Re: Susan Njoki’s ordeal

By: Egiganya Jo-Madugu

THE Nigerian Tribune’s editorial of July 30, 2025, titled “Susan Njoki’s Ordeal”, delivers a powerful indictment of the inhumane treatment black-skinned Africans often endure in foreign lands—and, tragically, even in their home countries. The article recounts the harrowing experience of Susan Njoki, a Kenyan domestic worker turned medical professional, who was once subjected to modern-day slavery by her employer in Saudi Arabia. Her story is a painful yet familiar echo of countless others who fall victim to abuse while chasing survival beyond the borders of their homeland. While the editorial zeroes in on the racism and maltreatment African migrants face abroad, it also highlights an even more unsettling truth: that discrimination and dehumanization are not limited to Western or Arab societies. Colorism and internalised racism within Africa itself continue to diminish the value and dignity of dark-skinned individuals. This hierarchy of skin tone, deeply rooted in colonial legacies and perpetuated through cultural and media narratives, is despicable and must be confronted with urgency.

The proverbial wisdom, “how you are treated at home determines how you will be treated outside” rings painfully true here. The exodus of Africans—particularly the youth—in search of “greener pastures” stems from the inability of many African states to provide basic necessities such as education, healthcare, security, and dignified employment. It is this vacuum that fuels the ‘Japa’ syndrome—a Nigerian term symbolizing the desperate flight from hopelessness. Susan Njoki’s story, however, takes an even darker turn. After enduring inhumane conditions abroad and finally escaping her abuser, her life was tragically cut short back home—murdered in a place that should have protected and celebrated her survival. That she could survive slavery in a foreign land only to be failed by her own country underscores a deep and systemic failure of governance and societal values. In countries like Israel, the value of each citizen’s life is regarded as sacred and non-negotiable. That level of national accountability is what Africa must strive for. Until African governments commit to truly protecting their citizens—both at home and abroad—the continent will continue to suffer the indignity of seeing its people oppressed, exploited, and even erased.

Furthermore, a disturbing pattern emerges in these cases: most victims of foreign abuse are employed in domestic or menial roles—maids, cleaners, drivers, caregivers. While there is dignity in labour, these jobs are often met with disdain, not only by foreign employers but also within our own societies. Nannies, house helps, and domestic workers continue to face humiliation, verbal abuse, and physical assault under the guise of “discipline.” Their humanity is denied simply because of the nature of their work and the colour of their skin. This isn’t just about racism—it’s about the universal failure to honour human dignity. The solution begins with a collective shift in mindset. We must build a society where people are valued for their character and contributions, not judged by their job title, nationality, or skin tone. In the timeless words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “I have a dream… that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

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Africa must first heal itself to demand respect from others. That healing begins with ensuring justice for victims like Susan Njoki, investing in national welfare, and dismantling all forms of internal prejudice. Only then can we truly defend the dignity of Africans—everywhere.

•Jo-Madugu, a Mass Communication student at Nile University of Nigeria and an intern with PRNigeria, writes in via [email protected]