When they watch us, it's like they're watching their cousin
Across Nigeria, Kenya, and South Africa, a generation of young creators is quietly dismantling the architecture of traditional news, replacing broadcast studios with kitchen tables and formal journalism with the cadence of a trusted cousin. Figures like Amahle-Imvelo Jaxa, Valerie Keter, and Dan Bello have built audiences in the millions not by competing with legacy media, but by translating it — making the complex feel intimate and the distant feel immediate. The 2025 Reuters Institute Digital News Report confirms what these creators already know: in some African nations, more than half of all social media users now turn to independent voices before turning anywhere else. What is unfolding is not merely a shift in media preference, but a reorganization of who holds the power to shape how a society understands itself.
- Millions of young Africans have quietly stopped trusting legacy broadcasters, turning instead to creators who speak their language — literally and culturally — from living rooms and kitchens.
- The numbers are striking: 61% of Nigerian social media users follow independent news creators, placing these three African nations among the top four globally for creator-driven news influence.
- Creators like Dan Bello have demonstrated that informal networks can achieve what formal institutions sometimes cannot — freeing detained citizens, recovering unpaid wages, pressuring officials into repairing schools.
- But the revolution is uneven: 21% of South African households remain offline, and the communal ritual of shared news — families around a radio or television — has fractured without a clear replacement.
- The central tension now is whether these agile, commerce-adjacent, lightly regulated networks can carry the accountability burden that journalism demands, as the institutions that once bore it continue to lose ground.
A year ago, Amahle-Imvelo Jaxa recorded a TikTok video explaining a diplomatic crisis between South Africa and Rwanda. Within three days, she had 100,000 followers and a new identity: professional current affairs explainer. She is part of a growing cohort of independent creators fundamentally changing how young Africans encounter the news.
The 2025 Reuters Institute Digital News Report captures the scale of this shift. In Nigeria, 61% of social media users actively follow news creators; in Kenya, 58%; in South Africa, 39%. All three countries rank among the top four globally for the measurable influence these creators hold. Jaxa, 32, began posting after realizing her younger brother's generation had largely disengaged from civic life. She sees herself as a translator rather than a replacement — sourcing material from traditional outlets but reaching audiences those outlets have already lost. Her income comes primarily from brand partnerships, where the line between journalism and commerce blurs almost invisibly.
In Kenya, Valerie Keter arrived at news creation by accident. A reaction video to a South African historical drama about King Shaka drew floods of questions about pre-colonial African kingdoms. She recognized an opening. Today her most-watched video, on why Europe colonized Africa so easily, has 3.7 million Instagram views. Her appeal, she explains, is aesthetic as much as intellectual: she shoots in her sitting room, and her audience feels like they are watching a cousin, not a broadcaster.
In Nigeria, Dan Bello's path was shaped by violence. A 2011 Boko Haram bombing turned an engineering student into a news obsessive. After stints at Voice of America and the BBC's Hausa service, he now teaches school in Beijing while producing Hausa-language videos subtitled in English for more than 2 million TikTok followers. His informal network — two staff members, a volunteer team of professors and contacts — sources and verifies information before he publishes. The results have been concrete: detained people freed, salary arrears recovered, crumbling schools renovated.
The structural advantages these creators hold are significant. They face less regulatory burden, move faster, and build intimacy through casual home aesthetics. A Media Council of Kenya study found that most Kenyans now rely on social media as their primary news source. But the transformation carries costs. The communal ritual of families gathering around a radio or television has fractured. In South Africa, 21% of households still lack internet access, meaning the news revolution is actively leaving people behind. The question that remains open is whether these informal, commerce-adjacent networks can sustain the accountability and rigor that journalism demands — even as they continue to displace the institutions that once bore that responsibility.
A year ago, Amahle-Imvelo Jaxa recorded herself on TikTok explaining a brewing diplomatic crisis between South Africa and Rwanda, breaking down the conflict through the lens of different ethnic groups and their historical roles. The video exploded. Within three days, she had accumulated 100,000 followers. That single post transformed her from a marketing consultant and restaurant owner into what she now calls herself: a professional current affairs explainer, part of a widening cohort of independent creators who are fundamentally reshaping how millions of young Africans encounter the news.
Jaxa is not alone. Across South Africa, Kenya, and Nigeria—the three African nations included in the 2025 Reuters Institute Digital News Report—social media users are gravitating toward news creators at rates that outpace their counterparts in much of Europe and Asia. In Nigeria, 61 percent of respondents said they actively followed news creators; Kenya came in at 58 percent; South Africa at 39 percent. These three countries ranked among the top four globally for the measurable impact that independent news creators exert on their audiences. The shift represents something more fundamental than a generational preference for mobile screens. It signals a wholesale reorganization of how information moves through society, and who gets to shape the narrative.
Jaxa, 32, began posting explainers after a conversation with her younger brother revealed a troubling reality: the generation coming after her had largely checked out of civic life. She saw herself as a translator, not a replacement for traditional journalism. "I don't exist if there is no traditional media," she has said, "because all the content I do is from traditional media." Yet the irony is sharp. While she sources her material from established outlets, she reaches audiences those outlets have already lost. Her videos tackle complex subjects—the Iran conflict, the South African president's state of the nation address, national budgets—with a directness and accessibility that formal news broadcasts struggle to match. She earns most of her income through brand partnerships on Instagram, where the line between journalism and commerce blurs almost invisibly.
In Kenya, Valerie Keter stumbled into news creation almost by accident. In 2023, she posted a reaction video to a South African historical drama about King Shaka, praising its production quality and its role in preserving African stories. The comments flooded in with questions about pre-colonial African kingdoms. She recognized an opening and began producing videos on African history—explainers, buried narratives, stories from across the continent. Today, at 31, her most popular video, "Why Europe Colonised Africa Easily," has accumulated 3.7 million views on Instagram alone. Her audience, she says, is primarily people aged 25 to 34, and they engage with her work differently than they would with traditional media. "When they watch us, it's like they're watching their cousin, their sister," she explained. "I'm shooting in my sitting room or my kitchen. It just looks normal, compared to traditional media where everything is so serious."
In Nigeria, Dan Bello—known online as Dan Bello—represents a different archetype entirely. A 2011 Boko Haram bombing of a UN building in Abuja transformed him from an engineering student into a news obsessive. He worked for Voice of America and later the BBC's Hausa service before leaving journalism to pursue further studies in China. Today, based in Beijing and teaching school, he produces videos in Hausa—Nigeria's most widely spoken language—subtitled in English, blending satirical political commentary with direct advocacy aimed at government officials. He has amassed more than 2 million TikTok followers. In northern Nigeria and parts of Niger, his following borders on the fanatical, spanning young people and unemployed women across age groups. His operation functions as an informal news network: he relies on a small staff of two and a volunteer team that includes professors and other contacts within and outside Nigeria. They source and verify information before he publishes. The results have been tangible—secured releases of arbitrarily detained people, recovered salary backlogs for government workers, prompted renovations of crumbling schools.
The structural advantages these creators possess are real. They operate with far less regulatory burden than traditional broadcasters. They can move faster, adapt their messaging in real time, and build intimacy through the casual aesthetics of home production. Kenya's young population and high social media penetration have created ideal conditions for this shift. A Media Council of Kenya study released in May found that most Kenyans now rely on social media as their primary news source. Norbert Mburu, head of culture and media research at Odipo Dev, a Nairobi analytics firm, observed that social media has democratized entry into the attention economy. "They grew up with mobile phones, they grew up with the internet, they grew up with social media," he said of the creators' audiences. "It became very natural that for them."
Yet the transformation carries real costs. In South Africa, Sisanda Nkoala, an associate professor at the University of the Western Cape, noted that news consumption was once a communal experience—families gathered around radios and televisions. That shared ritual has fractured. Worse, the shift to online platforms is widening the digital divide. The 2022 census found that 21 percent of South African households lack internet access, many in rural areas. The news revolution is, in other words, leaving people behind. In Nigeria, the #EndSars anti-police brutality protests of October 2020 marked a turning point. Mainstream media coverage was perceived as cautious, constrained by regulatory pressure from successive administrations. Independent creators filled that void, speaking directly to young people who felt isolated and powerless. David Adeleke, chief executive of Communiqué, a Lagos-based media intelligence firm, noted that urban Africans have become "more familiar and trusting of newer methods of storytelling." The question now is whether these informal networks, however effective at mobilizing attention and occasionally securing concrete results, can sustain the rigor and accountability that journalism demands as they continue to displace the institutions that once bore that responsibility.
Citas Notables
I don't exist if there is no traditional media, because all the content I do is from traditional media.— Amahle-Imvelo Jaxa
When they watch us, it's like they're watching their cousin, their sister. I'm shooting in my sitting room or my kitchen. It just looks normal, compared to traditional media where everything is so serious.— Valerie Keter
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
What made that first Jaxa video about Rwanda and South Africa go so viral? Was it the topic, or the way she told it?
It was the way she made it legible. She took a diplomatic crisis and translated it through ethnic and cultural identities that her audience already understood. She wasn't lecturing from a desk. She was sitting somewhere casual, speaking to them like a peer who happened to know more about this particular thing.
But she says she's not replacing traditional media—she's dependent on it. So what's actually changing?
The distribution. Traditional outlets still do the reporting, but they're reaching older, smaller audiences through channels those audiences have abandoned. Jaxa reaches the people who stopped watching the evening news. She's the intermediary now.
Is there a risk that these creators become gatekeepers themselves? That they filter the news through their own biases?
Absolutely. But they're also more transparent about it in some ways. Dan Bello in Nigeria openly advocates for certain positions. He's not pretending to objectivity. Whether that's better or worse depends on what you think journalism should be.
The digital divide concern in South Africa—21 percent without internet. Doesn't that mean this shift actually narrows who gets informed?
Yes. The people most likely to need accessible news—rural populations, the economically precarious—are the ones least likely to have the infrastructure to access it. You're creating a two-tier information system.
So these creators are solving a real problem—engagement, accessibility—but creating a new one?
They're not creating it. They're exposing it. The problem was always there. They're just showing us what happens when institutions lose the trust and reach they once had.