A Generation Too Busy to Belong

May 16 , 2026. By Blen Hailu ( Blen Hailu (blenmahi12@gmail.com) studied marketing, management and law. She works in communications and digital content creation, with a focus on human rights, equity and youth engagement.  )

In rapidly expanding cities, the "helping culture" is being reshaped by urbanisation. As people move between neighbourhoods for cheaper rent or education, communities become temporary, and long-term ties become harder to establish. Researchers note that rapid urban growth can weaken traditional social bonds, moving societies toward a more individualistic and transient state. Apartment buildings are often filled with strangers who exchange greetings but little else. This pattern, well-documented in countries such as Japan, is becoming evident in Ethiopia’s urban centres. The old familiarity in which everyone knew one another's families is being replaced by a culture of isolation and overwork., Writes Blen Hailu (blenmahi12@gmail.com) studied marketing, management and law. She works in communications and digital content creation, with a focus on human rights, equity and youth engagement.

Growing up, I waited for weekends with unusual excitement. A visit to my grandmother’s house was not a mere visit. It was an entry into another world, loud and familiar, where laughter rose before one reached the door and where people arrived as though the house belonged to everyone.

Some cousins would already be there. Neighbourhood children would drift in later, one by one, until the rooms filled with voices, footsteps, and small disputes. Sleepovers did not require permission slips or planning. Someone would pull out mattresses. Another would find blankets. By night, the floor became a map of children sleeping close together, tired from play and comfort. It was simple, but it gave children a sense that they belonged to many people, not only to one household.

After every holiday, the next day usually belonged to my grandmother’s house. No one announced it as a rule, and no one needed to. Families came carrying food, drinks, and stories from the day before. The adults settled into their usual groups, men in one place, women in another, while the children arranged themselves by age and mood. The younger ones ran through the yard. Teenagers sat apart, talking about school, music, and the future with teenage seriousness.

Looking back, what made those days memorable was not luxury, entertainment, or plans. It was presence! People made time for one another, and that time did not feel like it was stolen from anything else.

That rhythm lasted for years, then loosened slowly. We grew older and entered separate lives. Visits continued, but they lost their old regularity. Weeks became months, and sometimes months became years before everyone gathered again.

At first, I thought the change belonged only to my family. Conversations with friends and people I meet in daily life suggest otherwise. Many households carry similar memories of relatives who were once visited more often, of neighbours who knew one another better, and of family gatherings that happened naturally, without careful negotiation.

The change has not come from indifference alone. Today’s generation lives in constant motion. Students face academic pressure that feels heavier than before, but much of the weight now comes from within. Many young people feel they must succeed quickly, learn many skills, build a career early, remain productive, and prove their worth even where no contest exists. Good grades do not always feel sufficient. Comparison and fear of falling behind have created difficult, sometimes impossible, standards. Some are expected to support themselves financially earlier than previous generations did, while striving to improve every aspect of their lives.

Adults are pressed in their own way. Living costs rise. Workdays are long after a tiring day on the roads. By the end of the week, many people have little energy for spontaneous visits or meaningful rest. The desire to see family may still be there, but it competes with exhaustion, bills, deadlines, and survival. Modern life has made time feel scarce even when people live nearby.

Technology has changed relationships in ways both helpful and troubling. Mobile phones and social media keep families connected across distance, but they have also reduced the need for physical visits. In the past, a relative might spend an afternoon with someone to check on their well-being or share news. Today, a text message or quick call often does the work. Even inside the same home, quality time has narrowed. People sit together, absorbed in their phones, work, studies, or personal worries. The room is shared, but attention is divided.

Urbanisation has added another layer. In rapidly expanding cities, communities often become temporary. People move between neighbourhoods for work, education, or cheaper rent, and long-term ties become harder to build. Some researchers suggest that rapid urban growth weakens traditional helping cultures because communities become more individualistic and transient. The old familiarity, where everyone knew one another’s family, gives way to apartment buildings filled with strangers who may exchange greetings but little else.

This experience is not limited to Ethiopia. In Japan, researchers and social commentators have long discussed a culture of loneliness shaped by overwork, isolation, and pressure to remain productive. Many employees leave home early and return late, with little time for friendship, family gatherings, or rest. Over time, this pattern has weakened traditional social bonds. Elderly people may live alone for years without frequent visits from relatives, while younger people rely more on digital communication.

Ethiopia still has stronger communal traditions and family ties than many countries. Yet similar signs are becoming visible, especially in cities. The pace of urban life, financial strain, academic competition, and digital distraction are changing how people meet, speak, and care. Family members who once spent evenings together now often sit in the same room, each drawn into a screen or a responsibility. Visits once made without thought are postponed until holidays or special occasions.

The sense of community remains, but busyness is quietly reshaping it, creating emotional distance in places once built around togetherness.

Birthdays, graduations, weddings, and funerals still bring people together. They remain powerful reminders that human connection has not disappeared. During such moments, conversation becomes easier, laughter returns, and old memories come alive. People remember not only the event before them but also the feeling of belonging to a larger circle. These gatherings reveal that the need for community survives, even if daily life suppresses it.

Perhaps the problem is not that people care less. It is modern life that competes for attention, energy, and time. People are caught between ambition, responsibility, and fatigue. They are trying to survive, improve the future, and keep pace with a world that asks for more. Somewhere in that effort, many quietly miss the warmth of days when doors stayed open longer, neighbours visited without calling first, and weekends felt less hurried. The busy generation is connected more than ever through technology, yet many feel emotionally farther apart.

Social media deepens the illusion. People may know what relatives ate for lunch or where friends travelled, yet they may not have seen each other for months. Digital updates offer information, but not always intimacy. Children are growing up differently, too. Instead of spending afternoons outside with cousins and neighbours, many now spend free time indoors, on screens. Some may never know the collective upbringing that once shaped family culture and community values.

Still, traditions rarely vanish at once. They survive through small efforts repeated often. Preserving connection does not require rejecting modern life. It requires balance. Progress and technology have improved life in many ways, but human beings still need community, presence, and belonging. If families stop making time for one another, future generations may inherit convenience and connectivity while losing the emotional closeness that once held communities together.

The memories many people carry from childhood are not usually about expensive gifts or perfect celebrations. They are about crowded living rooms, shared laughter, and the comfort of always having someone nearby. Those ordinary moments quietly built emotional security, identity, and a lasting sense of belonging within families.

PUBLISHED ON May 16,2026 [ VOL 27 , NO 1359]