The sun may have set on the age of empire, but the shadows of colonialism continue to loom large over Africa, particularly in its educational systems. These systems, originally designed to serve colonial interests, have persisted in many African nations, promoting rote memorization, foreign ideals, and the adoption of Western culture. Though these systems have produced educated individuals, they have also distanced many from their heritage, communities, and ultimately, their happiness. What if the goal of African education wasn’t merely to produce workers or intellectuals but to cultivate happy, fulfilled Africans—rooted in their own culture, thriving in their land?
Who Is an African? Redefining Identity Through Education
To explore this, we must first ask: who is an African? This is not just a question of birth or geography; it is a question of identity, connection, and purpose. In an Africana context, an African is someone deeply connected to their community, culture, and natural environment. They are individuals who understand the value of living harmoniously with nature and the people around them. But much of the modern education system fails to teach this. Instead, it distances students from their roots and encourages them to aspire to Western ideals of success.
Consider the words of Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe, who reflected on the disruption caused by colonial education: “The white man is very clever… He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.” This sentiment captures the cultural dissonance that an education system has perpetuated focused on individualism and material gain, rather than community and happiness.
The Importance of Mother Tongue Education: Reclaiming Cultural Wisdom
Language is not just a means of communication; it is the vessel through which culture, values, and wisdom are passed down through generations. However, colonial powers imposed their languages on African nations, which led to the suppression of indigenous languages. Today, many African children are educated in English, French, or Portuguese, learning not only a foreign language but also foreign ways of thinking. This has had a devastating effect on African cultural identity.
A system of education rooted in the mother tongue would allow Africans to reconnect with their heritage and learn through the lens of their own culture. Imagine students in rural Ghana being taught agricultural techniques not from European textbooks but from their elders, who have passed down knowledge about the land for generations. In this way, they would learn to value their cultural wisdom and see themselves not as disconnected from their past but as part of a long tradition of resilience and self-reliance.
Case Study: Ethiopia’s Push for Indigenous Language Education
Ethiopia offers a powerful example of how mother tongue education can serve as a tool for cultural preservation and national identity. In the 1990s, the Ethiopian government introduced policies to promote education in indigenous languages such as Amharic, Oromo, and Tigrinya. This initiative not only improved literacy rates but also reinforced a sense of cultural pride among students. By educating its people in their mother tongue, Ethiopia is fostering a new generation of individuals who are deeply connected to their roots, traditions, and sense of identity.
Ubuntu and Community Consciousness: “I Am Because We Are”
One of the most vital elements of Africana education is community consciousness. In traditional African societies, the well-being of the individual is inextricably tied to the well-being of the collective. This concept is perfectly captured in the term Ubuntu, which means “I am because we are.” Unfortunately, modern education systems, influenced by Western models, often promote individualism and competition at the expense of the community.
Imagine a child growing up in a small village in South Africa, being taught that their success is measured by how well they can stand out from their peers. Now imagine the same child being educated through an Africana lens, where their sense of self-worth comes from how well they contribute to their community. In this model, students would learn that their happiness and success are deeply tied to the collective good. Such an education could combat many of the social issues plaguing African societies, such as corruption and inequality, by fostering a sense of shared responsibility and solidarity.
Agriculture: Africa’s Path to Happiness and Prosperity
To understand the potential for agriculture to be the backbone of African prosperity, we need only to look at Africa’s past. Before the disruptions of colonialism, African societies were deeply connected to the land. Communities were self-sufficient, growing food not just for survival but for abundance. The land provided, and in return, people took care of the land. But modern education has instilled a disdain for farming, encouraging students to pursue white-collar jobs in cities rather than embracing the land that has sustained their ancestors for centuries.
Take the example of Zimbabwe’s Chikukwa Ecological Land Use Community Trust (CELUCT). In the 1990s, the people of Chikukwa, facing severe soil degradation and food insecurity, turned to permaculture to restore their land. Today, the community produces more than enough food to sustain itself, and the model has been replicated in other parts of the country. What started as a grassroots initiative is now a thriving example of how agricultural education and the return to traditional farming methods can provide food security and a sense of purpose.
Imagine if this approach were scaled across the continent. Africa could not only feed itself but become the breadbasket of the world. As the Bible tells us, God created Eden—a garden—and entrusted humanity to care for it. Africa, too, can be a modern Eden, abundant with food and natural wealth, if it refocuses its educational priorities on cultivating the land.
The Role of Agriculture in Redefining Wealth and Happiness
Western education systems teach that wealth is measured in material goods—houses, cars, money in the bank. But wealth, as understood through an Africana perspective, goes far beyond material accumulation. True wealth is found in the land, in strong communities, and in the ability to provide for oneself and others. As Wangari Maathai, the Nobel laureate and founder of the Green Belt Movement, famously said, “When we plant trees, we plant the seeds of peace and hope.” Her work showed that cultivating the land does more than just provide food; it restores dignity, community, and happiness.
For Africans, happiness does not come from adopting the Western ideal of success, but from reconnecting with the land and their communities. An Africana education that prioritizes agriculture and communal well-being over individual wealth accumulation will help redefine what it means to be wealthy. Africans, blessed with a climate that allows for abundant agriculture, can afford to live minimally, yet thrive by being deeply connected to their communities and the natural world.
Conclusion: Africa as the World’s Garden
The future of Africa lies not in mimicking the West, but in reclaiming its roots—both cultural and agricultural. By reframing education to focus on Africana principles, rooted in community, mother tongue, and agricultural sustainability, Africa can become a continent of abundance and happiness. In this vision, Africa is not just a place to extract resources but a garden—a self-sustaining ecosystem that feeds itself and the world.
Africans, educated in their own languages, conscious of their communal responsibilities, and reconnected with the land, will not only find happiness but will also create a prosperous continent. As they cultivate the earth, they will also cultivate a renewed sense of identity and purpose. This is Africa’s potential—to become the world’s garden, a place of nourishment and abundance, both physically and spiritually. Africa, as the modern Eden, can feed not just itself, but the world.
Call to Action:
If we are to realise this vision, African governments, educators, and communities must commit to a new model of education—one that respects the past, embraces the present, and looks to the future with hope. Africa’s future is in its own hands, and its garden is waiting to be cultivated.