DC: Leo niko hapa na rafiki yetu, Kevin Warnke. Kevin amekuwa akinisaidia kutafsiri maneno yangu mara nyingi hapa kwa KASSFM. Pia, alikuwa volunteer wa Peace Corps huko Kenya. Aliishi pwani, karibu na Malindi, na alikutana huko na msichana mrembo ambaye ni bibi yake leo. Wanaishi pamoja hapa DC. Kevin anafanya kazi kwa bunge kwa kumshauri mbunge mmoja kuhusu sera mbalimbali. Karibu Kevin.
KW: Asante Duncan. Nafurahi kuwa nanyi.
DC: Si kitambo, tulikuwa tunazungumza hapa kwa KASSFM kuhusu kifo cha mbunge mmoja hapa Amerika, Senata Kennedy, na jinsi alivyokuwa katika mstari wa mbele kwa wanasiasa hapa. Kabla ya kifo chake, Kennedy aliomba wanasiasa wabadilishe utaratibu wa kuchagua atakayemfuata. Je, huu utaratibu ukoje?
KW: Kuelewa utaratibu wenyewe, tunahitaji kukumbuka jinsi mfumo wa bunge letu ulivyoundwa. Hapa Amerika, tuko na bunge la juu, linalojulikana kama Senate, na bunge la chini, linaloitwa House of Representatives. Kwa House of Representatives, utaratibu ni wazi: kuna uchaguzi. Ni huo utaratibu unaotumika Kenya pia, kama "by-elections".
DC: Ndio. Lakini kwa viti vya Senate, wanafanya kivingine, si ndio?
KW: Kweli Duncan. Sharti, mila, na desturi za Senate zinachanganyisha hata Waamerika! Badala ya kulazimisha kuwe na uchaguzi, katiba yetu inasema kila jimbo litaamua jinsi ya kuchagua MaSenata wake. Katika jimbo lake Kennedy, linaloitwa Massachusetts, sheria inasema kama kuna nafasi wazi kwa viti vya MaSenata wake, kutakuwa na uchaguzi baada ya miezi mitatu. Kabla ya kifo chake, Kennedy aliomba serikali ya Massachusetts ibadilishe sheria kwa kumruhusu Governor kuteua mwakilishi wa muda kufanya kazi mpaka uchaguzi utafanyika.
DC: Kama kungekuwa na uchaguzi baada ya miezi mitatu, mbona Kennedy aliona ilikuwa muhimu kupata mwakilishi mwingine kwa huo muda mfupi?
KW:Kwa sababu ya namba moja yenye umuhimu mwingi katika Senate: Sitini. Kama MaSenata wanataka kufanya cho chote kwa Senate, inabidii kuwe na MaSenata sitini wanaokubali. Kuna MaSenata mia moja kwa ujumla--wawili kwa kila jimbo. Kama MaSenata arobaini na moja wanataka mswada fulani usiendelee, wanaweza kuusimamisha. Kennedy alipokuwa hai, WaDemokrat walikuwa sitini. Alipokufa, kukawa WaDemokrat hamsini na tisa tu, na ikawa vigumu kwa WaDemokrat kufanya wanavyotaka katika Senate.
DC: Na kama Senate inashindwa kufanya kazi yake, Rais Obama atashindwa kupitisha miswada na kubadilisha sharia za Amerika, si ndio?
KW: Ndio, ndio. Kama unavyojua, kubadilisha sheria hapa Amerika inabidii Senate na House of Representatives zote zipitishe mswada moja bila mabadiliko yoyote, na kwa Rais kuukubali hivyo hivyo.
DC: Nilisoma historia ya Kenya kidogo na nilishangaa kuona hata Kenya ilikuwa na Senate na House of Representatives kwa miaka michache. Na hata katika Katiba Bomas ya miaka mitano iliyopita, wengine walipendekeza kuwe na Senate tena. Pengine unaweza kutushauri na uzuri na ubaya wa bunge hilo.
KW: Kwanza, tukumbuke sababu ya kuwa na mfumo wetu hapa Amerika. Wakati wa ukoloni, Amerika haikuwa koloni moja, ila makoloni kumi na tatu. Makoloni haya yaliungana wakati wa vita kupigania uhuru kutoka kwa utawala wa Uingereza. Baada ya kupata uhuru, viongozi wa makoloni haya waliona bora waungane. Kama WaSwahili wasemavyo, "Kidole kimoja hakivunji chawa". Wakati ule, chawa yetu ilikuwa Uingereza. Lakini kuungana na kuanzisha serikali ya taifa ilileta swala nyeti kuhusu jinsi ya kuwakilisha wananchi. Kabla ya kuungana kila koloni lilikuwa na serikali yake.
DC: Na viongozi wa majimbo yenye watu wachache walitaka kila jimbo liwakilishwe kwa usawa. Viongozi wa majimbo yenye watu wengi walitaka kuwakilishwa kulingana na namba ya wananchi wanaoishi kwa jimbo lenyewe. Baada ya mvutano baina ya majimbo, waliafikiana kwamba kutakuwa na bunge moja kutetea maoni ya majimbo, ambalo ni Senate, na bunge moja kutetea maoni ya watu wenyewe, ambalo ni House of Representatives.
KW: Ndio. Na tukiangalia maandishi ya wale ambao waliafikiana hivyo, kazi ya Senate ilikuwa kuhakikisha miswada ya House of Representatives ilikuwa mizuri. Inasemakana Rais wetu wa kwanza, George Washington, alisema kazi ya Senate ilikuwa "kupoza" miswada kama kisahani kinavyotumika kupoza chai moto.
DC: Unaona hii ni kweli? Senate "hupoza" miswada?
KW: Bila shaka. House of Representatives hufanya kazi yake kivingine kabisa. Bunge hili linaongozwa na uongozi wa chama kimoja. Kupitisha mswada kunahitaji zaidi ya asilimia hamsini ya wabunge wake. Hii ni sawa na bunge ya Kenya. Miswada ikipita House of Representatives, huenda na kukaa kwa muda mrefu kwa Senate. Wengine wanasema ndio vizuri. Inazuia miswada mibaya isipite bila kuangaliwa sana na kuwe na watu wengi wanaoona inafaa.
DC: Lakini wengine wanasema ni vibaya kwa sababu MaSenata wanaowakilisha majimbo yenye watu wachache wanaweza kuzuia Rais na chama chake, hata ikiwa wanapendwa sana na wananchi.
KW: Kweli. Wakati Bush alikuwa Rais, WaRepublican walilalamikia MaSenata WaDemokrat kwa kuwazuia. Vile vile, leo WaDemokrat wanalalimikia MaSenata WaRepublican. Kwa hiyo, ubaya wake ni kwamba kama Rais na chama chake, hata kama wanawakilisha maeneo yenye watu wengi sana, hata kama wananchi wengi wanawakubali na kukubali na mapendekezo au miswada yao, hata kama haya yote ni kweli, kama MaSenata arobaini na mmoja hawataki (wengi wao kutoka majimbo yenye watu wachache), ni bas. Haitafanyika.
DC: Si hii inafanya iwe vigumu kupitisha miswada?
KW: Ndio. Uzuri wake ni kwamba hata kama, kwa mfano, jimbo moja halipendwi, eneo lake ni dogo, na falsafa ya watu wake ni tofauti, wakilishi wake watakuwa na nguvu kutetea matakwa yao.
DC: Kevin, Asante kwa kuja kutuelezea hayo yote.
KW: Asante. Nimefurahi kuzungumza nanyi.
Showing posts with label Swahili. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Swahili. Show all posts
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
"Change" in Swahili
A friend recently emailed me and asked how I would translate the word "Change" into Swahili. I assumed she meant it in the same sense that was frequently attached to President Obama. Here's the email that I sent in response (with minor changes):
Translations are funny. Is "change" a noun or a verb? Is it passive or active? Is it the result or is it the process?
Kenyans tend to use the verb "kubadilisha" as "to change" something. To change clothes, to change your mind, to replace something. "Kubadilika" is to have been changed. "Kugeuza" is more like transforming, turning, or altering. "Kugeuka" means to have been transformed, altered. Though the words' meanings ("kugeuza" vs "kubadilisha"; "kugeuka" vs. "kubadilika") frequently overlap.
But those are verbs.
For nouns, we have "badilisho" and "mabadilisho", which mean "a change" and "changes", respectively. The emphasis being on the process. "badiliko" and "mabadilko" which mean the same thing, but emphasizing the results.
There's also "mageuzo" and "mageuko", which is more like "revolution"--the first one being more about the process and the second, more like the result. The word itself again has the ma- pluralizer, but, to me, it seems to suggest something larger than "mabadiliko" or "mabadilisho".
During the campaign, commentators and critics loved to point out that the word "change" was very generic. I don't know if they thought about it this much, but from a linguistic point of view, it really is.
But, let's put it in the context of a frequently repeated slogan, "Change we can believe in". Well, that makes it a noun, not a verb. I'm not a big fan of using "badilisho"/"badiliko" here because that seems to be too "small" for what that statement implies. It is not about "a change" or even "changes". It suggests systemic change. So I'm inclined toward "mageuzo" and "mageuko".
During the campaign it felt more like "mageuko" (i.e. the immediate result of the act of voting), and now it's more like "mageuzo" (i.e. an ongoing process).
Neither of these words are frequently used in the Kenyan (Nairobi) dialect of Swahili, but it's easily understood. The familiar words ("badilisho"/"badiliko" and their plural forms) don't seem to cut it.
Translations are funny. Is "change" a noun or a verb? Is it passive or active? Is it the result or is it the process?
Kenyans tend to use the verb "kubadilisha" as "to change" something. To change clothes, to change your mind, to replace something. "Kubadilika" is to have been changed. "Kugeuza" is more like transforming, turning, or altering. "Kugeuka" means to have been transformed, altered. Though the words' meanings ("kugeuza" vs "kubadilisha"; "kugeuka" vs. "kubadilika") frequently overlap.
But those are verbs.
For nouns, we have "badilisho" and "mabadilisho", which mean "a change" and "changes", respectively. The emphasis being on the process. "badiliko" and "mabadilko" which mean the same thing, but emphasizing the results.
There's also "mageuzo" and "mageuko", which is more like "revolution"--the first one being more about the process and the second, more like the result. The word itself again has the ma- pluralizer, but, to me, it seems to suggest something larger than "mabadiliko" or "mabadilisho".
During the campaign, commentators and critics loved to point out that the word "change" was very generic. I don't know if they thought about it this much, but from a linguistic point of view, it really is.
But, let's put it in the context of a frequently repeated slogan, "Change we can believe in". Well, that makes it a noun, not a verb. I'm not a big fan of using "badilisho"/"badiliko" here because that seems to be too "small" for what that statement implies. It is not about "a change" or even "changes". It suggests systemic change. So I'm inclined toward "mageuzo" and "mageuko".
During the campaign it felt more like "mageuko" (i.e. the immediate result of the act of voting), and now it's more like "mageuzo" (i.e. an ongoing process).
Neither of these words are frequently used in the Kenyan (Nairobi) dialect of Swahili, but it's easily understood. The familiar words ("badilisho"/"badiliko" and their plural forms) don't seem to cut it.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
"You are Walking on Soil Where Your Ancesters Are Sleeping"
I'm reading too many books right now. I'm at that point where I'm generally interested in three separate books, but haven't really sat down to finish one.
I'm reading E. Kezilahabi's Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo (The World is a Chaotic Place) and really think that this author needs to be translated into English. It's that good. (Incidentally, he got a graduate degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison.)
I've read Rosa Mistika (a girl's name) and was quite impressed by it. Today, I came across this paragraph in Dunia and just really wanted to share it.
A mother, ill and dying, is giving her final farewell to her teenage son, who now stands to inherit a good deal of money and the family wealth all on his own. She worries about his judgment and his ability to handle the responsibilities that now await him. She gives three pieces of advice.
First, she says, don't marry for beauty. Marry a woman who has good behavior. Second, be careful with the money that you inherit.
It's her third point that I want to share:
"You are walking on soil where the ancestors are sleeping." Few people really stop to think about this. That millions of people have come before us and when their time ends, they are gone. We inherit the earth from them. And, with our every step, we should remember those who came before us.
It is the hope of the dying and, to the living in this day and age, sounds more like sappy poetry...
I'm reading E. Kezilahabi's Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo (The World is a Chaotic Place) and really think that this author needs to be translated into English. It's that good. (Incidentally, he got a graduate degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison.)
I've read Rosa Mistika (a girl's name) and was quite impressed by it. Today, I came across this paragraph in Dunia and just really wanted to share it.
A mother, ill and dying, is giving her final farewell to her teenage son, who now stands to inherit a good deal of money and the family wealth all on his own. She worries about his judgment and his ability to handle the responsibilities that now await him. She gives three pieces of advice.
First, she says, don't marry for beauty. Marry a woman who has good behavior. Second, be careful with the money that you inherit.
It's her third point that I want to share:
Jambo la tatu na la mwisho ni hili. Tukumbuke sisi wazazi wako. Kumbuka unatembea juu ya udongo ambamo ndani mwake wahenga wamelala. Kwa muda wote utakaokanyaga undongo huu, tukumbuke kwa kila tendo utendalo, kwani matendo mabaya huwachukiza wazima na wafu.
The third and final thing is this. Remember us, your parents. Remember you are walking on soil inside of which the ancestors are sleeping. For the whole time you step on this soil, remember us in everything you do, after all, bad actions cause hatred among the living and the dead.
"You are walking on soil where the ancestors are sleeping." Few people really stop to think about this. That millions of people have come before us and when their time ends, they are gone. We inherit the earth from them. And, with our every step, we should remember those who came before us.
It is the hope of the dying and, to the living in this day and age, sounds more like sappy poetry...
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The VP Offers Insight Bure
Nationmedia.com | Daily Nation | NEWS | Sh80m survey to gather data on the disabled launched: "The Vice-President, Mr Moody Awori, who officially launched the exercise at Bontana Hotel in Nakuru, said many of the disabled cases had not been able to fully take advantage of the free education because they lack hearing devices." (emphasis mine)
Now, in case you ever become vice president and find yourself talking about "disability," I thought I would give you all some pointers so you don't a) seem unaware of the issues and b) annoy people who are.
1. Not all disabled people are deaf or hard-of-hearing. I'm not even sure it's fair to say that most are. The fact that no one really knows roughly how many disabled people there are, let alone deaf vs. non-deaf, makes this an important study.
[Update: I'm not exactly sure if Awori means to imply that most of the "disabled cases" are deaf students or if most of the "disabled cases" that have failed to take advantage of the free education are deaf students. I'm skeptical on both claims.]
2. Not all deaf/hard-of-hearing people benefit from "hearing devices." People become deaf for different reasons. Some deaf can benefit from receiving amplified sound, others benefit from receiving electrical impulses to auditory nerves inside the cochlea. Others are just plain deaf.
3. Even those who benefit from devices like cochlear implants or hearing aids (see links above) will likely still need to learn a signed language (in Kenya's case, KSL). Sticking a deaf kid with a hearing aid in a hearing classroom will definitely boost attendance of deaf children in schools, but brings with it a whole host of problems.
4. Deaf kids aren't benefiting as much as their hearing counterparts from the government's free primary education because.... the deaf schools (residential programs) are not free! The government program does not cover boarding schools.
And, on this point, I'd like us all pause for a brief Swahili lesson: bure.
This word conveys two different concepts.
Concept #1: Serikali hii imesaidia wananchi kwa kuanzisha elimu bure kwa shule za msingi.
English Translation: This government has helped the citizens by starting free primary education.
Meaning of Bure: Free
Concept #2: Ubaya wake, lakini, ni kwamba hii elimu ni bure!
English Translation: The bad thing about it, though, is that this education is useless!
Meaning of Bure: Useless
I like that bure means both of those things. It takes you down the same path as "There's no such thing as a free lunch." If it is free, it's probably useless.
Seeing free primary education in a hearing school with 1,500 students and 20 teachers, I saw elimu bure.
For many deaf children, the government's promise of elimu bure has been just that, elimu bure.
[Update 2: It occurs to me that I say "useless education" when what I really mean is useless "free education."]
[Update 3: A nod to Kyle for the advice on making the distinction between "sign language" and "signed languages." There is no one "sign language", there are different "signed languages" that share features as a result of being signed and not spoken. To wit, saying "speech language" implies it is one, "spoken languages" acknowledges there are many.]
Now, in case you ever become vice president and find yourself talking about "disability," I thought I would give you all some pointers so you don't a) seem unaware of the issues and b) annoy people who are.
1. Not all disabled people are deaf or hard-of-hearing. I'm not even sure it's fair to say that most are. The fact that no one really knows roughly how many disabled people there are, let alone deaf vs. non-deaf, makes this an important study.
[Update: I'm not exactly sure if Awori means to imply that most of the "disabled cases" are deaf students or if most of the "disabled cases" that have failed to take advantage of the free education are deaf students. I'm skeptical on both claims.]
2. Not all deaf/hard-of-hearing people benefit from "hearing devices." People become deaf for different reasons. Some deaf can benefit from receiving amplified sound, others benefit from receiving electrical impulses to auditory nerves inside the cochlea. Others are just plain deaf.
3. Even those who benefit from devices like cochlear implants or hearing aids (see links above) will likely still need to learn a signed language (in Kenya's case, KSL). Sticking a deaf kid with a hearing aid in a hearing classroom will definitely boost attendance of deaf children in schools, but brings with it a whole host of problems.
4. Deaf kids aren't benefiting as much as their hearing counterparts from the government's free primary education because.... the deaf schools (residential programs) are not free! The government program does not cover boarding schools.
And, on this point, I'd like us all pause for a brief Swahili lesson: bure.
This word conveys two different concepts.
Concept #1: Serikali hii imesaidia wananchi kwa kuanzisha elimu bure kwa shule za msingi.
English Translation: This government has helped the citizens by starting free primary education.
Meaning of Bure: Free
Concept #2: Ubaya wake, lakini, ni kwamba hii elimu ni bure!
English Translation: The bad thing about it, though, is that this education is useless!
Meaning of Bure: Useless
I like that bure means both of those things. It takes you down the same path as "There's no such thing as a free lunch." If it is free, it's probably useless.
Seeing free primary education in a hearing school with 1,500 students and 20 teachers, I saw elimu bure.
For many deaf children, the government's promise of elimu bure has been just that, elimu bure.
[Update 2: It occurs to me that I say "useless education" when what I really mean is useless "free education."]
[Update 3: A nod to Kyle for the advice on making the distinction between "sign language" and "signed languages." There is no one "sign language", there are different "signed languages" that share features as a result of being signed and not spoken. To wit, saying "speech language" implies it is one, "spoken languages" acknowledges there are many.]
Thursday, March 22, 2007
MacGyver Meets West Wing in Kenya
I'm not sure when it started, but by the time I got back from Kenya, my brother's attachment to the TV show '24' was strong. He spends the entire TV season avoiding it. Trying not to watch commercials, read news articles, listen to water cooler conversations, and, of course, the TV show itself.
The show, which is like 'MacGyver' meets 'West Wing', is set into 24 episodes, each an hour long, representing a hellacious day in the life of counter-terrorist Jack Bauer. While always on the right 'moral' side of the equation, he often finds himself on the wrong 'legal' side in individual situations, which makes him a vital asset and a dangerous ally for the domestic security bureaucracy.
My brother watches '24' on DVD only. He does this so that he can watching them straight through, all eighteen hours in one sitting. “I watch it like Jack lives it,” he's told me more than once. He says this with pride, though he's aware that this pushes him toward the dubious category of being a fanatic.
Perhaps that is why he's not just content watching '24'. He pushes it onto his friends, loaning them the DVDs. And many of them find themselves wrapped up in Jack Bauer's world. Everyone is a possible target, everyone is a possible betrayer.
A few months ago, Geoffrey, an officemate of mine, asked me if I had ever heard of the show '24.' Of course I had and I suspected he was talking about it because it's being shown on one of the local stations (KTN; one of five, not four, local stations like I had previously written).
He told me that he had bought a pirated VCD of '24' and just watched all of Season Five the previous Friday. He too watched it “like Jack lives it.” Geoffrey lent it to us. It took us about three weeks, but we finished it.
'24' is now one of Halako's favorite shows.
We just bought a pirated version of Season One. It cost 250/- ($3). You can buy them openly on the streets and few people even seem to be aware that these are pirated. The police doesn't usually bother to enforce copyright restrictions and it's the heart of its own booning business.
I didn't think Halako would enjoy it as much as she does. The show is very fast paced, and hangs on suspension created by subtleties in the dialog, which is American English. Thankfully whoever put together the VCD burned it with subtitles. (Though the subtitles strangely replace all the lowercase l's with uppercase I's.)
(For all my linguistic ambitions coming to Kenya, I've found that Halako and I still primarily communicate in Swahili, though we've added a lot of English these past few months. Call it the Nairobi Effect. But I'm not entirely comfortable using my American English and slang American English with her. I probably should so that I can challenge her, but I'm not sure that constantly challenging in this way would be good for our relationship.)
We've watched a few American movies together and Halako isn't always the biggest fan. She was moved by World Trade Center, intrigued by The Last King of Scotland, but bored by Die Hard, Nowhere in Africa, and a couple of other random movies.
For Halako, most of these movies don't even hold a candle to a more local product: Nigerian movies. We'll save that topic for another time.
The show, which is like 'MacGyver' meets 'West Wing', is set into 24 episodes, each an hour long, representing a hellacious day in the life of counter-terrorist Jack Bauer. While always on the right 'moral' side of the equation, he often finds himself on the wrong 'legal' side in individual situations, which makes him a vital asset and a dangerous ally for the domestic security bureaucracy.
My brother watches '24' on DVD only. He does this so that he can watching them straight through, all eighteen hours in one sitting. “I watch it like Jack lives it,” he's told me more than once. He says this with pride, though he's aware that this pushes him toward the dubious category of being a fanatic.
Perhaps that is why he's not just content watching '24'. He pushes it onto his friends, loaning them the DVDs. And many of them find themselves wrapped up in Jack Bauer's world. Everyone is a possible target, everyone is a possible betrayer.
A few months ago, Geoffrey, an officemate of mine, asked me if I had ever heard of the show '24.' Of course I had and I suspected he was talking about it because it's being shown on one of the local stations (KTN; one of five, not four, local stations like I had previously written).
He told me that he had bought a pirated VCD of '24' and just watched all of Season Five the previous Friday. He too watched it “like Jack lives it.” Geoffrey lent it to us. It took us about three weeks, but we finished it.
'24' is now one of Halako's favorite shows.
We just bought a pirated version of Season One. It cost 250/- ($3). You can buy them openly on the streets and few people even seem to be aware that these are pirated. The police doesn't usually bother to enforce copyright restrictions and it's the heart of its own booning business.
I didn't think Halako would enjoy it as much as she does. The show is very fast paced, and hangs on suspension created by subtleties in the dialog, which is American English. Thankfully whoever put together the VCD burned it with subtitles. (Though the subtitles strangely replace all the lowercase l's with uppercase I's.)
(For all my linguistic ambitions coming to Kenya, I've found that Halako and I still primarily communicate in Swahili, though we've added a lot of English these past few months. Call it the Nairobi Effect. But I'm not entirely comfortable using my American English and slang American English with her. I probably should so that I can challenge her, but I'm not sure that constantly challenging in this way would be good for our relationship.)
We've watched a few American movies together and Halako isn't always the biggest fan. She was moved by World Trade Center, intrigued by The Last King of Scotland, but bored by Die Hard, Nowhere in Africa, and a couple of other random movies.
For Halako, most of these movies don't even hold a candle to a more local product: Nigerian movies. We'll save that topic for another time.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
A Trip to Bookpoint
I went into Bookpoint yesterday looking for two books: Tom Mboya's The Challenge of Nationhood, and Jaramogi Oginga Odinga's Not Yet Uhuru. (Uhuru translates to independent or free.) Both Mboya and Oginga Odinga are among the most important Kenyan historical figures.
Both of these books are written in English. As is nearly every book in Bookpoint, perhaps the premier bookstore in downtown Nairobi.
English is the language of education in this country; it is the language of elites. Politicians give elaborate, technical speeches in English and then offer summaries or calls to action in Swahili. Kenya's middle and upper classes prefer to raise their kids in English. Swahili and Kenya's other 42 languages are not languages of mobility.
Walking the streets of Nairobi, however, you'll hear that Swahili is still used as an informal language. People of all walks of life, from the ones wearing fancy business suits, to the visitors from the village, all find Swahili as a more casual way for people to talk to each other.
But just because people talk Swahili, it doesn't mean they read it. Throughout primary and secondary school, students are taught all subjects in English and the books they have to read are in English. (Exception being Swahili, of course.) The Swahili newspaper, Taifa Leo, is mostly ignored. A co-worker says he doesn't know enough Swahili to read it, though he speaks to most of his friends in Swahili.
After a bit of searching, past the aisles of books from American and European publishers, along the back wall filled with books on medicine, self-help, cooking, and fiction, you'll find in the right-hand corner a couple shelves of books from local publishers. I found Mboya's book and was told that Oginga Odinga's book was now being republished or reprinted.
I was just about to leave when I found books written in Swahili and Kikuyu. Unlike the English books, which sit on shelves, these are stacked out of the way, on the top of another bookshelf. Of the 50 or so different titles, six or seven were written in Kikuyu. The remaining books can be divided into four categories: books required for primary/secondary school (15 or so books), random literature (10 books), detective stories (five books), and children's books (10 books).
Unable to resist, I picked up the following books: Kilio cha Haki (The Cry of Justice), Kaburi Bila Msalaba (The Grave Without a Cross), Mkaguzi Mkuu wa Serikali (The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol), Shamba la Wanyama (Animal Farm by George Orwell). The Swahili books are also cheap: two to three bucks, brand new.
More expensive is the book Kizuizini (In Detention, $8). It's a new book from a new publisher, Kwani? They've recently begun publishing books from African authors—mostly Kenyan, but also seem to have a thing for the Nigerian author, Chimamanda Adichie, republishing three of her books. Their most interesting work has been a literary journal that they've put out three times in the past. Collections of poetry, short fiction, articles, biographies, and art.
Kizuizini is, of course, published in Swahili. The homepage of Kwani? claims that it's the first book to be published in Swahili in Kenya in 17 years. That might very well be true. Kwani?, following the lead of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, has advocated for authors to embrace the language that average Kenyans actually speak, instead of depending on Western languages. That would mean Swahili. (In the third volume of the Kwani? journal, they specifically pushed for Sheng, a Nairobi dialect.)
But English is firmly entrenched as the language of high education and high culture. Many Kenyans don't care to read Swahili and complain that writing Swahili is too difficult. That's due to the priority that the Kenyan school system gives to English over Swahili. And that seems unlikely to change in the foreseeable future.
A trip to Bookpoint ten years from now will still show English books completely dwarfing other languages. As a linguist from the University of Nairobi told me, “English is an African language. That's the reality.”
Both of these books are written in English. As is nearly every book in Bookpoint, perhaps the premier bookstore in downtown Nairobi.
English is the language of education in this country; it is the language of elites. Politicians give elaborate, technical speeches in English and then offer summaries or calls to action in Swahili. Kenya's middle and upper classes prefer to raise their kids in English. Swahili and Kenya's other 42 languages are not languages of mobility.
Walking the streets of Nairobi, however, you'll hear that Swahili is still used as an informal language. People of all walks of life, from the ones wearing fancy business suits, to the visitors from the village, all find Swahili as a more casual way for people to talk to each other.
But just because people talk Swahili, it doesn't mean they read it. Throughout primary and secondary school, students are taught all subjects in English and the books they have to read are in English. (Exception being Swahili, of course.) The Swahili newspaper, Taifa Leo, is mostly ignored. A co-worker says he doesn't know enough Swahili to read it, though he speaks to most of his friends in Swahili.
After a bit of searching, past the aisles of books from American and European publishers, along the back wall filled with books on medicine, self-help, cooking, and fiction, you'll find in the right-hand corner a couple shelves of books from local publishers. I found Mboya's book and was told that Oginga Odinga's book was now being republished or reprinted.
I was just about to leave when I found books written in Swahili and Kikuyu. Unlike the English books, which sit on shelves, these are stacked out of the way, on the top of another bookshelf. Of the 50 or so different titles, six or seven were written in Kikuyu. The remaining books can be divided into four categories: books required for primary/secondary school (15 or so books), random literature (10 books), detective stories (five books), and children's books (10 books).
Unable to resist, I picked up the following books: Kilio cha Haki (The Cry of Justice), Kaburi Bila Msalaba (The Grave Without a Cross), Mkaguzi Mkuu wa Serikali (The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol), Shamba la Wanyama (Animal Farm by George Orwell). The Swahili books are also cheap: two to three bucks, brand new.
More expensive is the book Kizuizini (In Detention, $8). It's a new book from a new publisher, Kwani? They've recently begun publishing books from African authors—mostly Kenyan, but also seem to have a thing for the Nigerian author, Chimamanda Adichie, republishing three of her books. Their most interesting work has been a literary journal that they've put out three times in the past. Collections of poetry, short fiction, articles, biographies, and art.
Kizuizini is, of course, published in Swahili. The homepage of Kwani? claims that it's the first book to be published in Swahili in Kenya in 17 years. That might very well be true. Kwani?, following the lead of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, has advocated for authors to embrace the language that average Kenyans actually speak, instead of depending on Western languages. That would mean Swahili. (In the third volume of the Kwani? journal, they specifically pushed for Sheng, a Nairobi dialect.)
But English is firmly entrenched as the language of high education and high culture. Many Kenyans don't care to read Swahili and complain that writing Swahili is too difficult. That's due to the priority that the Kenyan school system gives to English over Swahili. And that seems unlikely to change in the foreseeable future.
A trip to Bookpoint ten years from now will still show English books completely dwarfing other languages. As a linguist from the University of Nairobi told me, “English is an African language. That's the reality.”
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Woe to the Reader
When I didn't really know a foreign language, I always got annoyed whenever some author tried to slip one into a novel.
"Oh yes," I would imagine myself rather sarcastically telling the author, "you're so intelligent for knowing all these different languages and by translating for us, the poor hapless readers, you're doing us such a great service!"
Well, what can I say? I like Swahili words. It's more interesting. It's become the language of life (and love) for me. I suppose I'm taking a chance on annoying you, my dear reader. Forgive me my excesses.
If it makes you feel any better, I still regularly make mistakes in speaking--saying nazi (coconut) instead of nanasi (pineapple)--and in comprehending speech. Learning a second language is a battle of will and determination. (Though that battle can be much easier or more difficult depending on the context.)
Of course, there's Swahili on a couple spots on this page. For those readers who want to know: Nyumbani Kwetu means "our home." Wapenzi Wawili probably best translates as "the two who are in love with each other."
I'll try to do my best translating Swahili wherever it appears. I might even ask Halako to post in Swahili, if she feels more comfortable with doing that. Under those posts, we would translate it back to English.
There's a great online Swahili dictionary here but as anyone who's tried to study a language knows, a dictionary will only take you so far....
"Oh yes," I would imagine myself rather sarcastically telling the author, "you're so intelligent for knowing all these different languages and by translating for us, the poor hapless readers, you're doing us such a great service!"
Well, what can I say? I like Swahili words. It's more interesting. It's become the language of life (and love) for me. I suppose I'm taking a chance on annoying you, my dear reader. Forgive me my excesses.
If it makes you feel any better, I still regularly make mistakes in speaking--saying nazi (coconut) instead of nanasi (pineapple)--and in comprehending speech. Learning a second language is a battle of will and determination. (Though that battle can be much easier or more difficult depending on the context.)
Of course, there's Swahili on a couple spots on this page. For those readers who want to know: Nyumbani Kwetu means "our home." Wapenzi Wawili probably best translates as "the two who are in love with each other."
I'll try to do my best translating Swahili wherever it appears. I might even ask Halako to post in Swahili, if she feels more comfortable with doing that. Under those posts, we would translate it back to English.
There's a great online Swahili dictionary here but as anyone who's tried to study a language knows, a dictionary will only take you so far....
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