Africa’s Fragmented Families, the Silent Cost of Migration.

By Ekaale Ekuam
September 9, 2024

Migration is often framed as a journey of hope, opportunity, and the pursuit of a better life. For many Africans, it’s the only option left when the realities of unemployment, poverty, and lack of opportunity become unbearable. The appeal of starting anew in lands far from home is enticing, but there is a darker side to this narrative that remains largely unspoken. The cost of migration is not just financial or emotional it is the irreversible fragmentation of families.

In many African households, the story is now a familiar one. The firstborn is living in France, the second born in New Zealand, the third born in Australia, and so forth, while parents remain in Africa, making occasional trips to visit their children in far-flung countries. These trips are few and far between, and with each passing year, the distance between them grows not just geographically, but emotionally. Children who once grew up together, bickering over toys or sharing secrets, now find themselves oceans apart, rarely meeting face-to-face.

As the siblings settle in their new countries, they marry and start families of their own. Their children the next generation are virtual cousins, connected by blood but not by experience. They may exchange photos over WhatsApp or make the occasional video call, but time zones, busy schedules, and the simple realities of life make regular communication a rare event. What was once a tight-knit family now exists as fragmented pieces scattered across the globe, held together by thin threads of memory.

The death of parents often marks the final blow to these once vibrant homes. When the matriarch or patriarch passes away, the family home in Africa is left desolate. The house that once rang with laughter and celebration falls into disrepair, eventually becoming a distant memory, much like the family name that once commanded respect. In some cases, these homes are sold off, and with them goes the last tangible connection to a shared heritage.

This is the high price of migration a cost that cannot be measured in dollars or shillings but in the destruction of families. It is a slow, quiet erosion of the bonds that once held communities together. Siblings grow apart, not out of malice, but out of necessity. They have all left because Africa failed them, forcing them to seek opportunities elsewhere, where they could offer their children a better future than the one they endured.

Yet, few speak of this price. We focus on the visible successes of remittances sent home, photos of children in front of Western schools, and the new homes built with foreign earnings. But behind these symbols of success lies a silent tragedy that is slowly erasing the essence of African families.

The true tragedy is that this is not just the story of ordinary citizens. African leaders, too, have their families scattered across the globe. Even they cannot escape the consequences of their own leadership failures. It is a bitter irony that the very leaders who could have stemmed the tide of migration find their families equally torn apart.

One day, perhaps, Africa will awaken to the full extent of the damage that has been done. Migration has given many a new lease on life, but it has also left a trail of fragmented homes, severed ties, and lonely hearts. This is the silent evil we have been bequeathed a world where cousins never meet, siblings drift apart, and the family name becomes nothing more than a memory.

Migration may be worth it, but it comes with a high price, one that is often too painful to acknowledge until it’s too late.

When did your loved one living abroad visited home?

The Author,
Is a Freelance Writer Entrepreneurship and Innovation Management Consultant.