Imagine a six-year-old boy named Ndiye, eagerly starting Standard 1 for the first time. Having grown up in a Kalanga-speaking household, Ndiye was nurtured by the warmth of his parents’ and grandparents’ stories (ngano), rich with metaphors and cultural wisdom. On his first day of school, he arrives excited to learn and make friends. But within minutes of stepping into the classroom, his excitement begins to fade. His teacher speaks only Setswana and English—languages he barely understands. The familiar sounds of iKalanga are absent.
As the weeks go by, Ndiye learns that his language is not welcome in the classroom. If he accidentally speaks Kalanga, he is corrected, ignored, or harshly rebuked. Over time, he stops speaking Kalanga altogether, ashamed of his “otherness” and desperate to fit in. By the end of the year, Ndiye has lost not only his enthusiasm for learning but also a part of himself. His language, the foundation of his identity, has been erased.
Worse, he has internalised a sense of inferiority about his culture and identity. Ndiye now believes that his language, his heritage, and the stories that once gave him joy are not “good enough” in the world he is being forced to navigate. In such instances, the classroom in Botswana becomes more than a place of learning; it transforms into a crime scene where the identities, languages, and cultures of children are systematically erased. Languages, which should serve as bridges to knowledge and pride, are treated as obstacles to be eliminated. This erasure is not only a failure of pedagogy but an act of violence against their sense of self and belonging.
This tragic loss is not an isolated case; it reflects a systematic issue deeply embedded in Botswana’s education policies. This systematic exclusion of Indigenous languages is more than a pedagogical failure; it is a form of linguistic imperialism, or perhaps more accurately, linguistic tribalism.
As Bourdieu argues, this linguistic alienation operates as a form of symbolic violence, imposing arbitrary power to devalue the languages and identities of marginalised groups. It normalises linguistic hierarchies that position dominant languages as superior while rendering others illegitimate. This is not simply a matter of education policy but one of justice, as it shapes how students like Ndiye perceive themselves and their worth in society.
Minister Nono Kgafela-Mokoka, I know you have just settled into your new role, congratulations, but I urge you to prioritise this issue that has silently undermined the identity and potential of children like Ndiye for decades. Language is more than a tool for communication; it is the bedrock of identity, culture, and self-worth. When children are forced to abandon their mother tongues to fit into a system that privileges only English and Setswana, we strip them of their dignity and sense of belonging.
Minister, you probably know this very well, but Botswana’s assimilationist language policies have long promoted an exclusive view of nationhood that sees linguistic and cultural diversity as a threat. As Lydia Nyati-Ramahobo, your former University of Botswana colleague, notes, the post-independence education system deliberately excluded Indigenous languages in favor of Setswana and English to foster a national identity defined by the dominant group. This approach, rooted in the “assimilation-prohibition” model, has marginalised non-Setswana-speaking communities and erased their cultural heritage.
To be fair, the former ruling party, the Botswana Democratic Party, recognised this injustice and, in the last five years, publicly committed to introducing mother-tongue education into the curriculum. Yet, despite this promise, they failed to deliver. Their inability to act has only deepened the inequalities in our education system and continued the erasure of Indigenous languages. Madam Minister, this failure must not be repeated. The time to act is now, with bold and transformative leadership.
Your government has declared itself as human-rights-centered, and I hope that this commitment will extend to addressing this critical matter. Ensuring linguistic rights is not only an educational imperative but also a fundamental human rights issue. Every child in Botswana deserves the dignity of learning in their mother tongue, a right that has been denied for far too long.
I argue, Madam Minister, that nationhood should never be built at the expense of linguistic diversity. In fact, what we have seen happening in Botswana for close to 60 years is not nation-building; it is cultural genocide against Indigenous languages and the communities that speak them.
Cultural genocide, as defined by Novic, is “the systematic destruction of traditions, values, language, and other elements that make one group of people distinct from another.” By all measures, this is exactly what has occurred in Botswana for decades. By suppressing the rich Indigenous languages in schools, we erase the histories, identities, and potential of entire communities.
Indeed, the current system not only alienates students like Ndiye but also perpetuates what Wang and Dovchin describe as the cycle of complicity, where victims internalise their oppression and see their linguistic identities as obstacles rather than strengths. This complicity must be broken, Madam Minister. Education systems must actively resist linguistic alienation by creating spaces where all languages are valued and celebrated. Minister, this is your moment to lead. You have the power to end this form of cultural genocide. Revitalising Indigenous languages will require bold policies, including teacher training, curriculum development, and the creation of culturally relevant materials.
It will demand a shift in attitudes from viewing linguistic diversity as a challenge to embracing it as a national treasure. Policies must actively work against the implicit belief that modernity and progress are attainable only through the dominance of English and Setswana.
Imagine a Botswana where children like Ndiye walk into classrooms that celebrate their Kalanga, Shekgalagari, Wayei, Khwe, and many other heritages alongside Setswana and English. Imagine an education system where every child’s language is a bridge, not a barrier.
Minister, the time to act is now. Our children are watching, and so is the world. Let your leadership be remembered for restoring the voices of the marginalised and preserving the heritage of our nation.
*Ntibinyane Ntibinyane is an assistant professor in the communications department at MacEwan University, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. He is also a former journalist.
