Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Africa’s impala generation, By Osmund Agbo

In the end, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is not just a children’s fantasy. It is a blueprint for what happens when imagination refuses to be caged. It is a parable of possibility. And for Africa’s youth, it is a mirror, a whimsical, musical reminder that no matter the odds, dreams still have wings.

Not long ago, while doomscrolling through Facebook, I stumbled upon the inspiring story of Tosin Eniolorunda, a young Nigerian tech entrepreneur. In 2015, alongside his friend, Felix Ike, Tosin co-founded Moniepoint, a Lagos-based fintech company that offers digital banking and lending services via a mobile app.

It wasn’t a name I was familiar with at first. But over time, I noticed something curious. Whenever I had to pay a vendor in Nigeria, whether for a service rendered or a product delivered, they often shared a Moniepoint or Opay account number. Initially, this puzzled me. Why would anyone entrust their hard-earned money to these “lesser-known” platforms, instead of the big, traditional banks we’ve come to view as safer options?

My skepticism, in hindsight, was reflexive, a learnt caution shaped by the ghosts of financial scams past. Like many Nigerians, I had been conditioned by the corrosive memories of giant Ponzi schemes that exploited the desperation of an economically besieged populace, from the infamous Umanah E Umanah’s Wonder Bank of the ’90s to Sergey Mavrodi’s Mavrodi Mondial Moneybox (MMM).

But Moniepoint, I’ve since learnt, is cut from an entirely different cloth. It is no fly-by-night operation, no pyramid built on promises. This is a legitimate, well-capitalised enterprise solving real-world problems, especially for the underbanked.

The backstory is even more compelling. Before launching Moniepoint, Tosin ran a software consulting firm, quietly building tools that powered the operations of traditional Nigerian banks. Business was steady, until it wasn’t. One day, the same banks he supported abruptly terminated his services. Just like that. For many, it would have been a breaking point. But for Tosin, it was a catalyst.

Instead of succumbing to disappointment, he turned rejection into fuel. He saw the gap in the system, the inefficiencies, the underserved demographics and decided to build something better. With early seed funding from Oui Capital, an African venture capital firm, Tosin and his team launched Moniepoint. The rest is more than just history, it’s a revolution.

Today, Moniepoint moves billions of naira, providing secure, user-friendly financial services to businesses and individuals across the country.

The company’s ascent is not merely a tale of corporate success; it is a symbolic repudiation of a system that consistently fails its youth. It represents the latent potential of a generation that came of age in a Nigeria rife with political volatility, economic precarity, and institutional neglect.

Tosin’s journey is far from unique, and that’s the beauty of it. His story mirrors the aspirations and struggles of a generation of Africans, particularly those in their 20s to late 30s, who came of age in a nation that too often failed them.

This generation grew up in a socio-political and economic terrain that was anything but nurturing. The Nigerian state, time and again, defaulted on its social contract, failing to provide not only the basics of education, infrastructure, and security, but also the cultural scaffolding of aspirational role models.

The late academic and author, Pius Adesanmi, once called them “the Impala Generation.” In the wild, the newborn impala is abandoned almost immediately after birth. It has mere seconds to figure things out, to rise and run, or else fall prey to the waiting jaws of predators. Nature is not kind to it. Survival is not gifted, it is earned, through instinct, grit, and speed.

Just like the impala, many young Africans are thrust into a world that offers little by way of protection. They must learn quickly, move fast, and adapt or be consumed by the harsh realities around them. Yet, in spite of it all, they continue to rise. They build, innovate, and find a way. They refuse to be broken. Their exploits remind me of a film of yesteryears.

At first glance, “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang,” the 1968 musical fantasy film based on Ian Fleming’s novel (yes, the same Ian Fleming who created James Bond), may appear to be just another whimsical children’s tale. With its flying car, sing-along numbers, and eccentric characters, it delights as pure escapism. But beneath the colourful veneer lies a story of imagination triumphing over adversity, of courage pushing back against tyranny, and of dreamers refusing to accept defeat. In many ways, it is a fitting metaphor for the lived reality of many young Africans today, creative, resilient, and undeterred by the heavy hand of a world that often seems to be working against them.

In the story, Caractacus Potts, a struggling inventor, transforms a broken-down car into Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, a magical vehicle that flies, floats, and defies logic. He does so not in a plush lab with endless funding, but in a modest workshop, armed with little more than determination, ingenuity, and love for his children. This humble, transformative act of turning scrap into wonder is a narrative thread that resonates deeply with the African youth experience.

Across the continent, young people are building tech startups with little or no capital, creating globally recognised music in makeshift studios, and developing ingenious solutions to hyperlocal problems. From Lagos to Nairobi, Accra to Kigali, we see the spirit of Caractacus Potts replicated in young Africans who see possibility where others see impossibility. They are crafting their own Chitty Chitty Bang Bangs, dreams that can fly despite being born in spaces where flight seems unimaginable.

But the story doesn’t stop with invention. In the film, Potts and his children, along with the strong-willed Truly Scrumptious, journey to Vulgaria, a fictional land ruled by a despotic Baron who has outlawed children and suffocated joy. This setting, while fantastical, draws uncomfortable parallels with systems that continue to stifle youth voices across Africa.

Whether it’s through institutional corruption, authoritarian regimes, lack of opportunities, or policies that suppress innovation and expression, many African countries have become Vulgarias in their own right. Places where the most imaginative minds are not celebrated, but constrained. Where youthful idealism is not harnessed, but harassed.

Yet, much like the children hidden in Vulgaria’s underground caves, the creativity of African youth is not extinguished. It may be driven underground, silenced temporarily, or denied platforms, but it persists. It grows in secret spaces: co-working hubs, WhatsApp groups, university corridors, underground art scenes, and now, increasingly, digital spaces where borders and bureaucracy cannot reach. It grows until, one day, it bursts forth, undeniable and uncontainable.

We saw this spirit during the #EndSARS protests in Nigeria, where young people, tired of state-sponsored brutality, organised, fundraised, and communicated in ways that outpaced government machinery. We see it in the rise of Afrobeats, a genre that has taken the world by storm, not because it was handed legitimacy by traditional gatekeepers, but because it refused to be ignored. We see it in startups like Paystack and Flutterwave, in fashion brands that fuse heritage with modernity, and in spoken word artists who turn pain into poetry. Every act of creation, in a place designed to suppress it, is a revolutionary act.

In Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the turning point comes not from magical powers or outside saviorus, but from collective courage. The children band together. The adults join forces. And together, they overthrow the tyrant. This too offers a lesson. The future of Africa does not lie solely in foreign aid or lofty promises from multilateral institutions. It lies in the collaborative power of its own people, particularly its youth, who are already writing new narratives and pushing boundaries. It lies in community, in support systems, and in a shared belief that something better is possible.

Truly Scrumptious, Potts’ companion and eventual partner, symbolises another crucial element in the story: belief. She believes in Potts even when others see him as a failure. She supports the children not out of obligation, but genuine care. In the African context, Truly represents the role of allies, mentors, elders, diaspora communities, and even institutions — that choose to invest in, rather than exploit, youth potential. Her presence reminds us that while youth are capable, they are not alone. The path to flight is easier when others help push the runway clear.

Of course, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ends with victory. The Baron is defeated. The children are freed. The family is whole. But the real triumph lies in how they got there, not through brute force, but through imagination, unity, and the refusal to give up. That is the essence of the African youth story.

To the young woman in Kinshasa turning plastic waste into eco-bricks. To the boy in Addis Ababa teaching himself to code through free online courses. To the fashion designer in Dakar blending tradition with trend. To the spoken word artist in Johannesburg making sense of trauma with rhythm and rhyme. You are the dreamers. The builders. The inventors of flight.

Your Chitty Chitty Bang Bangs may not fly in the literal sense, but they are powered by something just as potent — vision, grit, and hope. In the face of governments that silence, economies that fail, and societies that overlook, you keep dreaming. You keep building. You keep singing your song.

And for that, you deserve more than applause. You deserve space. You deserve policy that nurtures, leadership that listens, and platforms that elevate.

The impala is not the lion. It does not rule the savanna but it endures and outmanoeuvres. It thrives in spite of the odds. In a world where brute force often takes the spotlight, the impala tells a quieter, subtler story. It’s the perfect metaphor for those navigating a complex, high-stakes world; those who are constantly learning how to stay a step ahead of forces beyond their control.

In the end, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is not just a children’s fantasy. It is a blueprint for what happens when imagination refuses to be caged. It is a parable of possibility. And for Africa’s youth, it is a mirror, a whimsical, musical reminder that no matter the odds, dreams still have wings.

Osmund Agbo is a US-based medical doctor and author. His works include Black Grit, White Knuckles: The Philosophy of Black Renaissance and a fiction work titled The Velvet Court: Courtesan Chronicles. His latest works, Pray, Let the Shaman Die and Ma’am, I Do Not Come to You for Love, have just been released.