By Prince of Mthwakazi โ Bongani Mazwi Mkwananzi
Patriotism in Africa is an ever-shifting force, often invoked in moments of crisis, yet fractured by history, power struggles, and exclusion.
It is both the unbreakable bond between people and land, and the very weapon used to silence, to marginalise, and to dictate who belongs and who does not. Across the continent, patriotism takes many formsโsome noble, some sinister, some contradictory. It is at once a call to unity and a justification for division.
Few people understand this paradox better than the Mthwakazi people. They carry an identity that exists in the echoes of the past, in a history rewritten by those who won, in a nation that calls them its own but never fully embraces them. Their sense of patriotism is cultural, ancestralโa connection to the land, to their traditions, to the warriors of old who stood for something greater than themselves.
It is the patriotism of a people, not of a state. Yet, the very state that claims them treats them as outsiders. In Zimbabwe, they are โothered,โ constantly reminded that the national narrative does not include them. Gukurahundi remains a wound that festers beneath the surface, unacknowledged by those in power, yet never forgotten by those who lived through it.
And so many leave. Some by force, some by choice, some by the quiet realization that Zimbabwe will never give them what they seek. But exile does not bring belonging. In South Africa, they are stripped of their historical ties to the land. โGo back to Zimbabwe,โ they are told, as if their ancestors did not build the mines, did not lay the tracks, did not fight side by side with the very people now calling them foreigners. But in Zimbabwe, they are told something else entirely: โGo back to South Africa.โ A people uprooted, floating between two lands, yet truly belonging to neither.
Their patriotism, then, is neither blind loyalty to a state nor an allegiance to a political entity. It is a deep, cultural attachment, passed down through generations, reinforced in exile, defined not by the borders drawn on maps, but by the shared memory of a people. They are not patriots of Zimbabwe, nor of South Africa, but of Mthwakazi itself, a nation that exists in spirit, if not in official recognition.
This is the reality of African patriotismโit is not always about flags or governments, but about identity, about who you are when the state itself denies your existence.
The contradictions of patriotism are also visible in South Africa, a country where nationalism and identity are constantly at war with each other. The tribal balances that defined the ANCโs rise to power are still felt today. Nelson Mandela, a Xhosa leader, had to carefully manage Zulu political influence. The Inkatha Freedom Party, long a force of Zulu nationalism, was at one point a threat to the ANCโs dominance, a reminder that even in a โrainbow nation,โ loyalty to tribe still holds weight. Zulu pride remains strong, Xhosa political dominance is still whispered about, and the Venda-speaking elite in government are a recent addition to the power equation. South African patriotism, then, is a fragile constructionโone that exists as long as these balances are carefully managed.
But beyond tribal divisions, there is another group whose patriotism is in question: white South Africans. Their relationship with the country has always been one of ownership rather than belonging. For centuries, they ruled as if the land was theirs alone. When apartheid fell, many left, seeking refuge in Australia, the UK, or the US. But those who stayed now find themselves caught between guilt and grievance. They complain of farm attacks, of government corruption, of a country that has turned against them. Some call for an Afrikaner homeland, others look to America, begging for intervention, claiming persecution. And yet, the land beneath their feet is still South African. Their wealth is still here, their history is still here. Their patriotism is selectiveโlonging for a past where they held power, fearing a future where they do not. They must now decide: is their love for South Africa real, or is it merely a nostalgia for a time that has passed?
Across the border, eSwatini faces its own struggles with patriotism. It is a country ruled by a king, where allegiance to the monarch is expected, but not always given willingly. The youth, restless and aware of the world beyond, challenge the idea that patriotism means unquestioning loyalty to a ruler. They see the wealth of the royal family, the opulence, the extravagance, and they ask: โWhere is our share?โ The state responds with force, with arrests, with threats. In eSwatini, patriotism is not voluntaryโit is enforced. But how long can a nation demand loyalty from those it does not serve?
And then there is Rwanda, a country where patriotism has been carefully reconstructed after genocide. Paul Kagame has built a nation where the past is not discussed in ethnic terms, where Rwandan identity is placed above Hutu or Tutsi. It is a patriotism of unity, of discipline, of economic progress. But it is also a controlled patriotismโone that does not tolerate dissent, one that is shaped by the government rather than the people. When Rwanda is criticized, Kagameโs supporters call it an attack on national pride. But is patriotism real if it cannot be questioned?
The debate over Rwandan patriotism plays out even beyond its borders. In South Africa, Rwandan exiles live in fear, knowing that Kagameโs government has long arms. Some South Africans admire Kagame, seeing in him a leader who does not tolerate corruption, who builds instead of destroys. Others see a dictator, a man who demands patriotism but does not always earn it. The divided opinions reflect a larger questionโcan a nationโs unity be forced, or must it grow naturally?
Meanwhile, the Democratic Republic of Congo is a case study in what happens when a nation has no unified patriotism at all. The government in Kinshasa claims sovereignty, but the eastern regions are controlled by militias, by foreign interests, by chaos itself. The M23 rebellion in Kivu and Goma is not just a conflictโit is a symptom of a country that has never truly been whole. The government calls for national unity, but how can the people believe in a nation that has never served them? The DRCโs patriotism is not dead, but it is fractured beyond recognition.
So what is to be done? To ask questions without solutions is to leave the discussion incomplete. Analysis must lead to action. If patriotism in Africa is to mean anything beyond a political slogan, it must be redefined. Governments must serve their people before demanding loyalty. Education must teach history honestly, so that patriotism is built on truth, not propaganda. Tribal and ethnic divisions must be addressed, not ignored. And above all, patriotism must not be a tool for exclusionโit must be a foundation for justice.
For the Mthwakazi people, the answer will not come from Harare or Pretoriaโit must come from within. For South Africa, the divisions must be confronted, not simply managed. For Rwanda, for Uganda, for the DRC, patriotism must be more than a tool of controlโit must be the basis of true sovereignty.
Patriotism in Africa is not a settled question. But it must be answered. Because a patriotism that does not serve the people is no patriotism at allโit is a lie. And lies, no matter how carefully constructed, always collapse in the end.
