50 Graves in Libya. The World Shrugged.

They died chasing what we take for granted

When Libyan authorities discovered mass graves containing 50 people near Al-Kufra last month, the world barely noticed.

These people weren't just anonymous migrants.

They were dreamers who died in pursuit of something most of us take for granted: the chance to work and build a decent life.

I imagine who they might have been. Perhaps a young woman with a talent for design who couldn't register her business back home. Maybe a man who simply wanted steady work to feed his family. Or possibly a university graduate who found his degree worthless in a country with 70% youth unemployment.

While I don't know their specific stories, I do know this: they died because staying home felt as hopeless as crossing a desert and risking their lives.

Their bodies lie unclaimed. Nobody singing their funeral songs. Nobody telling their stories. Nobody remembering the light in their eyes when they once spoke of their dreams. Just 50 more bodies in unmarked graves, their blood soaking into foreign soil while their mothers wait for calls that will never come.

This breaks my heart. It should break yours too.

We've all seen the images of overcrowded boats on the Mediterranean. But what happens before migrants reach those shores remains largely invisible.

Last month's discovery revealed the grim reality: 50 bodies, shot or abandoned by traffickers in the Libyan desert. Police also rescued 76 others being held captive nearby.

This isn't rare. According to recent data from the International Organization for Migration (IOM), more than 22% of recorded migrant deaths and disappearances in Libya in 2024 occurred on land routes.

Look at your children tonight. Your brother. Your sister. Look at their faces as they sleep.

Then imagine them so desperate that crossing a desert with murderous traffickers seems like their best option.

Across Europe, far-right politicians have gained power by promising to "keep the migrants out." They win votes by stoking fear rather than addressing root causes. It's a simple but misguided formula: blame migrants for economic problems, promise tougher borders, and watch your poll numbers rise. Italy, Hungary, Sweden, the Netherlands - country after country has seen this pattern play out.

But here's what these politicians never acknowledge: walls don't work when people are desperate enough. No border patrol, no detention center, no policy will stop someone who sees no future at home.

People will tunnel under walls. They'll climb over fences. They'll risk death at sea. They'll cross deserts.

Why? Because humans will always seek opportunity elsewhere when denied it at home.

Instead of just building higher walls, how about we open up real trade? No handouts. No pity. Just business on equal footing so people can build prosperity where they are instead of running from broken economies.

Because trust me, when people have a choice to stay home, they will stay.

People want to eat their traditional foods. They want to speak their own languages. They want to celebrate their cultural holidays with family and friends. Migration isn't a first choice. For most people, it's a last resort. If people had opportunities at home, most would choose to stay. They'd build businesses, create jobs, and contribute to their communities. They'd raise their children in familiar surroundings among extended family.

But that choice has been taken from them by economic systems that make prosperity nearly impossible.

When I started my skincare company in Senegal, I spent months dealing with paperwork, bribes, and bureaucracy before selling a single product. Just finding cardboard boxes meant navigating a system that made importing them 45% more expensive than necessary.

This isn't just my story. It's every African entrepreneur's nightmare.

In many African countries, starting a business takes months and costs more than a year's average income. Importing basic supplies requires mountains of paperwork and excessive tariffs. Getting anything done often means paying bribes to officials who see their job as extracting money rather than enabling business.

Meanwhile in New Zealand, you can start a business in half a day with one simple procedure.

The rage I feel about this injustice burns in my chest every day.

And by the way, here's something you probably didn't learn in school: Africa once had thriving trade networks connecting the continent with the world.

Before colonization, cities like Timbuktu and Mombasa were major commercial hubs. Market women – the backbone of local economies – traded freely without government interference.

Traditional African societies had their own legal systems that protected property rights and enabled commerce. Trade routes crisscrossed the continent, bringing prosperity to regions now trapped in poverty.

What happened?

When colonial powers left, many newly independent African nations adopted socialist economic models that gave government enormous control over business. These systems failed, but their legacy remains in the form of crushing bureaucracy and corruption.

I've talked with many young Africans considering the dangerous journey to Europe, and I can tell you one thing: they don’t want welfare or handouts. It's embarrassingly simple: they want jobs. They want to use their talents, earn money honestly, and build something for themselves and their families. They're not lazy. They're not criminals. They're human beings facing a system designed to prevent economic progress.

I've looked into their eyes. I've seen the pain of unrealized potential. I've seen the humiliation of begging for jobs that don't exist. I've seen the courage it takes to wake up every day in a system designed to crush your dreams.

When a young man in Senegal can't get a permit to start a small shop without months of paperwork and bribes, when a woman in Nigeria faces harassment from officials for selling goods without "proper authorization," when university graduates can't find work because there are no companies hiring – migration starts looking like the only option.

I believe Africa's future lies in creating "Próspera Cities" – special economic zones designed to give entrepreneurs the freedom to thrive, attract investment, and generate millions of jobs in world-class business environments.

The bodies in those Libyan graves represent a double tragedy: the immediate horror of their deaths and the larger tragedy of lost potential. They died seeking what most of us take for granted – the freedom to work, create, and build a decent life.

We can prevent these tragedies. Not with more patrols or harsher policies, but by removing the barriers that prevent Africans from creating prosperity where they already are.

I dream of an Africa where our children don't need to flee to survive. Where our greatest minds build businesses at home instead of cleaning toilets abroad. Where our villages and cities vibrate with the energy of entrepreneurship instead of the emptiness left by those who felt they had no choice but to leave.

This is possible. But only if WE change the rules that keep us poor.