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By Vincent Chidindu Asogwa
In many parts of the world today, especially across Africa, the cry is growing louder: “Our languages are dying!” But languages do not die like trees in a storm or animals in a drought. Instead, they fade slowly, not because of time, but because of silence. They fade because they are no longer spoken in homes, no longer sung in lullabies, no longer whispered in bedtime stories. When we say a language is dying, we are in fact acknowledging that its speakers are either disappearing—or refusing to speak it.
A closer examination of this crisis often reveals a surprising scapegoat: the school teacher. During Parent-Teacher Association (PTA) meetings and community forums, many parents accuse teachers of failing to promote indigenous languages in schools. Some go as far as claiming that teachers are responsible for their children’s inability to speak their mother tongue. However, this accusation lacks fairness and accuracy. The real questions we must ask are: Whose tongue is it—mother or teacher? Whose responsibility is it to preserve a child’s mother tongue—the teacher or the parent?
Let us begin by understanding how language is acquired. Studies in child development and linguistics show that over 80% of a child’s foundational language acquisition occurs within the home; particularly between birth and age five. At this stage, children learn primarily through listening, imitation, and social interaction—processes that are natural and most powerful within the family environment. The home is the first school, and the parents are the first teachers. It is here that language is not just taught but lived.
And yet, what do we find today? Parents consciously choose to speak English—or French or Portuguese or other official colonial languages—at home, often with pride. They believe, not incorrectly, that fluency in these global languages provides better access to education and economic opportunities. However, in the process, they abandon their native languages. They replace local idioms with foreign accents, traditional songs with foreign cartoons, and proverbs with imported slang. And when their children grow up unable to communicate with grandparents or understand community rituals, they turn around and ask: What are the teachers doing?
This is the heart of the matter. Teachers are not the first language instructors. They are not, and cannot be, replacements for parental language roles. The teacher’s job is governed by curricula, subject boundaries, national education standards, and time limits. A teacher of science or mathematics, for example, must cover specific content within a set period—content that is typically presented in the official language. Most textbooks, exams, and educational materials are not even available in local languages. Even if teachers were willing, they simply do not have the tools or institutional mandate to promote mother tongues adequately.
To illustrate: In a typical school timetable, a student may take 10 to 12 subjects in a week. Out of these, perhaps only one or two periods are allocated to indigenous language instruction—if the school offers it at all. This means that for every hour of exposure to the mother tongue in school, the child hears five to ten times more English or another official language. That is not the teacher’s fault. That is the structure of the education system, a system designed for academic competition, not cultural preservation.
Still, the importance of mother tongue cannot be overstated. UNESCO has consistently advocated for mother tongue-based multilingual education, noting that children learn best in their first language, especially during the early years. Beyond cognitive development, the mother tongue strengthens a child’s identity, confidence, and sense of belonging. It carries cultural wisdom, traditional knowledge, and intergenerational connections. As the African proverb says, “A man who cannot speak his mother tongue is a slave in his own house.”
So, what can be done? First, we must correct the narrative. Teachers are not the villains. They are not the cause of linguistic decline. Instead, they are often the last defenders of mother tongue in formal settings. The real issue lies in the home, in the choices parents make, consciously or unconsciously.
Secondly, parents must recognize their natural responsibility in language preservation. It is not enough to enrol a child in a local language class. Language must be lived at home. Speak your language to your children daily, regardless of whether they respond in it. Comprehension comes before expression. Children may resist initially, but repeated exposure eventually leads to understanding and fluency.
A parent might ask: What if my child does not understand my language? The answer is simple: Keep speaking it. Repetition is key. Sing songs in the mother tongue, narrate folktales, use proverbs in everyday conversation, and ask older family members to converse with the child in the native dialect. Provide cultural materials—books, cartoons, radio programs, and music—in the local language. If you cannot find them, create them. Children learn language through immersion, not translation.
There is a powerful quote from Ngugi waThiong’o, the renowned Kenyan writer, that says, “Language, any language, has a dual character: it is both a means of communication and a carrier of culture.” If we lose our language, we lose the vehicle that carries our stories, our songs, our ceremonies, and our collective soul. Moreover, we must stop shaming or mocking children who speak indigenous languages. Too often, children are corrected or ridiculed when they pronounce local words imperfectly, causing them to withdraw. Instead, they should be praised for every effort, every attempt, every new word learned. Language should be a source of pride, not embarrassment.
Let us also resist the false belief that speaking a native language is a disadvantage. On the contrary, research from the World Bank shows that multilingual children often perform better academically, as they develop stronger cognitive flexibility and problem-solving skills. Knowing one’s mother tongue does not prevent success in global languages—it enhances it. The human brain is capable of mastering multiple languages, especially during childhood. Denying a child their mother tongue in the name of modernity is not wisdom; it is cultural amputation.
Finally, community leaders, schools, media, and policy makers must also play their part. But these efforts must begin at home. A teacher can only water the seed that the parent has planted.
In conclusion, the gradual disappearance of mother tongues is not a teacher’s sin; it is a parental failure. The most significant language instruction happens not in the classroom but around the dinner table, in family gatherings, during morning greetings, and bedtime stories. If we are to save our languages from extinction, we must stop blaming the teachers and start holding ourselves accountable.
As the popular African saying goes, “The child who is not initiated into the village will burn it down just to feel its warmth.” If we do not initiate our children into the warmth of our language and culture, they will seek identity elsewhere—and we will have only ourselves to blame. The future of our languages lies not in the classroom but in the living room. Let us speak so our children may speak. Let us teach so they may carry the torch. And let us remember: every time we choose silence over our mother tongue, we take one step closer to forgetting who we are.
•Asogwa writes from Department of
Agricultural Education and Extension
University of Eswatini, [email protected]
