As Rwanda marks Heroes Day later this week, a moment meant to reflect on the values that sustained a people through adversity and rebuilt a nation from the ashes, it is fitting that attention has turned to Kinyarwanda, the language that carried those values across generations.

Much has been said, rightly so, about the need to preserve and promote Kinyarwanda. Schools have been urged to do more. Institutions have been called upon to mainstream its use. Cultural custodians have raised the alarm. But there is an uncomfortable truth we must confront: the responsibility to pass on Kinyarwanda does not begin in the classroom. It begins at home.

Parents are the first teachers. Before a child ever steps into a nursery or primary school, language is already being shaped through everyday conversation, storytelling, correction, humour, and affection. When parents choose convenience, misplaced prestige or social pressure over their own language, they quietly abdicate a duty no school can fully replace.

There has emerged a worrying tendency among some parents to treat Kinyarwanda as optional, or worse, as something to be introduced later—after English or French. In some homes, children are discouraged from speaking it altogether, as though fluency in one’s mother tongue were a sign of limitation rather than strength. This mindset is not only misguided; it is harmful.

Language is more than communication. It is identity, memory, and worldview. A child who grows up disconnected from their language is also distanced from their history, their proverbs, their humour, and the moral codes embedded in everyday speech. No amount of formal instruction can compensate for what is lost when a language is absent from the home.

This is not an argument against multilingualism. Rwanda has rightly embraced global languages as tools for opportunity and engagement. But multilingualism is strongest when rooted in a solid first language. Children who master Kinyarwanda early do not fall behind; they stand firmer. Research and lived experience alike show that a strong mother tongue enhances, rather than undermines, the learning of other languages.

If Kinyarwanda is to thrive, it must be spoken where it matters most—around the dining table, in the living room, on the walk to school, and in moments of discipline and praise. Parents must make it fashionable again to speak their language proudly and consistently, not as a fallback, but as a foundation.

As we honour heroes who fought to preserve Rwanda’s dignity, let us remember that cultural survival is not secured by speeches or commemorations alone. It is secured in homes, one conversation at a time.