Mother Tongue
Part Two: Harnessing home language as a skill — reading, writing, and speaking with clarity and confidence.
The Skill of Speaking, Reading, and Writing Our Mother Tongues
In this part of the series, we turn to the practical: how we speak, read, and write in our mother tongues.
This is about literacy, fluency and belonging. It’s about raising children who can express themselves, honour their roots, and engage the world with cultural confidence.
In isiZulu, the word ukuzwana has many interconnected definitions: to hear one another, to understand, and to live in harmony. This is what language offers when we share and use it with intention.
Tough Times
African parents are constantly navigating questions of culture, identity, and belonging — and language sits at the heart of that journey.
For many urban and suburban parents, especially working mothers, there’s a unique tension: the pressure to be present, to get it perfectly right, and the guilt of not doing enough .
Speaking, singing, and reading in your mother tongue can feel like one more thing on an already overwhelming list. And so, it often slips through the cracks.
You speak english all day at work, then have to come home and help your child with homework, likely in English too. Then there’s english at school, with friends, at the complex/estate where you live. Also in their favouorite show, books and music. Next thing, you are conversing in English full time at home.
There is a major disadvantage to parenting ‘without a village’ to play its role in the robust linguistic heritage of children. But even so, we have to make time for what matters. Language should be at the top of that list.
The real barrier isn’t always time or capacity because parents will speak to each other in their mother tongue then turn around and speak to their children in English.
The barrier to practical effort is the belief that English is ‘more convenient’ or that it should take precedence since it’s already everywhere.
The belief that multilingualism is too hard or tedious to implement. That mother tongues are optional - or that children will pick up their mother tongue automatically.
The world still tells us that English is the “language of success.” But the truth is, children need both: a language for the world and a language for their roots. One without the other leaves a gap.
It’s You
Now, parents have a lot more resources to support them, especially where they lack the cultural resources of stories, songs and community memory. However, passive engagement with available resources won’t cut it.
You can buy all the mother tongue books, follow all the online tutorials or attend all the literary events, and that still won’t be enough.
You have to make the investment and effort by being deliberate and consistent.
You have to demonstrate the value and importance of mother tongue fluency in your daily choices and lifestyle.
You have to re-orient your entire belief system in order to see the point of all of this. You have to interrogate why this feels difficult or unnecessary.
You have to investigate your own perceptions about your language, your culture and yourself. You.
I am just emphasizing this, in case you thought that you could simply throw good intentions and/or money at this.
Vocabulary and Vibe
Our languages are transmitted through the spoken word, so parents have to ensure that children know more than vocabulary.
They have to understand how to interpret the language through tone, intonation and grammar, for example - so they need to be spoken with, and listened to.
Language and storytelling are not a one-size-fits all. There is a difference between a story written in English, then translated into vernac, and a story that was formulated in vernac, and translated to English. That means that this too, is your responsibility. Make sure that the translations in the books and stories you give your children are aligned with your dialect and conversational style.
Respect and Representation
Yes, Black and African children representation in books is important - but the content and subject matter of the stories also matters.
Not all African children’s books are well written or considered. I have encountered so many African story books that write animal characters with more depth, nuance and complexity than they do African children characters.
We have to be able to critique and discern quality literature for our children. There are way too many stories about African children existing only in relation to struggles - poverty, self-acceptance, ostracization, stigma, and self-image issues. These stories tend to flatten the otherwise rich, vibrant and dynamic nature of children and the plurality of African lives.
It’s not enough to see African children in books. We have to see the full expression of childhood wonder, intelligence, inherent worthiness and full personhood. African children are not only fighters, overcomers and survivors.
What is the point of African children seeing themselves represented in books when those books don’t break the mould about the so-called black condition. Even if these considerations are met by the books available on the market, our children are still better off being taught our own songs, stories, clan names, family history and memories as well.
Children are smart and curious, so they can also be exposed to other subject matter in an age appropriate way - fiction, history, geography, science and current affairs, for example. That means you too have to have an interest in learning.
The best children’s history book and music album in the world is In Africa with Avi & Kumbi written and produced by my sister Auntie Naledi aka Mamkhulu Professor. Hopefully they will be available again in the future.
Let me share other recommendations:
Ethnikids sells multi-lingual children’s books.
Book Circle Capital specialises in African Authors and stories for all ages.
My favourite children’s authors are:
Lebohang Masango who writes the Mpumi series
and Atinuke.
There is also Gcina Mhlophe - her work is wonderful.
Nothando Moleketi-Williams used to have a children’s book box subscription which was brilliantly curated. Now, she has a substack for mums. here it is.
Teaching or Torture
Let’s be honest — denying a child their mother tongue doesn’t give them a better chance at success. It makes them vulnerable. It cuts off access to heritage, culture, and ways of thinking that are essential for navigating life with clarity and confidence.
One of the common “defenses” from parents who want to reserve the right to indulge myths of language, success and status at the expense of their children’s development is “we are giving them what they never had…”
On its own, fluency in English isn’t an indicator of intelligence and future success for African children. So, what is really being said? What is the quiet part of “what we never had?”
It still shocks people that I, a Zulu mother, speak isiZulu to my children. That says everything about how far we’ve drifted from seeing our languages as natural, valuable, and whole. Our children are African. They are mixed race. And still, the assumption is that English should dominate.
Some have even hinted that I am stressing or mistreating my children by speaking isiZulu to them because it must be “so hard” or “unnatural for them.
Underneath this “concern” is a current of negative associations with our indigenous language and, if I may be blunt, of our homes and heritage.
I am private school educated - I encountered many peers whose parents prioritized their class identity, but didn’t bother to invest in their cultural and social identity. I also practiced in Johannesburg as isangoma for 11 years. I have seen first hand what it does to black South Africans to grow up without their languages and integration into their communities.
As a country, we have running “jokes” about city/suburban cousins and “coconuts” that criticize and express how displaced and maladjusted people are when they have only English, and no language, social & cultural connection to connect them with the rest of their people. It’s tragically true, and horrifically astute - but, many a true word are spoken in jest.
What’s it like for maMkhize and her Horwoods?
Raising culturally grounded, multilingual children in a world dominated by English isn’t automatic. And it certainly isn’t easy.
Our children hear English everywhere — at school, on TV, in books, and in nearly every public space. It’s their father’s native language. They don’t need to hear English from me, too.
For us this is the only option. It is an investment into our children that is supported by our families. They know that Gogo speaks sePulane. They know that Khokho speaks Tsonga. They know that Gally (Granny) is English, but she speaks Afrikaans and her granny was French. They know they are welcome to all these languages, and more.
At home, our approach to language is simple but intentional: we speak, sing, and read to our children in our respective mother tongues — isiZulu and English. We don’t obsess over perfect code-switching or linguistic purity. They understand both. That’s the goal. At school, they take isiZulu as a First Additional Language. But what we do at home is just as critical.
I am proud of my parents and family for actively rejecting the idea that English is the superior language of intelligence and status.
In a world where English fluency and consumer values often signal success, they chose to centre our indigenous languages and cultural values instead. Tim’s family too, though white and English speaking, made similar choices to uphold similar values within their social reality.
It wasn’t the easy or rewarded path, but it was a powerful act of resistance. My family’s choice to prioritise belonging over assimilation has given me, and now our children something far richer — a grounded sense of identity, dignity, and cultural belonging that no elite school or accent can buy.
These shared values are the foundation of our family. Wealth for our children.
We’ve built a rhythm over time. The 3 C’s: Creativity. Consistentcy. Consciousness.
1. Creative: Make It Alive
Making language joyful and woven into everyday life.
When we started our parenting journey over 12 years ago, there weren’t many high-quality isiZulu children’s books, so I translated what we had. Tim would read in English, and I’d read isiZulu.
Reading, conversation and storytelling have always been a priority in our home.
Alongside izinganekwane (folk tales) and nursery rhymes, I made up songs — as parents do — and slowly began to build a library of language and memory.
Family helped too — sending voice notes to remind me of the songs, games, and stories of my childhood. This was especially important because we were raising our children in the suburbs of Johannesburg, far from their cultural homes and families. our Johannesburg community is multi-cultural, and multi-racial. English was the language we all had in common.
We were fortunate to raise our children around creative, intelligent, loving friends of all ages in Johannesburg. This is a testament to the fact that community doesn’t only exist in our villages and homesteads. Community is where ubuntu is.
Now, our youngest is 6 years old, our eldest will be turning 12. We are seeing the return on our investment to make storytelling a core pillar of our parenting. Our children love to read and they love to learn in both isiZulu and English. The older ones help the younger ones in reading and writing.
We also play a lot of music and listen to isiZulu radio — weaving the language into our everyday rhythm. They hear a variety of things on the radio talk shows and in music. They are curious about meaning. Learning doesn’t always have to happen in books.
2. Consistent: Make It a Habit
Language starts in the womb. I’ve spoken isiZulu to our children since before they were born. And while I still sometimes think in English, I make a conscious effort to lead with isiZulu when speaking to them.
Consistency doesn’t mean perfection — it means commitment. It’s about weaving the language into daily life, day after day, even when it feels slow or invisible. It can feel tedious. Or futile. But I’d like to remind you: raising children is a legacy project. What you do today — however small — echoes across generations.
Consistency also requires us to stay engaged in our own languages. There are so many proverbs, idioms, metaphors that we learn from spending time with others.
This goes back to the ongoing investment in cultivating, restoring and maintaining intergenerational community. You see how everything goes back to being abantu ebantwini?
3. Conscious: Make It Loving
Language demands mindfulness. It asks us to be deliberate — not just in what we say, but in how we say it. This isn’t about perfection or performance. Like all of parenting, it’s about showing up — with presence, care, and attention.
One of the things I hold sacred is using isiZulu to speak love, tenderness, and affirmation. Too often, our mother tongues are remembered as the languages of warning, scolding, or discipline.
But that association — between mother tongue and punishment — leaves a mark. If children only hear their home language in moments of tension, they may unconsciously distance themselves from it. That’s not just a loss of vocabulary. It’s a quiet erosion of belonging.
So I make it a point to tell them what I love about them, how much they mean to me, and how proud I am of them in isiZulu. I comfort, tease and joke with them in isiZulu too. They have so many nicknames in isiZulu. They each have their own little songs of praise that my father made up for them.
Their father’s isiZulu has also improved since we have had children, and even more since we have moved to KZN. Even when Gally drops the words she knows too, it sends a clear message that isiZulu is one of our home languages. This is deliberate and intentional, given our country’s racial imagination, that our children don’t feel like they are in “no-man’s land” since they are both African and mixed race.
We want isiZulu to hold joy, softness, and everyday intimacy. We want it to be the language that tethers them to their family, community ancestors, and most importantly, to themselves.
Start Where You Are
This isn’t revolutionary. You don’t need a plan. Just presence. Speak. Sing. Read. Play.
Again and again. With care and commitment.
When we speak to our children in our mother tongue, we do more than teach them words — we remind them of who they are and where they come from.
Language is how we transmit Ubuntu, memory, and meaning across generations.
This is not a small act. It is a sacred one — an investment in their roots, their sense of self, and their ability to navigate the world with dignity.
And in a world that constantly asks them to forget, shrink, or fit in — we owe our children strong roots, so they can grow tall and proud.