Are we raising the lost generation

5 October 2026, 9:59 am

By Dr Robert Olet Egwea_

There is a quiet kind of grief happening within Lango communities—one that does not always announce itself with loud arguments or visible conflict. It shows up in the everyday moments: a child who cannot greet elders properly, a teenager who understands stories only in translation, a home where Lango songs play in the background but never fully land in the mind and heart. It is the grief of cultural thinning—of identity loosening thread by thread.

Today, many Lango children are being raised away from Lango: some across Uganda, in towns and cities where Lango is not the daily language; others in Europe, North America, and elsewhere in the diaspora where return is uncertain, delayed, or never planned.In both settings, the result is often the same. Children grow up with incomplete belonging.

They may be surrounded by people who love them, yet the language, rituals, and everyday cultural cues that once formed identity—so naturally—are missing or weakening.This is why the question “Are we raising the lost generation?” feels urgent. Not because Lango children are “lost” in the sense of being incapable or doomed, but because too many of them are being raised without the tools that help them carry who they are.

Cultural identity is not inherited automatically once the daily environment changes; it must be practiced, protected, and taught.*When distance becomes disappearance*For a child, culture is not only what you know. It is what you repeat. It is the language you hear at breakfast, the jokes you understand without effort, the values you absorb because you watch them being lived.

When Lango children grow up away from Lango communities, even when family is present, the “culture signals” can shrink.A child might live in Uganda but far from Lango-speaking households—perhaps in Kampala, Entebbe, Mbale, or even in other districts where English or local majority languages dominate daily life. In those spaces, it becomes easier to switch fully to the dominant language. Then, one day, the child realizes they can follow conversations—but not in the mother tongue.

They can listen, but they cannot respond confidently. They can recognise a few words, but not the deeper meanings behind proverbs, family terms, and community references.And once the mother tongue becomes hard to use, it often becomes hard to love in the same way. Children begin to feel that speaking Lango makes them sound “childish,” “slow,” or “wrong.” Parents may feel pressure to “help” their children fit faster—help them succeed in school, communicate at work, and thrive socially. But fitting in should never require forgetting.The mother tongue crisisLanguage is not merely a communication tool.

For Lango children, mother tongue carries memory, worldview, and emotional closeness. It is the language of comfort: the tone used when consoling a child, the phrases used to teach respect, the words that carry humor and warmth without translation.

Yet, many children raised in diaspora or even outside Lango within Uganda face a daily pattern:At home, parents may use the mother tongue only occasionally.Outside the home, the child is surrounded by English or other languages.In schools, learning rewards fluency in the dominant language.

Online, entertainment further encourages language shift.In social settings, identity is performed through whichever language earns acceptance.

Over time, the child learns that Lango is optional—something to “try” when convenient. But cultural identity cannot survive on occasional reminders.

It needs daily or at least regular use: storytelling, jokes, debates, prayers, discipline, affection, and creativity. Otherwise, the child’s understanding stays at the level of passive recognition rather than active ownership.Diaspora: the hardest question is time .

For those in Europe or America, the challenge is not only language—it is the uncertain timeline of return.

Some families hope they will return “soon.” Others plan to stay long-term. Some children are born and raised abroad entirely. For them, Lango is not a place you visit regularly. It becomes a concept: “home” that you talk about, but do not live within.

Diaspora life brings real pressures:Work schedules that leave little time for consistent cultural teaching.School systems that reward speed and fluency in English.

The cost of travel, making long breaks from home cultures less frequent.Social environments where children find friends who do not share Lango identity.The temptation to “protect” children from difference by emphasizing assimilation.

When return is unlikely, culture becomes something you must carry alone—without the daily community reminders that reinforce belonging. A child can love Lango deeply in theory and still grow up speaking little of it, because the world around them never asks them to use it.

This is how the lost generation is created: not through hate or neglect, but through well-meaning adaptation that slowly replaces one identity with another.*We need to ask: what are we teaching, and how often?*The most painful realisation is that cultural identity does not vanish because parents are careless. It fades because the environment does not reinforce it.

And when parents do not have systems for cultural transmission, daily life absorbs the child into the dominant culture’s rhythms.So the question “Are we raising the lost generation?” is also a question about method.Consider what most Lango children need to stay connected.

Consistent language practice, not occasional correction.Real participation, not only observation.Stories and proverbs, explained and discussed, not recited silently.Rites and responsibilities, like greeting elders, helping in community activities, and learning family histories.

Pride without pressure, where speaking Lango is celebrated rather than mocked.Space for the child to belong, even when imperfect.If these elements are not part of everyday life, then “learning culture” becomes an annual event instead of a living process.

The danger of romanticising tradition Sometimes adults respond with romantic language: “In the village we used to…” or “When you grow older you will understand.” But culture cannot be postponed until adulthood.

Children become who they become through repeated experience during childhood and adolescence.If a child only hears Lango during funerals or visits to relatives, then Lango becomes attached to sadness or travel, not to joy and everyday living.

The child may conclude: Culture is something that belongs to events, not to me.A lost generation is often produced by this mistake—treating culture as a museum rather than a home.What can be done now? Hope is not naive.

Even if many children are currently drifting away from Lango language and identity, recovery is possible. But it requires intentional work from families and communities—especially parents and elders who feel the weight of this question.

Here are some practical ways communities can strengthen cultural identity across distance:Make Lango a home language again (even partly)- Set daily routines: morning greetings, bedtime conversations, or weekend storytelling.- Encourage the child to answer at least some questions in Lango, even if imperfectly.

Use everyday tools, not only formal lessons- Name household items in Lango.- Label family members with Lango terms. – Let children correct themselves with supportive guidance.

Turn culture into a living skill- Host small cultural evenings: proverbs, songs, debates, cooking with explanations in Lango.- Invite children to perform—leading a greeting, reciting a short story, telling a family anecdote.

Build diaspora community structures- Organize Lango language clubs or “culture Saturdays” in churches, community centers, or online groups.- Create safe environments where children can speak without fear of embarrassment.Pair children with elders and mentors regularly.- Not just once a year, but through consistent communication. – Encourage elder-child conversations where children are treated as learners, not as failures.

Plan for return—but also plan for belonging if return never happens- If return is possible, prepare children before travel so they don’t feel like visitors in their own identity. – If return is not possible, focus on sustaining culture abroad with real community participation.These actions do not “undo” the past.

They build a future where children are not merely tolerated by their heritage, but actively shaped by it.

A call to love loudly In Lango culture, love has always included instruction. It has never been limited to comfort. It is in the training of the child’s manners, the guidance of the young person’s behavior, and the passing down of wisdom that makes life make sense.So the response to this crisis must be love that is visible and consistent. Love that speaks the mother tongue even when it is inconvenient. Love that invests time.

Love that corrects gently but firmly. Love that celebrates children for trying, not only for performing perfectly.Because the lost generation is not inevitable. It is a warning sign—an alarm that says: we must act before children grow comfortable with forgetting.*So, are we raising the lost generation?*The real answer is both yes and no.Yes, because many

Lango children are currently being raised in environments where language and culture are not daily necessities—and cultural identity cannot survive on reminders alone. And yes, because diaspora life makes return uncertain, which increases the risk that children will grow up with their roots cut.But no, because Lango people are not powerless.

Identity can be rebuilt, strengthened, and made resilient—even across borders—if we treat culture as living practice rather than nostalgic story.So the question should not only end with worry. It should lead to action.Are we raising the lost generation?Or are we choosing, today, to raise children who can carry Lango inside them—through language, stories, and belonging—wherever they grow up?_

The writer is a clan leader (Awitong) and a Minister in Lango Cultural Institution.