Dear Africa, Our Autistic Kids Deserve Better
A call to action for a continent rich in culture but starving for inclusion
I was born in Africa. I teach in Africa. And I love Africa deeply.
But I also need to speak truth because our autistic children are suffering in silence, behind closed doors, in rural villages and urban cities, in families filled with love but lacking support, and in schools that were never designed with them in mind.
We cannot talk about progress, development, or Ubuntu while still hiding our autistic children, calling them cursed, refusing them education, or denying them access to tools that help them thrive.
So, dear Africa, I’m writing this with both love and urgency:
Our autistic kids deserve better.
🚫 What We're Getting Wrong
Too often in African communities, autism is misunderstood or not even understood at all. Some of the most common, painful misconceptions I’ve encountered:
- “She’s like this because her mother was bewitched.”
- “He’ll outgrow it once he starts talking.”
- “It’s punishment from the ancestors.”
- “This child is mad — take them to a prophet or church.”
These beliefs don’t come from cruelty they come from fear and lack of education. But they lead to devastating consequences:
- Children kept at home, never enrolled in school.
- Parents too ashamed to speak up or seek help.
- Kids punished for behaviors they cannot control.
- Zero access to communication tools or therapies.
And still, we wonder why so many autistic adults grow up isolated, undiagnosed, or institutionalized.
💡 What Autism Really Is
Autism is not a curse. Not witchcraft. Not punishment.
It is a neurological difference — a different way of experiencing the world.
Some autistic individuals speak, others don’t. Some need lots of support, others very little. But they all deserve the same thing: love, understanding, and access.
Communication challenges don’t mean someone has nothing to say.
Behavioral differences don’t mean someone is disobedient.
A quiet child doesn’t mean they are unaware.
Autism doesn’t need to be fixed — society’s ignorance does.
🗣️ What We Must Start Doing
1. Educate families and communities.
We need local languages explaining autism. We need churches, clinics, and community leaders spreading truth, not shame.
2. Train more African therapists, teachers, and practitioners.
We cannot rely on imported knowledge alone. We need culturally grounded professionals who understand both autism and African realities.
3. Provide alternative communication.
Just because a child doesn’t speak doesn’t mean they can’t communicate. Tools like Spelling to Communicate (S2C), AAC devices, and letterboards must be introduced in our schools and homes.
4. Support the parents.
Raising an autistic child in Africa is often a lonely journey. We need networks, support groups, and financial help for caregivers doing the best they can with what they have.
5. Fight for inclusion in education.
No child should be turned away from school because they flap their hands or don’t talk. Inclusion is a right — not a privilege.
❤️ What I've Seen That Gives Me Hope
Despite the challenges, I’ve witnessed incredible resilience. Parents teaching themselves. Young people advocating online. Small schools trying to do better. Autistic children thriving when finally given a chance to be understood.
One student of mine, nonspeaking and labeled “severely disabled,” spelled out one day:
“I’m glad you didn’t give up on me. Everyone else already had.”
That moment was a reminder: these kids are waiting. They are watching. They are worthy.
🌍 Africa, We Can Do Better — and We Must
We are a continent that prides itself on community, ubuntu, and taking care of one another.
So let’s not leave our autistic children behind.
Let’s open our homes, schools, and hearts.
Let’s replace superstition with science.
Let’s choose compassion over fear.
Let’s build systems that presume competence — and give every child a chance to thrive.
Because our autistic children aren’t broken.
They are brilliant.
They are African.
And they deserve better.
✍🏽 Final Words
To every parent hiding their child because they’re afraid — I see you.
To every teacher trying to support a learner with no training — I applaud you.
To every autistic person growing up in silence — I believe in you.
Let’s raise our voices until the continent listens.
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