The recent revelation by Professor Chinwe Anunobi, National Librarian of Nigeria, that 29 of our indigenous languages are critically endangered—with some teetering on extinction—is not merely a statistic. It is a deafening alarm, a cultural emergency that demands immediate and collective action. As the founder of the African Indigenous Language Film Festival, I write today not only to echo Professor Anunobi’s concerns but to sound a rallying cry: our languages are not relics of the past. They are the living, breathing soul of our identity, and their loss would be an irreversible theft from future generations.  

The National Library of Nigeria’s compendium of alphabets and numerals, launched at this year’s International Mother Language Day, is a commendable step. Yet, as Professor Anunobi rightly noted, languages like Njerep and Ichen are already on life support. When a language dies, it does not vanish quietly. It takes with it centuries of wisdom, proverbs that shaped moral codes, songs that carried history, and oral traditions that defined entire communities. UNESCO’s declaration of 2022–2032 as the International Decade of Indigenous Languages is a global acknowledgment of this crisis. But in Nigeria, the urgency is now.  

The Power of Storytelling in Language Preservation  
As a filmmaker and cultural advocate, I have witnessed firsthand how indigenous language films can resurrect fading tongues and ignite pride in younger generations. Films are not just entertainment; they are vessels of memory. When a child hears their grandparents’ dialect in a movie, when a folktale is animated on screen, or when a modern love story unfolds in Edo or Efik, language transcends the classroom. It becomes alive, relevant, and aspirational.  

The National Library’s call for educators to integrate mother tongues into curricula aligns with our festival’s mission. But education alone is not enough. We must saturate our cultural spaces—homes, cinemas, radio, and digital platforms—with these languages. Parents, as stakeholders urged, must speak their mother tongues at home. But let us also give families stories to watch together in those languages. Let us create heroes who speak Idoma, heroines who debate in Tiv, and comedies that make the world laugh in Urhobo.  

The Threat of Silence  
The shift toward dominant languages like English is not merely pragmatic; it is a quiet surrender to cultural erasure. When a people lose their language, they lose their compass. Studies cited by UNESCO confirm that children thrive academically when taught in their mother tongue. But what of their emotional and spiritual growth? A language encodes a worldview—the way a community relates to time, nature, and one another. To lose Njerep is not just to lose words; it is to lose an entire philosophy.  

A Call to Arms for Policymakers and Creatives  
The National Library’s efforts are vital, but they cannot stand alone. We urge the government to fund indigenous language media projects, support filmmakers, and mandate airtime for local languages on broadcast platforms. Corporate Nigeria must sponsor festivals, translations, and digital archives. Educators, as Professor Anunobi emphasized, must innovate—but let us also train teachers using culturally resonant tools, like films and music.  

At the African Indigenous Language Film Festival, we have curated over 500 films in various African Languages since our inception. Yet each year, we hear fewer submissions in languages like Ichen. This is not a niche concern; it is a national crisis. We challenge Nollywood to produce more and more high quality films in indigenous languages. We call on streaming platforms to curate “Naija Language” sections. We invite tech innovators to create apps that teach Njerep through gamification.  

Our Legacy Hangs in the Balance  
Professor Anunobi warned that the extinction of these languages would “diminish our cultural heritage.” I say it would fracture our soul. A Nigeria that speaks only English and Pidgin is a Nigeria stripped of its diversity, its texture, its magic.  

To every parent: Speak your language to your children, even if they reply in English. To every lawmaker: Allocate resources to protect our linguistic heritage. To every artist: Create in your mother tongue. And to every Nigerian: Watch a film, play a song, learn a proverb in a language you’ve never heard.  

The silver jubilee of International Mother Language Day is not just a celebration—it is a reckoning. Let us act before our voices fade into silence.  

Osezua Stephen-Imobhio is the founder of the African Indigenous Language Film Festival, an annual celebration dedicated to preserving Africa’s linguistic heritage through cinema.  

This opinion piece ties the NLN’s findings to tangible cultural action, leveraging the author’s platform to bridge policy, education, and creative industries. It balances urgency with hope, positioning indigenous language films as a dynamic tool for preservation.

 Bha bilu 🙏🏾 (Thank you, in Esan language)