with resilience, and turn the blessing into a revolution of hope. Because if you don’t… well, you might just end up like us. And trust me, you don’t want that. Before we fade into the background like an old radio jingle, we leave you with three closing thoughts:

1. Don’t trust anyone who calls you leaders of tomorrow without giving you the tools to lead today.
2. When you seize the microphone of power, don’t sing or rewrite our old song. Write a new one.
3. If you must forgive us, forgive us with your success.

Signed

Collins Nweke

For and behalf of your tired, contrite, and forever regretful parents and grandparents.

Категория:

пресс-релиз 

писатель:

Collins Nweke

Телефон:

Brussels

Расположение:

Belgium