Have you ever just paused for a second and noticed how quickly we react to our phones?
Think about it. That little ping… that vibration in your pocket… that tiny red dot on a screen. We jump. It’s like an instinct now. But then, in that same moment, a child looks up and says, “Mom, look at this!” or “Dad, can you help me?”
And what do we say? “Just a minute.” “Ngoja kidogo.” “In a bit.”
The hard truth is, sometimes that minute never actually comes. If we’re being honest with ourselves—really honest—we might be accidentally teaching our children a heartbreaking lesson: that they come second to a notification. Just sit with that for a moment before you push back. It stings, doesn’t it?
The Quiet Theft of Connection
Now, don’t get me wrong. Technology isn’t the villain here. It’s a tool. But if we aren’t intentional, it starts to take over. It doesn’t happen loudly; it happens quietly. It steals a moment here, an afternoon there, until eventually, it steals the entire connection.
And it’s stealing our peace, too. We spend hours scrolling through Instagram or TikTok, looking at these “perfect” families with their perfect smiles and curated holidays. We look up at our very normal, very messy, very human lives—and suddenly, we feel like we’re lacking.
But let’s tell the truth: we are comparing our “behind-the-scenes” to someone else’s highlight reel. I’ve seen it myself—some of those “perfect” couples you see online are struggling just to speak to each other. It’s a performance. It’s a soap opera with a filter.
What We Lost Along the Way
I often find myself thinking back to our grandmothers—our shoshos. Evenings were so different then. There were no screens to hide behind. We sat together. I remember sitting at my grandmother’s feet, hanging onto every word of her stories. She’d tell us about the clever hare—stories that made us laugh, stories that kept us on the edge of our seats, but stories that always carried a seed of wisdom.
She wasn’t just passing time; she was giving us her presence. That time was sacred. That is the Ubuntu way. And somewhere in the rush of the digital age, I think we lost it.
The Rise of Digital Infidelity
There’s another side to this that we don’t talk about enough: “Digital Adultery.” I’ve seen it destroy beautiful homes. Not once, not twice, but many times.
I remember sitting in a cyber café years ago. A man next to me was on the phone, looking someone straight in the eye—metaphorically—and lying about where he was. He was right there, but he was telling them he was in a different town. It’s become so easy to deceive.
What starts as “harmless chatting” or a secret DM slowly creates a distance. That distance becomes a disconnect, and that disconnect is what eventually breaks a relationship. You don’t even have to leave your house to wander away from your partner anymore. That’s how accessible it is.
The Ubuntu Solution: The Circle
So, how do we fix this? We don’t have to throw our phones away, but we do need to reclaim our intention.
Let’s bring back the Circle. In our traditional African homes, we sat in circles because in a circle, everyone can see each other. Everyone is heard.
I have a simple challenge for you: Create a Digital Sabbath. Just one hour every day. Put the phones in a basket. No scrolling, no distractions. For that one hour, just be there.
Ask your child, “What made you happy today?”
Ask your partner, “What has been heavy on your heart lately?”
And then—this is the important part—really listen. Not “half-listening” while glancing at a screen, but truly hearing them.
It’s Not Too Much to Ask
It’s only sixty minutes. We give so much of our lives to these glowing screens; surely we can give one hour to the people who actually matter. At the end of the day, family is where we are meant to be seen and understood. Let’s not trade that for a “Like.”
If your family has struggled with this “screen silence,” or if you’ve found a way to break through it, I’d love to hear from you. Let’s talk. Let’s learn from each other. Maybe we can bring the village back into our living rooms.
Don’t wait for regret. Don’t wait until the distance is too wide to cross. Live your life intentionally. Use technology, but for heaven’s sake, don’t let it use you.
Take care of yourself. Take care of your family. And may you live with presence and purpose.
God bless you.
