“Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. Give a man Starlink, and you can monitor his fishing habits from space while charging him $120 a month,” – Ancient Proverb, as reimagined by Elon Musk.
In a twist that would make Cecil Rhodes blush, Elon Musk’s Starlink is quietly colonizing Africa’s skies, one overpriced satellite dish at a time. The space-based internet provider is making waves across the continent, promising high-speed connectivity to regions where the concept of “buffering” was previously thought to be a mating dance performed by antelopes.
The Great Trek into Africa’s Wallets
Starlink’s expansion into Africa has been nothing short of meteoric, much like the eventual fate of its satellites. In Kenya, the service has become so popular that “Starlink and chill” has replaced “Netflix and chill” as the go-to euphemism for romantic encounters, albeit with more frequent service interruptions.
“We’ve revolutionized how Kenyans access the internet,” boasts fictional Starlink Africa CEO, Bwana Musk (no relation). “Now, instead of struggling with slow, unreliable terrestrial networks, they can struggle with expensive, weather-dependent space internet. It’s progress, but shinier.”
According to the completely fabricated Pan-African Institute for Overpriced Technology, Starlink subscriptions in Kenya have increased by 400% in the last six months. “It’s become a status symbol,” explains fictional sociologist Dr. Akinyi Ochieng. “Owning a Starlink dish is like having a designer handbag, except it’s bolted to your roof and occasionally sets your thatch on fire.”
Zimbabwe: The Waiting Game
Meanwhile, in Zimbabwe, Starlink has achieved the impossible: it’s made waiting in line fashionable again. The service is so oversubscribed that there’s now a waiting list to join the waiting list.
“We haven’t seen queues like this since the hyperinflation days,” marvels fictional economist Dr. Takunda Moyo. “But instead of waiting for bread, people are lining up for the privilege of paying $600 for a dish that looks like it fell off a 1950s sci-fi movie set.”
The fictional Zimbabwe Broadband Enthusiasm Society reports that 73% of Starlink waitlist members have no idea what internet speeds they currently have, but are certain Starlink will be better. “It’s from space,” explains society president Farai Ndlovu. “Everything from space is better. Except meteors. And space junk. And cosmic radiation. But apart from those, everything.”
The South African Saga: Musk’s Sour Grapes
While Starlink conquers the rest of the continent, South Africa remains a glaring hole in Musk’s satellite empire. The reason? According to Musk, it’s because he’s white. Yes, you read that correctly. The world’s sometimes-richest man, born in Pretoria during apartheid, claims he’s being discriminated against in post-apartheid South Africa.
“They won’t let me in because I’m white,” Musk allegedly complained to his DOGE council (a group of Shiba Inu dogs in space suits that he consults for major decisions). “It’s not like I have a history of benefiting from systemic racial inequality or anything.”
When fact-checkers pointed out that South Africa is, in fact, home to millions of white citizens and that Musk could visit anytime he wants, the billionaire responded by tweeting a meme of himself as a misunderstood martyr, with the caption “They hate me ’cause they ain’t me (in space).”
The DOGE-plomacy Incident
In a move that has international relations experts scratching their heads, Musk—now apparently the head of DOGE, a cryptocurrency based on a meme—convinced former President Trump to expel the South African ambassador to the US.
“As the supreme leader of the DOGE nation, I decree that South Africa has been very unfair, very nasty to our good friend Elon,” Trump allegedly announced on his Truth Social platform. “They won’t let him sell internet from space. Sad! We’re sending their ambassador to the doghouse. MAKE SPACE GREAT AGAIN!”
The fictional US Department of Canine Diplomacy reports that the South African ambassador was indeed asked to leave, but only after being given a gift basket full of chew toys and a year’s supply of kibble.
The Unintended Consequences
As Starlink’s popularity in Africa grows, so do concerns about its impact. The fictional African Union Committee for Preserving the Night Sky reports that stargazing tourism has dropped by 80% since Starlink’s arrival.
“People come to Africa to see lions, elephants, and stars,” laments committee chairperson Dr. Nkosazana Dlamini. “Now all they see are blinking Starlink satellites. It’s like someone strung Christmas lights across the Serengeti.”
Environmental groups are also raising alarms. The made-up East African Wildlife and Internet Society warns that animals are becoming addicted to streaming services. “We’ve observed elephants binge-watching ‘The Crown,’ lions neglecting their hunts to catch up on ‘Love Island,’ and a troop of baboons who’ve become obsessed with day trading,” reports fictional primatologist Dr. Jelani Okoro.
The Unexpected Twist
As our exploration of Starlink’s African adventure concludes, a startling development emerges. According to an anonymous source who definitely exists and isn’t just a narrative device, Starlink’s true purpose in Africa has been revealed: it’s all an elaborate ploy to find Musk’s long-lost sense of irony.
“Elon realized he left his sense of irony somewhere in Africa during his childhood,” whispers our definitely real insider. “He figured blanketing the continent with satellites was easier than actually visiting and looking for it.”
The search has reportedly been unsuccessful so far, but it has had an unexpected side effect. The constant exposure to Musk’s lack of self-awareness, beamed down from thousands of satellites, has caused a continent-wide surge in the production of irony.
“We’re now the world’s leading exporter of irony,” boasts fictional African Union Minister of Rhetorical Resources, Chidi Okafor. “Who would have thought that a white South African expat billionaire complaining about racial discrimination while selling overpriced internet to developing nations would spark a renaissance in satirical thinking?”
As Africa grapples with its new role as the global irony superpower, one thing is clear: in the race to connect the continent, Starlink may have inadvertently disconnected Musk further from reality. But hey, at least now Kenyans can tweet about it at lightning speed.
In the end, perhaps the real treasure was the memes we made along the way. And if you listen closely on a quiet night, you might just hear the faint sound of Nelson Mandela slow-clapping from the great beyond.
