A while ago, I wrote an article exploring the impact of language in enabling Rwanda’s young people to become more innovative. The feedback was passionate and diverse. One recurring theme was the tension between mother tongue and work opportunities: the undeniable fact that English has opened doors for many—including me—and yet, paradoxically, closed doors for even more. ALSO READ: Kinyarwanda: What we lose by not speaking native language It’s true—I have greatly benefited from fluency in English. But this fluency came at a cost. In the primary school I attended, English was not just the language of instruction—it was the language of existence. Speaking Kinyarwanda earned you a “vernacular card,” a token of shame passed from one student to another. By the end of the day, every cardholder was punished. In other schools, children were made to wear dirty sacks or even animal bones for daring to speak their mother tongue. ALSO READ: Our children are custodians of Kinyarwanda, teach them We were taught that our language was dirty. That we, by extension, were less than. The result is a society that still rewards foreignness—whether in how we treat people who speak “broken English” or how we value those who mimic foreign accents. It manifests in our workplaces, our restaurants, and our media. It creates an invisible hierarchy where Kinyarwanda is seen as a handicap, something to be ashamed of. As the world mourns the passing of literary giant Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, this moment is ripe for reflection. He once said, If you know all the languages of the world but don't know your mother tongue or the language of your culture, that is enslavement. On the other hand, if you know your mother tongue or the languages of your culture, and you add all the languages of the world to it, that is empowerment. Ngũgĩ's words echo in our current age of AI. In recent months, I’ve immersed myself in the world of artificial intelligence—from tools that write code to those that can translate and summarize complex information instantly. And while it’s been empowering, it’s also a stark reminder that I’m able to access this knowledge largely because I speak English. But what about the millions who don’t? What knowledge systems are they being excluded from, and at what cost? The power of language in innovation and development Language is a key driver of economic development and innovation, as Prof. K.K. Prah noted, “No society that is scientifically and technologically advancing is doing so using a language foreign to its people.” Countries like Finland, Sweden, Estonia, and Iceland have small populations, yet they educate in their mother tongues, boast high GDP per capita, and remain globally competitive. Having their mother tongue as the primary language of instruction has not stopped them from having high English language proficiency. The economic opportunities we seek and the ability to solve our own challenges—in agriculture, construction, urbanization, healthcare, and local manufacturing—do not require English or any other foreign language as a prerequisite. What they demand is competence, creativity, and meaningful connection with the communities they serve. Consumption, non-consumption, and the missed opportunity In innovation theory, non-consumption refers to people who would benefit from a product or service but are unable to access it due to barriers like cost, complexity, or availability. In Rwanda, language is one of the most significant—and often overlooked—barriers. Since most scientific knowledge, whether produced in Rwanda or elsewhere, exists in foreign languages, it limits people’s ability to access and absorb that knowledge. More critically, it hinders their ability to apply it in solving the real problems they face in their daily lives. In contrast, in the creative space, some of Rwanda’s most popular artists, whose content is widely consumed—like Papa Sava, Meddy, and Bruce Melodie—built their platforms almost entirely in Kinyarwanda or began their careers producing content in the language. Papa Sava has garnered over 284 million views, and Meddy has surpassed 300 million. Bruce Melodie earned a massive local following long before achieving regional or global recognition. Nigerian music isn’t globally successful because it’s in English, but because it is authentic, rooted in local expression, and emotionally accessible. Another domain of high consumption across the continent, including in Rwanda, is religion. The Bible remains one of the most widely consumed texts in Africa precisely because it has been translated into local languages. Its teachings spread because people could understand, interpret, and internalize them in their own tongues. So why can’t we apply the same approach to science and education? By failing to make knowledge accessible in our mother tongue, we are locking out countless people—creating non-consumption, not because they lack intelligence or curiosity, but simply because of language. In doing so, we are not only limiting individual potential—we are leaving behind immense cultural, intellectual, and economic value. Yet despite this, AI offers us a powerful opportunity to change course. Artificial Intelligence can do for scientific knowledge what missionaries once did for the Bible—it can help us translate vast amounts of information into Kinyarwanda. While AI still needs to be trained and refined for this purpose, it offers an unprecedented advantage: the speed and scale to make knowledge accessible like never before. We now have a real opportunity to reverse-engineer our education system—to deliver knowledge in a language people truly understand. With AI, we can translate curricula, business books, philosophy, fiction, political thought, research, and training materials into Kinyarwanda. Not to replace English, but to ensure this knowledge is accessible to more people—building a strong foundation that fosters comprehension, confidence, and creativity. To test this idea in practice, especially in areas where Kinyarwanda lacks established technical vocabulary, I collaborated with ChatGPT to coin a new word for “Quantum.” Together, we arrived at “Kwoniyo”—a small but meaningful example of how technology can help us grow our language alongside our knowledge systems. From policy to practice: Where do we go from here? There is already momentum. Government documents such as the Official Gazette, Cabinet meeting summaries, and even announcements from Rwanda Revenue Authority and other government offices are now published in Kinyarwanda and English. This signals a growing recognition of the importance of Kinyarwanda in communicating national matters. We must now extend this approach to the education system, which remains one of the most powerful drivers of national transformation. Policy-level changes could include: Ensuring that all educational content, government and private sector websites, strategies, and reports are bilingual. (Kinyarwanda and English) Allowing schools the option to deliver the national curriculum—or selected subjects—entirely in Kinyarwanda, provided they maintain the same quality standards and students meet a defined level of English proficiency. Mandating that all official publications about Rwanda and Rwandans be available in Kinyarwanda and English. After all, proficiency in English—while essential in today’s global economy—does not require learning every subject in English. What matters most is understanding and the ability to apply the knowledge. Learners should be able to access knowledge in a language they truly understand, even if assessments are conducted in English. Besides, in the age of AI, some reports estimate that over 80% of jobs will be transformed by AI. If Rwandans are to adapt, they must first understand. And that understanding starts in a language accessible to them. At an individual or institutional level: Programmes targeting Rwandans should be available in English and Kinyarwanda. If hesitant to transition fully, run pilots comparing outcomes of Kinyarwanda vs. English instruction. Support content creators, researchers, and educators who use Kinyarwanda to produce high-quality knowledge to enable the uptake and consumption of knowledge. Teach your children Kinyarwanda. As President Paul Kagame often reminds us, dignity and respect are not given—they are earned. In this moment of rapid transformation, with a significant decline in foreign aid and major geopolitical shifts, one of the most dignified and strategic things we can do is to value and invest in our language—not as an act of nostalgia, but as a conscious choice to strengthen our ability to solve our own problems. We’ve done this before—through Gacaca, Umuganda, Girinka, and many other homegrown solutions that reflect our resilience and ingenuity. Because valuing Kinyarwanda is not only valuing ourselves—it’s believing in our capacity to lead from within, to pursue self-determination as a country, and to ensure a dignified life for every Rwandan. The author is a youth development practitioner.
