I cannot imagine how things could have panned out if I had to be taught biology and physical science in Afrikaans.
And I've been lucky, in fact, because I was taught these in isiXhosa while in lower primary school and later in English during high school. I went on to do higher-grade isiXhosa in matric and even took it up at a tertiary level, passing with distinction.
My command of my mother tongue is impressive, even if I say so myself. I speak and write the language with pride, and squirm with irritation when another isiXhosa-speaker gets it wrong.
In honour of Youth Day the M&G has published a series of takes on all our official languages. Read the rest here.
I'm an avid reader. Although isiXhosa makes up only about 5% of all my reading, isiXhosa books and their authors stand out as my favourites. They are something I would love to pass on to my son. I want to make sure he reads, and that he can read in his mother tongue first.
I've lately taken to searching for isiXhosa books; but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.
As an avid tweep, I took to Twitter to moan about the lack of isiXhosa books in Cape Town bookstores. A few friends kept the moaning session going, which had obvious political and racial undertones.
But it ended abruptly when a white woman pointed out that we could write the books and tell our stories. Nothing was stopping us, she added.
Indeed. We are free. To read, to write and to speak what we want. And yet we don't. And we can't blame apartheid, or the government or anyone else for that matter.
I've been fortunate to have read the work of the great isiXhosa writers – AC Jordan, SEK Mqhayi and PT Mtuze.
But all these are writers of a generation preceding my father's. While their works continue to inspire isiXhosa readers of different generations, why are so few following in their footsteps? Where are today's isiXhosa writers? Who will write for our children?
How are we different from the oppressor who wanted to deny black children the right to learn in their own languages?