How to deal with uncomfortable journalists

If a journalist reports on the unsavory parts of Nigeria, attack them on Twitter. For reporting while white. There's no comeback when you bring race into it.

Refugees from Boko Haram's violence in a camp across the border in Niger, December 2014 (EU Civil Protection and Humanitarian Aid, via Flickr.)

So journalist Alex Preston jetted into town from a posh Western capital. Alex Preston went to a Nigerian city of eerie silence, billowing clouds of dust, darkness and war. Alex Preston wrote a sexy story about a not-so-sexy subject for a sexy magazine. Alex Preston is white.

It is important not to think too hard in dealing with the above scenario. Thinking is a terrible waste of time when there are people to do it for you. In times of battle for example not everyone goes to war. That is why we have armies. In the same vein although in democracies, government is of the people and by the people, we cede our powers to elected representatives who act on our behalf. The above situation has already been covered by some of the brightest writers from our continent. Binyavanga Wainaina wrote a brilliant essay called How To Write About Africa dealing with stereotypes in writing about Africa. Teju Cole wrote about the White Savior Industrial Complex where he found fault with a young white man who tried to save an African country without first understanding the basic issues. And of course one of our brightest writers Chimamanda Adichie gave the moving, now Beyonce-canonized TED talk, The Danger of a Single Story, challenging one-sided narratives, especially about Africa. God bless them for opening our eyes.

So the next time a white journalist shows up on our shores with a local cameraman (because bringing in his photographer colleague from London would be too expensive) and reports however factually, a rotten situation in our country, we must look first to his skin. White people should not jet into Africa to talk about our dark sides. It doesn’t matter that there is actually a war going on and apart from figures, no one knows anything about it. That is our business. It doesn’t matter if our army is whitewashing the sordid war with tales of successes and our journalists are too poorly paid to risk verifying the press releases they get. It doesn’t matter if the said white journalist writes an honest story and stays true to the facts. Any journalist who writes negative truth while being white will be rightly splashed the colors of racist Conrad. And trust me, nobody wants to be Conrad. Not after Achebe exposed his dark heart. Such a journalist will be set right on social media by Africa’s growing online population most of whose middle-class sensitivities will be hurt by stories such as those written by Preston.

And really if you think of it, what is a Borno war to someone with an iPad in Lagos? What is thousands of villagers caught in crossfire between Boko Haram and heavy handed JTF soldiers to a young guy working for a nice international organization in Abuja tweeting from a Samsung Galaxy S4 in one hand and holding a DSTV remote control in the other? Why does Preston think it is ok to shove in our faces the thousands of people that die in Nigeria’s tucked-away northeast war and ruin our exquisite middle-class dinners? So what if most of the body count goes unreported? Isn’t there transformation to report? Surely white people can utilize their impartial accuracy (upon which we heavily rely) in reporting the good stuff. Like economic growth. Like our brand new airports. Our winning the African Cup of Nations. Dangote’s Forbes listing. And his sexy yacht Mariya. Surely.

So how do we deal with guys like Alex Preston when they write shit about us? Simple. Attack him on Twitter. For reporting while white. Trust me, there is no comeback when you bring race into it.

Further Reading

Africa and the AI race

At summits and in speeches, African leaders promise to harness AI for development. But without investment in power, connectivity, and people, the continent risks replaying old failures in new code.

After the uprising

Years into Cameroon’s Anglophone conflict, the rebellion faces internal fractures, waning support, and military pressure—raising the question of what future, if any, lies ahead for Ambazonian aspirations.

In search of Saadia

Who was Saadia, and why has she been forgotten? A search for one woman’s story opens up bigger questions about race, migration, belonging, and the gaps history leaves behind.

Binti, revisited

More than two decades after its release, Lady Jaydee’s debut album still resonates—offering a window into Tanzanian pop, gender politics, and the sound of a generation coming into its own.

The bones beneath our feet

A powerful new documentary follows Evelyn Wanjugu Kimathi’s personal and political journey to recover her father’s remains—and to reckon with Kenya’s unfinished struggle for land, justice, and historical memory.

What comes after liberation?

In this wide-ranging conversation, the freedom fighter and former Constitutional Court justice Albie Sachs reflects on law, liberation, and the unfinished work of building a just South Africa.

The cost of care

In Africa’s migration economy, women’s labor fuels households abroad while their own needs are sidelined at home. What does freedom look like when care itself becomes a form of exile?

The memory keepers

A new documentary follows two women’s mission to decolonize Nairobi’s libraries, revealing how good intentions collide with bureaucracy, donor politics, and the ghosts of colonialism.

Making films against amnesia

The director of the Oscar-nominated film ‘Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat’ reflects on imperial violence, corporate warfare, and how cinema can disrupt the official record—and help us remember differently.