17/07/2026
FRACE-AFRICA NAIROBI SUMMIT IN OUR EYES
(Translated from an article in Portuguese by a Mozambican writer/philosopher/Social actor)
You are blocking our sunlight
Diogenes, Macron and the new African servitude
By Severino Ngoenha
17th May 2026
There are moments in life when the philosopher can no longer keep his composure. There are moments when thinking is almost a form of physical pain. The more one understands history, the harder it becomes to accept the endless and same humiliations. Kierkegaard said that anguish is the fate of the one who sees the abyss of freedom in front of them.
Perhaps this is the real anguish of contemporary Africa: knowing, understanding, and recognizing how domination operates —and still, continuously marching voluntarily right towards and into it.
As I write this article, I am gripped by that very indignation.
While African peoples remain crushed by poverty, debt, dependency, and war, another France-Africa summit is taking place in Kenya. Another diplomatic dance. Another parade of African presidents chasing after the latest self-entitled shepherd of the moment. Just a few months ago, in Addis Ababa, Giorgia Meloni was welcomed by the African Union as an indispensable partner for the continent's future.
Yesterday, it was Africa-France. Tomorrow, it will be Africa-Turkey, Africa-China, Africa-Russia, Africa-European Union, Africa-United States.
Africa with everyone.
But almost never Africa with itself.
And when Africa gathers with itself, others are always seated at the head of the table, handing out promises, funding, strategies, projects, and illusions.
This is what revolts me.
Because it is no longer a simple matter of diplomacy. It is a civilizational tragedy. It is about Africa’s inability to really believe in itself. We keep waiting for external saviors. We keep waiting for others to bring us development, stability, wealth, and development. We are still convinced that our sun comes from the outside.
And yet, African history demonstrates exactly the opposite.
They never brought us no sun.
They always stood in front of our sun.
Perhaps the most accurate image of the relationship between Africa and the West is no longer that of the colonizer and the colonized. It is that of the shepherd and the sheep. The West continues to act as the world’s shepherd, and we keep running after the first crook that appears, believing it will lead us to salvation.
We rush to Paris.
We rush to Washington.
We rush to Brussels.
We rush to Beijing.
We rush to Moscow.
We rush to everyone.
And while we rush, we forget ourselves.
The African Union was born precisely to prevent this. After the anti-colonial struggles, after centuries of slavery and colonization, the great African objective was simple: unity and resistance.
Resistance to falling into new forms of dependency.
Unity, so that Africa could finally exist as the actor of its own history.
That is what Du Bois understood.
That is what George Padmore understood.
That is what Henry Sylvester Williams understood as early as the 1900 Pan-African Congress.
That is what Nkrumah obsessively repeated.
That is what Nyerere tried to build.
That is what Amílcar Cabral carried with him to his death.
That is what Agostinho Neto dreamed of.
That is what Samora Machel tried to defend.
That is what Marcelino dos Santos constantly repeated: African freedom would either be continental, or it would once more be dependency.
Nkrumah was right when he insisted: “Unite or perish.”
Today, we sadly realize how deep that statement was.
Because what we see today is the exact opposite of African unity. We see a continent that is fragmented, vulnerable, and constantly summoned to meetings organized by the very same powers that continue to control and centralize the mechanisms of the global economy.
And, most tragically is that we know all of this.
We know what Berlin represented.
We know what the Congo represented.
We know what Biafra represented.
We know what the structural adjustment programs represented.
We know what the IMF represents.
We know what debt represents.
We know what monetary dependence means.
We know what the much criticized *Françafrique* means.
We know.
We also recognize what is happening today in the Sahel.
We know that a segment of the African youth has finally decided to rise up against all new forms of tutelage. We know that for millions of young Africans today, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger represent a desperate attempt to reclaim sovereignty.
One may debate the methods or the regimes, but one cannot ignore the fundamental historical truth: the Sahel has become a symbol of Africa’s refusal to accept perpetual tutelage.
And what do we do?
While these peoples face sanctions, pressure, isolation, and attacks, we cheerfully meet with the very same actors who are doing everything to prevent this break for freedom from taking hold.
It is impossible not to feel shame.
It is impossible not to feel outraged.
At a time when young Africans are dying while attempting to free the continent from new forms of dependency, our leaders continue to sit in conferences discussing "partnerships" between unequals—as if fifty-four African nations were eternally required to stand before world powers like a bunch of students before a teacher.
This is where Diogenes returns with extraordinary force.
When Alexander the Great, master of the empire, asked the philosopher what he could do for him, Diogenes replied: “get out of my sunlight.”
Perhaps Africa needs today that kind of philosophical courage.
To stop asking for tutelage.
To stop asking for permission to exist.
To stop asking for diplomatic crumbs.
To stop chasing after the world’s new Alexanders.
Macron, step out of our sunlight.
IMF, step out of our sunlight.
World Bank, step out of our sunlight.
But the statement must now become even harsher.
For it is no longer just the external new versions of Alexanders who block the light from reaching us.
Many of our own leaders have also positioned themselves in front of the African sun.
Leaders lacking in historical imagination.
Leaders lacking the continental courage.
Leaders who confuse diplomacy with submission.
Leaders incapable of envisioning an Africa free from dependency.
Leaders who thrive on managing African precariousness.
Leaders personally integrated into international wealth mechanisms while their own people wallow in absolute poverty.
Many years ago, I wrote that Africa’s weakness lay neither in its territory nor in its colonial borders. Its true weakness lay in the quality of its men: capable of defending the interests of the entire world, except the profound interests of the continent itself.
Today, those words have turned out even more painful.
Perhaps that is why so many young Africans no longer expect anything from these tired elites. Perhaps that is why Africa’s youth is once again using a radical language, seeking radical sovereignty, and a radical break with the status quo.
And perhaps this is precisely where philosophy still has some utility.
Not for managing the existing world.
Not for decorating diplomatic conferences.
Not for legitimizing dependencies.
But for encouraging a new African generation to rediscover the courage to say no.
No to the world’s self-entitled shepherds.
No to being the obedient sheep.
No to dependency as a system.
No to elites who lost the capacity to imagine freedom.
And to say, finally, in the face of all empires—external and internal alike:
Get out of the way of our sunlight.
Severino Ngoenha
