The Conversation – Africa – Page 14

February 10, 2026

Activists in Ghana are forcing extractive firms to account for the harm they cause – corporate abuse study

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Cynthia Kwakyewah, Course Director in Social Science, York University, Canada

Ghana has a long history of resource extraction that has caused socioeconomic and ecological harm. The mining of gold, stones, sand and salt has displaced people, polluted the environment and destroyed livelihoods. It’s commonly believed that this continues to happen, with impunity.

But recent developments reveal a more complex reality.

As a global sociologist who specialises in human rights, corporate social responsibility and sustainable development, I mapped out the patterns of corporate abuse in Ghana’s mining, oil and gas sectors. I also looked at the strategies that local actors are using to push the state to act against firms violating their rights.

My findings show that a subtle shift is taking place in Ghana. Civil society organisations, administrative bodies and courts are changing the accountability landscape. Between 2000 and 2020, 27 human rights-related lawsuits and complaints were filed against extractive sector companies in Ghana.

The Ghanaian experience offers insights for other African countries:

there are remedies even in environments that have weak regulations
social activism that combines accountability with moral persuasion and legal enforcement can yield results
African actors are producers of innovative accountability practices.

Ways to address corporate impunity and give victims access to remedies don’t have to come from the global north alone.

Violations

The study involved creating a new database of recorded allegations of corporate abuses, where the victims were in mining, oil and gas communities. The material came from the Business and Human Rights Resource Centre digital archive, a repository of complaints reported by NGOs and government institutions globally, primarily through media coverage. I then added material drawn from reputable local organisations that process complaints, petitions or lawsuits about corporate violations. I also interviewed representatives of civil society organisations and public officials.

I found that 83% of the allegations of corporate abuses were the result of the (in)actions of extractive sector firms. This contradicts the perception that most corporate human rights violations, in terms of numbers and severity, involve multinationals enabling a host government to carry out abuses.

Global reports often emphasise corruption, lack of transparency, intimidation and labour abuse. But the Ghanaian data point to a different corporate abuse pattern. Many allegations (50%) in Ghana’s natural resource sectors pertain to economic, social, cultural and solidarity rights violations. Many involve inadequate compensation to subsistence farmers for the loss of land or crops. These losses tend to mean erosion of livelihoods. Members of mining-affected communities have also reported experiences of forceful displacement.

Physical abuse allegations made up 28% of the cases; environment-related allegations comprised 15%. Health (5%) and labour (3%) related allegations were the smallest share.

Social activism

My analysis showed that Ghanaian civil society organisations have taken on roles almost like regulators. Examples include the Centre for Public Interest Law (Cepil), a human rights and environmental mining advocacy NGO called Wacam, the Centre for Environmental Impact Analysis and Third World Network-Africa.

In the absence of robust state regulations, these organisations have stepped in to fill a governance void. They document corporate misbehaviour, mobilise communities, and pursue redress through administrative and judicial channels.

Through “naming and shaming”, coalition-building, and selective litigation, they push corporations and regulatory institutions to act. For instance, following cyanide spill incidents, Wacam and Cepil combined community mobilisations with legal petitions that prompted sanctions.

Tangible outcomes

The strategic combination of activism and institutional engagement has produced tangible outcomes. Community petitions have led to company-funded remediation and fines for environmental damage. Successful court cases have compelled companies to compensate households for pollution. These outcomes illustrate how local actors are carrying out the state duty to protect and the corporate responsibility to respect human rights in pragmatic, context-driven ways.

Administrative mechanisms

Courts remain crucial in settling disputes. But administrative bodies are becoming more important. The Commission on Human Rights and Administrative Justice, which has the power to investigate human-rights violations and recommend remedies, has emerged as a trusted intermediary between communities and corporations. Its inquiries into mining-related abuses have resulted in negotiated settlements. Companies have also agreed to restore contaminated lands or water sources. These mechanisms provide redress without long legal battles.

The Environmental Protection Agency enforcement role has also expanded. In several cases, it imposed monetary penalties and temporary suspensions on companies that breached environmental permits. Such administrative measures show what can be done without going through the courts.

Judicial recognition of rights

When administrative engagement fails, civil society organisations escalate cases to the judiciary. Ghanaian courts have begun to recognise socioeconomic and environmental rights claims. These are grounded in the constitution and the Environmental Protection Agency Act.

In a notable case, a citizen urged Cepil to take legal action against a state-owned refinery for its oil spillage in a lake called Chemu Lagoon. Because environmental damage affects the public, Cepil had enough legal grounds to file a lawsuit. The ruling was in the organisation’s favour, preventing the company from legally causing further environmental pollution. Cases like this help victims and strengthen the foundations for future claims.

Strategic alliances

Grassroots activism, civil society alliances and state responsiveness can together achieve “accountability from below”. Even less powerful people can create and sustain accountability by engaging with both formal and informal institutions.

In Ghana, alliances across sectors force corporations and regulators to act, even where there isn’t strong top-down enforcement. These alliances demonstrate that local agency, not merely external pressure, can influence corporate behaviour.

Dr Cynthia Kwakyewah received funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the German Foundation for Business, and the Ryoichi Sasakawa Young Leaders Fellowship Fund (Sylff) Program to conduct the study.

– ref. Activists in Ghana are forcing extractive firms to account for the harm they cause – corporate abuse study – https://theconversation.com/activists-in-ghana-are-forcing-extractive-firms-to-account-for-the-harm-they-cause-corporate-abuse-study-274648

February 10, 2026

Taxing Africa’s informal economies: technology’s promise and pitfalls

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Abel Gwaindepi, Senior Researcher, Danish Institute for International Studies

Changes in the development finance world – especially the sharp drop in foreign aid and fewer cheap loans for low-income countries – have pushed taxation back into the spotlight.

Africa has entered a new “tax era of development”. As external funding dries up, many African countries are now relying more on their own ability to raise money through taxes. But large parts of African economies are informal, and that’s widely seen as an obstacle to collecting tax revenue.

My recent work, too, shows that countries with high levels of informality tend to collect less tax revenue and face other related challenges.

Governments struggling to pay wages and deliver public services have two main choices:

raise more taxes from the formal sector by increasing rates, introducing new taxes, or reducing tax incentives (not popular among businesses that already pay)
extend taxation into the informal sector, where most people work and most businesses operate, though they are already partly burdened by tax-like fees and other informal payments.

Achieving the second faces many obstacles.

Roughly 85% of working age people in sub-Saharan Africa are informally employed. That makes it extremely difficult for tax authorities to track economic activity or enforce compliance. Informality makes it harder for governments to build the three capacities needed for effective taxation: identification, detection and collection.

Technology provides an answer to all three challenges. But, as my research shows, it isn’t a complete solution. Poorly designed tools can amplify existing challenges or create new unfairness, weaken trust and drive people back to cash.

Technology as a double-edged tool

Identification capacity is the ability to know who should be paying tax – whether individuals, businesses, or properties – through reliable registries and databases. Detection capacity involves verifying whether people and firms are reporting the right amounts. This is often done by using information from third parties such as electronic receipts and mobile-money records. Collection capacity is the ability to ensure that taxes are paid smoothly and securely.

Technology can strengthen all three:

digital ID systems make it easier to match taxpayers to their obligations
electronic transaction data help uncover under-reported income
online filing or automated withholding systems make payments easier for taxpayers while reducing face-to-face interaction, which is inefficient and can lead to fraud.

Emerging technologies like artificial intelligence and machine learning are now used to score taxpayer risk, flag suspicious filing patterns, detect possible fraud, and prioritise audit cases far more accurately and efficiently than manual selection. Basic hardware, digital infrastructure, and reliable data systems need to be in place before meaningful progress can be achieved in this area for low‑income countries.

One way that governments try to tax the informal sector is through “simplified tax regimes”. Technology is playing an important role.

For example, Rwanda’s experience shows how powerful digital invoicing can be. When big companies need valid electronic invoices to claim expenses, they push this requirement down to the smaller suppliers they buy from, increasing tax compliance. Rwanda’s electronic billing machines have also shown that voluntary VAT compliance is possible when technology simplifies the process, cuts down paperwork and closes the information gap.

In Kenya, the government has introduced eTIMS, a paperless digital system that stores receipts electronically. It works through electronic tax registers that validate, sign, encrypt and then send sales data directly to the Kenya Revenue Authority.

Digital financial services taxation

Digital financial services are now part of everyday life across the continent, especially mobile money and digital wallets. In recent years, governments have also started using the services as a tax base. The idea is that even if informal traders don’t pay formal taxes, many still make electronic payments through systems like mobile money or e-wallets.

In Ghana, the government introduced an e-levy on electronic transactions at 1.75%, with a 100-cedi (US$10) exemption. After public pushback and a big shift back to cash, the rate was first reduced and then removed completely in 2025. It was deemed to be reducing formalisation efforts and reversing financial inclusion.

The art of the possible

Taxation in low-income countries is often the “art of the possible”. Evidence shows mobile-money taxes can sharply reduce the use of digital financial services – up to 39% in some settings. The burden is especially heavy where bank penetration is low. Rural and unbanked users have no real alternatives to mobile money. They must either pay the levy or resort to inefficient and often costlier options.

Governments are balancing competing priorities. They want to promote digitalisation and support digital financial services markets, while also expanding financial inclusion by keeping formal financial services affordable and accessible. At the same time, they need to raise sustainable revenue.

Technology has to be part of the answer, but it requires strong foundations.

There is a more fundamental issue beyond tech helping digitise paperwork or enabling instant filing. As wealth moves onto digital rails – apps, platforms, e-wallets, blockchain and even crypto – tax systems must evolve with it. Countries cannot keep up unless they invest in 21st-century tax skills and the digital infrastructure to move beyond the analogue tax systems.

In countries with high informality, technology can support tax modernisation, but it also faces major limitations. These are linked to weak infrastructure, human behaviour, and institutional or legal constraints.

Digital tools simply cannot function where electricity or internet access is unreliable.

The human factor matters too: even when systems work, many taxpayers lack the skills, awareness or financial capacity to use them. And tax officials may resist or misuse new tools if incentives are not aligned. The legal framework matters too since digital audits can be done at speed only for the process to slow down if courts are inefficient.

What’s needed

The basic challenge in taxation remains: no tax system can maximise revenue, fairness and simplicity at the same time. Good policy means choosing the right balance, rather than falling into trade-offs that place the biggest burden on the poorest. And people are more willing to pay when they see government giving something back in terms of essential services.

In the end, tax is political. It involves decisions about who pays, and how, which reflect a country’s priorities as much as its technical capacity.

As income and business activity shift to digital platforms, governments need modern systems that can keep up, understand how informal businesses are shifting to digital rails fully or partially and apply tax rules effectively.

Abel Gwaindepi does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Taxing Africa’s informal economies: technology’s promise and pitfalls – https://theconversation.com/taxing-africas-informal-economies-technologys-promise-and-pitfalls-275324

February 10, 2026

South Africa’s biggest opposition party will head to municipal elections with new leaders: what does it all mean?

Source: The Conversation – Africa (2) – By Dirk Kotze, Professor in Political Science, University of South Africa

Speculation continues about why John Steenhuisen announced that he would not be available for re-election as the federal leader of South Africa’s Democratic Alliance (DA) at the party’s April federal congress.

The DA is the country’s main opposition party and, since elections in 2024 in which the African National Congress lost its majority, part of a government of national unity. Opinion polls show that the DA’s support has increased since the election – it’s now closer to 30% – while support for the ANC continues to fall.

The DA promotes a federal view of government, a “social market” economy and private-public cooperation.

Steenhuisen’s announcement only suggested that he wants to focus on his role as minister of agriculture.

He became the DA leader in 2019, a turbulent time in the party’s history. The party’s first black leader, Mmusi Maimane, had left. The party had suffered a decline in support in the 2019 elections, and was accused of being more concerned about losing white support to the conservative, white-focused Freedom Front Plus than about a non-racial national profile.

Steenhuisen’s decision is important for the DA, because two of the three most senior leadership positions will become vacant – the federal leader, and chair of the federal council, which Helen Zille currently occupies and which she is leaving. It is even more important in view of the national local government elections that will be held at the end of the year.

The DA is now the second biggest party in South Africa and therefore an important member of the Government of National Unity. A new DA leader will have implications for the party’s relationship with the president and other unity government members.

How he got here

Steenhuisen built his political career in KwaZulu-Natal. The province is not one of the powerhouses in the DA, but it has always been regarded as one of the potential growth points. Its advantage is that, within the DA, the province isn’t caught up in the internal power play between the Western Cape and Gauteng. That’s presumably made Steenhuisen attractive as the national leader.

His track record as a very assertive DA parliamentary chief whip also counted in his favour. But as leader of the opposition, he had to become a statesman. He inherited a failed attempt to transform the DA’s public profile into a party also attractive for black supporters. His task was therefore to lead a new strategy for the party.

The results of the 2024 elections are an indication that his leadership arrested the party’s electoral decline and introduced a period of growth among the broader South African population. Its support increased from 20.8% to 21.8%.

The DA became part of the Government of National Unity as a result of the ANC losing its majority for the first time since South Africa’s first democratic elections in 1994. It also became part of the KwaZulu-Natal provincial government of unity. In addition, it consolidated the party’s majority in the Western Cape.

But these successes also tested Steenhuisen’s leadership.

In her book on the coalition negotiations after the 2024 elections, the journalist Mandy Wiener explains that Steenhuisen played the role of the DA’s principal and therefore was not directly involved in the face-to-face negotiations. As principal he was often upstaged by two of the negotiation team members and former DA leaders – Helen Zille and Tony Leon.

More recently Steenhuisen has been accused of being too close to President Cyril Ramaphosa and of being “captured” by the ANC.

Behind Steenhuisen’s decision?

Neither Steenhuisen nor the DA has given an clear indication of why he decided not to stand again as candidate for the DA’s leadership, except that he wants to focus on his work as agriculture minister.

The reasons for his decision are therefore a matter of analysis or interpretation.

A party leader should never be uncertain about support from the main centres of power in the party. Factionalism or regionalism associated with a party leader will inevitably erode a party and its leader.

A DA leader cannot function without the unqualified support of the Western Cape and of Gauteng, because they are the two provinces that constitute the core of the DA’s support base.

Political analysts have pointed out that Steenhuisen does not enjoy the unqualified support of the Western Cape. The province is important to the party, because it controls the provincial government and Cape Town metro. Both are seen as prime examples of its success stories.

Steenhuisen’s KwaZulu-Natal did not built a powerbase for him within the party. Nor did the DA grow sufficiently in the province.

Steenhuisen’s authority as party leader was undermined last year over Ramaphosa’s dismissal of DA member Dion George as the minister of forestry, fisheries and the environment.

Steenhuisen had requested that Ramaphosa remove George for his “lack of performance” in his portfolio.

In the fallout that followed, George alleged that Steenhuisen had abused his party credit card. George also referred the matter to the Public Protector.

The events called into question Steenhuisen’s moral authority and ethics.

Lastly, as agriculture minister, Steenhuisen is struggling to bring a dramatic rise in foot and mouth disease under control in the country. Though he is one of the ministers who has done most in trying to get the disease under control, he is under severe pressure from the organised agricultural sector for the private sector to play a bigger role in managing the outbreak.

There’s a deeper policy principle for the DA at play here too, namely the private-public roles in public issues. As minister, Steenhuisen represents the role of the government department in managing the disease. But many farmers want more scope for their private initiatives regarding vaccinations and related matters.

The impact on the Democratic Alliance

Steenhuisen’s announcement affects the DA in a wider context. It means that two of the three top positions in the party will become vacant at the congress.

Only the federal chair, Ivan Meyer (member of the executive council in the Western Cape) will remain. With Zille involved in the Johannesburg metro, it will be the end of her role as the chair of the federal council. It implies a total revamp of the DA’s top structure very close to the local government elections.

The potential implications of these changes one can only speculate about. It might see the younger generation move into key positions. It might see a comeback for the Western Cape if Meyer is re-elected and Cape Town mayor Geordin Hill-Lewis comes in as party leader. It has the potential for more black people in key positions, such as Ashor Sarupen, Solly Malatsi or Siviwe Gwarube.

Finally, it has the potential to create two centres of power in the top structure if Hill-Lewis is elected as party leader but continues as Cape Town mayor. Then a parliamentary leader will have to be identified.

Irrespective of who is elected in which position, the DA’s April congress might become a major milestone in its history.

Steenhuisen’s legacy

As far as Steenhuisen is concerned, he clearly sees his future as a minister and not as a DA leader anymore. If he can gain control over the foot and mouth epidemic, it will be a major achievement for him. And his lasting legacy.

In history, he will most possibly be regarded as a transitional leader of the DA, who stabilised the situation after 2019, exploited the decline in ANC support, saw the need for alliance-building between parties at an early stage and led the DA into national coalition politics.

Dirk Kotze does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. South Africa’s biggest opposition party will head to municipal elections with new leaders: what does it all mean? – https://theconversation.com/south-africas-biggest-opposition-party-will-head-to-municipal-elections-with-new-leaders-what-does-it-all-mean-275404

February 9, 2026

Clergy wives in Ghana can be powerful – but it takes constant bargaining with men

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Abena Kyere, Research Fellow, University of Ghana

There is a story in the Bible of a sick woman who held on to the cloak of Jesus amid an impenetrable crowd. She did get her healing, as Jesus immediately felt the loss of power from within himself. However, he did not rebuke the woman for his loss. Rather, he commended her for her determination to get healing by tapping into his power.

I am reminded of this story whenever I think about women and religion, specifically Christianity. Can the church as a body ever make room for women in Africa? Are the fathers of the church willing to share their powers? What happens when the clergyman’s wife seeks to be or becomes as powerful as her husband?

As a social anthropologist, I have, over the past five years, conducted research on clergy wives in Ghana, sharing my work through publications and in the classroom.

In my recent study, I wanted to find out how Pentecostal and Charismatic pastors’ wives gain and use a position of power in the church. Through interviews and participant observation, I gathered data on clergy wives’ religious experiences in Ghana. I found that although clergy wives gain power through their husbands, they are not passive conductors of power. While they operate in a patriarchal system, they develop ways of, and become adept at, negotiating and bargaining to gain and keep it.

A study of clergy wives provides a view into the hidden, often unexplored, power dynamics that exist within churches as well as the agency and constraints that women experience in religious spaces.

The clergy wife and the road to power

The clergy wife’s position is rooted within the two-person career type of work. She is firmly integrated in her husband’s work. The literature on the clergy wife is replete with the picture of an overburdened woman who occupies one of the most difficult positions in the church and society. An advertisement which parodies the position reads:

HELP WANTED: Pastor’s wife. Must sing, play music, lead youth groups, raise seraphic children, entertain church notables, minister to other wives, have ability to recite Bible backward and choreograph Christmas pageant. Must keep pastor sated, peaceful and out of trouble. Difficult colleagues, demanding customers, erratic hours. Pay: $0.

This funny representation of the clergy wife places her firmly in the intersection of domestic responsibility, religious welfare and administrative authority. Clergymen hold pivotal roles in the life of believers, from spiritual leadership to pastoral care. Their position, which is considered divine, endows them with unquestionable authority and power. It can be subtle or profoundly apparent, particularly in the Pentecostal and Charismatic movements.

This power extends to their wives, a phenomenon which has been termed the First Lady Syndrome. This is a situation where a wife’s power and influence is conferred through her spouse and is contingent on her continual marital affinity to him. Some clergy wives in Ghana actually bear the title “first lady”.

The power that wives initially get from husbands can be manifested through various means, like leadership of women’s groups in the church, spiritual oversight, and counselling services. They are perceived as mothers, offering advice on critical life decisions.

One wife in my study noted:

As the mother of the church, it is my responsibility to ensure that my ‘children’ choose good partners. I have dissolved engagements before because I felt that they will not be good, and I have also been the one to arrange relationships that have led into marriages …

Wives can become very powerful, just like their husbands. This happens especially where they form and lead groups within the church. This is the moment that the position and role of the clergy wife becomes what social researcher Jane Soothill describes as mimicking “female charismatic dynasty”. This is a signal to the patriarchal system that there is a need to control such power.

Bargaining to keep power

While women are allowed in the “fathers” group, they are still expected to work within the restrictions and rules of the system. The clergyman, the most overt symbol of this system, benefits from divine immunity and his glory may not be shared, even with his wife.

I found that where clergy wives are perceived to be powerful, they are also regarded by the husband or the church leaders as dangerous. This results in their need to bargain with the system for self-preservation. The strategies which a clergy wife adopts to negotiate are based on her individual situation. They may range from silence to a show of feminine humility and submission. Display of submission and deferment to the husband is the most often used tactic.

One wife shared:

Sometimes when I interact with the women and advise humility, I am providing another strategy for their survival.

I found that others are forced to retreat entirely. They either dissolve the group or abdicate from their leadership role in the church. Some wives circumvent these restrictions by migrating their activities to digital platforms like Facebook and WhatsApp groups, or other forms of media. A wife who chooses defiance or refuses to negotiate may end up divorced.

There is a popular joke that if men are the head, then women are the neck that moves the head, a reference to women’s invisible power. But what kind of power is that which can only manifest covertly, through the benevolence of others? How safe is this arrangement for women?

What I have discussed here does not present the whole story of the clergy wife. But it shows a world where women constantly bargain for space. In the opening story, the woman was commended for her faith and foresight, and a desire to better her lot. A takeaway lesson from the master. In my view, Christianity and other religions should be a channel for freedom, healing, and the creation of new avenues for expression of liberation.

Abena Kyere does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Clergy wives in Ghana can be powerful – but it takes constant bargaining with men – https://theconversation.com/clergy-wives-in-ghana-can-be-powerful-but-it-takes-constant-bargaining-with-men-274561

February 9, 2026

Children’s views are rarely sought by researchers: we found a way to do it

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Deborah Levison, Distinguished University Teaching Professor, Hubert H. Humphrey School of Public Affairs, University of Minnesota

Adults think we know what is best for children. We have responsibility for them – feeding them, clothing them, educating them, protecting them, loving them – but we also assume rights over them, and on their behalf. Adults make rules (including laws and policies) about what children can and cannot do. We expect children to behave according to our rules.

It’s also the case that when researchers are trying to better understand children’s needs and well-being, we usually do not ask the children themselves. Instead, we ask their parents or adult relatives, or their teachers, for evaluations.

There are good reasons why survey teams do not talk to children, even older children who have a strong understanding of questions, starting about age 10-12. Children are considered vulnerable because they are dependent on the adults in their lives. If an adult heard a child talking to a researcher, perhaps saying something the adult did not like, the child could be punished.

Alternatively, the child might not be honest if others were listening. Survey interviews tend to be conducted in places where there are other adults who are interested and listening. Privacy may be impossible. And even if it were possible, who would let their young daughter talk alone to a stranger?

Our recent research has sought to overcome these barriers to better understanding of children’s authentic perspectives. We have studied the work and schooling of children in low-income countries – such as Tanzania – and looked to develop research methodologies appropriate for children and youth around the world, testing the approach in Tanzania, Nepal and Brazil.

Two findings stand out. First, there is much to learn from children and the choices they make. Second, innovative survey methods – such as our use of cartoon stories – have potential to survey child-respondents in large household surveys. Researchers and policy makers could learn directly from children and rely less on adult proxy respondents, resulting in more effective policies and programmes.

Children’s views about chores

While using proxy respondents is appropriate for very young children or for questions likely beyond children’s knowledge, it is less clear that it is better for older children (ages 10-17) and topics within their experience.

Several arguments can be made that children could provide better or equally valid information on their activities than proxy respondents, as Levison and collaborators – economist Deborah S. DeGraff and demographer Esther Dungumaro – explored in Tanzania.

Parallel questions were asked of children aged 10-17 and proxy respondents about those children. We were interested in environmental chores: fetching water and collecting firewood for the family’s use.

We asked the mothers survey questions about their children, then we asked the children and adolescents some of the same questions. Of course, ethics rules required that we get permission (“consent”) from mothers before talking to children, and we also asked permission from children (“assent”) to engage with them. When a field researcher interviewed a child, the pair sat nearby, often under a tree, where adults could see them but not hear them.

The aim was to find out whether older children could provide better or equally valid information about some of the chores they did, as compared to information from their mothers.

When mothers and children were asked about the time that children spent fetching water and collecting firewood, some differences emerged. The biggest differences were seen when water or wood were scarce, when mothers had many young children, and when mothers had little education.

Some large differences may indicate that the amount of work done by children is highly underestimated by the adults it benefits. An important earlier study in Zimbabwe that used different ways of studying children’s work, including following children around, showed this pattern. We argued a case for collecting data directly from children who are developmentally able to understand survey questions, starting from about ages 10-12.

Given these differences in the time spent on chores as reported by mothers and children in the study above, researchers must be thoughtful about who is reporting information if they want to collect and report on accurate data.

Cartoon stories

Policy makers sometimes pay more attention to information from big surveys that ask questions of thousands of households and adults.

In our joint research, we wondered if there were ways to include children as survey respondents, rather than relying only on what adults said about them. Older children and adolescents do have opinions, and sometimes they are not what adults might expect. Why not learn directly from them?

Based on previous studies, we identified topics that could be difficult and upsetting for young people in Tanzania, where learning from kids could give researchers a different perspective than asking adults. In order to understand the perspectives of children, we developed short cartoon stories that children watched on tablet computers. Vignettes have been growing in popularity as a research tool in qualitative and quantitative methods, and research has validated the method when respondents are children and adolescents.

We sought to overcome the barriers in these ways:

The cartoons included still images and animated video clips that were designed to avoid cultural, ethnic or wealth indicators such as hairstyles, clothing, or facial features.
To be sensitive to privacy, children listened to the story being narrated in Swahili through headsets.
Because the stories were watched over tablets with headphones, nearby listeners would not have the context for the story even if they overheard anything.

One story was about a student who is running late to school because of morning domestic chores.

Upon arriving, the boy or girl (matched to the sex of the interviewed child) is punished by the teacher. The video shows several possible but imperfect things the cartoon child could do, such as getting up earlier or skipping school.

Child respondents were then asked to give their opinion on different options, pointing to smiley or sad/angry faces, then answering other questions about how the challenge could be resolved. This allowed us to capture child perspectives quantitatively without directly speaking about the topic out loud or asking if children had similar experiences. We aimed to reduce their vulnerability to punishment or embarrassment, especially on taboo or sensitive subjects.

Many social scientists have demonstrated that children, even young children, are people who make choices within whatever limits they cannot change – they “have agency”.

Our findings from the cartoon stories show a wide range of perspectives about how children think about improving their wellbeing and the wellbeing of other children in their communities. If this cartoon vignette methodology were scaled up to include child-respondents in large household surveys, researchers and policy makers could learn directly from children and rely less on adult proxy-respondents, which might result in more effective policies and programmes.

Deborah Levison receives funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the National Science Foundation (NSF) in the United States, for the IPUMS-International project (www.ipums.org).

Anna Bolgrien receives funding from the Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development in the United States as part of her work on IPUMS MICS (mics.ipums.org).

– ref. Children’s views are rarely sought by researchers: we found a way to do it – https://theconversation.com/childrens-views-are-rarely-sought-by-researchers-we-found-a-way-to-do-it-268496

February 8, 2026

Connecting home solar and electric vehicle batteries to the grid could boost South Africa’s clean energy and strengthen the electricity system

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By David Richard Walwyn, Professor of Technology Management, University of Pretoria

South Africa has committed to reaching phasing out human-caused carbon pollution by 2050. To get there, it needs to push as much renewable energy as possible into the national grid.

The country is the world’s 15th largest carbon polluter. It’s one of only a handful of countries still heavily dependent on burning coal to generate electricity. The country’s transport system is totally reliant on crude oil and its derivatives.

One of the keys to the transition to net zero is decarbonising household energy consumption. This means finding ways for homes to reduce the greenhouse gases that cause global warming. At the moment, household energy use contributes up to 40% of total emissions.

I am an engineer and technology management specialist who recently researched how South Africa could use excess clean power from rooftop solar systems on homes if it was fed into the grid. I also studied how battery electric vehicles could be used to store solar energy at home, and feed this into the grid too.

The following analogy explains the idea: think of South Africa’s current solar energy potential like a leaking rainwater tank. It has plenty of “rain” (sunlight). But because it lacks the “pipes” (bidirectional meters) and “extra buckets” (electric vehicle batteries), half of that “water” (clean energy) spills onto the ground unused.

Instead, a system could be built that captures every drop of sunlight. This solar energy could be shared between the house, the car, and the neighbours to ensure the whole community has enough. Commercial projects based on this approach are already operational in China, Japan and Germany.

The biggest obstacle to this idea in South Africa is that both small-scale solar and electric vehicles are too expensive for most households, as we showed in two recently published studies on solar electricity for homes and electric vehicles.

Fortunately, there is a solution: the aggressive use of two technologies. The first would be giving every home with solar power a bidirectional (two-way) meter. This is a meter that allows homeowners to sell their excess solar power back to the grid. The second would be giving electric vehicle owners a vehicle-to-grid device so that they could store excess solar power in their electric vehicle batteries and sell it back to the national grid.

We believe that a synchronised effort between two novel technology adoptions – infrastructure modernisation (installing bidirectional smart grids and vehicle-to-grid devices in homes) – could dramatically increase the country’s clean energy production.

Energy from small-scale embedded solar systems

Rooftop solar systems installed on residential buildings are estimated to generate about 40% more energy than the residences need. This is because most rooftop solar systems are set up to generate enough energy to power a house during winter when the demand is greatest – people run heaters and tumble driers – and sunlight is at its weakest.

If these homes were fitted with bidirectional meters, which are already widely available, they could sell their unused solar power back to the grid.

Municipalities could also benefit by buying the excess renewable energy generated by homes and reselling it. In Cape Town alone, the city would generate an estimated R144 million (US$8.8 million) per year from doing this, equivalent to an additional 3% in profit, if the bidirectional meters were in place. At the same time, it would be supporting a more inclusive energy transition and reducing the amount of greenhouse gas produced by burning coal to generate power.

Vehicle-to-grid devices

My research also found that home solar systems could be integrated with battery electric vehicles using vehicle-to-grid devices. These are systems that allow batteries from electric vehicles to be integrated with electrical devices in a home (fridges, geysers and heaters) and with the national grid. In other words, electric vehicle owners would use their vehicle-to-grid device to sell power to the national grid.

This would benefit the grid and the vehicle owners, but most importantly would reduce the yearly costs of running an electric vehicle (the combined cost of the electricity the vehicle needs to run, the cost of the vehicle itself and the annual operating costs).

In practice, this would need electric car owners to charge their cars between 10am and 4pm every day when solar power generation is at its peak. This would mean that the car owners could subsidise their travel costs using “free” excess solar energy.

This would be ideal for people who worked from home or used their vehicles for transport to and from work or school in the early morning and late afternoon. Charging stations at workplaces would also achieve this.

The vehicle battery (typically 40–100 kWh) could then be used by people to power their homes during peak night periods or sell energy back to the grid, while leaving sufficient energy in the battery for the morning travel. Again, this would offset the yearly costs of owning an electric vehicle and boost the national grid by peak shaving.

If homeowners managed this well, by generating enough green energy and avoiding the use of energy from the grid, home and vehicle owners should be able to pay no more than they would if they were driving internal combustion engine vehicles that run on petrol, and using electricity from the national power utility, Eskom. In other words, switching to a renewable energy option would be possible without additional cost.

What needs to happen next

Net Zero by 2050 is not an aspiration of a small group of environmental activists; it is a legal obligation under South Africa’s Climate Change Act. Despite what climate change denialists may claim, it is not a preferred option – it is the only option.

Bidirectional meters and vehicle-to-grid charging stations would help the country reach this goal.

However, the question of who pays for home bidirectional meters, their installation and having them certified has become highly contested. I argue that the state-owned electricity provider, Eskom, and the municipalities should cover the cost of both registration and metering. It shouldn’t be paid by the homeowners.

This is because the benefit for electricity distributors is at least five times the cost of the meter itself. Distributors get cheap energy and sell it to other customers. The grid also benefits from having more renewable energy being fed into it.

Without technology like this, the cost of transitioning to a green energy future remains too high for individual households. But with the technology, the transition becomes economically competitive.

David Richard Walwyn receives funding from the National Research Foundation for this research.

– ref. Connecting home solar and electric vehicle batteries to the grid could boost South Africa’s clean energy and strengthen the electricity system – https://theconversation.com/connecting-home-solar-and-electric-vehicle-batteries-to-the-grid-could-boost-south-africas-clean-energy-and-strengthen-the-electricity-system-274990

February 8, 2026

Mozambique floods: why the most vulnerable keep paying the highest price

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Ricardo Jorge Moreira Goulão Santos, Research Fellow, World Institute for Development Economics Research (UNU-WIDER), United Nations University

When floods submerged parts of Mozambique after heavy rains in 2000, a baby girl was born in a tree, where her mother clung as the Limpopo river waters rose. The baby was nicknamed Rosita in the press. Her survival became a symbol of the country’s grit.

But her story, once a symbol of hope, now frames a harder truth.

Sadly, Rosita’s life was cut short on 12 January 2026. She reportedly died of anaemia in a provincial health centre. This condition might have been treatable in a stronger, better-resourced health system.

Her death coincided with a new wave of severe flooding. Southern Mozambique was under water again in late January 2026. Weeks of heavy rain affected more than 600,000 people. Residual flooding persists in low-lying areas because of upstream inflows and high dam discharges. Towns such as Xai-Xai and Chókwè have faced repeated inundation as the Limpopo swells.

We work for Inclusive Growth, a longstanding research and capacity development initiative in Mozambique. Our work is designed to support evidence-based policymaking to foster inclusive and sustainable economic growth in the country.

Rosita’s story mirrors what our research on Mozambique’s socio-economic development shows at scale: vulnerability persists where poverty, weak public services and deep-rooted inequalities intersect.

The same communities that experience the highest levels of multidimensional poverty, stagnant progress and widening inequalities are also the ones repeatedly exposed to shocks, with limited access to the health, education and infrastructure needed to recover. When floods strike, these disadvantages compound: incomes collapse, assets are lost. Already poor households fall even further behind, making each shock harder to escape and reinforcing long-term deprivation.

As Mozambique faces more frequent and more severe disasters, cycles of vulnerability will be exacerbated. To break this vicious cycle – and prevent future stories like Rosita’s – Mozambique must invest in rapid, well targeted post-shock support, swift livelihood restoration, and sustained, equitable public investment that builds long term resilience.

The fault lines beneath the floodwaters

Research produced under the Inclusive Growth in Mozambique programme shows clearly that the geography of deprivation matters.

Our paper, Evolution of multidimensional poverty in crisis-ridden Mozambique, shows that progress in addressing multidimensional poverty stalled after 2015. Since then the absolute number of poor people has increased, especially in rural areas and in the country’s central provinces.

Inequality trends tell a similar story. Real consumption rose for all groups until 2014/15. But it rose much faster for richer households. Relative gaps widened further from 2015 onwards.

There has also been an increase in between‑group, or “horizontal”, inequalities. These include:

a widening of the wealth gaps tied to province, ethnolinguistic identity, and the urban-rural divide between 1997 and 2017
an increasing disconnect between how cities and rural areas develop: average living conditions in urban areas have improved much faster, while, relatively, improvements have stalled in rural areas
limited internal migration, preventing convergence.

These widening spatial and socioeconomic divides mean that floods don’t strike evenly. They fall hardest on the communities already facing the steepest disadvantages, shaping who is exposed, who loses the most, and who struggles longest to rebuild.

At the household level, Baez, Caruso and Niu (2020) show how quickly welfare collapses when flooding strikes. Cyclones, floods and droughts reduced per capita food consumption by 25%-30%. Consequently, the percentage of people in poverty increased.

Our study on Mozambique’s vulnerability to natural shocks found that affected households saw short-term consumption losses between 11% and 17%. Rural poor households were hit hardest.

This corresponded, at the time, to a 6 percentage points increase in the poverty rate, as a result of the flooding.

These findings show that once incomes fall and assets are depleted, households slip further from access to adequate health, education, or nutrition – the very gaps that contributed to Rosita’s death.

Acting on the evidence

First, protecting consumption in the aftermath of a shock is essential to prevent structural poverty traps. Once emergency support has been provided, temporary, well-targeted, timely and predictable cash support for flood-affected households must be delivered. Recent evidence uncovered that extended delays in transfer payments have materially weakened households’ resilience.

Second, livelihood recovery depends on restoring earning capacity quickly. Evidence from Cyclone Idai in 2019 in Mozambique shows that small enterprises recover more rapidly when the most affected receive immediate liquidity tied loosely to damage severity and sector.

In flood-prone districts, the same logic applies. Families dependent on informal production or trade cannot wait for long bureaucratic procedures. Their resilience depends on rapid access to the means of restoring work.

Third, building resilience before the next flood requires confronting structural inequalities. Patterns of poverty and inequality show that the areas repeatedly suffering the most damage are also those where public investment in health, education, water and local infrastructure lags behind.

Rosita’s life began in a moment of national tragedy and solidarity. Her death reminds us that resilience cannot rely on courage alone. It must be built through sustained, inclusive development and public investment, so that when the Limpopo rises again, more Mozambicans stand ready – with secure livelihoods, functioning clinics, and the possibility of a different outcome.

The views expressed in this piece are those of the author(s), and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Institute or the United Nations University, nor the programme/project donors.

This article was produced under the project “Inclusive growth in Mozambique – scaling up research and capacity”, financed through specific programme contributions of the governments of Sweden and Switzerland.

Ricardo Santos does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Elina Penttinen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Mozambique floods: why the most vulnerable keep paying the highest price – https://theconversation.com/mozambique-floods-why-the-most-vulnerable-keep-paying-the-highest-price-274759

February 8, 2026

East Africa’s dismal football record doesn’t match its passion – what needs to happen

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Wycliffe W. Njororai Simiyu, Professor and Chair of Allied Health Studies, Stephen F. Austin State University

A new book explores the deep historical roots of the game in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda. Justin Lagat/Unsplash, CC BY-SA

East Africa loves football. From the streets of Nairobi and the markets of Kampala to the beaches of Dar es Salaam, the passion for soccer is an undeniable current running through the region. Yet, despite fan support, Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania haven’t translated this enthusiasm into sustained international success.

A new book that draws on the career-long research of Wycliffe W. Njororai Simiyu explores the deep roots of the game in the region. It also examines the structural and gender challenges and the immense opportunities that lie ahead. We asked him about it.

How was the modern game introduced?

The sport is linked to the region’s colonial past. Britain established the East Africa Protectorate (which became Kenya) in 1895 and formally declared it a colony in 1920. Germany colonised mainland Tanzania (as German East Africa) in the 1880s, and control shifted to Britain after the first world war. Uganda became a protectorate in 1894 when Britain consolidated its control after a treaty with the Kingdom of Buganda.

So the game took root in the early 1900s, introduced by British settlers. Missionaries apparently introduced football to Uganda in 1897. At first it was a leisure activity for colonials and a tool for social control of the local population. It took up spare time and instilled British values and ideals.

The game was already popular in Britain. Institutionalised through the education system, sport was deemed to instil a sense of discipline and work ethic in young people. The competitiveness of sport in the British culture was exported to the colonised territories.

How did it change over time?

In east Africa, the game quickly took on a life of its own. Most east African societies valued physical activities like dance or wrestling. They found it easy to embrace sports. Football became a favourite.

The game transcended its colonial purpose to become a medium for regional interaction. Later it would also be a vehicle for nationalist expression as teams were formed along ethnic lines (something the British had used to divide and rule).

Fanatical support for local clubs and regional teams was replicated for national teams as they started playing in international matches. The inaugural international match between Kenya and Uganda was played in 1924. This was named the Gossage Cup in 1926 after a British soap manufacturer donated a trophy for the occasion.

Later Tanzania and Zanzibar joined to make it an east African tournament. The Gossage Cup not only fostered a sense of rivalry among the countries, it created a unique regional sporting identity that lives on today through its successor, the Cecafa Cup.

A man painted in yellow, black and red with a red vests holds a plastic horn and blows into it, standing at the top of the seating in a large football stadium. — A Ugandan fan. Football soon became a nationalist pursuit.
Museruka Emmanuel/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

As east Africa gained independence in the early 1960s, football became fully integrated into the political and social fabric of the new nations. Football matches were even part of independence celebrations.

East African countries were quick to affiliate with the Confederation of African Football (Caf) and global football body Fifa. Before independence, clubs were already active and engaged in invitational tournaments. But after independence, national leagues were launched. These set out to identify the best players to represent each country.

Today, the sport’s deep connection to collective belonging is evident in rivalries between clubs like Kenya’s AFC Leopards and Gor Mahia, which often symbolise shared political underdog status and profound communal identity.

The football pitch is, in essence, an extension of the political landscape.

What have the challenges been in the sport’s development?

The most striking feature of football structures in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda is not their difference. It’s their shared organisational shortcomings. While each country maintains its own league and administrative body, their mediocre international performance stems from common, deep-seated issues.

The recent qualification of Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania’s youth teams for the Fifa Under-17 World Cup marks a turning point for east African soccer. This is a direct result of strategic, targeted investment – mainly from Fifa’s development programmes – that’s finally bearing fruit. But the senior teams continue to struggle, even on the continental stage.

To date only Uganda has managed to reach the finals of the Afcon tournament (in 1978). No east African country has come even close to qualifying for the Fifa World Cup.

What’s gone wrong?

The challenges are a direct result of the three nations’ shared colonial and post-colonial experiences.

The main organisational issues plaguing football include:

Poor governance and leadership. Political intrigue and corruption within football federations undermine long-term development.
Weak financial management. Inefficient and opaque handling of funds leads to underfunding of development programmes.
Lack of resources. These include infrastructure, facilities, equipment and trained technical personnel.

These challenges create a cycle of short-sighted planning and administrative chaos. This hinders the development of elite talent and explains the region’s perpetual failure to consistently qualify for major tournaments. Kenya, for example, had to play most of its 2026 World Cup qualifying matches away in other countries with better facilities.

Where does the women’s game find itself?

The women’s game faces the same headwinds, often magnified by gender disparities. Although women have shown the capacity to perform and compete, chronic underfunding and weak governance are typically more pronounced than in the men’s game.

However, the recent successes of teams like the Harambee Starlets (Kenya) and the Crested Cranes (Uganda) in qualifying for continental tournaments signal immense untapped potential.

The growth of women’s football is an opportunity for the region to avoid the historical baggage that weighs down the men’s leagues – if there’s dedicated investment and governance reform.

The continued support for the women’s game from Fifa is already paying dividends. East African teams have qualified for age group competitions at the global level.

How can passion be turned into future success?

The greatest opportunity lies in the very thing that makes the sport strong in the region: its passionate and popular foundation.

It requires a focus on two areas:

Reform and professionalisation. Managing finances transparently and rooting out political interference. Focusing on long-term, merit-based leadership within federations. Professionalising the domestic leagues to keep and develop local talent.
Investment in youth and infrastructure. Dedicated funding is needed for grassroots and youth development programmes. Building and maintaining quality training facilities must be a priority.

East Africa’s football destiny does not have to be perpetual failure. By calling on the region’s shared identity and addressing the deep-seated organisational flaws, east Africans can finally begin to translate their profound love for the game into the international success their fans deserve.

Wycliffe W. Njororai Simiyu does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. East Africa’s dismal football record doesn’t match its passion – what needs to happen – https://theconversation.com/east-africas-dismal-football-record-doesnt-match-its-passion-what-needs-to-happen-270479

February 5, 2026

Countries need higher education to rebuild after conflict – study finds foreign aid isn’t going where it’s needed

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Savo Heleta, Researcher, Nelson Mandela University

Higher education institutions are frequent casualties in violent conflicts. In Palestine, Ukraine and Sudan, to mention only a few recent examples, university campuses have been bombed. Academics, staff and students have been killed, injured or displaced. Teaching, learning and research have been undermined or come to a halt.

Higher education plays a critical role in knowledge production, research, education and skills development in any society. In conflict-affected countries, the sector is also expected to support broader societal recovery, development and peacebuilding in the post-conflict period.

In the aftermath of violent conflicts, higher education systems require support to recover and rebuild. But that has not been a priority for foreign donors and development organisations. Over the past decade, scholars and policy documents have highlighted that conflict settings have been neglected in providing foreign aid to higher education.

As researchers we’re involved in a project supported by the Education Above All Foundation from Qatar. The project studies educational systems, processes and initiatives in fragile and conflict settings around the globe. It aims to provide scientific evidence for improved decision-making by governments, educational institutions and organisations.

In a recent paper, published in the journal Globalisation, Societies and Education as part of a special issue on universities in times of conflict, we analyse aid flows to higher education in conflict-affected countries during the 2013-2022 period.

Our analysis shows that most aid to higher education never reaches countries and institutions in need, but is spent on international scholarships to study in donor countries. It’s also skewed towards certain recipient countries. These aid patterns don’t help countries and higher education institutions to rebuild after conflict.

The evidence of neglect

In our research, we relied on the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s (OECD) aid flows data. We explored where the aid to higher education went, and what types of aid were provided by donors. Our focus was on 23 countries that were either in the midst of violent conflict or in a fragile post-conflict phase during 2013-2022.

Our findings indicate that most donors prefer to give international scholarship aid. They neglect local higher education in conflict settings. Overall, scholarship aid made up more than 80% of aid to higher education provided to the countries in our sample. From 2013 to 2022, scholarship aid saw strong growth, while the aid to local systems and institutions stagnated.

The main problem with scholarship aid is that it does not reach recipient countries. It is spent in donor countries on individual recipients’ tuition, living expenses and other costs. This type of aid supports only a small number of recipients, and is often used by donors as a soft power tool.

Our research further highlights that a few countries have received most of the aid, while other countries with similar needs have been neglected. Despite what donors say about the importance of supporting the countries with greatest needs, our analysis shows that this does not happen with higher education in conflict settings. Many countries in need of assistance have been neglected by donors over the past decade.

Decisions about the recipients of either type of aid to higher education are often political. The provision of funding does not necessarily align with the recipients’ needs but largely follows donors’ strategic interests and priorities.

Rethinking higher education aid

Conflict analysis scholars Sansom Milton and Sultan Barakat wrote in 2016 that the neglect of higher education represents a “major missed opportunity to invest in critical national capacities that are capable of catalysing an effective reconstruction and recovery process” in the aftermath of violent conflict.

This neglect should not come as a surprise. In most developed countries, which are some of the top aid donors, higher education has been organised around neoliberal principles. This had led to underfunding and neglect of the sector by governments. Their provision of aid to higher education in conflict settings is based on the same principles, with the same results.

Our findings present a bleak picture of neglect of higher education in countries affected by violent conflict. The indications for the future are even bleaker due to ongoing aid cuts by many donor countries.

Importantly, our research also provides a starting point for critical engagement with donors and organisations working on education in conflict settings. More critical research, advocacy, activism, engagement and practical work is needed to challenge and reverse the neglect.

Rethinking and reforming foreign aid practices requires moving beyond donors’ strategic interests and dismantling the neoliberal agenda which has shaped much of the thinking about aid, higher education and development in general for decades. This, however, will be a challenge as the politicisation of foreign aid is unlikely to go away in the foreseeable future.

Still, changes are possible. For example:

Donors can redirect some scholarship funds to education systems, institutions and locally driven initiatives in conflict settings.
Donors can shift some international scholarship aid to domestic scholarships. This would make funding available for more students and would support local institutions.

Supporting and rebuilding higher education after violent conflict is crucial to enable systems and institutions to conduct research, develop relevant knowledge, provide quality education and contribute to societal recovery and peacebuilding.

Savo Heleta receives funding from Education Above All Foundation.

Logan Cochrane receives funding from Education Above All Foundation.

– ref. Countries need higher education to rebuild after conflict – study finds foreign aid isn’t going where it’s needed – https://theconversation.com/countries-need-higher-education-to-rebuild-after-conflict-study-finds-foreign-aid-isnt-going-where-its-needed-274995

February 5, 2026

South African novelist Lauretta Ngcobo is the subject of a tender and urgent new film

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Tinashe Mushakavanhu, Assistant Professor, Harvard University

Lauretta Ngcobo, who passed away in 2015, left a singular and impactful literary legacy in South Africa. Even in a life of exile and resistance to apartheid and white minority rule in the country. As a novelist, feminist thinker and freedom fighter, her intellectual contributions were foundational.

Ngcobo’s work often deals with the realities of black women facing both political and social oppression. While And They Didn’t Die (1990) is considered to be her masterpiece, her first novel Cross of Gold was published in 1981. Awards and recognition came relatively late in her career.

In a new documentary film And She Didn’t Die, producer and director Kethiwe Ngcobo creates a cinematic tribute that is at once an intimate and politically urgent portrait of her mother Lauretta. But what does it mean for a daughter to film her mother, not as a private act of remembrance but as a contribution to public history?

Structured as a conversation between them, the film moves between personal memory and historical reckoning, asking how lives shaped by political struggle are remembered and who gets to do the remembering.

As a scholar of African literature, I am aware of how few historical films exist about African women writers, and how often their voices are absent from audio and visual archives. And She Didn’t Die matters as a rare and powerful act of preservation.

It is a kind of preservation that is necessary. It points to a broader history in which African women writers, often working under conditions of exile, censorship, or displacement, have been made vulnerable to cultural disappearance.

Returning home

The opening scene allows the viewer to witness the historical return of Lauretta Ngcobo to her birthright. Against looming terrain, she reflects from a moving car, asking in her language, isiZulu: iphi inkaba yakho? – where is your umbilical cord?

The question gestures not only to physical return but to longing, for a place that exists both before her and within her. “I always find myself coming here,” she says. Land is a metaphor for what exile takes away and what memory insists on preserving. Ngcobo’s reflections feel insistently present.

Throughout the film, she speaks directly about exile as the most painful condition of her life:

There was no home. I had no home. That was the highest point of my painful exile, my painful experience as a politician.

Exile, as the film makes clear, is not only geographic displacement but a loss of self. Forced underground by the apartheid regime, Ngcobo lived an itinerant life, but always oriented towards return. Survival became a form of suspension, living for a future that was constantly deferred.

Besides Ngcobo as the main character, the film’s cast also includes her husband, sister, children, grandchildren, a scholar, and close friends, each offering fragments of her and how she moved through the world. In doing so, it participates in a broader reassessment of South Africa’s literary canon that has long privileged male voices.

The film also pays attention to the costs of political commitment, particularly within family life. Ngcobo’s elder daughter Khosi Mabena reflects:

I missed the mum of small things.

The remark captures the emotional complexity of growing up alongside a mother whose responsibilities as a writer and activist often took precedence. The film does not sentimentalise this absence, nor does it frame it as moral failure. Instead, it allows the ambivalence to stand, acknowledging the real losses produced by lives lived in struggle.

At the same time, And She Didn’t Die insists that Ngcobo’s politics were never separable from care. She wrote from an understanding that resistance does not take place only in prisons, parliaments or at public rallies, but also in homes, spaces historically dismissed as domestic or minor, yet central to women’s survival.

Ngcobo practised a form of political motherhood in which care was expanded beyond the private sphere, even as that expansion came at an intimate cost.

Writing as freedom

And She Didn’t Die also responds to cultural loss. Many writers of Ngcobo’s generation, particularly women, remain absent from public memory, despite the promise of accessibility in the digital age. Their voices and images are missing. This film functions as a corrective. We hear Ngcobo speak. We see her age, laugh, remember. The documentary insists on her presence.

South African scholar and writer Barbara Boswell, author of Lauretta Ngcobo: Writing as the Practice of Freedom, situates Ngcobo in the film within a longer genealogy:

Her story didn’t start with herself. It started with her mother, her grandmother and her great-grandmother.

That lineage continues through her daughter Kethiwe, who uses the camera as a storytelling tool, extending a long line of work.

Ngcobo reflects on discovering feminism in exile:

Feminism is what I found in England. I collided with these forces with great joy.

Yet she is also clear-eyed about the limits placed on women within liberation movements:

In the main struggle mine was a cheering role, in support of the men. I had no voice. I could only assent, never contradict, nor offer alternatives. All decision-making positions were and are still in the hands of men.

Writing, then, becomes a form of freedom. As Ngcobo puts it:

My writing arises from the depths I cannot reach.

In literature, she sets the terms: she creates worlds where women speak, decide, and act. As South African scholar Zinhle ka’Nobuhlaluse notes, Ngcobo was not merely a “struggle wife”. Her marriage to A.B. Ngcobo, a stalwart of the anti-apartheid struggle, did not define her life or limit her agency.

Through her writing, she claims autonomy, forging intellectual and emotional spaces that neither exile, political struggle, nor domestic expectation could fully contain.

And She Didn’t Die is ultimately a film about survival of memory, of voice, of lineage. It is a tender and necessary portrait of a woman whose work was never marginal and whose return to public view feels inseparable from the present moment in which South Africa is once again asking what freedom means, and who gets to define it.

The film is not yet available for streaming. It is screening on film festivals around the world

Tinashe Mushakavanhu does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. South African novelist Lauretta Ngcobo is the subject of a tender and urgent new film – https://theconversation.com/south-african-novelist-lauretta-ngcobo-is-the-subject-of-a-tender-and-urgent-new-film-274432