Of Kiswahili, Philip Ochieng and my vested interest in the language that unites E. Africa

Prof Bukenya is a leading East African scholar of English and Literature. [email protected]

PHOTO | FILE

What you need to know:

  • When, however, I advocate the spread and use of Kiswahili in East Africa, and especially in Uganda, I try and steer clear of personal and emotional issues, although that is not as easy as it sounds.
  • After all, does Luganda, my home language, or even English, in which many of us are mired from very tender years, not strike emotional chords in me?

It always feels good to be proved “right”, to be endorsed or simply vindicated, especially by an authority. That is how I felt last weekend when I read Mzee Philip Ochieng’s perceptive and heart-warming article on Kiswahili.

“Kiswahili is the only language,” declared the venerable Fifth Columnist, whom I first discovered as Iconoclastes (idol breaker) back in the 1960s, “which can now unite Kenyans — nay, all East Africans — to enable them to achieve their life-and-death economic and political goals in the shortest possible time.” I gasped in pleasant surprise at this pronouncement from the sage.

I was pleased at these straight-from-the shoulder utterances from the media guru because they boldly articulate what I have for a very long time believed and tried to communicate to our Ugandan relatives in word and deed. But I was equally surprised because I always regard Philip Ochieng as the best exponent and advocate of “good” English, in both word and deed. Should I not be surprised that he should come out so strongly in defence of Kiswahili?

Maybe I should not. After all, I am myself publicly known merely as a teacher of English and Literature (in English). I was first tempted into teaching “some” Kiswahili by my friend and younger colleague, Ramenga Osotsi, who dared me to tackle some Kiswahili texts within the Department of Literature at Kenyatta University back in the mid-1980s.

My deep-end plunge came on my return to Makerere in the late 1990s. My sister and long-time friend, Professor Ruth Mukama, asked me to “help out” with the “fasihi” (literature) papers on the Kiswahili courses in the Makerere Institute of Languages (MIL), as it was called then. My official base was my old (English) Literature Department, but I could not turn down Ruth Mukama’s invitation, especially in view of her heroic efforts to keep Kiswahili alive at Makerere in the face of considerable indifference and even direct opposition.

Though “part-time”, my Kiswahili literature task was gigantic, cutting right across the three undergraduate years. But it was delightful, as the students (Kenyans, Ugandans and Tanzanians) were strikingly enthusiastic. I found myself constantly challenged to dig deep into what had been my rather informal Dar-es-Salaam, Nairobi and Mombasa exposure and experience and organise it to meet their expectations. I now realise that this was for me as much a Kiswahili learning experience as it was a teaching one.

Anyway, the upshot of it all was that my own enthusiasm soon earned me a near-monopoly to the name “Mwalimu”, by which I am most popularly known on the (Makerere) “Hill”. The significance here is that in Uganda the “mwalimu” title is reserved for teachers of religion. I suppose that my zealous approach to Kiswahili struck some as bordering on spiritual fervour.

It was not long before I was being invited to “help out”, again, with Kiswahili at Makerere’s School of Education, Kyambogo University, Kampala University and the Uganda National Curriculum Development Centre, among other interested institutions. My friend, Prof Tigiti Sengo, the former stormy Director of Dar-es-Salaam’s TUKI (the institute of Kiswahili Research), who was then at the Islamic University in Uganda (IUIU), was understandably sceptical about my role, especially in view of my “English” background. But Ndugu Sengo was, by his own self-description, always a mchokozi (quibbler).

Here, however, is the difference between me and Philip Ochieng, in our advocacy of Kiswahili. I am, as may be seen from the above, an interested party, with obvious vested interests. I might even remind you of my ancestral links, traceable to Bagamoyo, and my living (and loving, yes loving) in Uswahilini.

The very sounds and accents of Kiswahili carry an undeniable emotional significance for me. Ndugu Ochieng, to the best of my knowledge, does not bring similar or comparable baggage to the discourse. His assessment is, thus, likely to be more objective and impartial than mine.

When, however, I advocate the spread and use of Kiswahili in East Africa, and especially in Uganda, I try and steer clear of personal and emotional issues, although that is not as easy as it sounds. After all, does Luganda, my home language, or even English, in which many of us are mired from very tender years, not strike emotional chords in me?

What I tell the Waganda, however, and especially the Baganda of Kampala and most of central Uganda, is that they should struggle to master and use Kiswahili because they need it. It is legislated in the country’s constitution as an official language (alongside English) and there are records identifying it as the national language.

OFFICIAL LINGUA FRANCA

I also point out to them that Kiswahili is an official lingua franca of East Africa, and it is very difficult to transact any meaningful business in the region, outside Uganda, without it. I also throw in a light-hearted reference to myself and my enormous enjoyment of myself all over this wide and great region because of Kiswahili.

All these things seem to be rather obvious commonplaces. But resistance to Kiswahili, both overt and covert, is surprisingly widespread, not only in Uganda but also in some other places where you would least expect it. In Kenya for example, we all know of the snobbish “class” assumptions that English is the thing for “respectable” business and social contexts.

Even more upsetting is our common inclination to speak Kiswahili “anyway we like”, implying that it is not necessary to respect our language with precise pronunciation, intonation, syntax and vocabulary.

I do not agree with Mzee Ochieng that my relatives and other Nyanza residents are less proficient in Kiswahili than other Kenyans. I even have tangible evidence that “Kiswahili Mufti” (elsewhere called Sanifu or Standard) has some deep Nyakach roots!

That said, we must admit that all of us Kiswahili speakers, whether in Kampala, Kasipul, Kapsabet, Kabae or Karatina, should start “minding our language”. Otherwise, the day when “our political language will flow with poetic and caressing majesty” may not be as close as Ochieng hopes.

 

Prof Bukenya is a leading East African scholar of English and Literature. [email protected]