It was a regular day at my daughter’s school, and I found myself in a parent-teacher meeting. As the discussions wrapped up, my eyes wandered to the walls, where artwork and projects from students were proudly displayed. One particular corner caught my attention_ a collection of images meant to depict life in Africa, Kenya to be precise.
The first picture showed a group of children, wide-eyed, thin, and barefoot, standing in what looked like a dusty slum. Beneath it, in bold letters, the caption read: “Die Slum.” Another image showed older people sitting in what seemed like makeshift shelters, with hollow expressions that hinted at suffering.
I froze, staring at these images. It wasn’t the photos themselves; they weren’t false, after all. Slums exist in Africa, as they do in many parts of the world. But the problem was this: that was all they chose to show.
In that moment, I couldn’t help but think about how these images shape perceptions. For the children in this classroom, these pictures might become their entire understanding of Africa. They might grow up believing it’s nothing more than slums, poverty, and struggle.
I was reminded of a question my daughter once faced in school: “Wow, you speak such good English! But how? You’re from Africa.” She laughed it off at the time, but the undertone of surprise wasn’t lost on her… or on me. It’s the same surprise fueled by images like the ones on the wall.
What bothered me wasn’t just the misrepresentation; it was the lack of balance. Yes, there are slums in Africa. Yes, poverty exists. But that’s not the whole story. Where were the pictures of Nairobi’s skyline or Lagos’s bustling markets? Where were the images of children thriving, communities innovating, or landscapes that take your breath away?
The Story We’re Told vs. Reality
It made me think of my own experience with assumptions. Growing up, I had this glossy image of Miami, Florida, thanks to music videos and TV shows. I pictured white sandy beaches, palm trees and endless glamour. Will Smith’s “Welcome to Miami” had painted a perfect postcard in my head.
But when I finally visited Miami a few years ago for a holiday, reality hit me like a wave. Sure, there were parts of the city that matched the picture I had in mind, but there was also another side… gritty streets, unkempt neighbourhoods, and areas that looked far from the paradise I’d imagined.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my time there. But it was a wake-up call about how powerful a single narrative can be. It made me realize that when we only focus on one side of a story, we risk creating false perceptions, ones that can stick with people for years.
And that’s the real issue with those images on the school wall. They weren’t lying, but they weren’t telling the truth either (not the full truth). Africa is not a monolith. It’s a continent of fifty-four countries, each with its own unique stories, cultures, and realities. Yes, there are slums in Kenya, but there are also tech hubs in Nairobi, wildlife safaris in the Maasai Mara, and communities full of laughter, resilience, and innovation.
When we focus only on the struggles, we reduce an entire region to stereotypes. We teach children that poverty is the defining feature of a place rather than showing them the complexity and diversity that exists.
I don’t blame the school entirely; after all, many of us grow up with similar narratives. But it’s important to challenge those perceptions, to ask ourselves: What story are we telling? And what story are we leaving out?
Because when we tell the whole story, we create a world where understanding replaces assumptions… and that’s a story worth sharing.
