๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ต๐ผ๐น๐ถ๐ฐ ๐๐ต๐๐ฟ๐ฐ๐ต: ๐ ๐ฆ๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐ป๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ณ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ป ๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ด๐๐ฎ๐ด๐ฒ๐
During a trip to Kano in July, I paid a visit to my motherโs alma mater, St. Louis Secondary School, Kano. I was accompanied by a friend, Dr. Abdullahi, from Bayero University, Kano.
On arrival, the first person we met was the Hausa teacher, who was an indigene of Kano. Dr. Abdullahi was surprised to learn that it is compulsory for students at both the primary and secondary school levels to learn Hausa. I, however, was not.
You see, Iโve observed a quiet but consistent pattern across the country, one that places the Catholic Church as an unheralded defender of Nigeriaโs indigenous languages.
Years earlier, in Calabar, the Catholic Board of Education was the first institution to approve my Efik language books for use in schools. Recognising the need for students to access more modern materials for learning Efik, the Boardโs Secretary even wrote a recommendation letter endorsing my books for use across Catholic schools within the Calabar diocese. Those books have now been in continuous use for over four years in nursery, primary, and secondary schools across Calabar, an experience that has given me a front-row view of how institutional support can sustain the vitality of an indigenous language in education.
This commitment isnโt unique to Calabar. Across Nigeria, Catholic schools often make the study of local languages compulsory. In the South East, students must learn Igbo; in the South West, Yoruba; and in the North, Hausa. This consistent emphasis on linguistic identity sets Catholic schools apart in a time when many government institutions struggle to find teachers or maintain effective indigenous language programs.
While public schools in Calabar and other Nigerian cities, often lament the โlack of teachersโ problem, the Catholic Church continues to prioritise and institutionalise the teaching of African languages. This is not merely an educational choice; itโs a form of cultural preservation.
It is my belief that state governments across Nigeria have much to learn from this model. By partnering with religious institutions that already have structured educational systems and a sense of mission, we can ensure that our languages do not slip into endangerment, but instead, remain living vehicles of thought, heritage, and identity.
The Catholic Church may not always make headlines for it, but in many ways, it has long been one of the silent defenders of African languages.

