Western Ignorance Almost Made Me Crash a Plane
Why stereotypes about Africa are dangerous
The tiny plane hummed loudly as we soared toward Arusha, Tanzania.
I was mentally rehearsing my TED talk – the one where I planned to challenge stereotypes about African entrepreneurship and explain how bad business environments keep my people poor.
That's when I heard them.
Behind me sat two Western women, chatting freely, unaware that I – an actual African – could hear every word they said.
"I just don't think they want modernity," one said with absolute confidence. "These poor Africans seem so content with their simple farming lives."
Her friend eagerly agreed. "Exactly! I'm not sure they're even capable of adapting to modern systems. It's almost like they're meant to live more... naturally."
My blood began to boil.
These women weren't discussing fellow humans with equal dreams and capabilities.
They were talking about zoo exhibits – simple creatures best left in their "natural habitat" of poverty and subsistence farming.
They were literally romanticizing the backbreaking labor that keeps millions of Africans trapped in poverty. The same poverty that forces mothers to watch their children die from preventable diseases. The same poverty that sends young men onto dangerous boats crossing the Mediterranean, hoping for any chance at a decent job.
I gripped my armrests so hard my knuckles turned white.
This wasn't just ignorance. It was something FAR worse: a worldview that treats African poverty as somehow authentic and pure, rather than the cruel reality that it is.
What makes this mindset so dangerous is how it hides behind supposed compassion.
These women probably considered themselves allies. They likely donated to charities "helping Africa." They probably shared sad photos of African children on social media. They might even have volunteered for a few weeks building a school somewhere.
Yet here they were, casually discussing how Africans aren't capable of or interested in economic progress – the very thing that would eliminate the need for their charity in the first place.
It took every ounce of self-control not to turn around and confront them.
"Have you ever ASKED an African mother if she wants to keep washing clothes by hand for hours when a washing machine could free her time for education or business? Have you ever ASKED an African family if they enjoy cooking over open fires that kill millions through indoor air pollution when they'd prefer a simple gas stove? Have you ever ASKED anyone if they'd rather swelter in 100-degree heat or enjoy air conditioning like you do back home?”
I wanted to continue: "Have you ever ASKED an African entrepreneur if they enjoy dealing with endless bureaucracy just to register a business? Have you ever ASKED an African student if they'd prefer remaining in poverty to having job opportunities?"
But I didn't turn around.
That plane would have crashed from the sheer force of my rage, or I'd have ended up in jail for what I might have done to put those condescending fools in their place.
The truth these women missed is simple: Africans want exactly what people everywhere want – opportunities to build good lives for themselves and their families.
We don't need saviors.
We don't need pity.
We don't need romantic notions about our "simple lives."
We need governments that don't strangle businesses with red tape. We need property rights. We need freedom to trade. We need the ability to start companies without spending six months and our life savings on permits.
Most of all, we need Westerners to stop believing they know what's best for us, especially when "what's best" conveniently keeps us dependent on their charity rather than building our own prosperity.
That flight to Arusha was years ago, but that conversation still haunts me.
Because for every time I've heard such views expressed openly, there are thousands more instances where these ideas silently shape policies, donations, and "development" plans for Africa.
The next time you're tempted to romanticize poverty or believe Africans "prefer simplicity," ask yourself if you'd ever accept such conditions for your own family.
The answer is what drives my work every single day.
So raw, I could literally feel your words jumping at me. And while I share your rage, I want to channel it more to our leaders and government, who contribute heavily to these unsavory environments.
My partner would usually say the people are the government and until we as collective decide it’s time to do something about this less than acceptable conditions for entrepreneurs, we’ve not began.
For decades, I’ve been working to challenge the bigotry of low expectations within my politically elite family and social circle in the US. But with the cultural shift underway, I believe change is finally happening. I encourage everyone to watch Poverty, Inc. and read your book because these perspectives are crucial. More than anything, I want to spread the message far and wide—that we can support people in Africa with dignity and respect without resorting to a victimhood narrative. Thank you for your words!