Social media turns African lives into money-making content

Nairobi, Kenya – Leaving a law career to pursue content creation nearly a decade ago, a Kenyan photographer shared that initially he only wanted to showcase his work. But as the internet changed, so did the model: from being famous for what you do to being famous for who you are, how you dress, speak, and even the breakfast you eat.

“How I live influences others. Brands noticed and offered contracts to integrate products into my life naturally with the audience. From 2018 to now, that’s how I make a living,” he told Al Jazeera.

According to Grace Ndiege, a digital marketing expert at Digitribe, a large portion of advertising budgets has moved online because audiences are there. “Attention is currency. That’s why algorithms constantly change to grab every piece of it,” she explained.

The phone – a daily newsroom

In urban centers across Africa, smartphones are the first thing many people touch each morning. A Kenyan wakes up and checks WhatsApp, absorbing information from around the world before breakfast: missing person alerts, Bible verses, memes, job links, protest posters, fake quotes, dance challenges, obituaries, political insults, YouTube tutorials, screenshots from Parliament, voice notes from an aunt, or someone’s holiday in Diani.

Family psychotherapist Maggie Gitu in Nairobi warns: “Social media flattens everything, does not set context for connections. Are we friends just because we have access to each other?”

She believes platforms both connect and stir comparison. Someone of the same age buys land or vacations in Zanzibar; another gets engaged; someone has abs; a favorite podcaster has a new car, children, a bigger kitchen and a prettier sunset. “Social media didn’t invent jealousy, but it amplifies it,” she said.

Her solution: “an offline, real life so you don’t give too much power to others’ online spaces.”

Digital civic spaces

David Mbotela, a former avid social media user who withdrew, describes the internet as a road. “What started as a network became a road. When the road came to us, life began to move differently.”

He recalls the 2011 Kenyans for Kenya movement, when the nation responded to famine in the north through coordinated action via M-Pesa. Or the #FeesMustFall movement in South Africa in October 2015 – students protesting tuition hikes, turning a local crisis into a continental wave.

More recently, during Kenya’s Finance Bill protests, young people turned the internet into a civic classroom: legal language translated into explainer videos on TikTok, people who never read the bill began discussing clauses, taxes, representation, police power and public debt.

Social media also accelerates cultural exchange and changes daily language: agreement is called “clocked”, excellence is “cooking”, strong statements often end with punctuation. Communication becomes faster, sharper and less formal.

The downside of constant connection

Despite many opportunities, social media also creates psychological pressure. Content creators say they only share carefully curated content. “Creators don’t show everything: broken marriages, pressure to maintain image, mental strain when out of ideas or a post fails,” one insider confided.

According to Maggie Gitu, “constant connection does not necessarily create deeper human relationships. Connection is not community, it’s only a path to community.”

David Mbotela sums up: “Social media for Africans is a school. A market. A stage. A battlefield. A newspaper. A courtroom. A rumor mill. A protest ground. A diary. A weapon. Perhaps social media will never save or destroy us. It just puts our kindness, cruelty, hunger, boredom, and talent on the same chariot.”