
The keys
Borders and jobs: the keys held by people and the keys held by governments.
Is this where your keys stop?
The inner doors I can accept. A film, a book, a radio drama, a meeting. But now we reach the doors that no film can open. A young man in Lusaka believes in himself, reads well, trusts his neighbours and speaks his mind. He still cannot travel to Nairobi without a visa, and when he gets there, he still cannot find a job, because the jobs do not exist. These doors belong to governments and to the economy. Ordinary people cannot open them. So be honest with me: is this where your keys stop?
Some of these keys are held by governments, and I will not pretend otherwise. But you have made two mistakes in one sentence. You assumed that because a door belongs to governments, it cannot be opened. And you assumed that because it belongs to governments, ordinary people have nothing to do with it. Let me take them one at a time, starting with the border.
Then start with the border. How bad is it?
My own development bank and the African Union measure it every year. In their 2024 report, my overall openness to my own people was slightly worse than the year before. Only four of my countries allowed every African to enter without any visa at all: Benin, The Gambia, Rwanda and Seychelles.
Four. Out of fifty-four. That proves my point. And it is not only the poor who are kept out. In 2024 Aliko Dangote, the richest man on your soil, stood on a stage in Kigali and said that as an investor trying to build in Africa he needed thirty-five different visas on his Nigerian passport, while the French executive sitting beside him needed none of them to move around the same continent. If your borders stop even him, what hope has a trader from Lusaka?
He was right to say it in public, and notice where he said it: in Rwanda, one of the four countries that had already opened its door, and whose president he thanked for it. Since then Ghana has joined them, opening its borders to every African from the start of 2025. A door held shut by a decision is a door that a decision can open, and the loudest voices asking for it are now Africa's own builders.
Most doors are still closed; that is true. Now look at what happened behind the ones that opened. In 2013, Rwanda began giving visas on arrival to every African. In three years, the number of Africans arriving that way grew from about thirty-one thousand to more than seventy-seven thousand, and the country built a reputation as a meeting place for conferences across the continent. In 2017, Benin opened its doors to every African without a visa. In 2019 it received about 337,000 tourists; by 2025 it received more than 435,000.
Small countries. Tourism. It does not change a continent.
It does not need to. Look at what it shows. Rwanda did not wait for the whole continent to agree. Benin did not wait for its neighbours. One country, by its own decision, opened its own door, and the door did not bring disaster. It brought visitors, trade and a better name. Every closed border on my soil is held shut by a decision. And a decision can be reversed by another decision.
By governments. So what is left for the young man in Lusaka?
More than you think. The number of e-visa systems on my soil, which let a person apply from a phone instead of queuing at an embassy, grew from nine countries in 2016 to twenty-six in 2024. Each of those systems exists because someone decided it should. A door held shut by a decision is a door that public pressure can reach. And remember what my people already told us: most of them believe easier trade would benefit their economy, yet very few have heard of the agreement that was built to make it possible.
One more thing on borders, because I know what the ministers will say. Open borders, they will say, mean our hospitals and jobs flooded by our neighbours' poor. Is that fear groundless?
Look at who actually moves. Most of my people who leave their country stay on my soil; the share of potential emigrants who would choose another African country has fallen, but it is still about a quarter, and the rest look outside Africa altogether. Rwanda and Benin opened their doors and were not flooded. They were visited. And notice what the minister's fear assumes: that a neighbour arriving is a cost. A trader arriving is a customer and a supplier. A nurse arriving is a nurse. Europe's own countries, which guard their outer border so hard, abolished most of the borders between themselves decades ago, because they judged that people moving freely served all of them. The fear is understandable. The evidence does not support it.
Fine. The border is a decision. But jobs are not a decision. Jobs need an economy. You cannot vote a factory into existence.
No, you cannot. So let me give you the hardest number first. My development bank has estimated that between ten and twelve million young people enter the workforce on my soil every year, while only about three million formal jobs are created. That figure is from 2016 and needs updating, but no one who studies it believes the gap has closed.
Then the young people are right to leave.
The young people are right that formal jobs are scarce. They are wrong if they believe their own hands can do nothing about it. Listen to what happened in northern Uganda. The government ran a programme that gave groups of young people a grant, about four hundred dollars per person, in exchange for a plan to learn and practise a skilled trade: carpentry, tailoring, metalwork, hairdressing. No one supervised how they spent it.
No supervision. Then most of it was wasted.
That is what many officials expected. It is not what happened. Four years later, the young people who received the grants had invested in tools and training, were working more hours, and were earning about thirty-eight per cent more than similar young people who had not received them. The gains were strongest among young women.
So the "lazy youth" invested well when they were trusted. Is that what you are telling me?
That is what four years of evidence showed. But I promised you I would always show where a key stopped working. When the same young people were studied again nine years after the grants, those who had not received them had largely caught up in earnings, through their own businesses and casual work. Yet the grant recipients still owned more and were still more likely to do skilled work.
So the money gave them a head start, but it did not create an economy around them.
Exactly. Capital can start a young person. It cannot by itself build the markets, roads, power and buyers that let that person grow. That is why the outer doors need both kinds of keys at once: the keys held by people, and the keys held by governments and businesses.
Then give me both kinds, clearly, so I know which are mine.
The keys held by people are these. Save together, as millions of my people already do in their susu, chama, hagbad and stokvel circles, and turn those circles from protection into investment. Learn a trade the market needs, and teach it to others. Buy from each other, across the streets and across the borders. Demand open borders and fair rules loudly, together, and keep demanding. The keys held by governments are these. Open the border, as Rwanda and Benin did, without waiting for everyone else. Make it easier to start a business, to register land and to borrow. Trust young people with capital, as Uganda did, and build the markets around them that let that capital last.
And if the governments do not turn their keys?
Then the people who have turned theirs become the pressure that moves the governments. Every one of the inner doors we opened, belief, knowledge, trust and voice, is also a tool for opening the outer ones. People who believe change is possible, who know what their governments signed, who trust each other and who are used to being heard, are exactly the people governments cannot ignore forever.
So the inner doors and the outer doors are not separate. The inner ones are the way to the outer ones.
That is the shape of everything we are building. Now you have seen the keys. The question that remains is the most personal one of all.
How does a person, one person, actually begin?
Then that is where we go next.
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