Nonetheless, he benefited.

The “tuna bond” scandal, a scam concocted by Swiss bankers, ruling elites and a handful of dubious middlemen, diverted billions of dollars intended for development into the pockets of individuals. 

Bribed Mozambican individuals got at least $200 million from it. 

Nyusi’s cut was around $1 million, which he received as “campaign donations”, according to court documents in both the UK and US. 

Some of the officials have been, and will be, tried. But lawyers argued that presidential immunity protected Nyusi from prosecution for the scam, which left Mozambique’s exchequer crushed under the weight of crippling debt and has stunted the country’s economic growth.

The sheer brazenness of the corruption displayed in the “tuna bond” scandal cemented public perceptions that Frelimo, the country’s liberation party, was deeply and possibly irredeemably corrupt. 

Those sentiments are playing a major role in ongoing anti-government protests — sparked by allegations of a stolen election — which have been repressed with deadly force by Nyusi’s security forces.

Into South Africa’s laundromat

A million dollars of unknown provenance is nice but brings its own problems — where to store all that money and how to make it look legitimate. 

The Mozambican elites found a solution in South Africa.

Shortly after Nyusi got those “campaign donations”, a R3.9 million house in Constantia, the upmarket Cape Town suburb, was bought in the name of Nyusi’s son, Jacinto Ferrão Filipe Nyusi.

He was just 20 years old at the time. 

This is revealed in a new investigation by Open Secrets, a campaigning group that investigates financial crimes.

In 2015, Jacinto Nyusi bought a second South African property: a R17.5 million mansion in Sandhurst, Johannesburg, on a quiet street “lined with mansions concealed behind towering walls and 24-hour guard posts”, says Open Secrets in For Sale: South Africa’s Property Laundromat.

The first property was sold in 2018 for R4.5-million. The second appears to have been hastily sold in March 2022 for less than half its purchase price.

The timing is relevant. At the time of the fire sale, back home in Mozambique, court proceedings were under way that would eventually convict the son of Nyusi’s predecessor, president Armando Guebuza, of corruption.

According to court records in the US, Ndambi Guebuza took $33 million in bribes in the tuna bond scandal. 

He was sentenced to 12 years in prison by a Mozambican court in late 2022, in relation to the illegal activities.

By then, however, Ndambi Guebuza had already bought two lavish properties in Johannesburg: a R9.3 million house  in the ultra-luxurious Dainfern Estate and a R10.8 million property in Kyalami Estate. 

So too had president Guebuza’s daughter, the late Valentina de Luz Guebuza. 

According to property records viewed by Open Secrets, she owned two properties in Dainfern, purchased for R15 million each.

The Nyusi family did not respond to Open Secrets’ request for comment on the findings.

Good neighbour for the corrupt

“Gated communities and high-walled mansions line luxury neighbourhoods in South Africa’s big cities. These fortressed homes have one goal for their rich, powerful owners: to keep criminals out. But what about the criminals who live inside them?” asks Open Secrets.

The question is rhetorical.

Although South Africa has tough laws designed to prevent money laundering, these are not always enforced — especially in the real estate sector.

That’s why it remains an attractive destination for potentially dodgy cash, which is part of why the country has been “greylisted” by international watchdogs.

Anti-money-laundering laws are not always enforced. In addition to the Mozambican

examples, the Open Secrets report documented how ruling elites in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Equatorial Guinea have also invested the proceeds of alleged corruption in luxury South African properties.

“South African public and private sectors seemingly facilitated stolen wealth from Mozambique, the DRC and Equatorial Guinea to be hidden in luxury properties. In doing so, South African institutions became complicit in facilitating corrupt transactions that harmed the most vulnerable communities in these countries,” the report concludes.

The latest Standard Bank Africa Trade Barometer, which tracks 10 African countries among the 54 signatory nations of the African Continental Free Trade Area Agreement (AfCFTA) shows 37% of the businesses prefer partners based in African markets compared to Asia(24%), Europe(16%) and North America(3%).

Businesses from Namibia (75%), Tanzania (48%) and Angola (43%) showed the highest affinity for cross-border trade compared to firms from some of the continent’s biggest economies- Nigeria (34%) and Kenya (34%) with a huge preference for Asian markets like China.

“Businesses surveyed report that trading within Africa is easier than trading with the rest of the world. This observation underlines their preferences in trading partners, revealing a significant lean towards engaging in commerce with African markets,” said authors of the  Barometer.

Quality of goods (72%) was the most significant consideration for businesses looking to trade with partners in Africa, followed by market prices (51%) and market accessibility (38%).

Rising intra-African trade sentiment among surveyed businesses is centred on good trading relationships and affordable transportation that have significantly increased from 5% and 2%, respectively, in May 2023 to 15% for both in August 2024.

“This result contrasts the perceptions of surveyed business on world trade, with trading relationships taking strain due to the high transport cost,” said the survey.

Ongoing implementation of the AfCFTA has been the most significant contributor to easing trade barriers across country borders, propelled by the Guided Trade Initiative (GTI) that started with eight countries in 2022, trading in select goods to catalyse trade through preferential tariff arrangements.

Up to 30 more African countries are expected to be covered by the GTI by the close of 2024, as well as an increase in the scope of products to be traded, including biopesticides, packaged moringa, tea, coffee, and meat products.

Other initiatives under the AfCFTA are also emerging, opening up the regional borders to small businesses.

In the first week of November, Kenyan Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises (MSMEs) shipped their first exports of assorted products to South Sudan, Zambia and DRC under the AfCFTA Framework in an initiative dubbed TradeConnect.

Over the next 12 months, the TradeConnect initiative aims to mobilise and transport 1000 containers of diverse goods worth US $ 1.2 million across the continent.

The Kenyan government hopes the TradeConnect initiative will improve Kenya’s exports by 10 per cent annually and cut the logistics nightmare for exporters by 30 per cent.

A growing intra-African trade infrastructure development connecting African regions, for instance, the Standard Gauge Railway (SGR), which connects the port city of Mombasa to the capital, Nairobi, and planned extension to Uganda, is also seen easing the cost of goods and faster lead times across borders.

Once fully operational, the SGR will cover approximately 3,800 kilometres (2,400 miles) and link Kenya to Uganda, South Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, and Ethiopia.

The sentiments positively impacted intra-African trade as a percentage of total African trade, with the Barometer showing it rose slightly from 13.6% in 2022 to 14.9% in 2023. 

Albeit at a slightly larger scale, the majority of surveyed African businesses cited good quality products (84%), fast response times (82%), and the low cost of importing (79%) as the most important elements in doing business with China.
 
The nature of African business’s involvement in trade with China is centred on importing final goods and services (56%), importing raw materials (39%), and buying final goods and services from Chinese wholesalers operating in Africa (16%).

A mere 3% of surveyed businesses favour trading with US-based companies, which is most common in Kenya, where 8% of surveyed enterprises desire to deal with American firms.

The low favorability rating across the ten markets, the Barometer said, is driven by businesses reporting high shipping costs (50%), high tariffs and taxes (37%), currency fluctuations (28%), and longer lead times (27%).

“This aligns with macro-level trade data, albeit to a lesser extent, with imports and exports between the two regions(US-Kenya) declining by 7.3% and 6.2%, respectively, between 2022 and 2023,” the survey reports.

— bird story agency

“I tried to explain how unusual I felt but was ignored. The nurse on duty just did a physical examination, jotted something in the health passport, and sent me off.” 

She shared her experience with The Continent through a sign language interpreter, while breastfeeding her nine-month-old baby girl. 

To deliver her baby, Chibisa played it safe by having her sister go with her to the facility. 

“She helped me with communication.” 

Being able to communicate with nurses proved critical because Chibisa didn’t recover well enough after delivery, requiring referral to a bigger facility. 

When The Continent visited three of Blantyre’s most important health facilities, Limbe, Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital and the Zingwangwa health centre, none had an interpreter. None had bathrooms or ambulances fitted to be accessible for people with mobility challenges. The height of delivery and examination beds could not be adjusted. 

“The labour ward is almost inaccessible for us,” said Lynes Manduwa, a disability rights advocate. 

These limitations occur across Malawian public hospitals, forcing adult patients like Chibisa to rely on “guardians” as interpreters and assistants to use bathrooms and other amenities. These limitations are worse in rural Malawi and have persisted for decades. 

When Fanny Malemia had an ectopic pregnancy in 2018, the absence of sign interpreters nearly cost her life. Her life-threatening condition was not treated at the Zingwangwa health centre because her husband is also non-verbal and could not translate her pain to the nurses.

Malemia only got surgery when her pastor’s wife agreed to escort them to Queen Elizabeth. The delay, and inability to get full information from the doctors, left Malemia worried that she would not be able to conceive again.

“I endured a double psychological battle. This also disturbed my relationship with my husband until I became pregnant again a year later,” Malemia said through a sign interpreter.

Health workers’ prejudice sometimes makes the indignities worse.

“Recently, one woman was slapped during labour because the nurses and the patient couldn’t communicate,” Bryson Chimenya, who heads the Malawi National Association for the Deaf, told The Continent in July. 

That kind of situation has persisted for decades. Manduwa said that, when she had her baby in 1992, nurses confronted her husband about impregnating a disabled woman. 

Formal training for Malawian health workers barely covers caring for people with disabilities. According to Christopher Namagowa, the registrar at Kamuzu University of Health Sciences, Malawi’s major medical training institution, only cursory content on disability care is included in the four-year nursing programme.

The government appears to be far better at talking about disability than actually helping disabled people.

The country is party to progressive international treaties like the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities and the African Disability Protocol.

It passed disability legislation in 2012 and improved it this year. But, according to last year’s review of the implementation of the UN convention, there are only 10 qualified sign language interpreters in Malawi. 

Most work as on-screen news interpreters. In crucial areas, like hospitals, interpretation is left to unqualified friends and family — if anyone.

Doreen Ali, the director of reproductive health services in Malawi, conceded that inaccessible infrastructure and health workers without the appropriate training have led to poor treatment for women with disabilities. But she said the ministry has a plan to better train staff through the pre-service curriculum. 

The government has a poor track record for following through on its stated plans. A 2018 five-year national strategy on improving disability services included the aim for “the highest attainable standard of health for persons with disabilities”. 

When it expired last year, there was little to show for that.

Aware of the government’s dismal record, independent activists are instead working with allies such as Sight Savers and UK Aid Match to train health workers. 

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Center through the Underreported Stories in Africa project

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It’s designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here.

Just last week, the Botswana Democratic Party (BDP) suffered an embarrassing defeat at the polls, losing by a landslide.

It is the first transfer of party power in the country’s post-independence history.

That political earthquake followed a historic election in South Africa, where the African National Congress fell below 50% of the vote for the first time since the end of apartheid in 1994.

It does not stop there.

The fate of the ruling party in Mozambique, Frelimo, remains uncertain after October’s general election.

Support for opposition candidate Venâncio Mondlane was so high – and Frelimo appears to have manipulated the polls so badly – that the country’s Catholic bishops challenged the credibility of the official result, which gave the ruling party candidate a sizeable majority.

Opposition supporters continue to demand that the government leaves power and, despite a violent crackdown on those protests, Frelimo may yet be forced to do so.

Even if it stays put, its legitimacy and authority may have suffered a fatal blow.

Fading memories, fresh concerns

This wave of resistance to the dominance of liberation parties has been dramatic, but not unexpected. They have been haemorrhaging support for some time.

The BDP, for example, has consistently failed to secure a majority of votes but – because Botswana does not use a proportional electoral system – would regularly win a majority of parliamentary seats nonetheless.

From the collapse of the parties that secured independence in countries such as Benin, Kenya and Zambia, we know at least three factors that fatally weakened their hold on power: generational shifts, economic stagnation and internal divisions.

Decades after independence, the combination of increasingly young populations and fading memories of the anti-colonial struggle meant that leaders could not rely on their status as “founding fathers” for legitimacy.

That shone a brighter spotlight on the governments’ economic performance, which was problematic: their political dominance had encouraged corruption and inefficiency, exacerbating the challenges created by an inhospitable and often unfair international financial system.

These failings amplified personal rivalries, ethnic tensions and ideological disagreements within ruling parties, which were inevitable in parties that came to power as broad churches unified more by opposition to colonial rule than anything else.

The more individuals quit the government or were expelled, the greater the size of the “opposition in waiting”.

By the early 1980s, nationalist parties in much of the continent were holding onto power by their fingertips, propped up by the one-party state political system, which insulated them from having to contest competitive elections.

Once it was removed in the early 1990s, they were living on borrowed time.

In countries where governments and leaders were more committed to the national interest and respecting the will of the people, as in Benin and Zambia, they rapidly lost multiparty elections.

Election manipulation

It was only where leaders were willing to systematically manipulate elections and use violence to intimidate and divide their opponents, as in Kenya and Togo, that ruling parties held on.

The same is true today.

The popularity of the ANC, BDP and Frelimo has been undermined by economic decline.

In Botswana, a sharp downturn in the global diamond market means that the economy is only expected to grow by 1% this year, which means the unemployment rate of 28% is likely to increase.

Citizens have attributed these problems to government failures rather than global trends because they were already concerned about corruption.

A recent report from Afrobarometer revealed a sharp increase in the number of citizens across the continent who believed “the president and officials in his office” to be corrupt.

In Botswana, a key concern is nepotism, after large contracts were awarded to a company owned by outgoing President Mokgweetsi Masisi’s sister.

Concerns about graft are even greater in Mozambique and South Africa, where state capacity has been increasingly undermined by the emergency of entrenched kleptocracies.

Internal splits have also continued to be damaging, contracting the support base of today’s ruling parties.

The new political vehicles built around former ANC members Jacob Zuma and Julius Malema won 24% of the national vote in the 2024 general election, which would have given Cyril Ramaphosa a landslide victory had it been mobilised behind his government.

The BDP was similarly harmed by the fallout between President Masisi and his predecessor Ian Khama, the son of the country’s founding father, Sir Seretse Khama, who quit the party and subsequently denounced it.

As well as bolstering the opposition, these very public spats undermine the claims of governments to have a right to hold power because it embodies the values and traditions of the liberation/independence movement.

The way these trends play out varies, but their cumulative impact has undermined the ability of almost all independence and liberation parties to stay in power democratically.

The reason why the vote share of ruling parties in Mozambique, Tanzania and Zimbabwe has not fallen as much as those in Botswana and South Africa is not that they have performed much better, but that they have used greater intimidation and repression, and manipulated election outcomes.

All eyes will now turn to Namibia, which goes to the polls on 27 November.

Economic downturn, rising unemployment and corruption allegations have eroded support for the Swapo government. If it allows a free and fair election, there may yet be another liberation party licking its wounds when 2024 winds to a close.

Nic Cheeseman is the Director of the Centre for Elections, Democracy, Accountability and Representation (CEDAR) at the University of Birmingham.

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It is designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here.

Thales Alenia Space, one of Europe’s largest telecommunications, navigation and surveillance satellite makers, has entered into a memorandum of understanding with a Moroccan private equity firm, Panafsat, to develop a geostationary telecommunications satellite in Morocco.

As part of the MoU, the two companies said in a joint statement that Thales Alenia Space will develop “a very high-performance flexible satellite to accelerate Africa’s digital transformation- serving a combined population of over 550 million people”.

Panafsat Chairman and Chief Executive Officer, Ahmed Toumi described the project as the next critical stage in the digital transformation process and developing a digital economy in Morocco and across Africa.

“It will change the lives of millions of people eager to benefit from Internet access and all the essential services they need,” he said.

The MoU was signed during French President Emmanuel Macron’s state visit to Morocco at the end of October, in the presence of Nadia Fettah Alaoui, Moroccan minister of economy and finance, and Antoine Armand, French minister of economy, finance, and industry.

Most of the targeted African markets (23) will be French-speaking nations, with the remaining three being Anglo-phone.

“The project will make a significant contribution to bridging the digital divide in rural areas, as well as boosting economic growth and strengthening digital sovereignty across the African continent,” said Thales Alenia Space CEO Hervé Derrey.

The entry of Thales Alenia Space comes at a time when American spacecraft manufacturer SpaceX is recording significant milestones on the continent – including the recent sell-out of Starlink terminals in five out of 12 African countries, including Madagascar, a French-speaking nation.

Since it began making inroads into the continent more than a year ago, Starlink has faced numerous regulatory hurdles, especially in French-speaking countries like Côte d’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, DR Congo, and Senegal.

However, there appears to be some light in most francophone countries, with Starlink’s coverage map highlighting availability prospects in these markets by the end of 2024 and 2025.

Starlink projects it would go live in Mauritania, Senegal, Côte d’Ivoire, Gabon and Chad by the close of the year, with a 2025 start date for countries like Burkina Faso, Niger, Cameroon and DR Congo.

Starlink has been approved to operate in Mozambique, Eswatini, Botswana, Rwanda, South Sudan, Burundi, Benin, Ghana, Sierra Leone, Malawi, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Nigeria, Zambia and Madagascar.

Thales Alenia Space’s entry into Africa is also considered part of its strategic plan to counter diminishing “traditional telecommunications satellite markets” in Europe – from rising competition in the commercial customer space by global rivals like Elon Musk’s Starlink.

European aerospace group Thales, with a 67% stake in Thales Alenia Space, is reportedly exploring a merger of its satellite operations with another pan-European aerospace group, Airbus (also headquartered in France), that would make a market-dominating player to counter competition, according to the Financial Times and Reuters.

Research and Markets projects the global small satellite market to grow to US$11.2 billion by 2029, from US$5.2 billion in 2024, stimulated by increasing demand for commercial satellites boosting the launching of small satellites.

“They are widely accepted since they are affordable, have short developing periods and can serve various purposes such as telecommunication, earth observation, etc,” according to the Research and Markets report.

According to the International Telecommunication Union (ITU’s) Facts and Figures 2023 report, 37% of the African population had internet access in 2023, rising from a modest 16% in 2013.

Young and tech-savvy African consumers are driving demand for high-speed internet, with the rise of streaming, online gaming, voice calls over the internet, and remote working and learning, fuelling demand.

However, at 37%, Africa’s connectivity falls below 67% of the global average internet usage, sparking the satellite internet scramble on the continent.

— bird story agency

The area had been tense since 20 October when AbuAgla Keikal, one of the most senior commanders of the RSF in Gezira, defected to the Sudanese army.

More bangs followed and soon militiamen entered the village, took control and detained the men.

“They began to hit us and humiliate us,” said a resident, who asked to be identified as AbdulNor. He was speaking from a shelter in New Halfa to which he escaped after his elderly mother paid the militiamen a ransom for his release.

“She agreed to leave and give up her house and farm.” 

Before AbdulNor’s family were forced to flee, the militiamen executed several men in the village centre for all to witness. 

“They dragged 10 men in front of us and killed them all at once,” said AbdulNor. 

The Wad Madani resistance committee reported that 124 people were killed in Al-Sireiha, one of the worst massacres since war between RSF and the Sudan Armed Forces broke out. Wad Madani is the capital of Gezira State.

The committee also said the RSF attacked the town of AlHilaliya in Eastern Gezira, resulting in civilian deaths, looting and the detention of many others. 

A telecommunications blackout, imposed on the area which the RSF still controls, has made it difficult to determine the exact death toll in affected areas. But local media reports show that RSF militiamen have attacked dozens of villages across eastern and northern Gezira since 20 October, taking hundreds for ransom, with ransom videos being posted to social media in the past two weeks.

In one, a militia, wearing a RSF uniform, threatens to execute the captive if a ransom is not paid. 

Videos of the aftermath of the violence in Al-Sireiha are also circulating on social media. 

One shows bodies shrouded in white garments on the ground as the recorder states, “These are the martyrs of Al-Sireiha — more than 100.” 

Sudanese who live abroad have also begun receiving devastating accounts of what happened to family members in Gezira.

Ola Labib learnt that the militiamen killed her non-verbal autistic cousin because he could not respond to their questions.

“His mother screamed that he can’t talk. They didn’t care. They beat him to death,” she said.

Other videos show large groups of displaced individuals on the move, including many children separated from their families.

According to the United Nations, more than 120 000 people fled the area as the militia attacks spread. Local media reports of a campaign of mass sexual violence by militia.

According to the Sudan Tribune, a local collective in Rufaa, eastern Gezira, says that up to 37 cases of rape were reported in the town over just five days. Some survivors say women in the attacked villages committed suicide by drowning, rather than be raped. 

These reports of sexual violence track with the findings of a wider UN investigation. In a report published on 23 October, the UN said the RSF and its allied militias have committed “widespread sexual and gender-based violence, rape, sexual slavery, abduction and recruitment and use of children in hostilities”. 

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It’s designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here.

 “I don’t know what happened … what might have led to us losing power,” said Slumber Tsogwane last Friday. Tsogwane chairs the Botswana Democratic Party (BDP), which has governed since independence. A humiliating defeat in last week’s parliamentary elections has ended its 58-year rule.

Tsogwane, like most other BDP MPs, has lost his seat. The party with the most seats in parliament appoints the president. With the BDP winning just three of the 61 seats, its leader President Mokgweetsi Masisi conceded defeat on Friday.

“President Masisi failed to hold the BDP together and failed to manage the country’s economic downturn … [and oversaw] an erosion of democratic principles,” said Pamela Dube, a gender and political activist in Gaborone.

The president-elect is human rights lawyer Duma Boko, leader of the United Democratic Congress, which won the 31 seats required to form a government. The UDC has promised to improve the country’s minimum wage, winning support among the youth. 

That promise would not have been credible coming from the BDP given that Masisi’s regime struggled to turn around the downturn triggered by a fall in global diamond prices.

The gems contribute up to 40% of Botswana’s revenue. As their sales slumped, so did the economy, driving unemployment to 27%.

The UDC promised to implement a new economic model focused on job creation and wealth-distribution plans to empower all citizens. 

Now it has to deliver on that because, as its new legislator Kgoborego Nakwane points out, “Many young people are struggling and a great percentage live off handouts from the government because there are no jobs.”

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It’s designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here.

“My employers left the house at 10am. The bombings started an hour later,” says Yanoko, who was working under the “kafala” system for a family in southern Lebanon.

Yanoko frantically called her employer, begging for help, but they didn’t return. Not even when a missile landed right outside the home they abandoned her in, she says. 

That was on 23 September, when the Israeli army began airstrikes in southern Lebanon. On that day alone, Israel killed 600 people and left thousands displaced. A month later, the fatalities had risen to at least 2 483 people, according to the Lebanese government. More than 1.2 million people have been displaced since October 2023.

Yanoko was eventually rescued by a fellow Burkinabè worker, Emmanuel. On his bicycle, they fled to a cramped apartment in Beirut’s Burj Hammoud, where other migrant workers had gathered. 

In most cases, this kind of mutual aid is all that there is for these workers.

Every evening since early October, Viany Nguemakoue has distributed food and toiletries to shelters and safe houses in Beirut. The Cameroonian citizen is part of a collective of volunteers supporting migrant workers who have either been left behind by their employers or lost their jobs since Israeli airstrikes started hitting southern Lebanon this year. 

Some are in informal shelters. Many others sleep on the streets. The need for help exceeds the support trickling in from voluntary donations by other migrant workers and online crowdfunding campaigns. 

“We still need a lot, but for the moment we are just doing our best to survive,” says Nguemakoue.

The former domestic worker turned seamstress is responding to the need through a WhatsApp group that now has nearly 200 migrant workers asking for help. Elsewhere, in a cramped shelter in Doura, a suburb northeast of Beirut, 33 women are sharing a cramped shelter. 

Some have severe injuries. They have little more than that.

“We don’t have enough food or water,” Aishatu John-Kamara says in a video note.

In the Burj Hammoud shelter, where Yanoko and her friend found refuge, mattresses lining the walls suggest a much larger household than can be fed by the meagre mound of food on a small table in the room.

The war-related displacement is compounded by problems caused by the controversial kafala labour system under which these workers are in Lebanon. It allows employers total control over migrant labourers and their legal status.

Many employers often confiscate the workers’ passports, and then treat them extremely poorly, knowing they can’t leave. Many leave anyway, but then can’t leave the country — even when the bombs fall from the sky. Instead, they shelter with each other in cramped quarters such as the ones in Doura and Burj Hammoud. 

This mistreatment has nurtured mutual aid traditions that the workers have turned to under the fire of a new threat. 

“Since the 1980s civil war, these communities have grown stronger and respond to emergencies by helping each other,” says Nofal Kareem, of the Anti-racism Movement in Lebanon. 

Delphine, a migrant worker from Côte d’Ivoire who has been in Lebanon since 1992, now spends her days helping displaced families, including migrant workers, at Saint Joseph’s Church in Beirut.

“Last week, we prepared meals for over a hundred people,” she says. 

Many migrant workers, previously seen as passive victims of the exploitative kafala system, are now rising to fight for their rights. Mariam Sesay from Sierra Leone is one of these voices.

“I once thought about ending my life. But now, I’m standing up to fight,” she said during a phone interview in August, before the conflict escalated. 

She came to Lebanon a decade ago, and endured years of abuse under the kafala system before running away from her employers, preferring to take her chances on the streets. With help from the migrant community, she turned her life around, and today, she is a social worker and advocate, pushing for the abolition of the kafala system.

“We are victims, but we can also fight for our rights,” Sesay says. 

She loves to cook and uses it both as a form of therapy and a way to share her culture. In the weeks before the Israeli war escalation, she was teaching cooking classes at The Great Oven, a community-based organisation in Beirut’s Geitawi neighbourhood.

The war has paused the classes but not the cooking. The Great Oven is now helping make food for displaced people.

Many terrified migrants want to return home. 

At the shelter in Doura, Sierra Leonean Mariatu Kargbo says: “If I had a way to get out of this right now, I would. This is not easy for some of us with medical conditions.” 

The 24-year-old says she suffers from a heart condition. She arrived in Lebanon in May, escaped her employers’ house after two months of what she describes as strenuous work conditions, and found other work as a cleaner at a bank.

The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) in Lebanon says it has received more than 700 new repatriation requests since the beginning of October. But attempts to leave are often complicated by the chaos of war and the legacy of the kafala system.

“A significant challenge is the limited operational capacity at Beirut’s airport due to the constrained availability of flights and the lack of dedicated funding to provide this support,” said IOM spokesperson Joe Lowry.

If the IOM were to wrangle the logistics, many migrants would not be able to immediately leave Lebanon.

“It’s been a very challenging situation because some do not have travel documentation and are unregistered,” says Chernor Bah, the minister of information for Sierra Leone. 

He says the Sierra Leonean government has issued 100 temporary travel documents for its citizens in Lebanon who needed evacuation.

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It’s designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here

But this October’s harvest is different — it’s the first time his crop has been legal. Hssisen, 32, is from Bab Berred, a small town in the Rif Mountains, which run along the Mediterranean coast. It’s one of the poorest regions of Morocco. 

With few economic alternatives, its farmers have grown illicit cannabis for generations. 

Morocco is famous for its kif, a finely chopped cannabis that is mixed with tobacco and smoked in a long pipe or rolled into a joint. Smoked recreationally, kif is still illegal. But Morocco has legalised cannabis for medicinal, industrial and cosmetic use and established a regulatory agency to oversee its production.

Last April, the country even unveiled a logo for approved cannabis products: a green marijuana leaf framed by a red emblem suggestive of the country’s flag. 

The kingdom wants to undercut drug traffickers and formalise the cannabis industry, which produced about 900 tonnes of resin in 2022. 

Morocco is one of the world’s top producers of cannabis, much of it making its way — discreetly — to Europe, by land and sea.

The state’s next challenge is to get its army of cannabis growers — including farmers like Hssisen — on board. That isn’t easy. Farmers are required to licence their farms and work with the pharmaceutical companies who will put the crops to legal use. That means following new regulations — and paying taxes.

According to the interior ministry’s latest figures, about 760 000 Moroccans depend on cannabis production for their livelihoods or more than 2% of the population. Most are in the underdeveloped Rif region, historically a flashpoint for uprisings fuelled by the area’s marginalisation. 

Many farmers are suspicious about working with the state. Many worry it will come at their expense. 

“What I fear is that the profits will go to the state, the labs, the multinationals and we’ll be left behind,” said Mohammed Amjirir, a farmer in his sixties who grows cannabis in the beachside town of Al Hoceima. 

Hssisen is giving it a go. He has partnered with a company in Tangiers that is using cannabis in producing pharmaceutical products. He also heads the Ben Amr Co-operative for Cannabis Legalisation. 

“We’re cultivating Beldyia, a strain that doesn’t require irrigation. Currently, we have nearly 14 hectares planted and are employing 15 small farmers,” said Hssisen.

“Farmers were initially afraid that the government would stop cannabis cultivation, so they were hesitant to comply with the new procedures. However, when they saw the positive results from other co-operatives, they began to feel optimistic and started to work legally.”

Cannabis is typically planted in April and May, as the weather warms, and harvested in September and October.

In 2023, Morocco’s first legal harvest yielded 294 tonnes. This year, output is expected to be much higher, with 10 times as much land cultivated with licensed cannabis — roughly   2 700 hectares, according to the regulator. In comparison, roughly 55 000 hectares were grown illegally in 2019, the latest figures available.

Even among farmers who are keen, the legalisation drive still comes with snags. Farmers are required to prove ownership of their land if they want to get licensed but many of them say their land is inherited and there’s simply no documentation.

Some farmers say they can make more money selling the illegal stuff. One key benefit of legalisation is that it gives farmers legal protection, said Driss Anouar Boutazamat, a cannabis researcher at the Université Sultan Moulay Slimane Béni Mellal.

“They are now legally recognised and no longer forced to operate in the shadows,” he said. “This change is significant, especially with the royal pardon granted to farmers who, for years, lived in fear of arrest and could not trade freely.” 

Published in collaboration with Egab.

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It’s designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here

Chapo’s incoming presidency means that Frelimo, the country’s liberation movement that has led Mozambique since independence in 1975, will continue its uninterrupted run.

According to the electoral commission’s result, Chapo beat the first runner-up, Venȃncio Mondlane, by more than 3.5 million votes and the second runner-up, Ossufo Momade, the candidate of the largest opposition party Renamo, by nearly 4.5 million.

The opposition candidates and their supporters strongly disagree. Days after the election, Mondlane (or VM7 as he calls himself) live streamed from Facebook and YouTube to say that his team’s parallel count showed he had won the election. He then called for a day of boycott because official preliminary results showed Chapo in the lead. On 14 October, Maputo was a ghost town, with many staying away either to heed VM7’s call or steer clear of the likely chaos. 

The Confederation of Economic Associations says that in most cities and provinces, business slumped by 50% and estimates that the Mozambican economy lost more than 1.4 billion meticais (nearly $22 million).

The tensions escalated into nationwide riots on 17 and 18 October, in which at least six people died: two policemen and four civilians. Then on that Friday night, and on one of Maputo’s main avenues, two key figures in the election were shot at close range and killed — Mondlane’s deputy and lawyer Elvino Dias and Paulo Guambe, the deputy leader of Podemos, a political party that endorsed Mondlane.

 “It was very fast and extremely violent,” Rafael Anastacio, said an eyewitness. The killings echoed the 2015 gunning down of Franco-Mozambican constitutionalist Gilles Cistac. 

He had publicly argued that Renamo should govern the provinces where it had beaten Frelimo in the 2014 elections. He was shot dead outside a café in a chic area of Maputo. Renamo and Podemos say they will challenge Thursday’s result before the Constitutional Council, Mozambique’s electoral court. 

This article first appeared in The Continent, the pan-African weekly newspaper produced in partnership with the Mail & Guardian. It’s designed to be read and shared on WhatsApp. Download your free copy here