“When the ancestors dreamed of the continent, they dreamed of us—not as shadows of their past, but as the living fire of their hopes, and the witnesses of all the past heroes.”
Across Africa, we walk on lands watered by tears, cultivated with prayers, and guarded by the spirits of those who came before us—men and women who stood tall against all odds, clearing paths through dense forests, refusing to lose their names, their souls, or their truths.
Too often, however, we mistake this ancestral dream for a monument. We trade their sweat for fleeting gains, dismiss their spiritual heritage as irrelevant. But their dream was never nostalgic. It was prophetic—a vision of a just and flourishing people, rooted in wisdom, free in dignity, and united in purpose.
Today, we stand on the shoulders of giants. But the question remains: have we lived up to their dream, or have we traded it for borrowed visions?
I come from a tribe of storytellers, a people who transmit sacred wisdom under the gaze of the moon, entrusting the young to guard it for those yet to be born. One such ancestral teaching lives in the baobab tree, revered across West Africa as the “tree of life.” Not only because it stores water or bears fruit, but because it stores memory.
There’s a story.
When the first people received the gift of life, they asked the Creator: “How will we remember what is good, what is just, what is wise?”
And the Creator answered: “Plant this tree. When the time comes, gather beneath its shade. It will remind you to listen to one another, to the earth, to the animals, and to those who came before you.”
Generations passed. In times of conflict, the elders gathered the people under the baobab to speak the truth. In times of celebration, they returned to sing, to bless, and to give thanks.
But one day, the people forgot.
They no longer sat under the tree. They built louder halls and taller palaces—but none could hear the wisdom that once lived in the roots. Each family began to gather their children around their own interests. Without elders or guides, many could neither find the tree nor the light that once held them together. And the land began to grieve.
Voice Afrique Catholic is out to reawaken that ember. Like the elders who once gathered beneath the baobab, we are here to listen—to speak truth, to name what must be named. We are here to unite the children of Mother Africa in a sacred space: to celebrate those who ignite change, and to raise the voices of those betrayed by the very leaders meant to protect them.
In this sacred forest, our stories are not only about pain, but about resilience and reinvention of our history as a group and as individuals. Not just of loss, but of those who still hold their heads high, standing under the watchful gaze of the Creator and the presence of the ancestors.
There are still those who believe in the dream.
Is it not the case in Zimbabwe, where electricity cut off by Cyclone Idai in 2009 was finally restored just recently? Or in Tanzania, where 38-year-old Molissia Mbiki leads the Kibuka Women’s Cooperative—feeding her community and creating jobs? Should we not mention the youth of PACTPAN in Uganda, where Ampereza Devis, Nakachwa Lucky Lucy, and Ninsiima Charlotte are running a bakery project with pride and purpose? Or the bold leadership of Edelquinn Akighir and the young women of PACTPAN Nigeria, who marked World Menstrual Hygiene Day by breaking silence and restoring dignity?
These and many other grassroots initiatives are proof that when supported, our people still have what it takes to change their stories—and to reshape the image of our motherland.
But our greatest betrayal comes not from the winds or the floods, but from those we entrusted as guardians of the sacred forest—our political, religious, and community leaders. Many no longer believe in the dream. Some have traded their souls for power and pride. They neither respect the land nor fear the Creator. Instead, they engage in actions that destroy the future of their own people.
From Kenya to Togo, leaders silence young voices calling for justice.
In Cameroon, Uganda, Côte d’Ivoire, Equatorial Guinea, Algeria, and Nigeria, tired men—who should be enjoying their final days in peace—cling to power and drag entire nations to their knees. These and their enablers are the true wizards holding Africa on the ground.
Voice Afrique is calling on all the children of Africa, regardless of their faith, to embrace the dream of our ancestors. The Churches, in a special way, must rise—not only in prayer, but in action, standing with those whose cries for liberation echo through our land. To live the dream of our ancestors is not to return to the past—it is to walk forward with their courage, their hope, and their fire burning in our bones
4 comments
This is an eye opener. Very true. We have disassociated ourselves with what builds us. And we walk without thinking of what last for everybody and including the generation to come. Our ancestors had future eyes, we have only for only today. Our leaders are selling our house with all in it including the people forgetting that they need a home.for themselves also.They lookalike a home far away that is not theirs. They forget that what is in a foreign land does not belong to a clan. We need more youths of vision.
Bonjour père Ali. Merci pour cette initiative de raviver la flamme de nos ancêtres. Cette culture nous manque beaucoup. Nous devons réapprendre l’arbre à palabres.
Félicitation et encouragements
This is a good one. Keep the spirit.