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What phones in Africa taught the world about poverty

  • FormatOyihoma Saleh
  • FormatJune 1, 2026

When everyone in the development world was asking whether the DRC, Sierra Leone, Chad, Burkina Faso, Niger, Malawi could pay back their loans, Mo Ibrahim was asking how many people had never had access to the value of a phone call. This fundamental difference in how he saw these countries propelled a seemingly magical movement of market creation on the continent. 

In the 1990s, the Democratic Republic of Congo had 55 million people and 3,000 phones. One for every 18,000.

The average Congolese person lived on $132 a year, one of the lowest incomes in the world. The country spans nearly the same landmass as Western Europe combined and, at the time, only 2% of its roads were paved. The Congo River carried on waterways what roads couldn’t: goods, people, and news between provinces. Reaching anyone was, quite literally, a journey.

The DRC wasn’t an exception. Across sub-Saharan Africa, fewer than 5% of people had ever made a phone call. Not because the need to communicate was less urgent, but because no one had built a product designed for their realities.

The world, for the most part, looked at Africa and saw people too poor to be customers. Poverty was the beginning and end of the analysis. That missed something important: these weren’t people without desire or need. They were people the industry had never tried to serve. The distinction matters. 

The engineer who saw opportunity

Mo Ibrahim had spent nearly two decades building mobile networks, first at British Telecom, then through MSI Cellular, a consultancy he founded in 1988 that grew into a global operation across Europe, Asia, and the Middle East.

He knew what a global telecom map looked like. And noticed Africa wasn’t on it. 

When he urged clients to take the continent seriously, the resistance wasn’t analysis. It was an image of poverty, corruption, and conflict that had long stopped being updated. Where his clients saw risk too large to quantify, Ibrahim saw something else entirely: a market too large to ignore.

He had seen this failure of attention before, in Uganda.

The market that was ready to be created

In 1995, MSI helped launch Celtel Uganda, the country’s first private mobile operator, targeting business people, expatriates, and diplomats. A handset cost close to $1,000 and service was billed monthly in US dollars, which most Ugandans neither earned nor had access. By the end of 1996, Celtel had just 3,500 subscribers.

In 1998, MTN, the South African telecoms company, won a second national operator license and brought a completely different idea of who the customer was. A handset cost 40,000 Ugandan shillings, roughly $10. Airtime came on prepaid scratch cards, sold at street stalls and kiosks across the city. Within a year, MTN had 36,500 subscribers, more than ten times Celtel’s four-year total.

The market hadn’t changed, but the product had. For Ibrahim, Uganda wasn’t a failure to explain away. It was proof that across Africa, hundreds of millions of people were ready customers. They had simply never been treated as one. 

It was the market teaching him something. And he was humble enough to listen.

The signal nobody else read

While MTN was moving toward Nigeria, Ibrahim was already looking in the opposite direction. Since 1998, MSI Cellular had been quietly acquiring licenses in the countries nobody else wanted: the DRC, Sierra Leone, Chad, Burkina Faso, Niger, Malawi. In 2000, he sold MSI’s consulting business to Marconi for over $900 million and committed to building Celtel International in markets with virtually no competitors.

Sierra Leone’s GDP per capita was $157, the second lowest on the continent. Chad’s was $220. These weren’t overlooked middle-tier markets. They were countries the IMF classified as too poor and too indebted to qualify for debt relief.

What Celtel built

Before it could be a telecoms company, Celtel had to be its own logistics operator, utility, and general contractor. In the DRC, base stations were airlifted by helicopter to sites unreachable by land. Celtel powered them with its own generators, sold airtime through informal market stalls and kiosks, and expanded outward from Kinshasa, town by town, tracing the Congo River. By 2003, the network had reached 19 million people and 500,000 subscribers across nine provinces.

By 2004, Celtel had 5.2 million subscribers and $614 million in revenue across 13 countries. 99% of its 5,000 employees were African. In 2005, just seven years after its founding, it sold for $3.4 billion. The price sent a signal no development report could: that the people the world had written off as too poor to be customers were one of the most valuable untapped markets on Earth. 

Today, the industry Celtel seeded generates $220 billion in economic value, $30 billion in annual tax revenues and supports 8 million jobs across the continent.

What phones in Africa taught the world

Celtel’s story goes beyond telecommunications. It is about what poverty is, and what it isn’t.

The development world wasn’t asking whether Africa’s poorest markets had demand. It wasn’t asking about markets at all. Mo Ibrahim was asking the question nobody had thought to ask: what market exists here that no one has tried to build?

That question, asked in the DRC, in Sierra Leone, in Chad, turned out to be worth more than any investor or institution looking at those same countries in 1998 had thought possible. Poverty, it turns out, is not the absence of demand. It is what happens when demand goes chronically unanswered. 

Author

  • Oyihoma Saleh
    Oyihoma Saleh

    Oyihoma Saleh is a Research Associate at the Clayton Christensen Institute for Disruptive Innovation, where he researches how market-creating innovations drive prosperity in emerging economies. Applying the Institute's innovation theories, he studies how innovators identify unmet needs, build new value networks, and reach nonconsumers to create markets where none existed before.