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Kwibuka 30: Rwanda Marks The 30th Commemoration of The 1994 Genocide Against The Tutsi

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By Dolapo Aina

The 30th Commemoration of the 1994 Genocide Against The Tutsi commenced in Rwanda on April 7, 2024. Sunday, April 7th 2024 was a solemn and quiet day in Rwanda. The day was coupled with intermittent rain showers. This year, Rwanda planned a series of memorial events with the theme ‘Remember-Unite-Renew’. As the commemoration week begins on 7 April 2024, similar ceremonies will take place throughout the globe. The commemoration activities included a flame of remembrance which was lit by the President of Rwanda, President Paul Kagame, at the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Gizosi (one of four memorial sites which the Government of Rwanda had been presented with certificates; confirming that the monuments of the Genocide against The Tutsi have been included in the UNESCO World Heritage Sites.) The others are the Genocide Memorials in Nyamata, Bisesero and Murambi. The flame will burn for the next 100 days as Rwanda commemorates the 1994 Genocide Against The Tutsi.

The commencement of this year’s 30th commemoration was quite different from previous commencements which this writer had witnessed since 2014. The significance of the 30th year of the Genocide Against The Tutsi was not lost on anyone who attended the official events, who partook in one form or the other and those who watched from home or online.

More than twenty current and past Heads of State from across the globe, African Union and European Union leaders, Ambassadors and many more prominent leaders were in Rwanda for the commemoration and in attendance.

A survivor Mrs Marie Louise Ayinkamiye, who gave a testimony of her ordeal as an eleven year old child. Her ordeal was harrowing to have been experienced and harrowing to listen to. The practising Christian, a mother of five was 11 years old in 1994 and as a child who is also 11 years old. When she concluded her story, the auditorium at the arena was silent and you could see teary eyes.

Something about this commemoration was different. At the 30th commemoration of the 1994 Genocide against The Tutsi, Genocide survivors recalled the atrocities they experienced with their family members and loved ones. And when you interact with people, they remember everything that occurred during the 100 days like they happened just yesterday.

Some dignitaries were on the podium to speak. President Paul Kagame in his speech stated that Rwanda learnt three key lessons from its experience: “First, only we as Rwandans and Africans can give full value to our lives. After all, we cannot ask others to value African lives more highly than we ourselves do. That is the root of our duty to preserve memory and tell our history as we lived it. Second, never wait for rescue, or ask for permission to do what is right to protect people. That is why some people must be joking when they threaten us with all kinds of things, they don’t know what they are talking about. In any case, that is why Rwanda participates proudly in peacekeeping operations today, and also extends assistance to African brothers and sisters bilaterally when asked. Third, stand firm against the politics of ethnic populism in any form. Genocide is populism in its purified form.”

As stated by Kwibuka’s site: “This year’s historic anniversary is an opportunity for Rwandans and the rest of the world to honour victims, comfort survivors, and reflect on Rwanda’s journey of recovery, reconciliation, and resilience, with national unity at the core of the country’s stability and progress.”

The full excerpts of the speech by President Paul Kagame

Today, our hearts are filled with grief and gratitude in equal measure. We remember our dead, and are also grateful for what Rwanda has become. To the survivors among us, we are in your debt. We asked you to do the impossible by carrying the burden of reconciliation on your shoulders. And you continue to do the impossible for our nation, every single day, and we thank you. As the years pass, the descendants of survivors increasingly struggle with the quiet loneliness of longing for relatives they never met, or never even got the chance to be born. Today, we are thinking of you as well. Our tears flow inward, but we carry on, as a family. Countless Rwandans also resisted the call to genocide. Some paid the ultimate price for that courage, and we honour their memory.

Our journey has been long and tough. Rwanda was completely humbled by the magnitude of our loss, and the lessons we learned are engraved in blood. But the tremendous progress of our country is plain to see, and it is the result of the choices we made together to resurrect our nation.
The foundation of everything is unity. That was the first choice: to believe in the idea of a reunited Rwanda, and live accordingly. The second choice was to reverse the arrow of accountability, which used to point outwards, beyond our borders. Now, we are accountable to each other, above all. Most importantly, we chose to think beyond the horizon of tragedy, and become a people with a future.

Today, we also feel a particular gratitude to all the friends and representatives here with us from around the world. We are deeply honoured by your presence alongside us on this very heavy day. The contributions you have made to Rwanda’s rebirth are enormous, and have helped us to stand where we are now. I want to recognize a few, while also asking for forgiveness for not being able to mention all who deserve it.
For example, Uganda, which carried the burden of Rwanda’s internal problems for so many years, and was even blamed for that. The leadership and the people of Ethiopia and Eritrea helped us in starting to rebuild at that time. In fact, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, who is here, even served as a young peacekeeper in the immediate aftermath of the Genocide Against The Tutsi. Kenya, Burundi, and the Democratic Republic of Congo hosted large numbers of Rwandan refugees, and gave them a home. Tanzania did as well, and also played a unique role at many critical points, including hosting and facilitating the Arusha peace process. And here I must single out the late President Julius Nyerere who embodied the spirit which laid that foundation. The Republic of Congo has been a productive partner in rebuilding, and more. Many of the countries represented here today also sent their sons and daughters to serve as peacekeepers in Rwanda. Those soldiers did not fail Rwanda; it was the international community which failed all of us, whether from contempt or cowardice.

Among those here with us today, I salute the widow and daughter of the late Captain Mbaye Diagne of Senegal, who died a hero as he rescued many Rwandans from death. At the United Nations Security Council in 1994, moral clarity came from Nigeria, the Czech Republic, and even as far away as New Zealand. Their ambassadors had the courage to call the Genocide by its rightful name, and resist political pressure from more powerful countries to hide the truth. Ambassador Ibrahim Gambari of Nigeria and Czech Ambassador Karel Kovanda are here with us today, and we applaud you. Even in countries where government policy was on the wrong side of history, both during the Genocide and even afterwards, there were always individuals who stood out for their honesty and humanity. We shall always be grateful.

We also appreciate the tangible support we have received from partners beyond our Continent over the past thirty years, in Europe, the United States, Asia, and many international organizations and philanthropies. A notable example of solidarity came to us from South Africa, one among many. Indeed, the entire arc of our Continent’s hopes and agonies could be seen in those few months of 1994. As South Africa ended apartheid and elected Nelson Mandela president, in Rwanda the last genocide of the 20th century was being carried out. The new South Africa paid for Cuban doctors to help rebuild our shattered health system, and opened up its universities to Rwandan students, paying only local fees. Among the hundreds of students who benefitted from South Africa’s generosity, some were orphaned survivors; others were the children of perpetrators; and many were neither. Most have gone on to become leaders in our country in different fields. Today, they live a completely new life.

What lessons have really been learned about the nature of Genocide, and the value of life? I want to share a personal story which I usually keep to myself.

My cousin, in fact a sister, Florence, worked for the United Nations Development Programme in Rwanda for more than fifteen years. After the Genocide started, she was trapped in her house near the Camp Kigali army barracks, with her niece, and other children and neighbours, around a dozen people in total. The telephone in Florence’s house still worked, and I called her several times using my satellite phone. Each time we spoke, she was more desperate. But our forces could not reach the area. When the commander of the U.N. peacekeeping mission, General Dallaire, visited me where I was in Mulindi, I asked him to rescue Florence. He said he would try. The last time I talked to her, I asked her if anyone had come. She said no, and started crying. Then she said, “Paul, you should stop trying to save us. We don’t want to live anymore anyway.” And she hung up.

At that time, I had a very strong heart. But it weakened a bit, because I understood what she was trying to tell me. On the morning of May 16th, following a month of torture, they were all killed, except for one niece, who managed to escape, thanks to a good neighbour. It later emerged that a Rwandan working at the UNDP betrayed his Tutsi colleagues to the killers. Witnesses remember him celebrating Florence’s murder the night after the attack. He continued his career with the United Nations for many years, even after evidence implicating him emerged. He is still a free man, now living in France. I asked General Dallaire what had happened. He said that his soldiers encountered a militia roadblock near the house, and so they turned back, just like that.

Meanwhile, he conveyed to me an order from the United States ambassador to protect diplomats and foreign civilians evacuating by road to Burundi from attack by the militias. These two things happened at the same time. I did not need to be instructed to do something that goes without saying. That’s what I was going to do. I do not blame General Dallaire. He is a good man who did the best that could be done in the worst conditions imaginable, and who has consistently borne witness to the truth, despite the personal cost. Nevertheless, in the contrast between the two cases, I took note of the value that is attached to different shades of life.

In 1994, all Tutsi were supposed to be completely exterminated, once and for all, because the killings that had forced me, and hundreds of thousands of others, into exile three decades before, had not been sufficiently thorough. That is why even babies were systematically murdered, so they would not grow up to become fighters. Rwandans will never understand why any country would remain intentionally vague about who was targeted in the Genocide. I don’t understand that. Such ambiguity is, in fact, a form of denial, which is a crime in and of itself, and Rwanda will always challenge it.

When the genocidal forces fled to Zaire, now called the Democratic Republic of Congo, in July 1994, with the support of their external backers, they vowed to reorganize and return to complete the Genocide. They conducted hundreds of cross-border terrorist attacks inside Rwanda over the next five years, targeting not only survivors, but also other Rwandans who had refused to go into exile, claiming thousands more lives. The remnants of those forces are still in eastern Congo today, where they enjoy state support, in full view of the United Nations peacekeepers. Their objectives have not changed, and the only reason this group, today known as FDLR, has not been disbanded, is because their continued existence serves some unspoken interest. As a result, hundreds of thousands of Congolese Tutsi refugees live here in our country in Rwanda, and beyond, completely forgotten, with no programme of action for their safe return.

Have we really learned any lessons? We see too many actors, even some from Africa, getting directly involved as tribal politics is given renewed prominence, and ethnic cleansing is prepared and practiced. What has happened to us? Is this the Africa we want to live in? Is this the kind of world we want? Rwanda’s tragedy is a warning. The process of division and extremism which leads to Genocide can happen anywhere, if left unchecked.

Throughout history, survivors of mass atrocities are always expected to be quiet, to censor themselves, or else be erased and even blamed for their own misfortune. Their testimony is living evidence of complicity, and it unsettles the fictions which comfort the enablers and the bystanders. The more Rwanda takes full responsibility for its own safety and dignity, the more intensely the established truth about the Genocide is questioned and revised. Over time, in the media controlled by the powerful in this world, victims are rebranded as villains, and even this very moment of commemoration is derided as a mere political tactic.

It is not. It never has been. Our reaction to such hypocrisy is pure disgust. We commemorate because those lives mattered to us. Rwandans cannot afford to be indifferent to the root causes of Genocide. We will always pay maximum attention, even if we are alone. But what we are seeking is solidarity and partnership to recognize and confront these threats together, as a global community.

I will tell you another story. One night, in the latter days of the Genocide, I received a surprise visit past midnight from General Dallaire. He brought a written message, of which I still have a copy, from the French general commanding the force that France had just deployed in the western part of our country, Operation Turquoise. The message said that we would pay a heavy price if our forces dared to try to capture the town of Butare, in the southern part of our country. General Dallaire gave me some additional advice, in fact he warned me that the French had attack helicopters, and every kind of heavy weapon you can imagine, and therefore were prepared to use them against us if we did not comply. I asked Dallaire whether French soldiers bleed the same way ours do; whether we have blood in our bodies. Then I thanked him, and told him he should just go and get some rest and sleep, after informing the French that our response would follow.

And it did. I immediately radioed the commander of the forces we had in that area, he is called Fred Ibingira, and told him to get ready to move. And move to fight. We took Butare at dawn. Within weeks, the entire country had been secured, and we began rebuilding. We did not have the kind of arms that were being used to threaten us, but I reminded some people that this is our land, this is our country. Those who bleed will bleed on it. We had lost all fear. Each challenge or indignity just made us stronger. After the Genocide, we faced the puzzle of how to prevent it from recurring. There were three broad lessons we learned as result of our experiences.

First, only we as Rwandans and Africans can give full value to our lives. After all, we cannot ask others to value African lives more highly than we ourselves do. That is the root of our duty to preserve memory and tell our history as we lived it.
Second, never wait for rescue, or ask for permission to do what is right to protect people. That is why some people must be joking when they threaten us with all kinds of things, they don’t know what they are talking about. In any case, that is why Rwanda participates proudly in peacekeeping operations today, and also extends assistance to African brothers and sisters bilaterally when asked.

Third, stand firm against the politics of ethnic populism in any form. Genocide is populism in its purified form. Because the causes are political, the remedies must be as well. For that reason, our politics is not organized on the basis of ethnicity or religion, and it never will be again.
The life of my generation has been a recurring cycle of Genocidal violence in thirty-year intervals, from the early 1960s, to 1994, to the signs we see in our region today in 2024. Only a new generation of young people has the ability to renew and redeem a nation after a Genocide. Our job was to provide the space and the tools for them to break the cycle.

And they have. What gives us hope and confidence are the children we saw in the performance earlier, or the youth who created the tradition of Walk to Remember that will occur later today. Nearly three-quarters of Rwandans today are under age 35. They either have no memory of the Genocide, or were not yet born. Our youth are the guardians of our future and the foundation of our unity, with a mindset that is totally different from the generation before. Today, it is all Rwandans who have conquered fear. Nothing can be worse than what we have already experienced. This is a nation of 14 million people, who are ready to confront any attempt to take us backwards.

The Rwandan story shows how much power human beings have within them. Whatever power you do have, you might as well use it to tell the truth and do what is right. During the Genocide, people were sometimes given the option of paying for a less painful death. There is another story I learned about at the time, which always sticks in my mind, about a woman at a roadblock, in her final moments. She left us a lesson that every African should live by. When asked by the killers how she wanted to die, she looked them in the eye, and spat in their face.

Today, because of the accident of survival, our only choice is what life we want to live. Our people will never and I mean, never be left for dead again. I thank you.

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Who Gets the Blame When Opportunities Disappear? The South Africa Example

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By Anjorin Fehintola Stella

As South Africa approaches June 30, the date set by certain anti-immigrant groups as deadline for undocumented migrants to leave the country, tensions surrounding immigration have once again captured national and international attention. These groups have argued forcefully and publicly that foreigners are responsible for rising unemployment, escalating crime, and increasing pressure on already overstretched public services such as hospitals, schools, and housing. The debate has sparked strong and deeply divided reactions across the continent, raising urgent concerns about xenophobia, social cohesion, human rights, and the future of African unity at a time when continental cooperation has never been more necessary.

Yet beneath the headlines and the heated rhetoric lies a deeper and more unsettling question; Why do immigrants so often become targets during periods of economic and social uncertainty? And what does the persistence of this pattern tell us about how societies respond when the gap between expectation and reality becomes too painful to confront honestly?

The current tensions in South Africa are not simply about immigration. They reflect broader and far more complex struggles over identity, opportunity, belonging, and the distribution of scarce resources in a society still grappling with the deep and unresolved legacies of apartheid and structural inequality. To reduce the debate to a question of who should or should not be in the country is to miss what is truly at stake, both for South Africa and for the wider African continent.

Throughout history, societies facing economic hardship have repeatedly searched for visible and identifiable groups to blame for problems that are in reality deeply structural and systemic. This is not a uniquely South African phenomenon. It is a recurring pattern in human social behaviour that has appeared across cultures, continents, and centuries. In post-World War One Germany, economic devastation and national humiliation were channelled into blame directed at Jewish communities, with catastrophic consequences. In the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis, rising unemployment across parts of Europe fuelled hostility toward immigrant communities in countries including Greece, Hungary, and the United Kingdom. In the United States, periods of economic contraction have historically coincided with surges in anti-immigrant sentiment directed at whichever group happened to be most recently arrived and most visibly different from the majority. The pattern is consistent, when jobs become scarce, living costs rise, and opportunities diminish, frustration seeks an outlet, and that outlet is rarely the complex institutional and policy failures that actually caused the hardship.

This phenomenon is commonly and usefully referred to as scapegoating. Rather than confronting the structural causes of social and economic challenges, which are difficult to understand, slow to change, and rarely produce a satisfying emotional response, public frustration is redirected toward groups that are politically vulnerable, socially distinct, and easy to identify. Immigrants fit this profile in almost every society where they are present in significant numbers. They look different, speak differently, worship differently, and occupy a social position that makes them easy to portray as outsiders who do not belong and therefore do not deserve the resources they are perceived to be consuming.

South Africa’s situation reflects many of these dynamics with particular intensity, shaped by a history that makes its current crisis both understandable and deeply tragic.

Despite being one of Africa’s most industrialized and developed economies, South Africa continues to experience some of the highest levels of unemployment on the continent and indeed in the world. Official unemployment figures have consistently exceeded thirty percent in recent years, with youth unemployment reaching even more alarming levels. Economic inequality, as measured by the Gini coefficient, remains among the highest of any country on earth. Millions of South African citizens continue to live in poverty, in informal settlements without adequate sanitation or electricity, with limited access to quality healthcare, education, and economic opportunity. These are not new problems. They are the accumulated product of centuries of colonial exploitation and decades of apartheid, a system that was specifically designed to concentrate wealth, land, and opportunity in the hands of a small racial minority while deliberately excluding the majority from the formal economy.

For many South Africans, the promise of economic transformation that accompanied the end of apartheid in 1994 and the dawn of democracy remains painfully and visibly unfulfilled. While political freedom was achieved, and while the legal architecture of racial discrimination was dismantled, economic inclusion has proven far more difficult and far slower to realize. Land remains heavily concentrated. Corporate ownership remains skewed. Access to capital, education, and professional networks continues to reflect the inequalities of the past. This disconnect between the political promises of liberation and the economic realities of daily life has contributed to growing frustration and disillusionment, particularly among younger South Africans who were born after apartheid ended and who cannot understand why freedom has not yet translated into opportunity.

In such an environment, immigrants often become symbols of broader anxieties that have little to do with immigration itself. Many foreign nationals living in South Africa come from Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Somalia, Ethiopia, and other parts of the continent. They operate small businesses in townships and urban centers, work in informal sectors, provide services, and seek economic opportunities that are unavailable or severely constrained in their home countries. Their presence within local communities creates visibility. And that visibility, in a context of scarcity and frustration, can generate the perception that they are taking jobs, occupying business spaces, or accessing services that rightfully belong to citizens.

This perception, however, frequently diverges significantly from the evidence. Research on the economic impact of immigration in South Africa and elsewhere consistently shows that immigrants do not simply take jobs from citizens. They also create jobs, start businesses that employ local workers, fill skills gaps in sectors where domestic supply is insufficient, and contribute to local economies through their spending, taxation, and economic activity. A Nigerian shopkeeper in a township is not stealing an opportunity from a South African. In many cases, that shopkeeper has created a service, employed assistants, and provided affordable goods in a community that was previously underserved. The relationship between immigration and unemployment is complex, contested among economists, and cannot be reduced to the simple arithmetic of more people competing for fewer jobs.

Consider, for example, the experience of a Zimbabwean trader who crossed into South Africa after Zimbabwe’s economic collapse in the late 2000s. Having lost his savings and his livelihood to hyperinflation and political instability, he arrived with little more than skills and determination. Over years of persistent effort, he built a small clothing stall, then a shop, then a small enterprise employing three South African workers. He pays rent to a South African landlord, buys stock from South African suppliers, and contributes to the local economy in ways that are invisible in anti-immigrant rhetoric but very real in the daily life of his community. His story is not exceptional. It is representative of countless immigrants whose contributions are routinely overlooked in debates that reduce their presence to a threat.

The reality is that unemployment, poverty, and inequality in South Africa cannot be meaningfully explained by immigration. These challenges are the product of historical dispossession, inadequate education infrastructure, insufficient investment in skills development, failures of governance and service delivery, and the structural features of an economy that has not succeeded in creating opportunities fast enough to absorb its growing population. These are the real causes of South Africa’s economic distress. They are difficult to address, require sustained political will, and do not lend themselves to simple solutions or satisfying emotional narratives.

However, complex explanations rarely generate the same emotional response as simple ones. When people experience prolonged hardship, when they watch their children go hungry, when they cannot afford school fees or medical care, when they have applied for jobs repeatedly and been rejected, the desire for immediate and identifiable answers becomes overwhelming. In that state of distress, a narrative that points to a visible group of outsiders as the source of the problem offers something that structural analysis cannot, a clear villain and the emotional relief of righteous anger. This is not a failure of intelligence. It is a very human response to pain. But it is a response that, when translated into policy or action, produces injustice rather than solutions.

The consequences of xenophobic sentiment extend far beyond those who are directly targeted. When anti-immigrant hostility becomes normalized in public discourse, it weakens the social trust upon which functioning communities depend. It creates fear and suspicion where cooperation and mutual support are needed. It divides communities along lines of origin and nationality at precisely the moment when shared challenges require collective response. In South Africa, where the wounds of racial division already run deep, the addition of nationality-based hostility adds another layer of fracture to a society that is still in the long process of healing.

For the immigrants themselves, the impact of this hostility can be devastating and sometimes fatal. South Africa has experienced multiple episodes of deadly xenophobic violence over the past two decades, including the widespread attacks of 2008 in which over sixty people were killed, and subsequent outbreaks in 2015 and beyond. Shops and homes were looted and burned. Families were displaced. People who had built lives over years lost everything in days. Many of those targeted had lived in South Africa for decades, raised children there, built businesses, and considered it home. In moments of mob violence, none of that mattered. What mattered was that they were perceived as foreign.

The South African experience raises uncomfortable but necessary questions about African solidarity and the meaning of continental unity in practice. Africa has a long and rich tradition of intra-continental migration. People have moved across the continent in search of pasture, trade, education, employment, and safety for thousands of years. These movements have contributed to cultural exchange, the spread of knowledge, economic growth, and the complex and vibrant diversity that characterizes African societies today. The idea that Africans should be hostile to other Africans seeking opportunity within the continent sits in painful tension with the values of solidarity and shared humanity that African political and cultural traditions have long celebrated.

As African countries continue to pursue greater economic and political cooperation through frameworks such as the African Continental Free Trade Area, which envisions the free movement of goods, services, and eventually people across the continent, the challenge will be to translate those institutional commitments into genuine cultural and social acceptance at the community level. Trade agreements and policy frameworks matter enormously. But they cannot achieve their full potential in societies where ordinary people view fellow Africans as threats rather than as partners and neighbors.

None of this means that governments should ignore legitimate concerns about border management or the pressures placed on public services by large-scale immigration. Every sovereign nation has both the right and the responsibility to manage its borders and regulate the flow of people entering its territory. Immigration policy is a legitimate area of governance, and there are real and valid questions about how to ensure that public services are adequately funded to serve growing populations, how to manage informal settlements, and how to create pathways to legal status for long-term residents. These are proper subjects for policy debate and democratic deliberation. However, there is a fundamental and morally significant difference between addressing immigration through careful, rights-respecting policy and assigning blame for complex, historically rooted societal problems to people who had nothing to do with creating them.

The current debate in South Africa serves as a sobering reminder that economic hardship tests the strength of social order in ways that prosperity rarely does. It reveals how quickly frustration can be redirected toward those perceived as different, and how easily social divisions can deepen when the competition for scarce resources becomes acute. It also reveals the critical importance of leadership in such moments. When political leaders and public figures validate scapegoating narratives for short-term political gain, they legitimize hostility and make violence more likely. When they speak honestly about structural causes and call for solidarity, they create space for more constructive responses. The role of leadership in shaping how societies respond to economic stress cannot be overstated.

Media also bears significant responsibility in these moments. The way immigration is framed in news coverage, in social media discourse, and in public commentary shapes how ordinary people understand the issue and where they direct their frustration. Reporting that reduces immigrants to numbers and threats, that amplifies the most extreme anti-immigrant voices without context or counter-narrative, and that fails to humanize the people at the center of the debate contributes to the very climate of hostility that makes violence possible. Responsible journalism on migration requires not only accuracy but empathy and context.

Ultimately, the question confronting South Africa is larger than immigration itself. It is about how societies respond when expectations collide painfully with reality, when the promises of the past remain unfulfilled in the present, and when the future looks uncertain. Do they find the political courage and social will to confront the structural challenges that limit opportunity and perpetuate inequality? Or do they retreat into the easier and more emotionally satisfying path of finding groups to blame? History offers a sobering and consistent lesson. When opportunities disappear, someone is almost always held responsible. The real measure of a society’s maturity, its justice, and its humanity lies in whether it has the honesty and the courage to ensure that blame does not become a substitute for solutions. For South Africa, and for many societies navigating similar pressures across the world, the path forward will not be found in the targeting of the vulnerable. It will be found in the difficult, unglamorous, and absolutely necessary work of addressing the deeper inequalities and structural failures that give rise to public frustration in the first place. That work cannot wait, and it cannot be avoided. The people living at the sharp edge of these tensions, both citizens and immigrants alike, deserve nothing less.

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What’s the Proof That Bandit Kingpin’s Mother, Sister Got 40-Years Combined Jail Term?

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By Ekunode Ayomipo Jolaoluwa

A claim circulating online alleging that the mother and sister of a notorious bandit kingpin were sentenced to 40 years imprisonment for aiding terrorism activities has continued to generate public interest and reactions.

A review of the claim shows that Nigeria’s security agencies and judicial authorities have, in recent years, intensified efforts to dismantle criminal networks by targeting not only suspected bandits and terrorists but also individuals accused of providing logistical, financial or operational support to such groups. This approach forms part of broader efforts to curb insecurity across affected regions of the country.

However, despite the widespread circulation of the claim, available information does not provide sufficient evidence to independently confirm that the individuals depicted in the image were convicted and sentenced to a combined 40-year jail term for terrorism-related offences. No official court documents, statements from relevant authorities, or verifiable judicial records were readily available to substantiate the specific details presented in the image.

The absence of key information, including the identities of the accused persons, the location of the trial, the date of conviction, and the court that allegedly handed down the sentence, makes it difficult to establish the authenticity of the claim. Such details are critical in verifying reports of criminal convictions, particularly in cases involving terrorism and national security.

Experts in media verification advise that claims relating to criminal prosecutions should be supported by official records and credible sources before being accepted as factual. Without such supporting evidence, there remains a possibility that the information may have been presented without adequate context or may be inaccurate.

While the Nigerian government has maintained a firm stance against terrorism, banditry and related crimes, and courts have handed down significant penalties in proven cases, the specific claim regarding the alleged conviction of a bandit kingpin’s mother and sister could not be independently verified at the time of this review.

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Shalina Healthcare Launches Franchise Drive to Bridge Nigeria’s Diagnostics Testing Services’ Gap

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At a landmark two-day summit in Abuja, Africa’s fastest-growing diagnostics chain unveiled a hub-and-spoke franchise model promising a bold target of 500 Points of Care across Nigeria in next 3 years.                           

Nigeria is losing more than one million citizens every year — not to untreatable disease, but to a healthcare system that cannot tell patients what is wrong with them in time. That is the stark figure Shalina Diagnostics placed before an audience of pharmacists, doctors, clinic operators, and investors gathered this week in Abuja for the company’s inaugural Franchise Partners Meet.

The event, spanning two days at the nation’s capital, marked the most public and ambitious statement yet from a company that three years ago set out to do what no pan-African private operator has managed: build a standardised, affordable, technology-backed chain of diagnostic laboratories across Nigeria, and eventually across the continent.

Speaking to delegates, Shalina Diagnostics CEO Mr. Nalin Singla framed the problem in three simple facts: there are not enough labs; the premium chains that do exist are priced out of reach for the common man; and local labs lack the trust, the consistency, and the fast turnaround that patients and clinicians depend on.

“One million-plus Nigerians die every year due to lack of quality and timely testing. This is a problem the market cannot ignore.”

– Abbas Virji, MD, Shalina Healthcare

The company’s answer is a hub-and-spoke model it based on 3 pillars : Quality, Affordability, Availability. Under the model, franchise partners operate small patient-facing collection centres and labs, gathering samples which are then processed at Shalina’s central reference laboratories equipped with advanced diagnostic technology. Results are returned electronically with agreed turnaround times.

Shalina Healthcare Managing Director Mr. Abbas Virji, who first conceived the diagnostics arm after COVID-19 exposed the country’s testing deficit, told the summit that the network effect of scale is the key to making affordability sustainable. “By having more collection points and more scale, we can achieve lower prices for testing. The power of the community coming together, having one system — that is how we solve this.”

A BUSINESS CASE BUILT FOR ENTREPRENEURS 

For aspiring franchise partners, the numbers Shalina presented were designed to dispel the notion that healthcare is an expensive sector to enter. A collection centre can pay back within three months and a full-service satellite lab achieves payback within six months, with the potential to scale as the network grows.

 

“You bring the location. We bring the lab. That is the entire model.”

  • Nalin Singla, CEO, Shalina Diagnostics

A 27-YEAR LEGACY THAT COMMANDS TRUST 

Shalina Diagnostics does not arrive in Nigeria as an unknown quantity. Shalina Diagnostics is a company launched by Shalina Healthcare, a group that has been manufacturing and distributing medicines across Africa for more than four decades, operating in 18 countries with 108 distribution depots on the continent. In Nigeria alone, the parent company has been present for 27 years, touching the lives of 40% Nigerians through 17,000 healthcare professionals, running a one-billion-tablet factory in Lagos, and more than 150 products registered with NAFDAC. The diagnostics business, now three years old, already has over 30 locations in 4 countries.

Ms. Opeyemi Akinyele, Managing Director of Shalina Healthcare Nigeria, told the summit that the diagnostics expansion is a natural extension of a mission the company has pursued since 1999. “We are anchored in three pillars — Quality, Affordability, Availability — and we are committed to delivering better health outcomes for every Nigerian.”

The company counts household names among its Nigerian pharmaceutical brands — Shal’Artem, Ibucap, Germol, Epiderm — and has  earned the trust of the Pharmaceutical council of Nigeria and the Nigerian Medical Association, while the manufacturing facility has earned the commendation of NAFDAC & The House Committee onAIDS, TB and Malaria (ATM). That institutional credibility, the company argues, is something no start-up franchise competitor can replicate.

THE SCIENCE CASE: WHY DIAGNOSTICS CANNOT WAIT 

The clinical argument for the summit was made by Dr. S.A. Sani, Associate Professor of Surgery and Consultant Surgeon at the University of Abuja Teaching Hospital, who laid out in unambiguous terms why access to diagnostics is not a luxury but a prerequisite for modern medicine. “Diagnostics affect approximately 70 percent of all healthcare decision-making,” Dr. Sani told delegates. “They guide prevention, screening, treatment, and monitoring. Without them, clinicians are flying blind.”

Article contributed by Vincent Ikuomola, a health correspondent based in Abuja

 

Photo: From left: Chief Operating Officer Shalina Diagnostics, Mr. Gaurav Bahl, MD Shalina Healthcare Nigeria, Opeyemi Akinyele, Global Head Commercial, Shalina Diagnostics, Jayant Rajani, Group Managing Director, Shalina Healthcare, Mr. Abbas Virji, Chief Executive Officer Shalina Diagnostics, Mr. Nalin Singla and Country Head, Shalina Diagnostics, Manoj Walia, during the day 2 of Shalina Diagnostics Franchisee meeting in Abuja Tuesday Photo

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