The Kenyan English Dictionary

As time runs away with us and our return to the UK gets ever closer, it becomes clear to us that the way in which we talk in our mother tongue has changed in surreal and interesting ways. We begin to fear that you won’t understand us when we return to Britain.

A big factor in this is learning, and using, Kiswahili. Every Tuesday evening we meet Lucy, our Swahili teacher and friend in a café in Nairobi’s city centre. We are joined by Nick, Lucy’s husband and, we like to joke, our Kenyan 'cultural guide'.

Learning Swahili has become far more than just memorising verbs or learning our tenses. With Lucy and Nick, we delve into the culture that Swahili both represents and exemplifies, in between gossiping, munching on samosas and enjoying each others’ company. And we go beyond that, learning about the different tribal identities which, for good or bad, go to the heart of Kenyan identity. The personality traits associated with a Kikuyu. The somewhat disturbing death rituals in Luo communities. How badly the Bible was translated into local languages by Western missionaries. How all of this translates into Kenyan politics. We tackle it all, while simultaneously learning about Lucy and Nick’s lives and family, and comparing notes on the strange, peculiar ways of The Mzungu. 

Swahili lesson mid-flow - practicing using the story of "The Lion and The Mouse" (Simba na Panya)

The lovely Lucy and Nick

Swahili is a fabulous language, especially the way in which Lucy teaches it. I love its positivity, its straight-forwardness, the way in which politeness is assumed without much need for the complex polite/impolite divisions that seem to dominate other languages. The lack of ‘accents’ (things are pretty much said as they’re written). The way in which it so perfectly encapsulates Kenyan attitudes to time, responsibility, family and so on.

But learning Swahili also means we begin to really understand our Kenyan work colleagues, and the way in which they talk to us in English. Kenyan English is so fundamentally influenced by Swahili that it can be really baffling at first. But now that we have been here some time, it’s impossible not to be subsumed by this way of talking. It’s like picking up the accents around you. It’s a way of fitting in, of making yourself understood, a way of saying “we’re not tourists”. Or as our Kenyan friends would say: “You are practically Kenyan now”.

So to pre-empt our cultural re-integration into the UK, we thought we’d help our friends, family and colleagues with a brief dictionary to explain the many turns of phrase that we will inevitably continue to use all the time even when we get back. Hopefully this will help you all to understand what on earth we’re talking about….


Kenyan English phrases and their meanings

[With apologies to Lucy for the (many?) mistakes in my Swahili translations…]


“Hitting”, “crying”, “picking” and “flashing”
Believe it or not, these are all associated with the humble mobile phone. In Kenya, the verb to call someone (kupiga simu) literally means ‘hitting’ the phone. Phones don’t 'ring', they 'cry' like a baby. The phone is 'picked', not 'answered'. And 'flashing' someone is not a terrible act of public nudity, but rather someone calling you then hanging up as a way of giving you their number. 'Flashing' is a clever thing, especially when it’s random Kenyans trying to get the mzungu’s number – it means you can’t lie about your number because they’ll then proceed to 'flash' you immediately, and look crest-fallen when it doesn’t ring, and they realise you aren’t going to marry them / take them to your country.

“How are you?”
Obviously this is a standard phrase in Britain as well, but Kenya has a really lovely culture of greetings which I suspect we will find difficult to shake off. Greetings in Swahili can be extensive, with everything from “Habari yako?”, “Habari ya asubuhi?” and “Habari ya jamaa?” (How is your news / morning / family?) all asked of each other before a conversation really gets to ‘the point’. It’s the best way to approach every Kenyan, whether it’s our work colleague, the shop-keeper or someone we want to ask directions from. Kenyans find it quite rude if you just walk up and say “where’s this?” or “what’s that?”. I have images of Helen and I taking the Kenyan approach with the staff on the London underground and getting very suspicious, baffled looks in response.

“I am fine, just fine”
And the default response to all this ‘how are you-ing’ is “nzuri” – fine or good. I love that in Swahili it’s almost impossible to be negative. You’re always fine, always good, even when you’re really not. Again, though, this is a challenge for us westerners. We've had to learn not to say "I’m having a crap day" or "I’m feeling rubbish". Kenyans will never say that, even when they are having the worst day ever. One of Helen’s colleagues took this to the extreme when they gave the usual response one morning, only for Helen to find out hours later that they had been up all night with their mother in hospital after she was in an accident. But they were “fine, just fine”.

“I am just coming”
This goes to the heart of the Kenyan concept of time, which even Kenyans themselves will cheerfully admit is not a strong suit. Used frequently, especially when you are late for something (eg. a meeting). The precise meaning is often unclear – it can mean “I’m nearly there” or, far more likely, it means “I’ve only just started my journey, I may be several hours”. As an interesting aside, in Swahili there is no verb for 'to be early' – only a verb 'to be late' (Kuchelewa) – which says it all really. Being ‘on time’ for things – whether meetings, parties or dinner dates - is fairly unknown. There’s being ‘fashionably late’, and there’s being ‘Kenyan late’. We apologise in advance if this trait has rubbed off on us.

“Imagine!”
A crucial part of the joyful Kenyan skill of storytelling, this is all about expressing disbelief for the enjoyment of your audience. Be prepared to hear us say “Can you imagine, I could not believe it” or “Imagine, even me I was very much pleased by this”.

“Isn’t it?”
Directly translated from the Swahili “Si ndiyo?”, which is sprinkled with abandon throughout speeches, presentations and trainings, this is the equivalent of seeking agreement by saying “is that not so?” at the end of every sentence. Very much related to the “tuko pamoja” culture (see “we are together?” below), it’s used as a way of checking your audience is still with you, and that you’re all in agreement. Frequently rhetorical, it still works as a ‘call and response’ method, with your audience nodding sagely and responding “ndiyo” (“indeed, it is so”). Of course, whether this reflects agreement and/or understanding is often less clear…

“Just come”
Related to "I am just coming" above, but also different, this is a common response if you try to plan a visit eg. to a Kenyan friends’ home. It conveys the vagueness about time, of course, but also the warm, welcoming nature of Kenyans. It’s a way of saying "you are always welcome", or “karibuni sana”, as we are constantly told. It's a trait that has really rubbed off on us and our volunteer friends - we organise every social event with an open invite, encouraging everyone to come. I hope we keep that up back in the UK.

“Pole pole”
We’ve already used this so many times in this blog, do I even need to explain? It means “slowly slowly”, and is, fundamentally, the way things work here. And also the way to get things done. If you try to launch head-long into a new initiative at work, or you try to ‘hit the ground running’, your Kenyan colleagues will most likely gently chastise you with this phrase. Change happens slowly here, and unless you’ve spent time with people building relationships and gaining trust over cups of chai, it won’t happen at all. Something about tortoises and hares rings a bell… We can't work out if this will be a valuable asset back in UK offices, or whether we will get the shock of our lives as we realise the pace of life has quadrupled in speed and we scrabble desperately to keep up with you all.

“The nini”
Volunteers we know who have already returned to the UK have warned us that this phrase keeps plaguing them. Literally meaning “the what”, this is Kenya’s frequently used equivalent of “thingummy bob”. It just means you can’t find the word to describe what you want to say. Usually accompanied by pointing, recent “ninis” in conversations with Kenyans have included ‘Mount Kenya’, ‘flipchart’ and ‘modem’.

“Trainings” and “sensitisations”
I strongly suspect we will find ourselves in UK offices talking about “trainings”. They are always plural, even when they’re not. It has to do with there being several people in the room, which means our Kenyan colleagues will also walk into the room and say “hellos”. And then, of course, there’s the eponymous “sensitising”. Which is used whenever someone needs to be made aware of something. We all work to ‘sensitise’ people to the rights of persons with disabilities. At a recent conference, our disabled delegates agreed that the staff of the hotel where it was being held needed to be “sensitised” about accessibility, considering all the stairs, obstacles in corridors etc.

Thirsty work - mid-way through being "sensitised" about 'Mainstreaming'
at the recent VSO conference (not sure I am any wiser to be honest)

“We are together?”
Kenyan meetings are regularly punctuated by facilitators using the phrase “Tuko pamoja?” – “We are together?” – followed by a chorus of “Tuko pamojas” in response. For Kenyans, being ‘together’ on something is fundamental. It’s a culture that truly respects everyone’s opinion, and everyone must have their say. Consensus is the name of the game, not contradiction or confrontation. It’s a tradition that goes all the way back to tribal councils who decided collectively on the way forward. For westerners like us, this can be a challenge. Imagine a meeting in a UK office where direct disagreement is not done, you certainly don’t interrupt someone who is mid-way through making their point, and brevity is virtually unknown. Instead there are lengthy monologues which begin with “I have not so much a question, Mr Chairman, as a comment”; or major points of disagreement which are prefaced politely with “I agree entirely with the Chairman in his approach. I just have one minor suggestion…”. And much to the frustration of us wazungus, meetings will frequently finish with a vague, un-defined, no-clear-actions conclusion: “Tuta endelea pamoja” (“we will go forwards together”).

So, I asked, are we together? (Eddie just laughed)

I guess the only other one to watch out for will be our strange refusal to use 'informal contractions' in our speech. There will be none of this vulgar "you'll", "they're", "isn't", "wasn't" or "doesn't". This is mainly because English is the language of education in Kenya, and Kenyans appreciate the formality of the language, as opposed to their relaxed, speedy gossiping in Swahili, Sheng (Nairobi's ever-evolving youth slang), or one of the other 40-odd languages spoken by different regions and tribes. So be prepared for us to greet you with "It is very much nice to see you and we do really appreciate your presence".


So there it is. I suspect this ‘dictionary’ could go on and on, but I’m sure you’ll get the drift once we’re back. Who knows, maybe we'll persuade you all to start speaking like Kenyans - taking it slower, focusing on people before work, being more of a community - Sounds pretty cool, right?

And with that, I’ll conclude by saying:

Imagine, even me, I am very much happy about this thing of the nini (blogging). I will hit you when we return to the UK – we are just coming. Are we together?