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Swahili: The Rise Of An African World Language

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Swahili

Swahili African world language has grown from coastal roots into a Pan-African voice through trade, policy, media, and youth culture across the continent

In 1995, I won a scholarship to study Swahili at the Institute of Swahili and Foreign Languages in Zanzibar, Tanzania.

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I had crammed for two months before the qualifying exam, trying to catch up with African Studies students who had been studying Swahili for two years.

I couldn’t utter a single coherent sentence, but I knew all the nominal classes and verbal extensions by heart.

It got me through.

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I stayed with the family of Bi Faiza in Michenzani, Zanzibar, a household consisting of Bi Faiza and her three daughters. She welcomed me as her son, and so, my journey of learning began.

I was captivated by Swahili’s elegant structure: nouns that agree with verbs according to semantic class and number as in m-zee a-me-anguka chini ‘the old man has fallen down’ vs m-ti u-me-anguka chini ‘the tree has fallen down’; the many ways to create new words through regular patterns as in kuandika ‘write’, kuandikia ‘write to someone’, kuandikisha ‘make somebody write’, kuandikwa ‘be written’, kuandikiana ‘write to each other’, mwandishi ‘writer’, maandishi ‘text’, mwandiko ‘handwriting’; the readily available technical vocabulary, including in my field of linguistics. I was fascinated by its rich literature and oraliture, and by the vibrant intellectual and academic life surrounding the language.

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Zanzibar: course in Swahili.
Swahili was strikingly different from Ewe, my Ghanaian heritage language, which favours short, single words, has a tone system, and complex ways of forming words from smaller ones that pop up in unexpected places.

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I understood why standardized Swahili is so popular among European, learners. In aspects like word formation, diction and written expression, it bore a striking resemblance with the European standard languages I spoke.

Zanzibar Swahili, or Kiunguja, is considered the most prestigious of the East Coast varieties, and is the basis of Kiswahili Sanifu ‘Standard Swahili’.

Colonial administrations, looking for efficient ways to rule and exploit diverse populations, picked and promoted certain African languages over others, speeding up their spread.

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European colonial linguists and missionaries engineered standardized Swahili, while crucial African contributions were written out of history.

Hierarchies of prestige and “correctness” have therefore emerged, mirroring power dynamics found in European languages.

Many Kenyans, for instance, think that the urban dialects they speak are “bad Swahili” compared to the coastal ones closer to the standard.

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With time, I learnt to love the incredible diversity of Swahili, ranging from the bookish variety I’d learned to the ones spoken in Nairobi, the streets of Dar es Salaam, and Kampala.

At a conference in Gran Canaria, I got to know a Brother from Lubumbashi and discovered new possibilities.

His Swahili was tonal, not stress-based. It had noun classes and auxiliaries that I hadn’t heard before, lots of French words, and a sprinkling of Lingala.

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This was still recognizably Swahili, yet beautifully different from the standardized dialect that I had learnt.

Swahili as an African world language
Swahili has a long documented history.

Linguists estimate that it emerged around the 7th century as a distinct variety among the Bantu languages of the littoral zone of Kenya, developing within the maritime culture of the coastal peoples of the region.

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It is closely related to the Mijikenda languages of Kenya, and the languages of the Comoro Islands.

Over the next two to three hundred years, the enterprising, mercantile, and maritime Swahili forged a common identity and carried their language all the way down the coast into northern Mozambique.

Swahili explorers, merchants, sailors, fisherfolk, and farmers founded settlements along the coast and acculturated resident populations into their cosmopolitan culture characterized by city-states and the gradual adoption of Islam, thus integrating the Swahili into the Indian Ocean world uniting East Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, Persia, India, Sri Lanka, and Southeast Asia.

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Historical records indicate the presence of Swahili ships in Cambay, India, and Malacca, Malaysia, in the 16th century.

Swahili city-states served as entrepôts for trade with central African states like Mutapa in present-day Zimbabwe.

Like shrewd capitalists everywhere in the world, Swahili merchants reaped handsome profits from their position as intermediaries.

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Much of this wealth was pumped into the arts, poetry, literature in Ajami, fashion, imported luxury goods from China and India, and the beautification of cities.

In the course of these developments, Swahili became an international language of trade, stretching all along the east coast of Africa into the southern parts of the Arabian Peninsula.

Conversely, relations with Arabs, Indians, Chinese, and Malagasy merchants provided an infusion of new vocabulary and cultural elements.

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This is evident in words like duka ‘shop’ from Hindi and Arabic-sourced numerals like sita ‘six’, saba ‘seven’, and tisa ‘nine’.

Malagasy influence has been posited for nautical terms like sambo ‘ship’, shapa ‘raft’, utari ‘(ship) rope’.

Swahili architecture, cuisine, and dress integrate East African, southern Arabic, and Indian styles to a beautiful, balanced whole.

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Swahili is an emblem of African modernity and Pan-African aspirations. It serves as a genuine medium of self-expression and identity for the peoples of East and Central Africa – and it feeds the mouth that speaks it.

This golden age was brutally interrupted when the Portuguese entered the Indian Ocean, destroying the delicate balance of trading interests among the Indian Ocean peoples.

After sailing around the southern tip of Africa in 1497, the Portuguese mass murderer Vasco da Gama bombarded the Swahili cities he came upon for Portugal’s colonial project: seizing Indian Ocean trade for themselves.

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The Portuguese had no sophisticated trade goods to offer, and hence the only way to insert themselves into this network was through brute force.

This ushered in the slow decline of the Swahili states, with a gradual takeover by the Portuguese, and later, the Omani Arabs, who both intensified human enslavement and elephant slaughter in the region, both heavily funded by Indian merchants.

With the colonial invasions and exactions of the British, Germans, and Belgians, violence, genocide and exploitation of Africans were driven to new heights, causing immense human suffering in the 19th and 20th centuries.

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These developments also spread Swahili far inland up to eastern Congo as populations rushed to speak it in order to survive, trade, and acquire it as an emblem of power.

Swahili culture, with its openness and cosmopolitanism, overcame its chequered past and rose to become an important reference point in the nation-building ideologies of present-day Kenya, Tanzania, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Swahili as a Successful Example of Language Policy
The post-independence trajectories of Swahili in Kenya and Tanzania represent contrasting approaches and offer insights into the politics of language.

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Tanzania under Mwalimu Julius Nyerere adopted Swahili as an official language alongside English, implementing it systematically across education, government, and public life.

Swahili is an emblem of African modernity and Pan-African aspirations. It serves as a genuine medium of self-expression and identity for the peoples of East and Central Africa – and it feeds the mouth that speaks it.

This policy was rooted in Nyerere’s socialist philosophy of ujamaa ‘familyhood’, and aimed to create national unity by rejecting colonial linguistic hierarchies.

The results were remarkable: Tanzania boasts high literacy rates and Swahili serves as a genuine lingua franca across regional, class, and ethnic lines. The language has become deeply embedded in national identity.

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Major locations in Africa where Zwahili is spoken.
Kenya, by contrast, maintained English as the official language while recognizing Swahili as a national language.

Although Swahili is widely spoken, particularly in urban areas and along the coast, English kept its key role in education, administration, and the formal economy.

This created a more complex linguistic hierarchy with English at the top, Swahili in the middle, and other major Kenyan languages like Gikuyu and Kalenjin occupying the lower rungs.

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With increasing distance from the colonial era, young urban Kenyans have, however, been rooting for Swahili in their everyday interactions.

In the process, they have created versatile Swahili-based youth languages like Sheng, which mix-in English and words from other Kenyan languages.

The success of Swahili in East and Central Africa has inspired its adoption as the only African language among the six working languages of the African Union.

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Swahili has become a bulwark against neocolonial language policies that promote English and French to the detriment of African languages.

Ultimately, the success of Swahili owes a lot to administrative intervention, but it would be wrong to say it has come only from top-down enforcement.

Much of its growth happened because ordinary people adopted it and made connections with each other, even when this was helped along by nation-building efforts.

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Today, Swahili’s expansion is increasingly driven by digital and social media, popular culture, music, and film, which has spread the language across borders through its appeal and utility.

Swahili in the Media, Pop Culture, and Youth Culture
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Music by Taarab band, sung in Swahili. Photo: Nicholas Calvin.
In the past two decades or so, Swahili has undergone a remarkable transformation.

Pop music sung in Swahili exploded onto the scene of East and Central Africa in the wake of Tanzania’s and Kenya’s independence in the 1960s.

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The digital distribution of music has exponentially increased the possibilities by offering informal, peer-to-peer forms of distribution of content.

Like in West Africa, new musical genres have emerged in East Africa that combine Congolese rumba and Taarab-influenced genres with hip-hop and R’n’B, ushering in a style called Bongo Flava.

Swahili is also the main medium of the vibrant Kenyan and Tanzania movie sector, conquering new audiences that English cannot reach.

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Young users are expanding the vocabulary and structure of Swahili, mixing languages creatively, using Swahili for humour, social commentary, and the arts.

A new generation of Swahili writers is experimenting with form and content, rejuvenating and transforming traditional narrative techniques.

The Future of Swahili
It is difficult to determine the exact number of speakers today, but estimates suggest that up to 200 million people use Swahili as a first or additional language.

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Swahili will certainly continue to expand, absorbing smaller African languages and growing organically through demographic trends and urbanization.

By 2100, population projections for Kenya, Tanzania, and eastern DRC indicate a combined total of at least 400 million people.

It is likely that all of them will speak Swahili as part of their linguistic repertoire. Additionally, Swahili is gaining ground in Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, and parts of Somalia, Mozambique, South Sudan, Malawi, and Zambia.

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Due to these trends, Swahili is probably the fastest-growing world language besides West African Pidgin, and both languages are set to figure among the largest of the globe by 2100.

The question remains whether Swahili’s growth will remain mostly informal, supported only modestly by state policies.

There is a risk that a divide will deepen, with English, French, and Portuguese dominating elite education while Swahili-medium education is relegated to the lower middle class and working masses.

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This could further fragment societies already weakened by economic hardship and neocolonial resource extraction.

Moreover, the digital language divide may widen as English continues to dominate global technology, economics, and culture, reinforcing the hegemony of its speakers in the Global North.

Regardless of what governments do or fail to do, the grassroots appeal of Swahili will continue to grow. It is an emblem of African modernity and Pan-African aspirations.

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Also read: IABC Africa Regional Board Appoints First Nigerian Chair for 2025

It serves as a genuine medium of self-expression and identity for the peoples of East and Central Africa –and it feeds the mouth that speaks it.

By Kofi Yakpo

Professor and Chair of Linguistics at the University of Hong Kong.

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Opinion

Government should stop funding sports

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Government

By Ehi Braimah,

Nigeria should stop pretending that pouring public money into sports is the same thing as developing sports. It is not. For decades, government has funded football through grants, interventions, bonuses, camps, competitions, travel and assorted forms of financial assistance.

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Yet, the more government spends, the more dysfunctional the system appears to become. At what point do we admit that the model itself is broken?

The latest evidence is staring us in the face. The Super Eagles did not participate at the 2026 FIFA World Cup in the United States, Canada and Mexico.

Nigeria also missed Qatar 2022 which means the Super Eagles have now missed two consecutive World Cups.

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This is particularly painful and a bitter pill to swallow because Africa had ten places at the expanded 48-team tournament. Nigeria still could not make it. The Eagles finished second in their qualifying group and subsequently lost to DR Congo on penalties in the African play-off.

Football is Nigeria’s drumbeat. It is one of the few things capable of bringing together Nigerians across ethnic, religious, political and social divides.

When the Super Eagles play, the country stops, and when they win, Nigeria celebrates together. That is why this failure hurts so much.

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But the crisis is deeper than the Super Eagles. The Super Falcons, once the undisputed queens of African women’s football, have suffered an even more devastating setback. Nigeria lost 1-0 to Cameroon in the WAFCON quarter-final and subsequently lost 2-1 to South Africa in the play-off for a place in the 2027 Women’s World Cup in Brazil.

Consequently, Nigeria will miss the Women’s World Cup for the first time since the competition began in 1991. This is not an ordinary footballing disappointment – it is an egregious warning signal.

And the response cannot simply be another change of personnel. I have seen this movie before. Whenever Nigerian football enters crisis mode, the familiar chorus begins: sack the NFF president; dissolve the board; bring in new people; start afresh. But where has that taken us?

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We do not have a single enduring football structure, or world-class facilities. The lack of a properly functioning grassroots development system and the absence of a sustainable football economy appear to compound our misery. We keep changing the occupants of the house without repairing the house.

That is why I do not subscribe to the clamour by Shehu Dikko and others seeking to take over Nigerian football.

Those who have been part of the system – including Dikko – that produced today’s crisis should not simply return under another arrangement and promise us another “new beginning”.

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Nigerians deserve to know what went wrong, who is responsible and, most importantly, what structural reforms will prevent a repetition.

The question is not merely whether Ibrahim Gusau, the Nigerian Football Federation (NFF) President, and the board and should go. The bigger question is: what system replaces them?

There is no escaping the issue of accountability. The House of Representatives has previously moved to investigate allegations concerning about $25 million in FIFA and CAF grants received by the NFF between 2015 and 2025.

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More recently, the NFF itself confirmed that documents relating to a ₦12 billion Federal Government intervention fund are with the EFCC and ICPC as part of ongoing investigations.

Importantly, no wrongdoing has been established against any individual merely because an investigation exists, or that stories of alleged corruption are always what we hear.

But the fact that such a substantial public intervention is under investigation makes transparency imperative.

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There have also been media investigations raising questions about payments from NFF funds into private accounts.

One investigation reported at least ₦152.6 million in payments to private accounts linked to officials, staff and associates between 2018 and 2026. These allegations require proper investigation, not political spin or the influence of godfathers.

The NFF, on its part, says its accounts are audited and that FIFA and CAF funds are tied to specific purposes and subject to monitoring. Its 2025 Congress approved audited financial statements for 2024 and passed a vote of confidence in the Gusau-led board. That is precisely why Nigerians need independent, verifiable accountability, not competing narratives.

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If the books are clean, open them, and if the money was properly spent, show us. If there were failures, identify them, and if officials are culpable, let the law take its course. That is how a serious football economy works.

Government must also accept responsibility for creating a system that encourages dependency.

Why should government be paying the Super Eagles’ win bonuses? Why should a national football federation continually return to government for money to perform its core responsibilities? Why should taxpayers repeatedly finance a professional sport that possesses enormous commercial potential? Questions that need answers.

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This is definitely not an argument for abandoning sports – it is a business case for changing the role of government.

My view is that government should provide infrastructure, establish the regulatory framework, protect the integrity of competitions and create an enabling environment for private investment.

Government should not be the perpetual financier of professional football. This Father Christmas mentality must end. Look at the state of our sporting infrastructure and see the shame we have brought upon ourselves because of poor visionary leadership at the helm.

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CAF’s rejection of several traditional home grounds for Nigerian clubs in the 2026/27 continental competitions is a humiliating reminder that Nigeria still lacks enough facilities that meet international standards.

Rangers, Rivers United and Shooting Stars were among the clubs whose traditional venues were not approved, leaving them to adopt alternative grounds.

The Federal Government itself has acknowledged the problem, approving major rehabilitation work at the Moshood Abiola National Stadium in Abuja because its condition has limited its use by national teams.

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If we didn’t have the Godswill Akpabio International Stadium, the Nest of Champions owned by the Akwa Ibom State government in Uyo, where would the Super Eagles have been playing their FIFA-graded home matches?

This is the absurdity of Nigerian sports: we can spend billions managing crises but cannot consistently maintain the infrastructure that would prevent them.

Morocco offers one of the best examples in Africa of what a country’s sports infrastructure should look like. Perhaps that explains why the country has a “strong hold” on CAF.

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Secondary-school sports have virtually disappeared as a serious talent-development pipeline. Adults sometimes compete in sporting events designed for children; grassroots competitions are sporadic; facilities are in a permanent state of decay, and leagues struggle.

When an athlete or team produces an accidental success, we celebrate it as if it were the product of a functioning system. That is clearly not the case – it is usually an outlier.

The reality is that we are trying to climb the tree from the top and then wonder why we keep falling. The National Sports Commission under Chairman Shehu Dikko must therefore act – and act now.

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The Commission has a historic opportunity to redefine the relationship between government and Nigerian sports. Its stated ambition of creating a sustainable sports economy cannot remain another slogan – it must become a measurable programme of reform.

The first step should be to distinguish clearly between government’s responsibility and the sports industry’s responsibility.

Government should fund infrastructure; support grassroots and school sports, and provide a carefully structured seed funding to revive dead or dying leagues.

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Government should also use the National Lottery Trust Fund more strategically. Nigeria already has a mechanism specifically designed to support good causes, including sports.

The Lottery Trust Fund states that 20 percent of lottery proceeds is allocated to the Trust Fund and that sports will receive 20 percent of the Fund’s sectoral allocation.

Why are we not using this mechanism more aggressively and transparently to rebuild grassroots sports? Why are we not creating sustainable facilities instead of endlessly funding short-term participation? Why are we not demanding measurable outcomes from every naira invested?

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The United Kingdom provides an instructive lesson – not because the British government simply “funded the Premier League”, as is sometimes suggested, but because football evolved into a powerful commercial ecosystem supported by regulation, investment, broadcasting, infrastructure and private capital.

The Premier League’s revenues grew dramatically from about £170 million in 1991/92 to £5.15 billion in 2018/19, and close to £7 billion in 2024/25.

That is the direction Nigeria should be heading because it is possible for sports to become big business.

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Let the NFF president who wants to lead Nigerian football tell the Congress how he intends to raise money to run football without perpetual government spoon-feeding.

In addition, let every candidate publish a five-year commercialisation plan and explain how they will attract sponsors.

How will they grow broadcast revenue? How will they improve match-day revenue? How will they develop licensing and merchandising? Do they even understand the business case of turning sports into a profitable enterprise?

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How much revenue can the domestic league generate? Can we make Nigerian football attractive to investors? Can football administrators guarantee transparency? And, above all, how will they spend other people’s money? More questions without answers.

Corporate Nigeria will invest in sports when it sees stability, accountability, transparency and commercial opportunity.

No serious investor wants to enter a dysfunctional system where rules change arbitrarily, accountability is weak and political influence determines outcomes.

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Corporate sponsors want to sit at a table with people who understand sports business and how to scale opportunities.

A football model without processes, predictable regulations, audited accounts and measurable returns will not be supported by sponsors as we see in other parts of the world.

Potential corporate sponsors want institutions with safe guards, not personalities. Government must take the back seat always.

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This is where the National Sports Commission must demonstrate leadership. Dikko should resist the temptation to become another political centre of gravity in Nigerian sports.

The Commission must not simply replace one form of interference with another. Instead, it should strengthen federations while holding them accountable without government control.

Chairman Dikko, the answer to our challenges in sports is good governance, transparency and accountability, which we can also describe as “responsible stewardship”.

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All the contending forces and political factions aiming for the nation’s football Glass House in order to take over the NFF should show us their plans for institutional reforms.

Meanwhile, let me repeat myself: government should only provide the seed money, infrastructure and enabling environment for sports to develop and thrive in Nigeria, and then back off.

If the environment is right, private capital will come. If the rules are clear, sponsors will come, and if accounts are transparent, investors will come.

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It is also evident that if the leagues are properly organised, broadcasters will show interest, just as fans will return when the competitions are credible.

This is because our passion for sports, especially football, has turned into a huge movement of friends and fans.

Then, of course, the money will follow. It is not rocket science. Nigeria does not lack talent – what we lack are systems and the institutional confidence to unlock commercial opportunities.

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The current football crisis is therefore bigger than Gusau and Dikko. It is also bigger than the NFF. It is a crisis of a model that has failed and that is the reform Nigeria needs.

Also read:Valverde Confirmed as Real Madrid Captain Under Mourinho

Anything else is simply another change of faces. And Nigerians have had enough of changing faces while the house continues to collapse.

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