Lost in Translation

After a couple of weeks of Swahili lessons and several hours exploring the wonders of the Rosetta Stone, I have a few more Swahili words at my disposal. My ability to greet people has increased ten-fold, as I can now enquire about a person’s house, job and children. There are small victories, such as being able to bargain in Swahili or partly understand directions. However, there are also moments of sheer incomprehension. These moments tend to occur when the conversation strays away from certain basic topics and words are flying through the air at a rapid rate. For instance, I was not aware that the LHRC was holding a party to celebrate its 16th anniversary until the morning of the party when something about an anniversary slipped out in English in the morning meeting.

And then, there are the lost in translation moments. In one of my first Swahili lessons, my teacher, Mama Jengo, and I rambled our way through eight or nine different greetings. The most common greeting is “Mambo” to which there are a number of responses including “poa”, “fresh”, “sufi” and “kuku”. I expressed a bit of doubt about “kuku” being an appropriate response. “Kuku” means chicken. I was assured that all the cool kids were using “kuku” these days. Determined to be a cool kid (and show off my new acquired Swahili), I used “kuku” the next time one of the co-workers greeted me with a “mambo”. My co-worker looked at me with astonishment and then started to laugh. She laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. This process was repeated about 10 times, as the “kuku” story spread through the office. Needless to say, I am a bit of a trendsetter.

In a similar vein, when Wes and I were on Zanzibar, we ate at Fordhani Gardens a few times. During the day, Fordhani Gardens is an alleyway. At night, it transforms itself into a bustling food court. Tables of all shapes and sizes line the alleyway, each piled high with either seafood kebabs or Zanzibarian pizzas and manned by an enthusiastic tout. Tucked between these tables are the more reserved drink stalls with their sodas, cane juice and chai masala. After sampling a fair amount of seafood, Wes and I headed off to the chai masala stall. My Swahili was going strong, until the man asked how many guards I would like in my tea. I was a little taken a back, until it became clear he was asking how much sugar I wanted in my tea. The word for guards, “askari”, to my ear is very close to the word for sugar, “sukari”. It is definitely a learning process and I have a fair bit of learning to go.