Habari gani? We toka! Kuja hapa! Those are the earliest words I ever heard of the language called Swahili.
The first two were the regular refrain of a Sunday afternoon Karimojong music program on Radio Uganda in the 1990s presented by the generously gay Lochode Peter who I regrettably learnt recently had passed on.
The others were random “commands” I often heard Swahili speakers bark out without knowing exactly what they stood for until recently (You, move! Come here!)
Uganda now has made a great move to declare Swahili an official language.
According to recent media reports, the country’s Cabinet approved the implementation of an East African Community (EAC) summit directive to adopt Kiswahili as an official language of the community. Cabinet further recommended making Kiswahili language a compulsory subject in primary and secondary schools, and examinable.
A few months back, the African Union adopted Kiswahili as one of its official working languages. Three months before, the United Nations had designated July 7 as the World Kiswahili Language Day.
These processes are what I choose to term as the Great Swahili move. A language which, all my life, I had never thought would ever sit on my tongue as one I have to work with to survive is all of a sudden the next big thing on the global language menu. I look forward to seeing Americans, English, Russians, Arabs, and Chinese, among others, taking it up the way we have taken up their own languages. Africa has something to export to the world, one could joke! But not for nothing; in a world ripped by divisions and the sound of blasts of war machines everywhere you look, humanity needs more moves that could glue us together.
Kiswahili is mainly spoken in East Africa, a fusion of Bantu and Arabic languages, having sprouted along the East African coast in the 19th century. It is said to be among the world’s top 10 most spoken languages and Africa’s most widely used native language. It enjoys official national status in Kenya, Tanzania and now Uganda. It is also widely spoken in parts of DR Congo, Rwanda and Burundi. It is also used in Southern African countries of Zambia, Malawi and the Comoros islands.
It is the first African dialect to be honored by UNESCO.
But how did Swahili ascend the linguistic heights to earn top status besides the world’s most spoken and “prestigious” languages? In Uganda, it was literally a walk in the wild for a language that worked side by side with English and native languages in Kenya and Tanzania, our next door neighbors with whom Museveniland forms the core of the East African Community.
That was because the older generation in Uganda was traumatized by Swahili-speaking soldiers in the 1970s and 1980s. Anybody familiar with Uganda’s misrule of those days and the brutality that was meted out on citizens by ideologically bankrupt and untrained soldiers wouldn’t be surprised. Meeting a soldier of the time and hearing a two-word command would automatically mean big trouble. Many Ugandans didn’t survive to tell their experiences with “language speakers” but those who did grew to loathe it with all their hearts.
But those born after 1986 have no negative associations with the language because of UPDF’s pro-people character that has endeared Ugandans to associate Swahili with security and safety.
Indeed, Swahili has a big role in Uganda’s history. The language reigned as the country broke apart and bled to near total disintegration, but has also been in use when it has been built back. Truth is, people were prejudiced by the acts of individuals.
Kenya and Tanzania didn’t experience the turbulence that Uganda endured back then; their people never got the brutal treatment of Swahili-speaking soldiers and, therefore, easily embraced the language to supplement their foreign and indigenous language menu. They quickly benefitted from its uniting factor, which is why they have continued to enjoy peace and relative unity despite sharp differences among tribes such as the Luo and Kikuyu. Without Kiswahili, those two peoples would be at a point of permanent departure from each other’s path. They, both, can conceal under the cover of being Swahili to avoid sharp stares from across.
Swahili’s rise is equally attributable to the entertainment industry’s growth within the East African region. From Jose Chameleone, who was the first Uganda musician to go regional and continental singing in Kiswahili with the Maama mia song and many more that he came to churn out, to Bebe Cool, Mozey (R.I.P) and Weasal, Chance Nalubega, Ugandans got drawn into the language as they started to love it, associating it with fun and the language of their stars. This was supplemented by the likes of Ogopa DJs, Swahili Nation, Nazizi and Wyre, Nameless and Sauti Sol from Kenya.
Add Bongo Flavour and the likes of Mr. Nice, Lady Jaydee and the super star, Diamond Platnumz. As these musicians let out hit after hit and gathered innumerable followings, so did they attract their fans to love the language of their art. It’s my argument that these art creators have done a lot to raise the profile of Kiswahili locally, regionally and internationally. Within the arts industry, creators know that for one’s music to cut across boundaries, doing it in Swahili gives one a big numerical advantage of an audience.
For the language to grow and get more widely spoken, Governments should not directly impose it on citizens but co-opt artists to create more works with it. It will naturally creep into communities that may have assimilation inertia, considering it as a cultural coup against their mother tongues. I know that teaching the language and examining it may make it “hard” for many but using a soft agenda such as promoting Kiswahili music and film would make learning and speaking it all the more fun.
Too bad this “Great Move” is happening today and not earlier; I wouldn’t have the xenoglossophobia that killed my interest in learning the language. I lived among its speakers in Kenya from 2011- 2013 but didn’t pick much of it. Had I, I would have penned this article in Swahili. Maybe next time…