There comes a quiet moment for every parent maybe while watching your child sleep, or listening to them speak in a language that’s not quite your mother tongue when you ask yourself: What of me, of where I come from, will they carry?
In our fast-moving, global world, it’s easy for culture to slip through the cracks. We relocate. We marry into other tribes or races. Our children are born in cities far from our ancestral homes. And slowly, piece by piece, the rich tapestry of our culture begins to fray.
But culture isn’t just about where we were born. It’s about how we live, what we believe, how we celebrate, mourn, tell stories, and even how we cook or greet our elders. It’s in our values, our songs, our silences. And yes—it's in things like the Ekpo masquerade of the Ibibio people, where spirits dance in the dust to remind us of the thin line between the living and the ancestors.
Culture gives children a sense of belonging. Imagine a child, unsure of who they are in a world constantly asking, Where are you from? Culture answers that question. It gives them roots that go deep, deeper than trends or accents. It tells them: You come from somewhere. You belong to something.
For those of us who grew up witnessing the Ekpo masquerade men in carved wooden masks and raffia skirts moving with power and mystery through the village square we remember the awe it inspired. As children, we watched from a distance, half-afraid and fully mesmerized, knowing that this wasn't just performance. It was connection. It was story. It was spirit.
WHY DO WE HAVE TO PASS IT DOWN
Because without it, our children might grow up disconnected. Not just from tradition, but from their own identity. They might not understand the wisdom wrapped in proverbs, or the power in a name given at birth. They might forget the rhythm of the talking drum or the significance of kneeling to greet an elder.
And one day, they might look in the mirror and feel like something is missing but not know what.
SHOULD WE PASS EVERYTHING DOWN?
Passing on culture doesn’t mean clinging to every practice. Some traditions are beautiful and enriching, like the storytelling around the fire or the way the Ekpo reminds us to honor the spirit world. Others, however, may no longer serve our children in today’s world. Strict gender roles, silent suffering, or harmful practices disguised as customs these are things we must have the courage to leave behind.
Culture should evolve, just like people do. It should breathe and bend with love.
Culture isn’t just something we teach; it’s something we live. Your child learns your culture not just from what you say, but how you say it. Not just from the food you cook, but from the hands that cook it. Not just from stories about home, but from your tone when you talk about it with pride, not shame.
You don’t need to recreate the Ekpo masquerade in your living room, but maybe you tell them what it meant to you. Maybe you show them photos. Maybe, one day, you take them back to the village during the season, and they see it for themselves. Not as tourists, but as descendants.
Let them speak your language at home. Let them eat the pepper soup the way your mother made it. Let them know why the elders pour libation before events. Let them ask why and when they do, answer with honesty. And when they push back, smile. That too is culture evolving.
How much of your culture should you pass on? Enough for them to know who they are. Enough for them to walk in the world with pride. Enough to feel the heartbeat of their people even when they’re thousands of miles away. Enough to one day pass it to their own children not as obligation, but as love.
Because culture, like memory, only lives when it is shared. So share it. Share the Ekpo. Share the food, the names, the dances. Share the silences and the loud songs. Share it allimperfectly, lovingly, humanly.
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