The U.S Visa Shame: How Zambia Is Funding Its Own Humiliation

Not long ago, I came across a statement from the Zambian government urging its citizens in the United States to return home voluntarily, citing shifting immigration policies under the Trump administration. The announcement followed a meeting between President Hakainde Hichilema and the U.S. ambassador. And for once, I couldn’t help but wonder: What exactly did our president say to the ambassador behind closed doors? Did he, even for a moment, assert the dignity of his people?

Too often, African presidents enter diplomatic spaces with Western powers as if stepping into a confession room—not a negotiation room. There is a disheartening and all-too-familiar ritual– shoulders slouched, voices lowered, and of course, tails tucked between legs. They present themselves not as equals, but as subordinates—grateful, deferential, and meek. This isn’t diplomacy but neo-colonial submission.

Take the U.S. visa regime, for example. Every year, thousands of thousands of Zambians are denied entry into the United States. The process is opaque, arbitrary, and deeply dehumanizing. Long queues form outside the American embassy, often under punishing sun or relentless rain. No waiting rooms. No benches. No regard for the elderly or disabled. This isn’t a logistical oversight—it is a deliberate performance of humiliation. A reminder of who holds power and who is seen as fully human and who is not.

That’s not all. Applying for a U.S. visa will now cost upwards of $500. There is no guarantee of approval, and no refund if denied. Multiply that by thousands of thousands of applicants, and you begin to grasp the scale of economic extraction. This is not aid. It’s reverse aid. Zambians are effectively subsidizing the American economy through a system that denies them dignity at every turn.

Meanwhile, American passport holders waltz into Zambia visa-free, without paying a single ngwee. If reciprocity is the bedrock of diplomacy, how did we end up with such a lopsided arrangement? No serious country allows its citizens to be treated like beggars while rolling out the red carpet for foreign nationals. Shame on us.

The excuse, of course, is tourism—we mustn’t upset wealthy visitors, lest we scare off their dollars. But that’s a tired and dangerous myth. Development theory teaches us that dependency on volatile sectors like tourism is not a path to growth. It’s a trap. Rather than building resilient, self-reliant economies, we’ve bought into the logic of eternal hospitality. We accept crumbs and convince ourselves they’re investments.

Here’s the harder truth–Africa doesn’t need America nearly as much as America needs Africa. Our continent holds the rare earth minerals, arable land, labor, and strategic alliances that will shape the next century. That’s why Washington panics at China’s Belt and Road Initiative or Russia’s growing influence across the continent. Yet we still behave like it’s the 1960s—pleading for aid while surrendering sovereignty.

Our own Dambisa Moyo has warned us for years: most foreign aid is not charity—it’s leverage. It’s a tool to keep African nations politically compliant and economically dependent. Our leaders welcome it because it shields them from domestic accountability. When the books don’t balance, they plug the holes with donor money and call it “development.” But real development begins with dignity.

It’s time to confront the myth of Western benevolence. It’s time to discard the colonial hangover that equates whiteness with legitimacy. Reforming visa policies is not a petty diplomatic tit-for-tat—it’s a statement of self-respect. It’s the first step toward a more equitable global order.

Our leaders must stop genuflecting before the West and start speaking as equals. Sovereignty is not just about flags and anthems—it’s about the courage to say no, and to mean it.

It is time to realize that the world is changing. Africa must rise to meet it on its feet, not on its knees.

Kapya Kaoma