When you pick up a newspaper, you are making a choice. You are saying: I will spend the next 20 minutes reading deeply, not scrolling mindlessly. You are curating your information diet instead of letting an algorithm decide what you see.
Last week, I held a letter my grandmother wrote to my mother in 1987. The paper was thin, the ink faded, but the words were alive. Reading her careful script, I could hear her voice across decades. This is what letters do: they hold time still long enough for truth to land.
As Managing Director of Mwananchi Communications, I spend my days thinking about the future of media. How do we sustain journalism in the digital age? How do we compete with the instant gratification of social media? How do we convince readers that some things are worth waiting for?
The answer, I believe, lies in understanding why letters, and by extension, thoughtful written communication, will never die.
In Africa, letters have carried particular weight. During colonial rule, when oral traditions were dismissed and written records were controlled by the colonizer, letters became acts of resistance.
They documented injustice, preserved cultural memory, and coordinated movements for independence. The written word was not just communication—it was evidence, archive, and weapon.
Think of Nelson Mandela’s letters from Robben Island, smuggled out at great risk. Think of the correspondence between African independence leaders, planning liberation across borders. Think of Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail, written in the margins of newspapers because he had no proper paper.
Why print will not die
People often ask me if I worry about the future of print journalism. My answer surprises them: No. Because print has something digital rarely has, intentionality.
When you pick up a newspaper, you are making a choice. You are saying: I will spend the next 20 minutes reading deeply, not scrolling mindlessly. You are curating your information diet instead of letting an algorithm decide what you see.
This is why The Citizen and Mwananchi remain essential. Not despite the digital age, but because of it. In a world of information overload, curation becomes the most valuable service we can provide.
The leadership practice of writing
Here is what I have learned in 23 years of leadership: the best leaders are writers. Not because they are all authors, but because writing forces clarity.
When you write, you cannot hide behind charisma or charm. You cannot rely on tone of voice or body language. Your ideas must stand on their own. This is terrifying, and essential.
I keep a journal. Not a diary of daily events, but a record of decisions, lessons learned, and questions I am curious about. This practice of reflection, of writing to think, not just thinking to write—is perhaps the most essential discipline we need to cultivate as leaders.
Leaders are readers, yes. But more importantly, leaders are writers.
An invitation
So here is my challenge to you: Write a letter to your future self. Not an email. Not a note in your phone. A physical letter, with pen and paper.
Tell yourself what you are proud of. What you are afraid of. What you hope for. Seal it. Date it for one year from now.
When you open it next year, you will understand what I mean about letters holding time still. You will see how much you have grown. You will remember what mattered.
And you will understand why, in an age of instant everything, the letter remains.
Rosalynn Mworia is Managing Director of Mwananchi Communications Limited and founder of The Purple Circle. This column appears monthly in The Citizen
