Alright, pull up a stool, my friend, and let me buy you a metaphorical Tusker, because we need to talk. You’re telling me it costs more to pop over from Nairobi to Abidjan for some good old Ivorian alloco than it does to jet off to Atlanta, the land of Coca-Cola and, well, more Coca-Cola? shakes head. It sounds like a joke, doesn’t it? Like something a drunken comedian would slur into a microphone. But here’s the kicker, my friend: it’s not far from the truth. The cost of flying around our own magnificent, sprawling continent is so mind-bogglingly high, it’s a wonder any of us ever leave our own zip codes. Forget “Fly Me to the Moon”; in Africa, it’s “Finance Me to Freetown.”

Let’s not beat around the acacia bush: flying within Africa is often a rip-off, a daylight robbery happening at 30,000 feet. You’d think with all this talk of “African Renaissance,” “Continental Free Trade,” and “Brotherhood,” hopping from one African capital to another would be as easy as bribing a traffic cop in Lagos. (Too soon? Nah.) But instead, our airlines and governments seem to be in a conspiracy to keep us grounded, or worse, force us to fly through Paris or Dubai just to say “Jambo” to our neighbour in Kinshasa. It’s madness, and it’s crippling us.

So, why is it that your wallet weeps harder flying from Kenya to Côte d’Ivoire than it might for a trip to the US of A? Let’s dissect this carcass.

The “Sky-High” African Taxes: Our Governments Think We’re All Flying on Gold-Plated Wings

You know that feeling when you buy something, and then the tax nearly doubles the price? Welcome to African aviation, my friend. It seems our governments look at an airplane and see a flying piggy bank, ripe for smashing. Passenger taxes, landing fees, navigation charges, “mysterious” levies – they pile it on thicker than a mama in the village piles ugali on your plate.

I read somewhere that taxes and charges can make up nearly half the bloody ticket price on some African routes! Half! In West Africa, it’s apparently a sport to see who can charge the most. Some airports like Niamey in Niger or Monrovia in Liberia have departure taxes that would make even a Dubai Sheikh think twice. It’s like they believe every African boarding a plane is some pot-bellied politician on a taxpayer-funded jolly. Newsflash, comrades: most of us are just trying to do business, see family, or maybe, just maybe, explore our own damn continent without selling a vital organ.

And don’t get me started on the fuel. It’s often more expensive in Africa than elsewhere. Why? A delightful cocktail of logistical nightmares, more taxes (yes, again!), and a general lack of refining capacity. So, the plane needs fuel, the fuel costs a bomb, and guess who pays for it? You, me, and that poor chap trying to get to a cousin’s wedding in Dakar.

The “Protect Your Own Pothole” Airline Game: Competition? What Competition?

Ah, competition. That beautiful dance where businesses try to woo you with better prices and services. In African skies, it’s less of a dance and more of a limp, hobbled by what they call “protectionism.” Many African countries still treat their national airlines like a fragile family heirloom, even if that heirloom is a rusty, fuel-guzzling jalopy that hasn’t turned a profit since independence.

They sign these cosy “bilateral air service agreements” that basically say, “Only my airline and your airline can fly this route, and we’ll both agree to keep prices just below ‘are you kidding me?’ levels.” This chokes out new players, especially the low-cost carriers that have made travel affordable in places like Europe and Asia. Imagine EasyJet or Ryanair trying to navigate the regulatory jungle here – they’d probably give up and open a matatu business instead; less paperwork.

The much-hyped Single African Air Transport Market (SAATM) – “Open Skies for Africa” – was supposed to fix this. It was launched with all the fanfare of a World Cup opening ceremony back in 2018. The idea? Let African airlines fly between any two African cities without these silly restrictions. The reality? It’s moving slower than a tortoise in a mud bath. Many countries have signed up, sure, but actually doing it? Putting it into practice? That’s where the political will seems to take a permanent vacation to the Seychelles (probably on a heavily taxed flight). So, we end up with fewer flights, less choice, and prices that make your ancestors weep.

The “African Time” Infrastructure & Operating Hurdles: Not Exactly Heathrow, Are We?

Let’s be honest, some of our airports look like they haven’t had a facelift since the 70s. While some are shiny and new, others are… well, let’s just say “characterful.” Poor infrastructure at some airports means higher operating costs for airlines. Delays, inefficient ground handling, and sometimes, a distinct lack of things you might take for granted elsewhere (like reliable power or air conditioning that doesn’t sound like a dying warthog).

Then there’s the cost of running an airline in Africa. Maintenance? Often, planes have to be flown to Europe or the Middle East for major work because we don’t have enough top-notch facilities here. That costs a fortune. Spare parts? Getting them through customs can be a saga worthy of its own Nollywood movie. Insurance? Higher, because Africa is often perceived (sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly) as a “riskier” environment. And let’s not forget the currencies – many African currencies are about as stable as a Jenga tower in an earthquake when compared to the US dollar, which is what airlines pay for planes, fuel, and many other things in. All these costs get baked into your ticket.

And the routes themselves! Sometimes, to get from one African country to another, you’re routed through Europe. From Nairobi to, say, Banjul in The Gambia? You might find yourself sipping coffee in Amsterdam first. Why? Because the direct connections just aren’t there, thanks to the lack of competition and the “protect your own pothole” mentality. It’s like trying to drive from Hurlingham to Westlands via Thika. Utter madness.

Low Passenger Numbers? Or Passengers Scared Off by Prices? The Chicken and Egg Conundrum

Airlines will sometimes cry, “Oh, but we don’t have enough passengers on these intra-African routes! Our planes are half-empty! We have to charge more to cover costs!” And yes, load factors (the number of seats filled) can be lower on some routes within Africa compared to, say, a packed flight from London to New York.

But here’s a question for you, my friend, to ponder over your next (hopefully affordable) drink: Are the planes half-empty because Africans don’t want to travel within Africa? Or are they half-empty because the prices are so utterly insane that most ordinary folks can’t even dream of affording a ticket? It’s a classic chicken and egg, isn’t it?

If a flight from Accra to Lagos costs the equivalent of several months’ salary for an average worker, is it any wonder people aren’t exactly queuing up? If it’s cheaper to import goods from China than to trade with your next-door neighbour because transport costs are through the roof, then Houston, we have a problem. Make flying affordable and accessible, and watch those “low passenger numbers” magically disappear. RwandAir started making it easier for Africans to visit Rwanda, and guess what? More Africans visited! Shocking, I know.

The Counterpoint: “But We Need to Protect Our Fledgling Airlines and Generate Revenue!”

Now, I can hear some bureaucrat in a stuffy office, probably fanning himself with a stack of unread policy documents, spluttering, “But Opinionated Fool, you don’t understand! These taxes are vital for national revenue! And our national airlines are symbols of our sovereignty! We must protect them!”

To which I say, with all the respect a barstool philosopher can muster: Balderdash!

Protecting an inefficient airline that offers terrible service and sky-high fares isn’t a symbol of sovereignty; it’s a symbol of being stuck in the past. It’s like insisting on using a hand-cranked telephone in the age of smartphones. And revenue? Sure, you’re getting a fat chunk of tax from every ridiculously expensive ticket. But how much more revenue are you losing because high fares are strangling trade, tourism, and business between African nations? How many jobs are not being created? How much investment is going elsewhere?

Think about it: if it’s easier and cheaper for a European tourist to fly to Zanzibar than it is for someone from Joburg, who are we really serving? If an entrepreneur in Kampala can’t afford to visit a potential partner in Kigali without taking out a small loan, how is our beloved African Continental Free Trade Area ever going to take off, literally?

This isn’t about coddling airlines; it’s about liberating our people and our economies. The argument that high fares and protectionism are somehow “good” for Africa is like saying a tight noose is good for circulation.

So, What’s the Takeaway, You Ask? Time to Ruffle Some Feathers (Literally and Figuratively)

Look, the issue of why it costs an arm, a leg, and possibly your firstborn to fly within Africa is complex, like trying to explain to your auntie why you’re still not married. It’s a tangled mess of greedy governments, short-sighted protectionism, genuine operational challenges, and a baffling lack of will to change things.

But it’s not rocket science. Other continents have figured it out. Open up the skies, genuinely this time. Slash the ludicrous taxes. Encourage competition. Invest in proper infrastructure. Make it easier for Africans to get visas to visit other African countries (another whole can of worms we can open another day!).

The truth is, until we make it affordable and easy to connect with each other, all this talk of African unity and economic integration is just that – talk. Hot air. And the only thing that should be full of hot air is a hot air balloon over the Maasai Mara, not our aviation policies.

We need to demand better. We need to tell our leaders that flying to see our brothers and sisters in Abidjan, or Accra, or Addis, shouldn’t be a luxury reserved for the elite. It’s a necessity for building the Africa we all say we want.

So next time you see a flight price that makes you want to scream, maybe you should. Maybe we all should. Because right now, my friend, the cost of flying in Africa isn’t just expensive; it’s a damn expensive joke. And frankly, nobody’s laughing anymore.