Thomas Sankara was a man who lived for something bigger than himself. When he rose to power in Burkina Faso, it wasn’t about climbing the political ladder… it was about reshaping a nation, about creating a path for his people that had never existed before. Sankara didn’t wait for the world to change around him, he took it by the reins and made it clear: this is what I believe, this is what I’m doing, and nothing’s going to stop it.

In a country scarred by the long aftermath of colonialism, corruption, and poverty, Sankara sparked a shift, igniting a change that burned through the old ways. It was a fire some couldn’t understand, and others feared. But to him, it was simple: Africa didn’t need to bow to anyone, not anymore. It was time for the people of Burkina Faso, and by extension, all of Africa, to take control of their own destinies, to believe in themselves and their potential.
Sankara didn’t do things by the book. He didn’t wear the same suit as past leaders, nor did he follow the same script. He wasn’t here to appease foreign powers or repeat the same mistakes. He didn’t mince words, he called it what it was. He saw neo-colonialism for what it was, and he fought back unapologetically. Sankara kicked out foreign aid, nationalized resources, and championed land reform. But he also understood something deeper, real freedom didn’t come from handouts or charity; it came from the people. It came from taking ownership of their land, their work, their future. He didn’t just talk about change; he was making it happen.
In a world where others had written off Burkina Faso as one of the poorest and most vulnerable nations, Sankara showed what could be done. Roads were built, schools created, and women were brought into leadership roles, helping change the fabric of a society that had been told for so long it couldn’t change. No one had dared to think this big, to push this far, but Sankara did. And the people followed him, not just because he was a leader, but because they could feel the weight of what he was doing. They believed in it, even if they didn’t fully understand how far it could go.


But like many before him, Sankara’s biggest challenge wasn’t external, it was internal. It wasn’t the opposition or foreign forces; it was betrayal. His closest ally, Blaise Compaoré, who had been part of his rise, turned against him. Compaoré had the ambition, the connections, and the fear. Fear of what Sankara represented, fear of what his success could mean. Sankara wasn’t just leading a country—he was becoming a symbol, a challenge to the established order, a threat to anyone whose power depended on keeping things the same.



When Sankara was assassinated, it wasn’t just the death of a man, it was the death of a vision. But Sankara’s vision didn’t die with him. It didn’t end with his life. His ideals lived on. They became part of the conversation, part of the struggle, and in every young African who looked at the world and said, this doesn’t have to be the way it’s always been. Sankara’s message was bigger than Burkina Faso. It was for anyone who believed in the possibility of a better world, who dared to imagine that things could be different.

The coup that killed Sankara didn’t erase his ideas, it made them stronger. Because ideas like his, driven by a belief in people’s potential, in independence, and in dignity, don’t just vanish. They stay in the air, in the hearts of those who refuse to accept the status quo. Sankara’s legacy didn’t die with him; it lives on in those who still remember, still fight for the same things he stood for. It’s in the quiet defiance of a people who know change is possible, even when the odds seem impossible.