Sheng ‘will be one of the most dominant languages in 2050’

A few years ago, nobody thought as sacrilegious the day when a young Nairobi Christian would refer to God as ‘Father wa Ma-sky’. That is “Our Father in Heaven” in Sheng, and it is perfect religious parlance to a generation of Kenyans to whom the revered name ‘Jesus Christ’ is too old-school. He is simply ‘JC’. Welcome to the never-ending debate on the ever-mutating dialect that has survived numerous assassination attempts

While announcing the 2011 Kenya Certificate of Primary Education results, Education minister Prof Sam Ongeri admonished the rise of the Kiswahili-English-vernacular language mixture as the main reason behind the falling performances in some subjects.

By doing that, the minister was simply endorsing a view long held by educationists and parents, that Sheng is counter-productive. Even pastors are known to caution against the language, alluding to its prevalence amongst the lawless.

But, in 2012, Sheng looks far from going the way of Latin, the ancient language that you will only hear in seminaries and read in school mottos. If anything, Sheng has found a new mojo.

Marketing firms, politicians and activists have turned to the language to connect with the rising segment of urbanised youth because “it is stylish”.

Safaricom has Bamba 50 and the Ponyoka Na Pick-up ad, while Barclays Bank, in spite of its English heritage, has Mkopo Wa Salo.

In a PR campaign for the Cooperative Bank of Kenya, advertising firm Ayton, Young and Rubbicam used Sheng phrases to advertise the opening of a new branch of the bank in Githurai: Tumerudi Githu Mara Ya Twice (We Are Back in Githurai for the Second Time) went the ad.

Sheng is finally getting not just recognition, but an endorsement as well, and Ghetto Radio is a powerful example of new attempts to mainstream and commercialise the language.

The FM station prides itself as “the official Sheng station”, and, going by recent ratings, the strategy is working exceedingly well, with their evening show surging ahead of competition in Nairobi.

Educationists may not like it, at least not yet, but capitalists are already working in overdrive to find the best way to benefit from the lingo.

One such person is Ken Lumbasi, who runs a beauty clinic in the Thika upmarket neighbourhood of Phase 13. The area is home to a youthful middle class, and Ken must blend in with young people as a business necessity.

“What most people do not understand is that Sheng is not just a language,” he says. “It’s a culture. You can kill Sheng somehow, but you can’t do anything to a culture as the roots are deep.”

Ken believes that any proponents of the scrapping of the language have no clue as to what they are taking on.

“In Nigeria, they have their pidgin English. In American inner cities they have their ghetto English. In London they have their cockney.

All these are important expressions of a culture of a certain place, an identity that has its specific roots. In Sheng, we have our unique way of expression, and as long as the communicators are comfortable, it will be impossible to weed it out.”

But even Ken admits that the inconsistent nature of the language is a problem for children in their formative stages as words do not hold on long enough to be completely entrenched.

He gives the example of ‘village’, which has been referred to as ocha,shags and shao in the last five years, denying any particular term a lasting usage.

Sheng should be kept out of the classroom to avoid confusing young minds, so believes Ken, who has seen his children struggle to comprehend some of the dynamic terms in use.

“As far as protecting school-going children is concerned, I am in. But the minister took an extreme position that appeared to demonise the language. In markets, social settings and businesses across the country, you are either apt in Sheng or losing out big time.”