When I started writing children’s books, one thing was crystal clear: my stories would be set in Africa.

Why? Because African children deserve to see themselves — their faces, languages, food, families, and dreams — in the pages of the books they read.

Growing up, I rarely saw characters who looked like me or lived like I did in the books on my shelf. So many of the stories I read were about children who lived in monolingual households, played with pets, and travelled to far away galaxies or magical lands I couldn’t connect with. It subtly told me that my world wasn't exciting enough to write about. But that simply isn’t true.

Representation in children’s literature isn’t just about diversity. It’s about identity. Studies show that when children see themselves reflected in books, it boosts their self-esteem, empathy, and even their motivation to read. Books become mirrors — offering a reflection of who they are and what they can become.

But here’s the problem: African children are often missing from these mirrors. Although organizations like We Need Diverse Books are making monumental strides to increase the number of children’s books, published in America, written by BIPOC (Black and Indigenous Peoples and People of Color) authors, representation of African characters remains relatively low. This leaves a huge gap, especially for children on the continent or in the African Diaspora who are looking to connect with stories that feel like home.

I set my stories in Africa because I want to fill that gap. I want African children to see the beauty of their villages, hear the rhythm of their languages, and recognize the courage and kindness in characters who look and live like them. Whether it’s a boy named Jama pushing his baby sister in a wheelbarrow or a girl climbing a mango tree that oversees the beautiful valleys of the continent — these stories matter.

But this isn’t just for African children. I believe all children benefit when books open windows into different cultures. Books set in Africa can spark curiosity, build bridges, and challenge stereotypes. They remind readers that no matter where we live, we share the same hopes, fears, and dreams.

I write these stories with heart — not just to entertain, but to affirm, to inspire, and to celebrate African childhood in all its vibrant glory.

So yes, my books are proudly set in Africa. And my hope is that one day, children everywhere will pick up a story, see Africa on the page, and smile — either because they see themselves, or because they’ve discovered something beautifully new.