New orphans: Children raised by phones, WiFi, social media

Tariro Manamike,  Correspondent

ONCE upon a time, families sat together. We ate meals around the table. We watched television shows, not on demand, but as a shared experience. We played board games. We asked questions. We listened.

It wasn’t perfect, but we were together.

Now, many of us are together in the same house, yet miles apart. Each person in their own corner, face lit by a screen. Between the work WhatsApp groups, school groups, church meetings and that ever-present side hustle.

One wonders if we even notice each other anymore.

It is no longer just children in rural areas who are being raised by distant relatives. In urban Zimbabwe, a different kind of child is being left behind, one who has everything except our attention.

I call such children the new orphans of our time.

Full house, thin parenting.

We are trying. Let that be said clearly.

We wake up at 4.30am to beat the traffic jam everyday. We cook, clean, hustle, Zoom, pray, pitch, and pray some more. We are tired, and it shows!

So, when the child comes and says, “Mama, can I show you something?” we respond with, “In a minute.”

But that minute never comes. Something else always does.

We are not bad parents. We are just exhausted people in survival mode, caught between doing it for the children and not being able to do it with them.

So, we give them the phone, the iPad, or the television remote control. And, we tell ourselves that it is fine, just for a little while. That little while turns into hours, days, years.

Digital babysitter, social media mentor

Have you ever asked your child who their role model is?

Maybe you haven’t, because deep down, you are afraid of the answer.

You do not want to hear them say they admire some socialite you have never respected. The one who flaunts money, drama, or half-truths for clicks and clout. You are afraid to ask, because you might realise that you have never introduced them to someone better.

But who gave them access to these people?

We did. We put the phone in their hands. We logged them onto WiFi. We did not have the time to talk, so they found voices that did. We did not make room for their questions, so they searched for answers elsewhere.

And, those answers are shaping their worldview in real time.

Abandoned places that shaped us

I took my child to a library the other day, just to visit, to try something different.

We were the only ones there. Once a hub of exploration, it now sits in silence, collecting dust, waiting for a generation that may never return. I looked around and wondered: where are the children?

I will tell you where they are.

They are at home, scrolling through YouTube shorts and TikTok videos. They are at school, overwhelmed by examinations and other pressures.

And on weekends?

We say, “No road trips this month.”

We are saving for the next gadget, for school fees, for fuel. Something always comes up.

The parks, once buzzing with children, are now filled with vendors, and in some areas, homeless people seeking refuge. Playgrounds are worn out and deserted. Community spaces have become survival zones.

And time?

Time is now our most endangered resource.

Time not waiting for us.

The truth is, time is finite.

It won’t bend because we are busy. It won’t pause because we are hustling. It just moves on.

Our children are growing every day, quietly, quickly, with or without us.

Sometimes, it feels like even the smallest interactions come with noise. WhatsApp pings. Facebook videos. TikTok laughs. And beneath all that noise, there is a silence growing between us and our children.

They are here, but we are not really with them. And, one day, when we look up and try to reach for them, they would already have grown into strangers.

Urgent but not too late

This is not about deleting WiFi or pretending modern life has not changed how we live.

It is about intentionality; about making room for connection again, even in small ways.

Sitting down with them for a real conversation, no phones allowed.

Ask them who they admire and why. Watch what they are watching, not just assuming it is “child-friendly”.

Take that trip, even if it is just to a nearby dam or park — just to be together.

Also visit the library, not because it is trendy, but because it matters.

Our children still want us; even the moody ones, even those glued to their screens. They want to be seen. Heard. Guided. But they won’t beg for it. They will just drift away.

Final word from one tired adult to another

It is hard, I know.

Sometimes I also use the tablet to buy myself 30 minutes of silence. Sometimes I reply “Just now”, and I know that I don’t mean it. I get it.

But I also know this: our presence is the most valuable thing we can give our children, and not money or WiFi. It is not even the latest gadget; just us.

Let us not wait until we realise, we raised them, but never really knew them.

Let us show up before their role models become strangers we cannot unteach.

The new orphans do not need a new tablet; they need their parents back.

ν Tariro Manamike is a media and communications professional, writer, and mother of two boys. She writes about relationships, parenting and the everyday struggles of Zimbabweans trying to hold it all together.