Lessons for African Youth: Entrepreneurship and Innovation
The ability to innovate and create is a priceless asset. The fifth lesson for young African youth is a call to embrace entrepreneurship and innovation
Lessons for African Youth: Critical Thinking Matters
Critical thinking is a mental toolkit that every young African should sharpen.It is the ability to analyze, evaluate, and synthesize information
Lessons for African Youth: Education is Empowerment
Education is often described as the key to unlocking your potential, and for young Africans, this lesson is a fundamental truth.
Lessons for African Youth: Preserve Indigenous Knowledge
Lesson 2: Preserve Indigenous Knowledge A major lesson for young African youth is a call to preserve and cherish indigenous knowledge. Embedded within the customs, rituals, and wisdom of Africa’s diverse communities is a wealth of insights and understanding that have sustained societies for centuries. Indigenous knowledge encompasses a wide spectrum of expertise, from traditional medicine and agricultural practices to storytelling and craftsmanship. It is the accumulated wisdom of generations who have learned to thrive in Africa’s varied ecosystems, adapting to its challenges and harnessing its resources. Preserving indigenous knowledge is an act of cultural preservation, ensuring that the unique heritage of each African community endures. But it goes beyond that: it is also about recognizing the value of this knowledge in addressing contemporary issues. Where climate change, food security, and healthcare are pressing concerns, indigenous knowledge can provide innovative solutions. It offers alternative approaches to sustainable agriculture, holistic healthcare, and environmental stewardship that have been refined over centuries. For young Africans, this lesson carries a profound responsibility. It is an invitation to engage with your elders, to learn from them, and to document their knowledge for future generations. It is a recognition that while modern education is crucial, it should complement rather than replace the wisdom embedded in African traditions. Moreover, preserving indigenous knowledge is not just a matter of nostalgia: it is about empowering communities to take ownership of their development. It is about bridging the gap between tradition and progress, recognizing that both have a role to play in shaping Africa’s future. The lessons outlined here are not merely suggestions but a blueprint for the empowerment and transformation of young African youth. At Shades of Us, these lessons are not just principles: they are at the core of our mission. By embracing these lessons, young Africans become the protagonists of their narratives. Lesson 1: Embrace Cultural Diversity
Lessons For African Youth: Embrace Cultural Diversity
By Adetayo Adetokun Africa stands at a pivotal moment in its journey. With the largest youth population globally, the potential for transformative change is boundless. These young Africans are the torchbearers of their nations, poised to steer the continent toward a brighter, more prosperous future. Yet, this path forward is laden with challenges, ranging from economic disparities and political complexities to environmental concerns and cultural shifts. To navigate these turbulent waters, every young African youth must be armed with a profound set of lessons that not only equip them with knowledge but also nurture their character. Lesson 1: Embrace Cultural Diversity From the bustling markets of Marrakech to the serene savannas of the Serengeti, Africa’s diversity is its hallmark. To the young African youth, the first lesson is to wholeheartedly embrace this richness. Diversity is not just a matter of demographics: it is a treasure trove of ideas, perspectives, and experiences. Every culture contributes to the intricate fabric of African identity. Whether you hail from the Sahara or the Kalahari, the Nile or the Niger, your roots are intertwined with countless others. This diversity is a source of strength, resilience, and creativity. Diversity is not a threat but a source of enrichment. It is about appreciating the beauty of a continent where over 2,000 distinct languages are spoken, where rituals and ceremonies differ from village to village, and where cuisine can be as varied as the landscapes themselves. However, embracing cultural diversity is not merely a passive act of acceptance but an active engagement with the world around you. It means understanding the customs, traditions, and beliefs of your fellow Africans. It means listening to their stories, tasting their foods, and dancing to their rhythms. It means breaking down barriers and forging connections. This lesson lays the foundation for a more tolerant, inclusive, and harmonious society. Through embracing diversity, Africa can overcome historical divisions and conflicts, forging a united front to address the challenges of the 21st century.
The Power Series: Power Outage and Maternal Health
By Adetayo Adetokun Power outages are a major challenge faced by many African countries, with limited access to electricity being a significant barrier to development and progress. According to the World Bank, over 600 million people in Africa do not have access to electricity, making up nearly two-thirds of the population on the continent. Furthermore, frequent power outages are a common occurrence, with some areas experiencing blackouts for several hours every day. One of the areas where power outages have a particularly devastating impact is maternal health. Women in Africa face a range of challenges when it comes to accessing quality healthcare, and power outages only exacerbate these challenges. The lack of reliable electricity makes it difficult for healthcare facilities to provide essential services, such as surgical procedures, diagnostic tests, and neonatal care. Maternal mortality is a major concern in Africa, with the region accounting for approximately two-thirds of all maternal deaths worldwide. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), an estimated 830 women die every day from preventable causes related to pregnancy and childbirth. Furthermore, for every woman who dies, at least 20 more experience serious complications during childbirth. The impact of power outages on maternal health cannot be overstated. When the power goes out, healthcare facilities are forced to rely on backup generators, which may not be able to provide enough energy to power all of the necessary equipment. This can result in delays and cancellations of surgeries and other procedures, which can have serious consequences for women in labor. In addition, power outages can also make it difficult to store and transport medications and other medical supplies, which can affect the quality and availability of healthcare services. This is particularly true for facilities in rural areas, where access to electricity is limited and transportation networks may be poor. The lack of reliable electricity also makes it difficult for healthcare workers to communicate with one another and with patients. This can result in delays and misunderstandings, which can further exacerbate maternal health issues. For example, healthcare workers may not be able to access patient records or communicate with specialists in other locations, which can make it difficult to provide appropriate care. Power outages have a significant impact on maternal health in Africa. The lack of reliable electricity makes it difficult for healthcare facilities to provide essential services and can result in delays and cancellations of procedures. Furthermore, power outages can make it difficult to store and transport medical supplies, and can impede communication between healthcare workers and patients. Addressing these challenges will require a concerted effort from governments, healthcare providers, and other stakeholders to ensure that all women in Africa have access to high-quality maternal healthcare services. Several steps can be taken to address the impact of power outages on maternal health in Africa. One of the most important is to improve access to reliable electricity. This can be achieved through a range of measures, such as investing in renewable energy sources, expanding the grid infrastructure, and promoting off-grid solutions like solar power. Governments and international organizations can play a key role in providing funding and support for these initiatives. Another important step is to improve the resilience of healthcare facilities in the face of power outages. This can be achieved through measures such as installing backup generators, improving energy efficiency, and developing contingency plans for emergencies. Healthcare workers can also be trained to manage power outages and use available resources more efficiently. Efforts to improve maternal health outcomes in Africa should also focus on addressing other barriers to healthcare access, such as inadequate funding, poor infrastructure, and cultural barriers. Initiatives like community health worker programs, mobile health clinics, and telemedicine (funded by the government, individuals and non-governmental organizations) can help to reach women in remote areas and improve access to maternal healthcare services. It is important to recognize that maternal health is not only a healthcare issue but also a human rights issue. Governments and other stakeholders have a responsibility to ensure that all women have access to quality maternal healthcare services, regardless of their socioeconomic status or geographic location. In conclusion, power outages have a significant impact on maternal health in Africa, and addressing this challenge will require a comprehensive and coordinated effort. By improving access to reliable electricity, strengthening healthcare facilities, and addressing other barriers to healthcare access, we can help to ensure that all women in Africa have the opportunity to give birth safely and with dignity. Read the first episode of the power series here. It explores the effects of power outages on noenatal health and safety.
Cheating (vrb). Women (n).
Photo by Ogo on Pexels Men cheat. And yes, women also cheat. It is not strange, yet… people raise their brows when they hear that a woman cheated. It is even believed that women cheat more than men and that it is a well-kept secret. They just don’t want to accept it or talk about it. Society expects men to cheat. People claim it is ‘natural’ for men to want to explore. They have sexual urges that need to be quenched. But women are also sexual beings. They have desires and want to explore as well. People do not want to think about women as sexual beings or as being sexually active and having multiple partners. Relationship experts say the motivation for both genders differs. “Men desire more sex or attention while women desire to fill an emotional…emptiness”. Both men and women, however, are sexual and emotional beings and men also have emotional voids they try to fill differently. A friend once told me about a traditional belief from a particular tribe in North Central Nigeria. The idea was that any married woman who cheats on her husband would die. She claimed she had seen it happen. I asked what penalty befell a cheating husband, and she said none. I was dazed. I will not wholly cast off these beliefs as a Nigerian and African. But then I wonder…the spirit or spirits behind this belief must be quite biased – and wicked if you ask me – to punish only women and not men for adultery. I believe that certain traditional and cultural beliefs are created by men to relegate and subjugate women and keep them in check. Another incident is of a woman narrating her ordeal during an interview. Her husband suspected she was having extramarital affairs because he saw a man at her business center. He reported her to the elders in the community and, since he didn’t have any evidence, insisted that she eats a fowl uncooked with its blood and feathers, and if she didn’t die within a year, she was innocent. This is one of the many sacrilegious practices in Nigerian and African societies. I recently read an article about a ceremony in a village in Rivers State where young girls are given certificates of womanhood for being virgins. This involved being ‘checked’ by older women in the community. Virginity before marriage is expected of a woman, while it is considered a plus for a man. Sadly, many women proliferate this idea. There is this silly expectation that if a man wants to be with you, he has other women on the side, ‘side chicks’ as they are called, and you should be grateful that he picked you out of the lot. If men are okay to cheat, then people should accept cheating women. Cheating is unique to relationships and individuals, not genders. Individuals in relationships who consciously decide to be together should be committed to one another.
Policing Childbirth and Risking Women’s Lives
Woman breastfeeding her newbornImage: Feature Shoot My first experience with childbirth was when my youngest sister – Sadiya – was born. I was seven years old then. I remember my mum trying to put on a brave face as she was aided to the car. In all honesty, I didn’t understand what was going on, but my aunts and uncles seemed to be in a panic. I can’t remember what my father’s demeanor was, but I know we didn’t see our mother until the next day when we were introduced to our newborn sister. There was happiness, excitement and an air of love all around. If my mother was frazzled after the birth, she didn’t show it or…I didn’t notice. I gradually began to see women around me give birth to babies and carry on with their lives. They didn’t pause to take a break or stop taking care of their families. Life just went on. Then sometime in 2013, I went to visit a friend in Garkida, Adamawa State. I was a serving corps member then and my friend – a doctor – had been posted to that community for his service to the nation. I went on his ward rounds with him and as usual, was depressed by the smell of the sick mixed with pungent anti-bacterial detergents and caped off by the stinky attitudes of nurses. But the most unnerving thing I saw was the sad look of dejection on the face of a frail woman who was carrying a child on her back, with a branch of leaves hanging from the side of the baby. Without being told, I knew something was wrong. I asked my friend if carrying her baby with the leaves like that was healthy, and if he could do something about it. ‘The baby is dead. The leaves is to let everyone know.’ I looked at the woman again and felt a wave of sadness wash over me. It wasn’t that she was crying; because she wasn’t. Beyond the air of brokenness around her, she seemed so stoic in her resolve as she walked out of the hospital and into the surrounding hills. When I asked my friend what was wrong, he explained. ‘She is a nomadic Fulani woman. From my experience with them, their culture demands that they give birth with the least fuss possible. When they go into labor, they usually look for a corner and squat. They then begin to push as quietly as possible until the baby comes. Many of them are so weak by the time the baby comes and it is not unheard of that a great number of them die in the process. And in many cases, the children do not survive either. In that woman’s case, the baby came out sickly; jaundice. If she had given birth in the hospital or had come in as soon as the baby was born, something may have been done to save the child. But they wait until almost nothing can be done and by the time they make the long trek to this hospital – which is the only healthcare facility that is in this town – the baby would have died.’ I was heartbroken. Not only did the baby not have a fighting the chance, the mother also had to trek a long distance after newly giving birth; when she herself had not even healed from the traumatic experience that she had gone through. And what was the cause? A culture that said Fulani women were strong; that these women should give birth at home; that giving birth should be done silently; and one that only sought the hospital when things had gone awry. The memory of that woman walking into the hills with her dead baby strapped on her back stayed with me for a while. Soon though, the thought of childbirth went to the far recesses of my mind. A few month later, I fell ill and had to be admitted to the hospital. It was a private hospital and by the time they were ready to give me a bed, there was only one space left; the maternity ward. Two incidences happened in my brief stay in the hospital that brought the childbirth conversation back to my radar. One woman came in about ready to pop. She kept pacing up and down with barely any sign of the contractions wracking her body beyond the occasional wince. Soon, she was called into the delivery room where she had the most quiet delivery possible. When I say quiet, I mean she didn’t scream, didn’t shout, and barely even moaned. The only time she cried out was when – in my opinion – she was being stitched up after the delivery. The nurse kept saying she was such a strong woman. Less than an hour after she gave birth, she was dressed and ready to go. As soon as she entered the ward, everyone started praising her; ‘strong woman’, ‘Hebrew woman’, ‘real woman’. Even though I was weak from the receding plasmodium in my system, I couldn’t help but give a small clap when everyone did. She smiled slightly, basking in what I had come to see was the ultimate praise. Hours after she left the hospital, people were still talking about her and how ‘strong’ a woman she was. But we didn’t stay on her case for long. Another woman came in to deliver her baby and she cried like hell. She shouted, screamed, yelled and any other word that connotes expressing agony. The nurse – same one who delivered the first baby – screamed right back at her. ‘Abeg no disturb us with shout here. When you dey fuck, you no shout. Now, you wan tear our ear. Abeg! No shout for us here. Na we cause am?’ I was desperately shocked. Why the hell was it okay to shout at that woman?! Why was it okay to insult her?! Did the nurse
A Culture of Animal Cruelty
Sad Dog Image: Petfinder Have you seen where dog meat is prepared? It is the epitome of cruelty and wickedness. The dog is tied in a sack and kept in a circle of men wielding sticks. Once they are sure that the dog cannot escape its confinements, these men begin to beat the dog until it dies. I witnessed this one day and nearly threw up from the sheer cruelty of it all. The cries of the dog were enough to break me, but these men were unperturbed. They kept striking, drawing rivulets of blood that seeped out of the sack as the screams of the dog became weaker until all was eerily quiet. In all honestly, I didn’t watch till the end. I couldn’t. Those cries tormented me. But I couldn’t leave. I was out with a friend who ate dog meat and he wanted his ‘delicacy’. Before then, I had been repulsed by the fact that people ate dog meat; and I told him as much. When I got to see how dogs were killed before they were prepared, I felt even worse revulsion. How could people do something so disgustingly cruel to animals? People who don’t eat dog meat may say that they are not part of the abuse. And they would be right. But…many of us abuse animals in one way or the other. Even me! So…I also began to think of the other ways that we abuse animals. Let me give an example. Roasted catfish is one of my favorite delicacies. I make it a point of duty to get some at least once a month. One day, I decided to get the raw fish and prepare myself. When I got to the market, it was to see that they kept the fish in just enough water to stay alive. And because there were many fish in the tub, you could tell that they were struggling to be alive. Suffocating would be the most appropriate term. I didn’t think too much about it for a minute until the fish I selected was taken out of the water and a big stick was used to hit its head. I was appalled! Was that how catfish was killed?! Was it the same with the fish joints where I bought mine? I felt bad. I shouldn’t even get started with the way we treat cows; but I will. You should see how they are transported across States lines. Necks bent at awkward angles, legs tied under their bodies in positions that must be uncomfortable, and even cases where other animals and food are piled atop them are usually common place. Then imagine all those distances they have to walk because their herders prefer the nomadic style of cattle rearing instead of the ranch method. And by God, we still insist on killing these animals by slitting their throats and letting them bleed out. In fact, Christianity and Islam instruct the slaughtering of animals as the way to kill them. Proponents of these religions believe that the most humane way to kill an animal is to slaughter them. The Bible (Deuteronomy 12: 21-24) and the Dhabihahin the Islamic Tradition place emphasis on slaughtering the animal and letting the blood of the animal drain to the ground. There are more requirements in Islam that must be met but for the most part, these religions agree that slaughtering is the ‘best’ way to kill animals. But…is this true? There are many schools of thought about this. Research has shown that many animals – like chickens for examples – die as much 2.5 minutes after being slaughtered. That is a lot of pain for an animal to deal with, no matter how stupid chickens are supposed to be. And quite frankly, unfair to the animal. Personally, I think animals should be stunnedbefore they are killed. I think that is the most humane way to kill them. But I understand the draw of religion and why it is important to do as a deity demands. The bigger question is whether we should even eat meat knowing how animals have to die. I am not going to lie…I love meat. It is an important of all my meals. I enjoy the feel it brings to any meal it is in. In fact, I consider meat or fish the reward for eating a meal. This is why I believe that when animals are killed as humanely possible, it is fine to eat. It is also why, in addition to my other reasons, I will eat not dog meat. I have an aversion to swine so that isn’t even up for debate but fish…how do I handle my dilemma with their inhumane killings and my unending appetite for them? I think that is the big question for me, and my role in this mess. Thankfully, in this part of the world, we do not kill animals for sport – even though we let people come here to do so – and cases of animal fighting for gambling purposes are few and in between. But there are way too many ways that animals are treated poorly in our communities. Not only are they fed poorly or starved, they are also caged, flogged, and even poisoned. I once saw a video of a guy who caught a rat and tied it spread-eagled to a bottle. Then the guy stuck a burning cigarette in the mouth of the rat such that whenever it tried to breathe, it inhaled huge gulps of smoke. The guy laughed hysterically, as did the thousands of people who liked and retweeted his video. I was appalled that people didn’t see it for what it was; a culture of animal cruelty. And it is a culture alright! And speaking of poisoning, this is where I am part of the problem. Apologies please. I genuinely hate rats. I think after snakes, they are the most horrible animals. They are able to creep into just about
A Culture of Filth
Image: Baastrop If you follow me on Twitter, you will (probably) notice that every week – and sometimes, almost every day – I talk about people who litter the environment with either their urine, feces or other waste products generated from their daily activities. From my tone, you can always tell that I am constantly angry at the unsightly result of our improper waste disposal and management. I wasn’t always this concerned about the environment. In fact, I used to be a huge part of the problem; okay…maybe ‘huge’ is stressing it too far. What I can admit is that I used to toss trash into the streets, gutters and running water and even burn plastic and other waste materials. Not only was I contributing to the dirt in the streets, I was also polluting the air. It is no surprise that at that time, my bedroom used to look like a tornado was constantly running through it. You wouldn’t call me a ‘clean girl’ for anything. My mother would fuss, and discipline, and it never seemed to work. As I got older, I got better…but not by much. Then in 2006, something happened to change my entire outlook on waste disposal. I was fresh out of secondary school and looking forward to a life as an undergraduate. I applied to Ahmadu Bello University for my first and second choice and when it was time for the Post Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination, or what we simply called Post UME, I was excited to go for the test, and prove why I should get into the school. After a really stressful day of getting lost, struggling to find myself in a sea of people, writing the exam and wondering how I was going to get back home, I decided to have a snack; I had not eaten all day. I bought a sausage roll – Gala – and a drink and sat down at the Social Center to eat. When I was done, I picked up my empty bottle and sausage wrap and crossed the road towards Amina Hostel. As soon as I crossed, I looked around and dropped my empty bottle and wrap on the ground. Just as I did that, my eye connected with a guy who was looking directly at me. I stopped. You know how they say you can shoot darts with your eyes? Well, this guy was shooting grenades! Without one word uttered, I could feel his disapproval, disappointment and anger at my littering. It was in that moment that I really took in my surroundings. There were waste bin every 100 metres and the school environment was clean and the lawn perfected mowed. In fact, there was one waste bin right in front of me. But I hadn’t seen it. I want to blame the stress I had been under but in all honesty, I may not have used it regardless. Remember that I have established that I was the type of person to toss things out into the street, right? Well, my bottle of fizzy drink – and its accompanying sausage wrap – was the aberration to what was a well maintained, really clean environment. It felt like I had insulted the ground – and faculty – of the school. I was awash with embarrassment. Why did I have to openly disregard this beauty that was so carefully put together? Why did I have to show myself like this?! I imagined what the guy must have been thinking about me. I need to put out a caveat though; I wasn’t attracted to the guy. I didn’t want to be liked by the guy. It wasn’t like I wanted to impress him. But the look which he shot me was rife with silent disapproval and judgement. I felt that he had seen into my soul and concluded that I was destructive to the earth. I imagined him thinking me ‘local’, ‘unsophisticated’ and maybe even a ‘village girl’. I was ashamed of myself for not being a better a person. And because of the insecurities I had already been feeling in the new…different environment, I wished I could go back in time and undo my act of sacrilege to the hallowed grounds of the university. To salvage the situation, I acted like I had dropped the trash on purpose. I opened my bag, pretending to look for something and then, bent down to pick them up and toss them into the trash can. With that, I walked away with my shoulders squared, head held high and lips in a defiant pout. But…not before I stole a glance at the guy and saw the beginnings of a smile on his face. That day, I made the choice to stop indiscriminately disposing waste. If I cannot dispose my waste in a proper way, I put it in my bag until I can. The ripple effects of that stink look stayed a long time with me and made me want to be a better person; first to myself and then to my community. I started to clean my house more, keep the ‘tornado’ at bay and generally, act better. As expected, the more concerned I was about my environment, the less tolerant I was of people who littered and worse, peed and pooped in public spaces. Having mentioned that, I have a confession to make. Sometime in 2013, a friend and I went out on a date. I remember drinking from a packet juice and taking some water with the snacks I had. When we returned to his house and I was about to set out for mine, he asked if we could extend the night by taking a stroll. I agreed. Before we left however, I asked for some water and I downed the 60cl sachet that he brought. I felt like peeing, but the pressure wasn’t much. So, I ignored the call and we went out. We took a stroll through the neighborhood and talked and
