How natives, institutions are battling to save Plateau’s vanishing languages
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By Marie-Therese Nanlong, JOS
Plateau, a multi-cultural State in North Central Nigeria, is facing threats beyond insecurity, its indigenous languages and cultural identities are also disappearing.
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With ethnic groups including Afizere, Amo, Anaguta, Attakar, Atten, Bache, Bashar, Berom, Bijim, Bogghom, Buji, Bwall, Bwarak, Chakfem, Doemak, Duguza, Fier, Firan, Gamai, Gus, Ibaas, Irigwe, Jere, Janji, Jipal, Jhar, Jukun, Kadung, Koenoem, Kulere, Karama, Kwagalak, Lemoro, Mhiship, Merniang, Mupun, Mushere, Mwaghavul, Ngas, Nteng, Piapung, Piti, Pyem, Ribina, Ron, Pai, Runzu, Sigdi, Takkas, Tal, Tambes, Taroh, Tarya, Tehl, and Youm, Plateau is richly diverse.
But how many of these ethnic groups and their languages are still widely known or spoken, even within the State, where English and Hausa languages dominate communication?
The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) does not provide a detailed, dialect-by-dialect breakdown for Plateau State, but its broader assessments on endangered languages in Nigeria include many parts of the state and its.
According to the 2010 edition of UNESCO’s Atlas of the World’s Languages in Danger, Nigeria has between 400–500 languages, of which 115 are endangered and 25 critically endangered. UNESCO stresses that every language carries unique cultural, spiritual, and ecological knowledge, and the loss of a language is a profound loss to human heritage.
For instance, Pyem, spoken in the Mangu LGA, has an estimated 3,000 speakers. Iguta, spoken by the Anaguta of Jos North, has similarly few speakers. These languages face extinction not only due to dwindling numbers but also because they are under-documented, experiencing language shifts and adulterations.
Dr. Charles Dickson, a social critic, described the situation as “the vanishing tongues”, arguing that erasure begins with a name.
Dickson notes: “The guava tree in Bidabidi stands crooked, a silent witness to the renaming. The children laugh when you speak of Behwol or Ahol, names that once rooted families to this land. Now, it is Bidabidi, born from the mangled pronunciation of ‘PWD’ (Public Works Department). This is not mere rebranding; it is linguistic surgery without anesthesia.”
According to him, renaming by road projects, mining companies, or colonial impositions erodes identity.
“On the Plateau, names are rewritten by road projects, mining companies (Alheri replacing Kagara), or colonial echoes (Mista Ali from McAllen). Each change severs a thread to history, identity, and sovereignty. When militias invade, they burn villages first, then rename the land. Some call it ‘clash.’ We call it erasure by semantics, and it is how languages die,” he says.
He attributed language extinction to dominant language pressure, which places Hausa and English at the centre of markets, schools, and media.
“Parents increasingly choose ‘prestigious’ languages over indigenous ones, breaking intergenerational transmission,” he explained.
Dickson also condemned economic intrusion, negative impacts of urbanisation, and road construction, lamenting how they strip communities of cultural significance.
“Mining companies like Alheri and infrastructure projects rename old spaces, Dogon Karfe, Gamajigo, burying original toponyms like Giring or Behwol. To lose a language is to lose ecological knowledge, oral histories, and identity. The Anaguta’s Rite-Ruja (‘head of the forest’) becomes Rafin Gwaza, a sterile, imposed label that carries no memory.”
He challenged the mindset that discourages the use of mother tongues in schools and homes.
“Is it economic survival, or internalized colonialism? Plateau’s languages are not dying; they are being killed.
The renaming of Ahol to Bidabidi, or Kagara to Alheri, is the first bullet. This investigation must expose the triggermen: apathy, economic greed, and systemic complicity. As the last speakers fade, we ask: Will Plateau’s children inherit names, or namelessness?”
In the same vein, Lengji Danjuma, a professor of Generative Syntax at the University of Jos, echoed this concern during the 112th Inaugural Lecture of the institution titled: A verb is a Doing Word: Is it True? Explaining the universality of language, he warned that infrequent use of native languages hastens extinction.
“The lack of frequent speaking of native languages has made many languages go extinct across the globe,” he said, and urged mothers in particular to teach and speak indigenous languages at home to preserve cultural heritage.
But there is hope. In the hills and valleys of Plateau, a quiet cultural revival is underway, led by committed natives.
Like others in their respective domains, Samuel Timbau, the President of the Amo Development Association, is leading efforts to preserve the Amo language.
“We are developing alphabets and documenting proverbs,” he said. Others are trying to translate some books of the Bible into indigenous tongues.
Institutions are also stepping up. The National Museum in Jos, a key institution for preserving both tangible and intangible heritage, is active in promoting the use of indigenous languages.
The Museum’s Curator, Mr. Linus Kingi, said: “People often associate museums with material culture, the things you can see and touch. But we are committed to preserving intangible cultural elements like spoken languages, traditional songs, dances, and performances.”
Kingi expressed concern over the growing trend of parents preferring English at home:
“Unfortunately, many parents see speaking English at home as a symbol of status and modernity, but this deprives children of learning their mother tongue during their most formative years.”
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