“It’s a strange world of language in which skating on thin ice can get you into hot water.” – Franklin P. Jones
African Safari: The Power of Words
In Swahili, the national language of both Kenya and Tanzania, the word for hello is jambo. It was a word we heard frequently, and one we spoke in reply, accompanied by a nod of the head.
I liked the word, and the acknowledgment of human recognition it implied between two people who did not speak a common language.
But on our third morning in Africa, one polite man used two words in greeting me.
“Jambo mama,” he said. Then turned to Kim and simply said: “Jambo.”
I asked Bilal later what that was all about. And he said “mama” was a term used to show respect to elders. While my vanity was a bit hurt, the respect offered me was appreciated. After that Bilal started calling me Mama, too, while Kim remained Kim.
I guess she couldn’t help it that she was 21 years younger than me and still a “hottie.”
Another Swahili word I was already familiar with was simba, meaning lion.
Other than those three words, Bilal’s radio conversations in Swahili while talking to other guides out in the field, was a lot of mumbo jumbo, which is a good old English phrase for confusing and meaningless.
Since all our guides spoke excellent English, I never had any reason to use any of the other Swahili words listed in my African travel guide, such as:
Duma, meaning cheetah
Twiga …giraffe
Impala … swala
Elephant … tembo
Mister … bwana
Hippopotamus … kibuko
Rhino … kifaru
Then there is choo, the word for toilet, and chui, the word for leopard.
I already have a Texas twang that can sometimes be misunderstood, so I can easily imagine myself mispronouncing these two words, and telling someone that I had to use the leopard.
The Swahili word for beer, meanwhile, is prombe. Kim and I, however, learned to call it Tuskers.