

When we talk about creativity, we often romanticize talent — the singer born with perfect pitch, the painter who sees light in ways the rest of us don’t, the writer whose prose makes your heart skip. And now.. in the age of artificial intelligence, talent is no longer just about skill.
Skill, you see, is becoming universal. AI can write, draw, paint, sing. AI can generate music videos, book covers, brand campaigns, and scripts. So, what then makes you creative? What makes me?
The answer is simple: we are the story now.
I’ve always believed I was born to tell stories. Not just stories for the sake of it, but the kind that stitch life together — moments, people, spaces, transitions. I know I have an undoubted strength in entrepreneurship. But time and time again, I find myself returning to storytelling. I might even go to argue that I am as good an entrepreneur only because I am a natural born storyteller.
Whether I’m speaking to young creatives at the Kwathu Kollective, pitching to governments, or building out frameworks for Bien Corp, I realize my power is not just in building things — it’s in narrating them, feeling them, and reflecting on them in ways others might miss.
And in this new world, where AI can now write the cleanest lyrics, the most optimized scripts, the tightest punchlines — your creativity lies in how you connect those words to the world.
It’s no longer about how well you write. It’s about how deeply you can see.
Let’s talk music. AI can write songs. It can replicate style, rhyme, tone, rhythm. But it cannot replicate pain. It cannot replicate heartbreak or joy. It cannot write the song you wrote after that long walk in Manhattan, headphones in, when the world felt both overwhelming and breathtaking. It cannot sing with your voice.
Same with prose. I have shared reflections from Spain, walking the quiet streets of Segovia, so far from home, but also so close to the questions I’ve always asked myself: what does it mean to build something that lasts in a place that doesn’t have the infrastructure to carry it? AI didn’t feel the disconnect of watching local governance fail while global development plans stack up on paper. I did.
I remember being in New York, watching how systems functioned — not perfectly, but predictably. The subway was late, sure, but it existed. The trash collection came, the lights stayed on, the potholes were filled. Coming from Malawi, I felt both admiration and paralysis. Inspiration is not always empowering. Sometimes it’s crushing. You see what is possible, and it reminds you what you still don’t have.
It wasn’t until Lansing that I found something that felt like a bridge between worlds. A place small enough to understand, big enough to learn from. A place where my reflections on Africa’s systems could finally breathe again. And now, I can finally write about it.
Not just with insight. With intimacy.
Everyone is afraid AI will take away jobs. But here’s a thought: what if AI is just the beginning of better creativity?
AI is the first draft. The rough sketch. The brushstroke. But only you can make it human. Only you can add the nuance, the tenderness, the you-ness that brings it to life.
What we need now are creators who know who they are.
Creativity is curation. It’s the ability to pull stories from lived experience and remix them into something relevant, resonant, and real. Creativity is courage. It’s the audacity to say, “Yes, AI can generate, but only I can feel.” And that feeling — that story — that is where the real magic lives.
There will always be people who can write. AI will make more of them. But there will never be another you. Not one who has lived your stories. Who has loved and lost the way you have. Who has traveled and struggled and returned home questioning everything.
In the future, creativity will belong to those who are bold enough to stand in the fullness of their lived experiences — and to share them.
So yes, the future of creativity belongs to the storytellers. To the ones who don’t just make things, but who live them.
Go. Travel. Learn. Suffer a little. Feel everything. Take notes. Craft better questions.
And when you’re ready, come back to the page — not because AI can’t do it, but because it can’t do it like you.
You are the story now.
from one storyteller to another,
Ntha