Ubuntu” I am because we are”.

I sit in my chair. I cradle my cup of tea. The warmth of it anchors me, and I begin to reflect on a word that carries the weight of generations, of ancestors, of communal breath.

Ubuntu.

It is more than a word—it is a way. A philosophy. A rhythm of living rooted deeply in the soil of Africa.

Ubuntu says, “I am because we are.”

It means my humanity is tied to yours.

It means we are not separate. We are interconnected.

That your joy nourishes mine, and your sorrow wounds me too.

In the West, the focus is often on individuality—on “me,” on independence, on personal achievement. But Ubuntu invites us to widen the circle. To see the other not as stranger, but as part of ourselves. Ubuntu whispers, you cannot thrive while others suffer. You cannot truly be whole while another is broken beside you.

Ubuntu lives in the village grandmother who shares her last meal with a hungry child that is not her own.

It lives in the women who walk miles together for water, sharing stories, laughter, and the weight of their lives.

It lives in the midwife who bends to help a mother birth not just a child, but a future.

So how do I explain Ubuntu to the West?

I might say it’s love without ego.

Generosity without demand.

Community not just as geography—but as identity.

I would say: Ubuntu is the tea that is poured for everyone in the room before the host takes a sip.

Ubuntu is the question, “How are you, really?”—asked with the time and presence to truly listen.

It is the essence of belonging—that sacred reminder that we do not walk alone.

And so, as I sip my tea, I feel it settle in me:

Ubuntu is not just an African word.

It is a way forward—for all of us.