The Lion King. Now’s as good a time as any to share that many of the African-sounding words in Disney’s
The Lion King
come from Swahili. A few of the characters’ names are Swahili words,
including Simba (lion), Rafiki (friend), and Pumbaa (the root of a verb
meaning “to be foolish”).
Hakuna Matata is a real Swahili
phrase, and it means something pretty close to “no worries,” though most
Swahili speakers seem to prefer the equivalent expression
hamna shida. Word about the movie has apparently gotten out among the street peddlers in Zanzibar, because
hakuna matata
usually one of the first things they trot out to tourists. The movie is
not consistent throughout, though. While learning Swahili back in the
States, I was a bit disappointed to learn that the opening call and
chant in “The Circle of Life” is not in Swahili—it’s Zulu.
Onomatopoeia. One of my favorite Swahili words is
pikipiki (motorcycle) and I loved it even more when I learned of its onomatopoeic origins. Apparently
pikipiki
is an imitation of the sound that old-school motorcycles used to make
when people revved up the engine. Similarly, the village of Bububu on
Zanzibar draws its name from the sound of old steam locomotives on the
island’s first railway. Some Swahili words of older vintage that I
suspect of being onomatopoeic are
mbwa (dog),
chafya (sneeze), and
miayo (yawn).
Loanwords.
Like many languages, Swahili is loaded with words from other languages.
The big sources of loanwords that I’m aware of are (in decreasing order
of importance) Arabic, English, and Portuguese. But as tends to happen
with loanwords, many have gotten mangled to suit local pronunciation,
with frequently charming results. This happens because while we’re all
born with a lot of linguistic flexibility, our ability to form certain
types of sounds atrophies quickly in childhood if those sounds aren’t
present in our native tongue. This is why so many Filipinos struggle
with the “f” sound, why many native Spanish speakers have to throw in a
vowel before an English word beginning with “s,” and why it’s so
difficult for many English speakers to master the rolled r’s and
guttural sounds in other languages.
Swahili speakers really don’t
enjoy ending words with consonants, so most English loanwords have an
extra vowel—most frequently “i”—tacked onto the end. Therefore, a taxi
driver will give you a
lifti to your destination, and if you pay with a large bill you’ll collect your
chenji. While traveling you will surely stay at a
hoteli, but hopefully you’ll avoid the
hospitali and the
kituo cha polisi
(police station). I and many of the Americans I know have started using
some of these words even in conversation with each other, and it’s a
running joke that if you’re at a loss for a Swahili word, adding “i” to
an English word is a reasonable guess. I even hear lots of Tanzanians
throwing in some extra i’s when speaking English—the word “just” seems
to be tricky because it frequently becomes “justi.” Sometimes the letter
“u” serves this function as well: you can call your friends on a
simu (from SIM card) and indulge in some cold
aiskrimu.
Occasionally, Swahili goes the other way and deletes a final consonant;
“r” is a frequent victim, giving the language a Bostonian touch
whenever one plays
soka or enlists the services of a
dereva (driver).
Placenames.
I always enjoy learning placenames in a new language because I think it
provides some clues to a culture’s sense of geography. I was especially
intrigued by the Swahili names for countries and continents. This is
pure speculation on my part, but I imagine that one can get a sense of
people’s evolving mental map of the world based on how Swahilified
different placenames are. The name for Europe,
Ulaya, seems
pretty much unintelligible in terms of any European term for the
continent, so I would guess that Swahili people had some awareness of a
large land mass to the north before European infiltration took place.
Portugal was the first arrival on the scene, and its name looks
similarly obscure:
Ureno. I learned
from the Swahili wikipedia
that the name comes from the Portuguese word for “king,” and it
originated when Vasco de Gama and other explorers announced that the
King of Portugal had sent them. By the time we get to England,
Uingereza,
we have a name that’s clearly derived from the real European name but
still a bit garbled. The real johnny-come-latelies, like
Marekani and
Kanada,
have names that sound pretty much like their English name with a
Swahili accent- and once in a while, an extra vowel at the end.
