BUKENYA: Living Dar has made Kiswahili fall in love

My first really serious love story dates back to the end of 1966. It is with a young Tanzanian teacher that I met at a writing workshop at the University College of at the time, Dar es Salaam. I guess you already deduced from my mention of a Tanzanian in Dar es Salaam that Kiswahili had something to do with my business. Tanzanians speak Kiswahili, and in Dar, almost everyone speaks it all the time.

But it was not as clear as that. As you know, I come from Uganda, where very little Kiswahili was spoken at the time, and I could not pretend to master jargon after barely a year in the coastal city. I certainly could not boast of a sufficient Kiswahili mastery to carry the delicate and intimate dialogue that love is meant to be, as I have recently suggested to you.

Butpene nia pana ndia"(A non-standard way of saying that where there is a will, there is a way). Anyway, my sweetheart was an English teacher and she was still better than me. So we really communicated in English most of the time.

This was particularly true of the letters of love we wrote to each other, and there were many, because my friend lived and worked several hundred kilometers from Dar and we depended mainly on what you call "mail" today for our regular sharing.

My friend was, however, generously willing to introduce me to her friends and family when she was in Dar es Salaam and on a few occasions when I visited her country. I guess these are some of the signs of a relationship you are happy with and are proud of. On such occasions, I would strive to do my best and to murmur and whisper the polished phrases and formulas required in Kiswahili – and there are many – to my new knowledge.

Predictably, however, I would soon run out of my meager resources in Kiswahili, and when pbadionate jokes, the gumzo or sogaOn the way, I would be remarkably left out. Finally, a member of society, often my own girlfriend, will say:Jameni, huyu mwenzetu tumemkunja mno"(Literally," People, we've bent that friend too long. ") I would faintly protest that everything was fine and that I was following the conversation.Inside, I felt deeply touched by this typically Swahili gesture of kindness.

In any case, the result of such encounters is that I have been strongly encouraged to acquire and master an adequate level of Kiswahili. I immersed myself in D.V. De Perrot Learn Swahili and she English-Swahili Dictionary. I pricked my ears and listened to the examples of Kiswahili given in my language lectures by my teachers, especially my beloved Mwalimu Mohamed Abdulaziz and the late Wilfred Whiteley.

I have cultivated the company of my Tanzanian comrades, like Euphrase Kezilahabi, John Ramadhan, Crispin Haule, William Kamera, Clement Maganga and Ebrahim Hussein. Kezilahabi and Zanzibari Ramadhan did not speak much, but Kamera, Maganga and Hussein were deliciously bubbly and it was always a pleasure to listen to them. The dramatic genius of Saddam Hussein already showed his irresistible inclination for mimicry.

Listening to these talented and language proficient speakers has provided an effortless exposure to the rhythms and cadences of Kiswahili that I still find it hard to imitate. This is perhaps why Kenyans "get caught" every time I do not watch my accent.

Indeed, listening is what I was doing mainly at that time, gradually feeling "comfortable" in the language, as does a baby before the speech, even if it does not include not fully the meanings and structures of statements. It is amazing how easily these hidden reserves benefit the user when necessary.

I have also enjoyed my integrity in a Kiswahili environment in Dar es Salaam. In addition to the hours we spent in libraries and conference and seminar rooms, the language around us was Kiswahili. Whether at the church, at the market, on the streets or in bus number 6 towards Ubungo and the University, what we hear and communicate is Kiswahili . Even on campus, during our free time, Kiswahili was the media among the majority of students.

With my appetite fueled by the desire and desire to integrate it to my girlfriend's people, I have enthusiastically plunged into all of this, and the result, as I know it now, is my infamous infatuation for – no, no, unconditional love for – Kiswahili. I found myself living, laughing, crying and loving in Kiswahili during an important period of my youth, with recurring intervals throughout my life.

My personal love story did not unfold as well as I expected in my young tense and silly. But it's a story for another day. What I know for sure, is that this beautiful relationship did not leave me empty-handed nor empty-hearted. This has left me an incalculable wealth with, among other things, a language that is a treasure of beauty, history, literature and culture.

It may not be my mother tongue, it may not be my mother tongue, but it certainly has a claim on me, and I have a claim on it. Take liberties with the famous poem of Muyaka "Simuwati Muwatiwa", I can say,"Sikiati kiatiwa, naradhiwa kufa nacho"(I do not give up what was left to me, I would rather die with it). What left me Dar, is Kiswahili.

The UN proclaimed this year International Year of Indigenous Languages. The International Day of Indigenous Languages ​​was celebrated this week on Thursday, February 21st.

We are all people of many languages ​​and we are always negotiating our delicate paths among our first, second and other languages, official and national languages, with all their implications.

But Kiswahili, bila shaka (without a doubt), is the main native language of East Africa. Am I an impartial judge?

Prof. Bukenya is a specialist in English and literature in East Africa. [email protected]