Watching the news of the recent elections in Cameroon and Côte d’Ivoire broke my heart. Once again, Paul Biya — at 91 years old — has been declared winner of Cameroon’s presidential election, extending his more than four decades in power. In Côte d’Ivoire, Alassane Ouattara, who has been president since 2010, has also secured another term. Both men claim victory in countries where discontent, fatigue, and frustration are palpable.
Outtara was once in the opposition. He has forgotten where he came from. So soon? For me, these are not just isolated events. They represent everything that has kept Africa backward — sit-tightism, nepotism, prebendalism, and the politics of ethnic and religious loyalty that continue to define leadership on this continent.
I honestly struggle to understand how a 91-year-old who barely campaigned, who was represented more by his effigy and his wife than by his own presence, could “win” an election. What kind of future can a man of that age envision for a generation he can no longer relate to? Watching the violence that followed the announcement of his victory, I wanted to cry — not just for Cameroon, but for Mother Africa. Because somewhere in Uganda, somewhere in Tanzania, the same script might soon play out again. We have seen this story too many times — aging leaders clinging to power, afraid of what will happen if they ever let go.
What is wrong with us in Africa? Why do our leaders refuse to leave when their time is up? And why do our people continue to cheer them on? This culture of sit-tight leadership is not just embarrassing; it is destructive. It stifles innovation, kills hope, and locks the continent in a vicious circle of underdevelopment. When leaders stay too long, institutions weaken, accountability disappears, and a whole generation grows up believing that power is not service but conquest.
Sadly, Nigeria is not immune to this disease. Watching the growing wave of political endorsements for President Bola Tinubu, less than halfway through his term, I cannot help but recall the tragic days of the Abacha era — when five political parties infamously endorsed a dictator as their sole candidate. History seems to be repeating itself, only this time in democratic disguise. The spate of defections from opposition parties to the ruling party is disheartening. These politicians are not defecting because of conviction or ideology. They are defecting for personal survival and political advantage. It is all about staying close to power, not serving the people.
It is especially troubling that a president who has not yet fulfilled his campaign promises — who has not significantly improved the lives of the people — appears eager to start consolidating for the next election. Two years into this administration, the reality for most Nigerians is harsh. The cost of living has soared, the naira has weakened, and unemployment remains widespread. Yet, rather than focus on governance and development, the political class is once again obsessed with politics — who joins which camp, who is endorsed, who will control what.
This is not governance; this is madness. It is the same old obsession with power for its own sake. It is the same politics that has made Africa a global laughingstock — where leaders chase power without purpose, and citizens cheer them on while their own lives grow harder. It doesn’t make sense that an elected official, voted in under one party for four years, would abandon that mandate mid-term to join the ruling party. It doesn’t make sense that a president would welcome defectors with open arms when his focus should be on fulfilling promises to the electorate. But that is the African way — politics first, people later.
I know that money drives much of this behaviour. But even at that, common sense and conscience should tell our leaders that ambition must have limits. The lust for power, the need to dominate, to conquer and control, has done more damage to Africa than any foreign conspiracy ever could. Leadership in our part of the world has become a contest of ego rather than a call to service.
And the saddest part is that the people — the same suffering masses — often enable their oppressors. We defend corrupt leaders because they are from our tribe or religion. We justify their failure because we see them as “our own.” But in doing so, we betray ourselves and our children. We cannot continue to claim to love our countries while we defend those destroying them.
Africa’s biggest problem is not lack of resources or talent. It is the lack of honest leadership and responsible followership. Until both leaders and citizens learn moderation, humility, and accountability, the continent will continue to lag behind. We cannot build modern nations on the foundation of greed, deceit, and blind loyalty. The world will never respect Africa if our own leaders and citizens do not respect the ideals of justice, fairness, and progress.
Sometimes I wonder if our leaders ever think about the future. Do they not realise that history is unkind to those who rule forever? That true legacy is not built on years in office, but on the impact of service? Men like Nelson Mandela and Julius Nyerere understood this. They knew when to step aside, allowing new ideas and new energy to emerge. But in most of today’s Africa, that wisdom is gone. We have replaced statesmen with strongmen, and vision with vanity.
As I watch events unfold across the continent — from Yaoundé to Abuja, from Abidjan to Kampala — I feel a deep sense of sadness. Africa, the cradle of civilization, the continent that gave the world so much, continues to stumble because her leaders refuse to grow up. And her people, weary and disillusioned, have stopped expecting better.
Yet, I still believe that change is possible. But it will not come from the same political class that has failed us repeatedly. It will come from citizens who finally decide they have had enough; from young Africans who refuse to be bought or silenced; from people who demand integrity over identity and service over slogans.
Until that happens, we will continue to celebrate the victories of old men who should be enjoying retirement, not ruling nations. We will continue to cry over violence, corruption, and betrayal. And we will continue to ask, painfully but truthfully, when will Africa learn? When will Nigeria learn? When will the political class learn from yesterday’s powerful men and ask themselves a rhetorical question: where are they now?
Zainab Suleiman Okino (FNGE) is a syndicated columnist. She can be reached via zainabokino@gmail.com
