Key Highlights
- Teach your kids that Africa is full of unique cultures, languages, and histories
- Show them that African history goes far beyond slavery and struggle
- Help them embrace their identity with pride, not shame.
I’ve got two kids. They’re growing up in Detroit, where winters bite, accents shift, and being African is often misunderstood. I still remember the day Jabari came home from school asking if people in Africa lived in trees.
I had to pause. Not because I was shocked, I expected this question one day, but because I realized that the world was already starting to whisper lies into his young ears.
I was born in Uganda, in the heart of the Pearl of Africa. I played barefoot football in dusty fields, climbed mango trees, and listened to my grandmother’s stories under moonlit skies.
My kids won’t get that experience firsthand, and I’ve made peace with that. But what I won’t accept is for them to grow up with a broken mirror of who they are, their history warped by cartoons, media, and misinformed classmates.
So, I’ve made it my mission to teach them five essential truths about Africa, before the world teaches them something else.
1. Africa Is Not a Country, It’s 54 Nations Strong
It may sound basic, but you’d be shocked how often I hear, “Do you speak African?” I’ve taught my kids to proudly say, “No, there is no such language. My dad speaks Luganda. In Africa, there are over 2,000 languages!”
I show them the map often. We talk about Ghana, Kenya, South Africa, Nigeria, Ethiopia, not as exotic places, but as homes of artists, scientists, farmers, presidents, and freedom fighters. They know that Africa has 54 countries, each with its own cultures, politics, economies, and dreams.
I let them watch Kenyan YouTubers, listen to Nigerian Afrobeats, and follow Ugandan TikTokers. I want Africa to feel real to them, not just as a lesson in school or a continent to pray for, but as a thriving, diverse, and complex home.
“Wisdom is like a baobab tree; no one individual can embrace it.” – East African Proverb
2. African History Didn’t Start with Slavery
If you ask most schools here, African history begins with ships and chains. But I teach my kids about Great Zimbabwe, the empires of Mali and Songhai, the libraries of Timbuktu, the mathematicians of Egypt, and the rich oral traditions of the Buganda Kingdom.
I tell them about Queen Nzinga of Angola, Mansa Musa, the richest man in history, and the architectural marvels of Lalibela in Ethiopia. Africa wasn’t lying in wait to be “discovered.” It was writing, ruling, building, and thriving long before colonizers set foot.
We make it fun, building pyramids with Legos, acting out the stories of ancient rulers, even cooking traditional meals from different regions. I want them to see pride, not pity, when they hear “Africa.”
3. There Is Wealth in Culture, Not Just in Currency
I used to think being rich was all about the dollars in your bank account, but now I teach my kids that culture is its own form of wealth.
I take them to Ugandan festivals, let them wear gomesis and kanzus, teach them how to cook matooke and luwombo. We listen to Kadongo Kamu music on long drives, and I speak Luganda at home as often as I can.
Culture is the compass I give them to navigate life. In a world that might try to strip them of it, I want them to know how to dance to their own drum, sing in their own tongue, and walk with the dignity of their own stories.
“A child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.” East African Proverb
4. Being African Is a Superpower, Not Something to Hide
I used to hide my accent. I tried to fit in. But now, I show my kids that standing out can be their strength. Being African means they come from resilience, from people who’ve survived colonization, famine, war, and are still dancing, still building, still dreaming.
I tell them stories of how our people found joy even in struggle, how Ubuntu, the African philosophy of humanity and interconnectedness, lives in how we care for our neighbors, how we raise each other’s children.
I show them leaders like Wangari Maathai, Chinua Achebe, and Patrick Lumumba. I teach them that being African means being part of something vast, something ancient, something beautiful.
They might not grow up under the African sun, but I want Africa to grow in them. Because if I don’t plant those seeds, someone else will, and not everyone plants with love.
Final Thoughts
Raising African kids in the diaspora is a delicate dance, between two worlds, two accents, two histories. But if you dance it right, your kids grow up grounded, confident, and proud of who they are.
We are not just immigrants trying to make a living, we are cultural torchbearers.
We don’t have to wait for Black History Month to talk about Africa. Every day is a chance to remind our children that their story didn’t begin with chains. It began with kings, queens, warriors, and griots.
So tell the stories. Teach the truth. Let them wear their Africanness like a crown, before the world tries to turn it into a burden.
