Chasing Hope in Africa

This past week, at an Ecclesial Project gathering, someone asked me where Africans find hope amid all the troubles there. I reminded her: there is no such things as African hope or American hope. We all need hope today, just as our ancestors needed to live in hope amidst the challenges they faced in their own day. Each generation faces its own challenges and opportunities.

Yes, Africa does face some challenges. In many ways it seems that we are all chasing hope as Africans; sometimes we find it; sometimes we don’t. It is elusive. It is concrete. We must cling on to hope and not give up in order to work our way into the future as Africans.

However, my interlocutor forced me to reflect on the truth I may have ignored that perhaps the condition in our continent and among people of African descent calls forth a particular kind of hope. And that our hope as Africans springs from a specific kind of context and conditions. And that this hope must be targeted to some specific kinds of issues that need to be reversed and repaired for the transformation of individuals and groups.

So, I am writing this week’s editorial on hope and if I dare to say, I wish to write of an African Christian hope or rather my hope as an African Christian. I am referring here to Christian hope understood as an African with all the cultural, historical, and spiritual treasures from my roots. As Africans we all bring these treasures in naming some signs of hope around us and how we all can live into these signs as African Christians in the firm conviction that God’s reign will emerge in our history.

And that hope has a face: the Risen Lord Jesus. In him, and through him, I live as an African Christian—daily navigating the joys and sorrows of a fragile world. I focus this editorial on hope because, while this is a Jubilee Year of Hope, many Africans might be tempted to stop dreaming of better days because of the challenges facing our continent. But the Gospel dares us to believe; to hope: better days are possible. Always with God.

Hope is not sentimental optimism. It is a prophetic resolve. It compels us to live boldly beyond our self-assurances and fears; beyond our limitations and vulnerabilities to take the hand of God and the hand of each other and walk beyond the shadows into a bright new day. Hope is a concrete commitment to journey with God—and with all people of goodwill—toward healing and resurrection. The one who has hope believes that he or she is in the hand of God.

We see signs of hope in the quiet sanctuaries of resistance all around us: in acts of mercy, forgiveness, inclusion, and justice and in the ongoing efforts at social repair, healing of memories, and restorative justice in many communities and countries in Africa ; in communities that make space for the weary; in the faithful who refuse to bow to the idols of power, violence, and despair. Hope lives in sacramental gesture—when we accompany the abandoned, comfort the grieving, and dare to love amid hatred. These are the footprints of the God of hope in a world that glories in power, money, military might, and transactional exchanges.

Africans are a hopeful people. It is in our DNA not to give up. Our hope is woven into our families, cultures, and communities. It flows from our ancestors’ wisdom and our faith traditions—traditions that have taught us that no one suffers alone; no one is left alone in their moments of troubles because we all are like the trees of life with deep roots in beloved communities that water our lives when we are weather-beaten by suffering, setbacks, or tragedy.

It seems to me that because we have seen so much suffering, disappointments, and pain in Africa, we see hope clearly in both our survival and coping mechanism, which sort of give evidence that the devouring forces of evil cannot have the last say. Thus, when hardship comes, we draw water from the deep communal wells of relational resilience. Even amid great suffering, we have learned to survive, to cope, to rise. We believe, with conviction, that evil will never have the last word.  

Only those who have stared down despair and refuse to sink into the valleys can recognize the irruption of resurrection. Only those who have walked through the valley of death can speak of the joy of Easter. The power of Christian hope lies in this great reversal—from crucifixion to resurrection. It is the power that lifted the early Church—poor, persecuted, powerless—into a movement that changed history. They were bold. They were prophetic. They trusted God. They bonded together in love.

These ordinary men and women believed that their lives and futures were in the hand of God. Believing that they are a resurrected and resurrecting community, they committed themselves to creating an alternate community of love, inclusion, and pragmatic solidarity shown to each other in lifting everyone up. They had no material resources or political power. But they changed the world with empty hands. They had nothing but faith and hope. They proclaimed the Gospel boldly, despite opposition. And we are Christians today because they did not falter or bow to the “kings who sit in state.”

But let us be clear: the greatest threat to hope in Africa today is political. The soul-crushing failure of leadership across the continent is extinguishing the fires of hope and flattening the dreams of the young. Hope is not wishful thinking. It is praxis—it must be lived and realized through agency and daily acts of reversal. It requires just systems, good and responsible government and leadership at all levels, collective responsibility, and moral courage. Empty slogans, political manipulation, prosperity gospel, and religious platitudes cannot substitute for good governance and ethical leadership in Africa.

This past week reminded us again of the brutal cost of bad politics:

• In Cameroon, 92-year-old President Paul Biya—after 43 years in power—announced he will run again in October. His regime has hollowed out the state, crushed civic life, and stolen the hopes of generations. The Church must rise with the people of Cameroon to end this long night of corruption and repression. VoiceAfrique stands in solidarity with the people of Cameroon as they engage in soul searching on how to put an end to this long night.
• In Togo, the Eyadema family that has ruled since 1967 continues its subtle repressive politics and stratagem against the good people of Togo. President Faure Gnassingbé—after 20 years in office—removed term limits, potentially extending his rule by decades. When Emeritus Archbishop Philippe Kpodzro of Lomé courageously protested electoral manipulation, he was silenced and persecuted. In 2020, Catholic News Agency reported that Bishop Benoît Alowonou of Kpalimé, head of Togo’s Catholic bishops, was among six targets of Pegasus spyware, alongside members of the National Alliance for Change. Developed by Israeli firm NSO Group, Pegasus infiltrates WhatsApp and grants full access to a target’s phone. Bishop Alowonou has boldly backed political reform and condemned government injustices. Though links to the regime remain unproven, this attack is part of a wider pattern of intimidation against voices challenging Togo’s authoritarian rule. As the Togolese Catholic bishops recently warned, this political maneuvering—done “without real national dialogue”—risks destroying the country’s fragile social fabric.

These are not isolated cases. Across the continent, a greedy, violent, and insensitive political elite is choking the life out of democracy. They hijack institutions through the so-called state capture, suffocate dissent, and exploit religion for their own ends. Their actions mock the very idea of hope. The Church cannot remain neutral. Without prophetic ecclesial leadership and a mobilized citizenry, Africa’s hope will be squandered.

But we must not give up. As St. Paul reminds us, “Hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5). The time has come for a new Pentecost of hope in Africa: a collective rising of people of faith and conscience, committed to dismantling unjust structures and building a future worthy of our children. Hope must now become action.

VoiceAfrique says to the darkness: We beg to differ. And to the Risen Lord, we say: Here we are. Equip us from the Empty Tomb with hope and send us as messengers and protagonists of hope for Africa and the world.

Your Brother, Stan Chu Ilo