afraid of Ageing? Africa might change your mind

a conversation about ageing and a forgotten generation

I have included a video of my talk about this. Share the video and this post with any elderly person who needs to know we haven’t forgotten about them.

When I first arrived in Europe in the 1980s, there were many things to get used to.

The cold weather. The quiet streets. The bland food.

But there was one moment much later in my 20s that I really never understood. To illustrate it I will tell you about something that happened while I went out shopping one day. A moment so simple that most Westerners would barely notice it.

I was on a bus, I don’t remember where I was going but it was quite crowded. It stopped and a frail, white-haired man climbed aboard with trembling hands, clutching shopping bags and dragging a small metallic trolley behind him.

He struggled to heave the bags onto the bus. His shoulders were stooped, his back curved like a question mark. He seemed not to mind the indifference around him as everyone was focused on themselves.

Eventually, a stranger stepped forward to help, the man said thank you but as the bus rolled on, I couldn’t stop staring at him. A question burned in my mind:

Where is his family?

Where are his children? His grandchildren? Why is this man, somebody’s father, somebody’s grandfather, alone on public transport, battling shopping bags at his age?

I felt an overwhelming urge to help him beyond just lifting bags. I wanted to get off that bus, follow him home, and carry his things all the way to his door. But then another voice in my head stopped me.

“Man…you’re Black. In Europe. A black guy showing up at a white old man’s door, offering to help carry his groceries inside? You’re not in Africa anymore.”

I hated that thought. But I also knew it was true.

Cultural lines. Racial lines. Suspicion. Fear.

So I stayed on the bus as it pulled away. I turned and watched through the glass as he shuffled down the street, alone.

And I felt guilty. Genuinely guilty.

I felt guilty that someone’s grandfather was struggling while I sat there with my hands in my pockets, trying not to be involved. I did have another thought but you should watch my video above to get more of the things I considered when this incident occurred and why there are caveats to empathy for the elderly.

Regardless, why did this have such an effect on me?

There’s a simple explanation.

A Different World

See, growing up in Nigeria, or in many African societies, you do not see old people alone like that.

Elders in African cultures are never invisible. Seeing them alone struggling to do a physical task is absolutely insane. I don’t mean simply helping an old person cross the street or carry bags I mean them being out running errands.

I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed it.

They’re the centrepiece of the family. They’re the keepers of memory, the arbiters of wisdom, and the bridge between the past and the future.

In my village in Edo State, elders don’t ride buses alone with heavy loads. They don’t shuffle through streets unnoticed. If an old man tries to lift a heavy basket, a dozen younger people rush over yelling:

“Papa, leave it! Let us carry it for you!”

We’d fight each other for the honour. It’s not just politeness, it’s our duty. If the man seems isolated, he would be accompanied to wherever he needs to get to and handed off to someone else.

The idea of sending an elder to a home, an old people’s residence, a retirement facility, is virtually unthinkable unless they’re severely ill and need medical machines to keep them alive. And even then, families feel shame.

Because in African societies, elders aren’t a burden. They’re status.

An old person sitting outside under a tree becomes a natural gathering place. Children sit around them, listening to stories about the gods, the ancestors, and the wars our people survived. Young men and women come seeking advice about marriage, land disputes, or life’s crossroads. I remember doing this all the time when I was growing up. Random old people were like magnets to young people.

We saw them and it meant story time. Obviously, this was Africa of the 80s and 90s.

Things have changed now.

A Blind Spot in the West

That single bus ride revealed a cultural blind spot I’d never noticed before. Over the years I understood why this perspective exists and I will talk more about it in a future post. The West is geared towards profit and commercialisation. Everything needs to be predictable and controlled, including the management of the elderly who are no longer viable members of the consumer economy.

In Africa we don’t see things that way but we’re quickly losing our compass and the value of what it means to get old.

Share this with an elder to remind them they are in your thoughts.