Participants, dressed in traditional attires, gather at the Sacred Grove in Osogbo to mark the conclusion of the Osun-Osogbo Festival, a centuries-old cultural celebration of the Yoruba people in Osogbo, Nigeria in August 2025. The annual event draws thousands of local and international visitors. 
Photo Credit: Emmanuel Osodi/Anadolu via Getty Images

International Mother Language Day

Why mother languages belong in Africa’s development conversation

What happens when a mother language starts to fade away in daily life, not just in theory? In Africa, globalisation, urbanisation, and digital culture are changing how people learn, work, and connect. As a result, many African languages are spoken less at home, in schools, and in public. This situation brings up important questions: Why should we talk about language loss now, instead of seeing it as a problem for the future? And as more young people spend time online, can digital tools really help keep mother languages alive in Africa, given ongoing issues with access, cost, and inequality?

This discussion matters because the decline of mother languages is not an abstract cultural issue. It is a material, social, and political process unfolding in real time across African societies. Language loss shapes who can access education, healthcare, employment, and public life. Avoiding open discussion often leads to romanticising preservation or framing language decline as inevitable, instead of examining the structural forces driving it.

Mother languages hold unique ways of thinking, not just words. They contain knowledge about the environment, social rules, humour, values, ways to solve conflicts, and shared memories; types of knowledge that are rarely found in official records. When a language fades, communities lose more than just words. They lose ways of understanding the world and organising their lives.

Meanwhile, many families and young people are making practical choices. Global languages give people better chances for education, jobs, moving around, and joining in online. In cities across Africa, parents often choose English, French, Portuguese, or Arabic because schools, employers, and institutions value these languages. If we ignore this, it only leads to silence and guilt, not real answers. Talking openly helps us see that language change happens because of bigger social forces, not because of cultural weakness.

These discussions also reveal issues of power. Languages disappear more quickly when they are left out of schools, government, healthcare, and the media. If we stay silent, these problems continue without challenge. Seeing mother language preservation as a matter of dignity and inclusion, not just nostalgia, helps move the conversation from feelings to shared responsibility.

Digital solutions matter here because online spaces now shape which languages are seen as important. If a language cannot be typed, searched, translated, or heard online, it may seem unimportant, especially to young people. This does not mean rejecting heritage; it just means that daily life is increasingly happening through digital tools.

Using digital tools does not mean replacing elders, oral traditions, or learning in the community. It means reaching young people where they already spend time. Messaging apps, voice notes, social media, podcasts, and short videos are similar to oral cultures. They share tone, rhythm, and stories in ways textbooks often cannot. Digital tools also help spread and save knowledge: a proverb recorded once can reach thousands, and a story shared in one place can be replayed years later. For people who move or live in cities, digital archives can help keep communities connected.

But real-world challenges are important. Digital tools are not a cure-all. Africa deals with uneven internet access, high data costs, unreliable electricity, few devices, and many different languages. Many elders with language knowledge do not use digital technology, and some languages do not have standard writing systems. These are real obstacles.

Still, ignoring digital approaches misses how Africans already use technology in creative ways, even with limits. Missed calls, voice notes, offline sharing, Bluetooth transfers, community radio, and shared devices are common. Language projects that fit these habits, such as using low data, audio, mobile phones, and community control, work better than expensive, imported technology.

The main question is not if digital tools are the answer, but if they can be part of a bigger system. They work best when combined with cooperation between generations, education policies that support mother languages, media like radio that encourage daily use, and local control of content and data.

We cannot avoid this dialogue. If we do, language change will keep happening, pushed by markets, technology, and institutions that often do not value language diversity. Digital tools cannot promise survival, but staying out of digital life almost guarantees being left out. In Africa’s fast-changing societies, the bigger risk is not trying imperfect solutions, but not trying at all.