Time - USA (2021-11-08)

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of internally displaced persons camps, desert expansion,
resource control, armed conflict and, finally, failing
democracies.
In some way, therefore, we are all Africa.
During those few days at Ibadan, Oladosu, Wathuti
and I fell into an easy conversation on how we could
collaborate. Wathuti told us about her project planting
fruit trees in schools, and Oladosu described her work
with women in communities threatened by natural di-
sasters, and the dangers of sexual violence and aban-
donment that they endure as a result.
The three of us each faced similar difficulties. We
recognized that many African voices were struggling to
be heard—not only internationally but also within the
continent and even within our own countries. We were
frustrated by how few ordinary people were aware that
the climate crisis was behind so many of the disasters
that they called “God’s will,” and how difficult
it was to create a uniform message on climate
action that would carry weight—in our coun-
tries, regions and even globally.
Some problems lay beyond our immedi-
ate capabilities to fix, but we agreed on a few
actions we could take together. We’d amplify
one another’s voices by sharing our work on-
line, and emphasize to the international
media the importance of the collective efforts
of the growing number of climate activists we
were in contact with. This way we’d show that
there weren’t only a handful of people in Af-
rica fighting for climate justice, and that we
echoed the concerns of people, young and old,
in many countries throughout the continent.
We led a climate strike at the Univer-
sity of Ibadan for Lake Chad and the Congo
rain forest. Later, at my presentation at the
EETF event, during which Wathuti was hon-
ored, I told the attendees, “If no one is going
to fight for Africa, it is because Africans are
silent.”
I had an opportunity to take my Congo
strike to COP25 in Madrid. I walked through the expo,
in which national governments set up pavilions to show-
case what they’re doing to promote a more climate-
compatible future. After some activists and I searched
in vain for the Ugandan pavilion, we came across the one
for the Republic of Congo (Brazzaville). There, I talked
to the people staffing it about the strikes I was staging
on behalf of the Congo Basin rain forest.
They were not pleased. They took turns to tell me
that since I’d never been to their country or seen the
rain forest, I had no comprehension of the needs of its
citizens or the importance of developing the region.
The people of the Congo required properly constructed
houses, one of the men said, which I took to mean that
the wood to build them had to come from the forest.
It was a strange and unsatisfying discussion. Later, we
held a strike for the Congo Basin forests in front of the

pavilion. The staff I’d met earlier glared at us from a dis-

tance, and I’m sure they were happy when we returned

to the conference center.

It’s true, I may not fully understand the developmen-

tal needs of the people who live in or around the basin.

But surely it doesn’t make sense to destroy the world’s

“second lung” for furniture, palm oil, building materi-

als, minerals or fossil fuels.

Some may feel it’s presumptuous for any of us to

claim to speak for the whole of Africa, a continent

made up of 54 states, home to 1.3 billion people and

encompassing hugely varied ecosystems, peoples, cul-

tures and social conditions. And I agree that it’s absurd

that one individual should presume to be, or even be

considered as, the spokesperson for a continent. Yet in

almost every interview I’ve done, I’ve been asked not

only how climate change is affecting Uganda, but also

what its consequences are for other parts

of Africa. I’m aware that I can provide only

a snapshot of what the continent is under-

going, based on what I’ve learned from

other activists. And I recognize that there

are limits to what I can directly do to influ-

ence policy for the Congo Basin—or any-

where else, for that matter.

But I believe that we need to speak out—

to “break the silence,” as Sani says. I see my

role in climate activism as bringing up con-

versations that many people have never had,

and highlighting the destructive policies and

investments of banks, hedge funds, multi-

national corporations and governments—

all of which would like the rest of us to have

no idea what they’re up to. I see my task as

drawing attention to communities that peo-

ple may not have heard of, where lives are

being upended and lost on a daily basis.

No country, no matter where, is just a

country. What happens in the Congo Basin

rain forest doesn’t just affect people in coun-

tries in central Africa; it influences weather

patterns across the world. The climate crisis respects no

geopolitical borders, political bloc or regional trade as-

sociations. So what happens in the Congo isn’t just the

business of the Congolese or their neighbors. It con-

cerns all of us.

I’ll be the first to agree that we need more diversity

on platforms and that more young activists should be

given opportunities to talk about the challenges their

countries or regions are facing. There should be 54 or

216 or 1,026 activists from every African nation- state

speaking at international climate conferences and to

their own governments. Every activist has a story to

tell; every story has a solution to give; and every solu-

tion has a life to change.

Nakate is an activist and author of A Bigger Picture,

from which this essay is adapted

I see my task

as drawing

attention to

communities

that people

may not have

heard of,

where lives are

being upended

and lost on a

daily basis