Chema Caballero: "No country has ever developed thanks to cooperation. What Africa needs is justice."

The afternoon threatens rain, and Chema Caballero (Castuera, Badajoz, 1961) enjoys the overcast sky. Since 2000, following an encounter with Mammy Wata in Sierra Leone, he hasn't bathed in oceans, pools, or rivers. "But I can get wet in the rain," he announces, smiling. To give more details about this mystical episode would be to reveal one of the most brilliant and intimate chapters of his book The Beer Drinker (Libros de las Malas Compañías, 2025 ), which he presented this week in Madrid and in which he attempts to condense, "using more his heart than his head," three decades traveling the continent's roads.

Caballero was a missionary and is a writer , human rights activist, aid worker, but above all, an avid traveler. He landed in Sierra Leone in 1992 "with a suitcase full of prejudices" and still carries them with him. "Thirty years ago, I too had prepared myself to save Africa," he admits in an interview with this newspaper.

At this time of change, when countries in the Sahel are rejecting the French presence and turning their attention to new partners, such as China and Russia, and cooperation is being dramatically transformed by cuts from the United States and Europe, Caballero believes it is time for change from within, driven primarily by young people and women.

The continent "needs a revolution that shakes its foundations and gives it its rightful place in today's world. It won't be politicians, religions, development aid, or NGOs that will change Africa," he writes in his book.

Question : Why did you write The Beer Drinker ?

Answer: When I return from my travels and meet up with friends to tell them how things went and what I've seen, they often ask me why I don't write about it all. The book itself was born when I was isolated in Benin during the pandemic. I began revising and organizing texts, then added a more personal touch. I think it's the book in which I've most allowed myself to express my feelings and share my personal stories, even though I'm a rather cold-hearted person.

Q. The common threads in your book are beer and music.

A. Right now, in Africa, everything that opposes the West is Pan-African. It's a buzzword that recalls great empires, kings, an idyllic Africa that wasn't quite like that either. In Africa, there has been a clash with the West , and that's undeniable: Portuguese exploration, colonialism, slavery... but positive things have come out of that clash, like music and beer. These are two things that in the book I use to say, 'Hey, something good has come out of this encounter; not everything is negative.' And I also like beer.

Q. You write: “I landed in Freetown on a KLM flight from Amsterdam, full of prejudice.” What happened to that thirty-something?

A. I thought I was prepared, but I had no idea what Africa was, starting with the language. I spoke English, but I couldn't communicate with people. I've gradually shed these prejudices and clichés , but I still carry that burden because I'm white and Western. I think my progress has come from not having Western glasses that judge and decide what's better or worse for Africa.

We still imagine Africa as a black and white photo, as it appears in Out of Africa or Tintin in the Congo , with people in loincloths dancing to the sound of drums.

Q. You write that Africa is a dirty neighborhood, an overcrowded favela, and also a spotless shopping mall or an ultramodern airport. It's the contradiction we don't want to see.

A. We still imagine Africa as a black and white photo, like in Out of Africa or Tintin in the Congo , with people in loincloths dancing to the sound of drums. We struggle with the vision of Africa as a land of large cities and social and cultural vigour. We can't break the cliché. I write about music, and there are people who tell me, 'That's not African music.' How can you think that Jerusalema , which is sung in Zulu, or the Afrobeats you dance to in Europe, aren't African music?

Q. Your book is imbued with a critique of the " white savior," of our moral superiority. Have we evolved at all in these 30 years?

A. Not much. Thirty years ago, I too had prepared myself to save Africa. All my dreams of peace, justice, and human rights were because I knew how things should be done. I fell flat on my face. But now I see young people arriving like I did, and they don't want to open their eyes.

Q. You also question cooperation in Africa and wonder if anything has changed after 60 years.

A. I keep asking myself that, but I think little has changed. Thanks to cooperation, which has wonderful projects, millions of lives have been saved, many people are getting ahead and have opportunities. That's why I think humanitarian aid must continue and must be properly funded, but no country has ever developed thanks to cooperation. What Africa needs is justice. Countries on the continent must be able to compete with others on equal terms. Until that happens, it will be the land of the poor little black people who must be saved.

The difference now is that an African country decides whether to build a highway with China, Russia, or Türkiye. It's a freedom that didn't exist before, and it's a step forward, although I don't know where it will lead.

Q. Right now, African countries are abandoning traditionally active players, such as France, and are looking to other partners. Is this a paradigm shift?

A. It's an interesting time, and I'm not sure where it will lead. I don't agree with leaving one master to then fall into the hands of another. Rather, what we have here is a freedom of choice that didn't exist before. The reality is that everyone goes to Africa for a very specific reason, mainly for its raw materials. In the case of Spain, for example, there may be projects driven by a desire to curb migration or protect fishing on certain coasts, but all countries— Russia , China , Turkey, and the Gulf States—have their agendas. And that's Africa's great misfortune. The difference now is that a country decides whether it wants to build a highway with China, Russia, or Turkey. It's a freedom that didn't exist before, and it's now a step forward, although I don't know where it will lead us.

Q. We're also experiencing a time of cuts in solidarity. From the United States, but also from European countries. I don't know if you've seen any impact of this halt in development aid during your travels.

A. I was just in Gambia, and they told me that we need to find ways to move forward with projects without those funds, but it's a huge blow, a completely abrupt cutoff, without giving the countries time to prepare. Although I'm increasingly noticing that young people in Africa don't want to depend on external aid and know they can find the necessary resources in their own countries, and they're trying to organize themselves.

I think my progress has been not having Western glasses that judge and decide what is better or worse for Africa.

Q. In your book you also talk about the women's revolution .

A. I'm in love with the projects I find led by women, which are becoming increasingly powerful. For example, in a remote village in Gambia, there are women who have managed to install a washing machine using solar energy. They pay 37 cents to wash kilos of clothes. Do you know how much time they save by not going to the river to wash clothes? The women literally applaud the washing machine, because it gives them the opportunity to focus on themselves and their businesses. In a remote area of ​​Cameroon, I visited a village where women have asked to be literate, not in French, but in their native language, so they can go to the market and do the accounts on their own. These things give me a lot of hope. It's not that I want to exclude men because that would be a cliché, but women are leading the change, alongside young people who are increasingly more educated and informed.

Q. Because even in the most remote corner of Africa there is a connected mobile phone, right?

A. Always. Once, a few years ago, I was in northern Cameroon, working with Boko Haram victims, and some kids told me about Rosalía because she was Spanish, like me. I had no idea who she was at the time.

Q. Do you have any unfinished business in Africa?

A. I've never been to Namibia, but the most important thing is that Africa continues to surprise me. The day I stop doing that, I'll stop traveling because I'll no longer have anything to offer.

Q. So, will retirement come to Cabo Delgado , in Mozambique?

A: Yes, but I'll have to wait a bit, because Pemba, where I want to retire, the capital of Cabo Delgado, is now a war zone.