WHILE champagne corks popped in the Algarve, the sound echoing across those spectacular Portuguese beaches and historic cobblestoned streets, a different kind of silence settled over Kigali and Johannesburg. The kind of silence that follows grand pronouncements, carefully designed circuits, and presidential declarations – when the phone call you’re waiting for goes to voicemail. Again.
Portugal is back, baby! 2027 and 2028! Two glorious years of that rollercoaster circuit, those dramatic elevation changes, that plunge down to the final right-hander. Lewis Hamilton will return to the site of his record-breaking 92nd victory, where he surpassed the immortal Michael Schumacher. The paddock will buzz with the prestige of Areyton Senna’s first-ever win at Estoril in 1985. History, heritage, and Hamilton – Formula One’s holy trinity, all wrapped in a Portuguese flag.
And Africa? Africa can wait.
Again.
Let’s rewind to that moment of breathtaking ambition when President Paul Kagame stood before the FIA General Assembly – not in Monaco, not in Geneva, but in Kigali – and made his move.
“For the very first time, the FIA General Assembly is being held in Africa,” he announced, and you could almost hear the tectonic plates of motorsport politics shifting beneath the conference hall floor. “This is an important milestone, which signals the goal of the motorsport industry to connect directly with fans and aspiring drivers in Africa.”
Connect. That word carried weight. For a continent perpetually told it’s “emerging” (translation: not quite ready), “developing” (translation: try again in a decade), or facing “unique challenges” (translation: good luck with that), Kagame was offering something revolutionary: readiness.
He spoke of motorsport as “recognised for its elite performance, focus on safety, and cutting-edge technology” – not as some exotic novelty for a continent that supposedly couldn’t handle the logistics. He celebrated Rwandan engineering students building a low-cost cross-car prototype from FIA blueprints, highlighting “the importance of a skilled workforce to unlock more career pathways in motorsport in Africa, such as engineering and design.”
Then came the declaration: “I am happy to formally announce that Rwanda is bidding to bring the thrill of racing back to Africa, by hosting a Formula 1 Grand Prix.”
The circuit design was ready. Alexander Wurz, former F1 racer, had already drafted the layout near Bugesera. The political will was there. The vision was comprehensive. The president himself was leading the charge, which in the delicate dance of Formula One politics is roughly equivalent to rolling out the red carpet, the gold carpet, and possibly carpeting the entire country.
And then? Stefano Domenicali went to Portugal instead.
The Mathematics of Disappointment
Here’s the arithmetic that stings: The last time Africa hosted a Formula One race was the 1993 South African Grand Prix at Kyalami. That’s 32 years ago for those counting. By the time 2029 rolls around, the earliest Africa could now realistically hope for a race, it will have been 36 years.
Thirty-six years.
For context, that’s longer than Michael Schumacher’s entire life span when he won his first world championship. That’s longer than most F1 drivers’ entire careers. That’s long enough for a child born at the last African Grand Prix to have children of their own who’ve never seen a Formula One car race on their continent.
Meanwhile, Portugal, which last hosted races in 2020 and 2021, a mere four-year gap, gets welcomed back like a beloved friend who just popped out for cigarettes. “The interest and demand to host a Formula 1 Grand Prix is the highest that it has ever been,” Domenicali explained, apparently without irony, while announcing a race for a continent that had one three years ago instead of a continent that hasn’t had one in three decades.
The Grand Tour of Almost
Rwanda wasn’t alone in this quest. South Africa, with the legendary Kyalami circuit still standing, has been rattling the gates for years. Morocco, which last hosted a race in 1958 (and yes, we’re now in “your grandfather’s grandfather” territory), has made periodic overtures.
But Rwanda—oh, Rwanda went all in.
They hosted the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony. Picture this: Max Verstappen, four-time world champion, the man who dominates the sport like few before him, receiving his trophy not in Paris, not in Milan, not in London, but in Kigali. The FIA’s premier function, its glitziest annual gathering, its moment of champagne-soaked celebration – in Africa.
It was a masterstroke. A coup. A statement that Rwanda could handle the logistics, the security, the accommodation, and the spectacle. If you can host the sports’ Oscar night, surely you can host a race weekend?
President Kagame certainly thought so: “A big thank you to Stefano Domenicali, and the entire team at Formula 1, for the good progress in our discussions so far. I assure you that we are approaching this opportunity with the seriousness and commitment which it deserves. Together, we will build something we can all be proud of.”
Together. That word again. It suggests partnership, mutual respect, and shared ambition.
Instead, Rwanda got a polite “we’ll be in touch”, and Portugal got a two-year contract.
Perhaps the most cutting irony is that Lewis Hamilton – the sport’s most vocal advocate for African representation, its most decorated Black driver, and the only current grid driver to have won at Portimão – said it plainly: “We can’t be adding races in other locations and continue to ignore Africa, which the rest of the world just takes from.”
Read that last phrase again: “which the rest of the world just takes from.”
Hamilton wasn’t mincing words. He was pointing to the uncomfortable truth that Africa has been an extraction site rather than a destination – for resources, for minerals, for labour, for ideas – while remaining perpetually sidelined from the benefits.
And Formula One, which prides itself on being the pinnacle of motorsport, the cutting edge of technology, the global showcase of elite performance, heard Hamilton’s plea and said: “Noted. Anyway, here’s Portugal.”
To be fair to Portugal – and why shouldn’t we be? The Algarve is stunning, the beaches are spectacular, Portimão delivers “on-track excitement from the first corner to the chequered flag” – this isn’t about Portugal not deserving a race. It’s about the calendar somehow finding room for the Algarve but not for an entire continent of 1.4 billion people.
The Nuance No One Wants
Of course, there’s always nuance. FIA President Mohammed Ben Sulayem declared, “The future of motorsport in Africa is bright” – which is the kind of statement that sounds encouraging until you realise it’s always about the future, never the present. Africa’s moment is perpetually five years away, just around the corner, almost there.
And yes, there’s the matter of Kagame himself – praised internationally for rebuilding Rwanda after the devastating 1994 genocide, for turning a shattered nation into one of Africa’s most stable and forward-looking countries, but also criticised for his authoritarian governance and human rights record. Formula One isn’t allergic to complicated politics (see: Saudi Arabia, Abu Dhabi, Bahrain, Azerbaijan), but Africa somehow faces a higher bar of scrutiny.
When Middle Eastern nations build circuits in the desert at eye-watering expense, it’s called “sportswashing” but the races go ahead anyway. When Africa proposes to build infrastructure that could catalyse tourism, engineering careers, and continental pride, it’s called “complicated.”
The double standard would be funny if it weren’t so predictable.
So what does Portugal’s return actually mean? Beyond the legitimate celebration of a technical circuit returning to the calendar, beyond the joy of Portuguese fans who genuinely love Formula One, it represents a choice.
Formula One chose the familiar over the pioneering. The comfortable over the courageous. The proven over the potential.
Domenicali spoke of Portugal projecting “the country as a competitive and reliable destination” and providing “a powerful boost for our tourism, region, and community.” Beautiful sentiments – and exactly what Rwanda promised. The difference? Portugal already had the race before, so giving it back feels safe. Africa hasn’t had one in 32 years, so giving it a chance feels risky.
This is the logic of institutions that talk about growth while clinging to comfort. That speaks about “connecting with fans” while ignoring 1.4 billion people. That celebrates “the highest demand ever” for hosting races while somehow concluding that demand doesn’t extend to an entire continent.
Langston Hughes once asked: “What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?”
Rwanda’s dream isn’t drying up – not yet. President Kagame’s commitment remains “unwavering,” according to those who know the negotiations. The circuit design still sits ready. The engineering students still build their prototypes. The ambition still burns.
But 2028 has come and gone on the calendar, claimed by the Algarve’s rollercoaster and the Estoril nostalgia tour. Which means 2029 at the absolute earliest, probably 2030 if we’re being realistic, possibly never if we’re being honest.
And with each passing year, the gap widens. The 1993 Kyalami race slips further into history. The generation that remembers it ages. The children who could have been inspired by seeing F1 cars race through African landscapes grow up and move on to other dreams.
Africa will wait. Africa always waits.
Here’s the thing that makes this story almost, almost, funny: Formula One genuinely believes it’s being progressive.
The sport congratulates itself for racing in Miami, Las Vegas, and soon Madrid. It celebrates “expanding the calendar” while that calendar somehow excludes the world’s second-largest continent. It talks about “global reach” while reaching everywhere except Africa. It champions “diversity and inclusion” while its race map looks like someone specifically avoided one particular landmass.
At some point, the omission stops being oversight and starts being a statement.
So when Portugal’s Prime Minister and tourism officials gather to celebrate their “prestigious history in Formula 1” – dating back to 1958, mind you, when Stirling Moss graced their circuits – spare a thought for the African nations whose “prestigious history” ended in 1993 and shows no signs of resuming.
When Jaime Costa speaks of “setting new standards of excellence on and off the track” at Portimão, remember that Rwanda wanted to set those exact standards, with a brand-new circuit designed for the modern era, not a retrofitted venue from decades past.
And when Domenicali talks about “the interest and demand to host a Formula 1 Grand Prix is the highest that it has ever been,” I know that somewhere in Kigali, someone is reading that statement and laughing bitterly, because apparently “highest ever” interest still doesn’t extend to their proposals.
This was supposed to be colourful, wasn’t it? Full of the vibrant hues of African ambition, the gleaming promise of Rwandan innovation, the rainbow of continental diversity finally represented in motorsport’s most elite series?
Instead, it’s the muted tones of diplomatic double-speak, the grey of bureaucratic delay, the sepia of recycled promises about “bright futures” that never quite arrive.
The only splash of colour comes from Portugal – those Algarve beaches, that Mediterranean sun, that Portuguese flag waving over a circuit that definitely deserves to host F1 races but probably didn’t need to jump the queue ahead of an entire continent.
So Africa waits.
Rwanda’s circuit design sits in filing cabinets, ready to deploy. South Africa’s Kyalami track hosts other series, still capable of F1 standards. Morocco occasionally resurfaces in rumours and speculation. And the rest of the continent – the 54 countries, the billion-plus people, the untapped markets, the passionate fans, the aspiring engineers – watches as Formula One races everywhere else.
President Kagame’s words echo with poignant irony: “Together, we will build something we can all be proud of.”
Together. Someday. Maybe. If the calendar permits. After Portugal. After wherever else gets priority. After the “bright future” finally becomes the present.
The engines rev in the Algarve. The champagne flows in Portimão. Lewis Hamilton will stand on that podium again, perhaps, winning at the circuit where he made history.
And in Kigali and Johannesburg, the dream defers.
Again.
