Youth Language Practices in Africa and Beyond 9781614518525, 9781614518624

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Nico Nassenstein and Andrea Hollington (Eds.) Youth Language Practices in Africa and Beyond

Contributions to the Sociology of Language

Edited by Joshua A. Fishman Ofelia García,

Volume 105

Youth Language Practices in Africa and Beyond Edited by Nico Nassenstein Andrea Hollington

ISBN 978-1-61451-862-4 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-1-61451-852-5 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-1-5015-0107-4 ISSN 1861-0676 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. 6 2015 Walter de Gruyter, Inc., Berlin/Boston Cover image: sculpies/shutterstock Typesetting: RoyalStandard, Hong Kong Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck ♾ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Acknowledgements The present volume would not have come into existence without the help and support of many people. We would like to thank Anne Storch and Gerrit Dimmendaal, who encouraged and supported our work on African youth languages, for their continued interest and advice. Thanks are also due to the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, who sponsored an international workshop on “Youth Languages and Urban Languages in Africa” (May 2012), which constituted a first foundation for the collaborative work presented in this volume. The contributions and discussions at the workshop broadened our horizon on youth languages and urban languages in Africa and beyond, and opened up new perspectives which have been further pursued in the development of this volume. Thus, we are indebted to the participants for their interest in sharing and discussing ideas. Moreover, thanks are due to the independent referees who peer-reviewed the papers and contributed to improving the volume. We are grateful for the comments provided by the anonymous reviewers and series editors, which helped to strengthen the manuscript. We also want to thank the undergraduate students of our course on “African youth languages” (held in summer 2012 and 2015) for participating in enlightening discussions and raising important questions. Moreover, we would like to thank Monika Feinen for drawing the maps and some of the illustrations in this volume. Special thanks are also due to Marvin Kumetat, who went out of his way to assist with the formatting of an earlier version of the manuscript, as well as to Janine Traber, who contributed to the final formatting process. We are greatly indebted to Mary Chambers for final proofreading and copy-editing. Furthermore, warm thanks go to the series editors Joshua A. Fishman and Ofelia García, as well as the editorial team at Mouton de Gruyter, for giving us the chance to provide the present volume in this form and context to all readers interested in youth and urban language practices in Africa and beyond.

Table of contents Acknowledgements

v

List of tables, maps and figures

ix

Copyrights for reproduced photographs

1

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Andrea Hollington and Nico Nassenstein Youth language practices in Africa as creative manifestations of fluid 1 repertoires and markers of speakers’ social identity

2

Klaus Beyer Youth language practices in Africa: achievements and challenges

3

Rose Marie Beck Sheng: an urban variety of Swahili in Kenya

4

Nico Nassenstein The emergence of Langila in Kinshasa (DR Congo)

5

Abdelrahim Hamid Mugaddam Identity construction and linguistic manipulation in Randuk

6

Eric M. Kioko Regional varieties and ‘ethnic’ registers of Sheng

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Andrea Hollington Yarada K’wank’wa and urban youth identity in Addis Ababa

8

9

51

81

99

119

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Ellen Hurst Overview of the tsotsitaals of South Africa; their different base languages 169 and common core lexical items Nico Nassenstein Imvugo y’Umuhanda: youth language practices in Kigali (Rwanda)

Germain Landi and Helma Pasch 10 Sango Godobé: the urban youth language of Bangui (CAR)

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23

Clarissa Vierke Some remarks on poetic aspects of Sheng

227

205

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Table of contents

Andrea Hollington and Tafadzwa Makwabarara 257 12 Youth language practices in Zimbabwe Havenol M. Schrenk 13 The positive-negative phenomenon and phono-semantic matching in 271 Rasta Talk Catherina Wilson 14 Kindoubil: urban youth languages in Kisangani

293

Saudah Namyalo 15 Linguistic strategies in Luyaaye: word play and conscious language 313 manipulation Andrea Hollington and Nico Nassenstein 16 Conclusion and outlook: taking new directions in the study of youth 345 language practices 357 Language index 359 Author index 363 Subject index

List of tables, maps and figures Table 3.1 Table 3.2 Table 4.1 Table 4.2 Table 4.3 Table 4.4 Table 4.5 Table 4.6 Table 5.1 Table 5.2 Table 5.3 Table 5.4 Table 5.5 Table 5.6 Table 5.7 Table 5.8 Table 5.9 Table 5.10 Table 5.11 Table 5.12 Table 5.13 Table 5.14 Table 5.15 Table 6.1 Table 6.2 Table 6.3 Table 6.4 Table 8.1 Table 9.1 Table 9.2 Table 9.3 Table 9.4 Table 9.5 Table 9.6

Morphology of the verbal complex 74 78 Noun class system (forms exclusively from the corpus) 87 Onomastic synecdoches 87 Multiple semantic extensions 88 Onomastic substitution 89 Onomastic substitution – Cardinal numbers 89 Onomastic substitution – ‘Women’s buttocks’ 90 Suffixation of inflectional/derivational morphemes 104 Use of metathesis by shamasha and mechanics 104 Use of metathesis by university students Affixation of Arabic prefixes and suffixes to Arabic nouns and 105 verbs 106 English loanwords in the speech of university students 107 Foreign words in the speech of mechanics 108 Affixation among the sample population 109 Coinage of new words 110 Sample of metaphor use by the study sample 111 Metonymies used by university students 112 Onomastic synecdoches 113 Instances of dysphemisms 114 Instances of synonyms in Randuk among shamasha groups 114 Instances of synonyms in Randuk among university students 115 Instances of polysemy used within the sample population 117 Instances of Randuk words in the daily newspaper 133 The vocabulary of Engsh 136 Calif, Dandora and Engsh varieties of Sheng 139 Monetary values and the varieties of Sheng Upcoming varieties of Sheng in other parts of Nairobi (idioms from 139 the Sheng website http://www.sheng.co.ke) List of “core” tsotsitaal lexical items, from Hurst and Mesthrie 184 (2013) 197 Metaphors 198 Coinage 198 Metonymy 199 Euphemisms & dysphemisms 200 General semantic change 200 Phraseologisms

List of Tables, Maps and Figures

Table 10.1 Table 10.2 Table 10.3 Table 10.4 Table 10.5 Table 11.1 Table 13.1 Table 13.2 Table 15.1 Table 15.2 Table 15.3 Table 15.4 Table 15.5 Table 15.6 Table 15.7 Table 15.8 Table 15.9 Table 15.10 Table 15.11 Table 15.12 Table 15.13 Table 15.14 Table 15.15 Table 15.16 Table 15.17 Table 15.18 Map 6.1

Map 14.1 Figure 5.1 Figure 5.2

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Conversion of vowels and inversion of syllables in disyllabic 216 words 217 Inversion of syllables in polysyllabic words 217 Manipulation of trisyllabic words 218 The agentive suffix -teur 219 The suffix -ro/-ko Parallels between Sheng and ‘classical’ poetry: Truncation, dummy 239 affication in Sheng as well as the “Utendi wa Haudaji” 279 Unacceptable words and their alternatives in Rasta Talk 1 280 Unacceptable words and their alternatives in Rasta Talk 2 324 NCs assigned to borrowed lexemes 325 Loans from Kiswahili 325 Loans from Sudanese languages 326 Sheng loans 327 Morphological manipulation 328 Derived Luyaaye forms 328 Prefixes aka- and obu330 Interfield metaphorical expansion in Luyaaye 331 Other interfield metaphoric changes 333 Interfield metonymic changes in Luyaaye 335 Dysphemisms in Luyaaye 335 Luyaaye hyperboles 336 New linguistic forms in Luyaaye 339 Lexical borrowing 340 Semantic manipulation 340 New coinages 341 Phonotactic manipulation 341 Morphological manipulation Varieties of Sheng in Eastlands (Sheng, Dandora and Calif [California] varieties) and Westlands (Engsh, spoken in Kilimani, 131 Kilileshwa, Lavington, etc.), Nairobi 295 Kisangani’s six districts and its multilingual situation Elintibaaha daily: in the first caption the word massora appears. 116 In the second caption, the word taftiha appears Alray Alaam newspaper (February 4, 2012): The sarcastic columnist Elfatih Jabbra writes on corruption “Corruption Bank for 116 Investment”

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List of Tables, Maps and Figures

Tramadol capsule 221 221 Yellow taxi crashes into a green bus 283 Schematic process of the P-N phenomenon and PhSM 285 Process of re-analysis (cigarette) 286 Process of word reformation/re-structuring (blindgarette) 287 Process of re-analysis (July) 288 Process of word reformation/re-structuring (June-truth) The Twitter user “Sheng Nation” and its numbers of tweets and 350 followers (from Twitter, December 2014) Figure 16.2 A Langila-speaking WhatsApp group “Langila Plus” (December 351 2014) Figure 16.3 Youth language use in public linguistic landscapes – the Luyaaye 354 term pakalast

Figure Figure Figure Figure Figure Figure Figure Figure

10.1 10.2 13.1 13.2 13.3 13.4 13.5 16.1

Copyrights of reproduced photographs Figure 5.1, 5.2: Abdelrahim Hamid Mugaddam

Andrea Hollington and Nico Nassenstein

1 Youth language practices in Africa as creative manifestations of fluid repertoires and markers of speakers’ social identity 1 African youths’ linguistic practices – general issues Although youth languages in Africa are by no means a new phenomenon, academic research on (African) youth language practices is an enterprise which has started only recently. This can be credited to a lack of recognition of and academic interest in these linguistic varieties, which can be associated with an often prevailing stigmatization of youth languages within society. In the European context, however, a range of publications on juvenile linguistic practices have been published (e.g. Androutsopoulos and Georgakopoulou 2003, Nortier and Svendsen 2015, Stenström et al. 2002, Stenström and Jørgensen 2009, Stenström 2014). During the past two decades, the linguistic varieties used by African youths have attracted increasing academic interest, and scholars who have studied these varieties have highlighted the linguistic creativity of these deliberately created languages, which are usually closely linked to the speakers’ identity, linguistic awareness and ideologies (cf. Kießling and Mous 2004, Storch 2011). The study of youth language has also been highly influenced by the rise of sociolinguistics and especially by the Labovian paradigm and the study of sociolects (cf. Labov 1972). Moreover, studies on multilingual and urban forms of communication have contributed to a stronger interest in youth language practices. Despite the fact that each youth language in Africa (and beyond) has its own features and flavors, and has to be regarded in its own particular cultural, (multi)lingual, social and local contexts, youth languages in Africa share certain properties, especially with regard to their function as markers of identity and in terms of the strategies of linguistic manipulation employed. Encoding and marking in-group identity of the respective community of practice has been recognized as the key function of youth language practices (in Africa); it is a function which plays a role in all of the linguistic varieties created by African youths that have been described so far. Of course, youth language practices do not evolve in vacuums and are embedded in larger

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discourses of youth/popular culture and (youth) identity. Domains such as music, clothing and hair style, political attitudes, movies, street knowledge, way of life, ways of walking, dancing styles and many more can come together with language in terms of creating and expressing the shared group identity of the members of the community of practice (cf. Kießling and Mous 2004), and have to be taken into consideration in order to draw a more coherent and holistic picture of that linguistic practice in its social and cultural context. This viewpoint also highlights the multimodal nature of human communication (see Kress 2010). Other similarities between African youth language practices can be observed in the strategies of linguistic manipulation that the speakers employ in order to deliberately create their language, to maintain secrecy and to develop a certain style, which is only known among their particular community of practice. The range of strategies observed in the linguistic varieties of African youths is as vast as youth language itself and can be classified as phonological or phonotactic manipulations, morphological manipulations and semantic manipulations (cf. Kießling and Mous 2004 and others). Among the most common phonological strategies are metathesis, truncation and acronyms, as well as the “Africanization” (e.g. “Bantuization”) of loanwords. Commonly observed examples of morphological strategies can be classified as hybridization and dummy affixation, and among the most frequent semantic manipulations are metaphor, metonymy, euphemism, dysphemism and coinage. Besides these, phenomena such as borrowing and code-switching (or rather, translanguaging) are common strategies in the creation of new interactional practices, and constitute part of the creative linguistic behavior of youths in urban Africa. The commonalities between African youth language practices were first recognized and described in the seminal paper ‘Urban Youth Languages in Africa’ by Kießling and Mous (2004), whose comparative account brought together research on individual youth languages from the continent. Their account focused on youth language practices in an urban context, highlighting the fact that youth languages mark urban youth identity. While a range of linguistic empirical studies (including studies from the present volume) reflect how the varieties serve as markers of urban youth identity and are strongly embedded in urban culture, it should be noted that the phenomenon of youth language is by no means restricted to urban centers. Researchers have focused on urban youths’ linguistic practices but a few studies on youth languages in rural contexts have also been carried out, leading to new perspectives and to a better understanding of urban-rural relationships (e.g. Blench (2012) on Tarok youth language in Nigeria; see also Kioko, this volume). Scholars such as Kießling and Mous (2004), building on Castells (1997), have illustrated how African youth languages usually mark an identity which is in strong opposition to other parts of society. Thus, African youth language

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practices have been classified as “antilanguages” in the sense of Halliday (1978) as they reflect a kind of “anti-society identity”. This identity is expressed linguistically through the manipulative strategies which the speakers employ. Violations of the linguistic norms through these strategies represent a rejection of the norms of society. The creators of youth languages use these strategies consciously and deliberately, drawing linguistic material from various languages which is often de- and re-contextualized and charged with new meanings, and thus forms a kind of bricolage. Taking language and other socio-cultural practices of the youths as semiotic systems, it becomes obvious that the youths create new signs by drawing on existing signs. Here, signs are taken out of their original context and, as in Roland Barthes’ “Mythos”, signifiant and signifié of the “original” sign function together as a signifiant which is combined with a new signifié, creating a new sign with a new meaning on a higher level (the mythos (see Barthes 1957)). Such processes are linguistically evident in, for instance, semantic manipulations like metaphor, dysphemism, etc., where conventionalized signs represent new meanings. Moreover, signs can “move” within the structure, i.e. the relationship of signs to each other in a network-like structure is highly dynamic and flexible, which can also be observed in the structure and development of African youth languages. These strategies of linguistic creativity also reflect the speakers’ awareness and control of linguistic repertoires and their abilities to make meaningful choices in particular situations and contexts (cf. Matras 2009). There are a number of key concepts which play an important role in the creation of new (urban) identities in Africa and which will hereafter be discussed in more detail in order to give an overview of the contextualized social practices that lay the foundation and “breeding ground” for youths’ sets of practices wherein linguistic behavior constitutes only one factor. Youths’ social practices not only define the frame in which fluid practices are created, tested, established and shared; they also constantly trigger the group’s intrinsic motivation for permanent relexification and the steady rearrangement of social boundaries as a means of protection. The in-group which shares a fresh and creative set of practices finds itself at permanent risk of losing its exclusive character and becoming “ordinary”, due to the strong desire for novelty of non-initiated youths (who wish to acquaint themselves with the in-group’s encoded social and linguistic parameters). It is important to be aware of the fact that only the concealment of a range of new developed practices allows in-group members to reconstitute the innovative character of their performed social identity (and thus, their social distinction). Among these practices, linguistic innovations constitute but one concrete output or layer of identity that is shaped and formed by the complex set of the below-listed social parameters. Deviating linguistic

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practice can thus solely be described and analyzed against the background of a larger contextualized social frame. First and foremost, the concept of communities of practice (also shortened as “CoP”, cf. Eckert and McConnell-Ginet 1992, 2000) is described by Eckert (2000: 35) as “an aggregate of people who come together around some enterprise (. . .) and share ways of doing things, ways of talking, beliefs, values – in short, practices – as a function of their joint engagement in activity”. The model of “communities of practice” whose members share common endeavors goes back to Lave and Wenger (1991) and was initially compiled as a social theory of situated learning. Eckert and McConnell-Ginet (1992) then related it to sociolinguistic, mainly gender-related, research. The study of communities as social topoi where practices are negotiated and initiated has thus become more and more of a central aspect in variationist studies, especially when group dynamics among youths are described, where practices shape identity. Eckert’s concept is thus of great importance for African youth language practices, as various studies have proved so far (e.g. Ferrari 2009, Mulumbwa 2009, Nassenstein 2014). The concept has been extended and revised by Eckert (2012) in a “three waves of variation” study. The first wave is described as a classic approach to sociolinguistic variation, through the analysis of social parameters such as age, gender, social class etc. in a range of studies through the 1960s and 70s, initiated by Labov’s New York East Side study (1966) and based on methods of quantitative empiricism, in order to reveal the class stratification of phonological realizations.1 In the first wave studies, a straight correlation between social parameters such as social class, gender, ethnicity and age and linguistic variation was postulated and established. The first wave studies claimed that linguistic change was triggered by pressure in linguistic systems and that the ones to be affected first (by this linguistic change) were the groups that were least resistant to influence from the standard language, then followed by groups more resistant to linguistic impact from the standard. Surprisingly, it became evident that in most of these studies it was not those in the lower social strata who were leaders in sound change but rather those who ranked in the lower middle or upper working class (cf. Labov 2001). According to Eckert (2012), the second wave focused on an ethnographic approach to variation studies through the attribution of social agency to the varieties of language among certain groups as expressive means of a local or class identity. This was mainly achieved by analyzing social networks (cf. for instance Milroy’s (1980, 2004) study on communities in Belfast, extended and reanalyzed by Marshall (2004)) and their mechanisms. This can 1 As for Labov, a central concept in these variationist studies was the “vernacular”, defined as a speaker’s first acquired linguistic production (see Eckert 2012: 88–89).

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principally be understood as speakers’ social ties among each other and at the periphery of their in-group community, analyzing how they interact with each other as well as with outsiders who are excluded from the speaker community. Individuals’ network types were considered against the background of deviating vernacular variables in order to establish a correlation of network density and multiplexity and language variation. The third wave, as pointed out by Eckert, focuses on stylistic issues rather than on static concepts of social parameters or categories (like age, gender etc.) as the major triggers for variation (first wave), or on the static concept of networks of speakers and group affiliation (second wave). The third wave thus focuses on the reflection of social identities in linguistic practices where speakers position themselves in certain spaces of society through means of stylistic linguistic practices. In the third wave, variation can be defined as “a social semiotic system capable of expressing the full range of a community’s social concerns” (Eckert 2012: 94). The indexical mutability of variables is achieved through stylistic practice in which speakers define, redefine and reinterpret these variables, as described by Hebdige (1979; see also below and Blommaert and Backus 2011). Variation is treated not only as a reflection of social meaning but can also create new social meaning by itself. When considering inclusion and exclusion of members of society, the key concept of “language rights” (see May 2005) must also be mentioned, since so-called “saccadic leaders”, considered to be leaders of (linguistic) change (see Labov 2001), play a crucial role in conveying or denying language rights to outsiders who are not part of the community of practice in question. Another essential aspect is the fluidity of culture and language, as well as speakers’ deconstruction of languages as inflexible codes. Lately the traditional idea of language as a “discrete entity” has been challenged by studies from the fields of sociolinguistics and anthropological linguistics. Empirical and theoretical studies, especially in contexts of multilingualism, illustrate that the concept of language as a delimitable entity is but a construction and that our linguistic practices are better explained in terms of (multilingual) repertoires (cf. Lüpke and Storch 2013, Matras 2009, Blommaert and Backus 2011). Matras (2009: 4) states that a repertoire “is not organized in the form of ‘languages’ or ‘language systems’; the latter is a metalinguistic construct and a label which speakers learn to apply to their patterns of linguistic behavior as part of a process of linguistic socialization. Rather, elements of the repertoire (word-forms, phonological rules, constructions, and so on) gradually become associated, through a process of linguistic socialization with a range of social activities, including factors such as sets of interlocutors, topics, and institutional settings.”

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This perspective is especially important for the context of African languages, for which Lüpke and Storch make the following two observations: “The first is that speakers’ profiles can be better described and understood in terms of registers and repertoires than in terms of discrete languages. The second observation is that just as there are no fixed languages or fixed linguistic identities, there is no fixed alignment of linguistic practice with ethnically or otherwise construed aspects of identity.” (Lüpke and Storch 2013: 2)

This approach deals much more closely with our actual linguistic practices and performances (as opposed to “language systems” as abstract constructions) and views language as a social practice that reflects the fluid nature of our social life and identities. Our linguistic biographies reveal how our repertoires are comprised and extended by all kinds of resources that are available to us and that reflect what we find meaningful in our lives, and helpful to express our identity: “The resources that enter into a repertoire are indexical resources, language materials that enable us to produce more than just linguistic meaning, but to produce social and cultural images of ourself, pointing interlocutors towards the frames in which we want our meanings to be put.” (Blommaert and Backus 2011: 22)

This approach is very helpful in order to understand the dynamic nature of African youth languages, which should not be understood as discrete languages but rather as fluid practices that draw on a large variety of linguistic and nonlinguistic resources and which are subject to constant changes. This is due to the changing nature of the respective communities of practice as well as to the need to maintain secrecy of the code. So on the one hand, following these new trends in linguistic approaches, we have to deconstruct the idea of “youth languages” as discrete languages, but rather understand these practices in terms of their fluidity. On the other hand, the metalinguistic label “youth language” does bear importance as we look at the language ideologies of the speakers: in most cases, they attach a metalinguistic label or language name to their linguistic practices and they do regard them as distinct from other linguistic practices, especially from the “standard language”. So on the one hand we have the actual practices, which are fluid in their nature, and on the other hand we have ideas and ideologies about these practices which do construct them as somehow “discrete” entities that can be labeled and distinguished from other linguistic codes. A notable number of studies on individual youth languages have been carried out in the last few decades, which result in a respectable list of previous

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research, which is briefly outlined here. The studies range from short descriptions and preliminary insights (e.g. Caitucoli and Zongo 1993, Dumestre 1985, Koji 2006 and others) to in-depth studies (e.g Hurst 2008, Nassenstein 2014, etc.). The youth languages of Africa which have been described so far and of which publications are available include: Sheng (Kenya; see Sure 1992, Mazrui 1995, Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997, Bosire 2006, Ferrari 2004, 2009, Githinji 2006, Githiora 2002, Momanyi 2009, Ogechi 2005, Rudd 2008, 2009), Lugha ya Mitaani (Tanzania; see Reuster-Jahn and Kießling 2006), Nouchi (Ivory Coast; see Kube 2002, 2004, Kube-Barth 2009), Indoubil (DR Congo; see Brischke 2009, Goyvaerts 1988, Mulumbwa 2010, Sesep 1990), Yanké (DR Congo; see Nassenstein 2014, van Pelt 2000, Wilson 2012), Kindubile (DR Congo; see Mulumbwa 2009), Camfranglais (Cameroon; see Féral 2007, Kouega 2003, Kießling 2005, Tiewa Ngninzégha 2008, Ntsobé, Biloa and Echu 2008, Féral 2009), Iscamtho (South Africa; see Childs 1997, Slabbert and Myers-Scotton 1997), Tsotsitaal/IsiTsotsi (South Africa; see Hurst 2008, 2009, 2010, 2014, Makhudu 2002, Mesthrie and Hurst 2013, Slabbert and Myers-Scotton 1997), Yarada K’wank’wa (Ethiopia; see Koji 2006) and Randuk (Sudan; see Mugaddam 2012). Moreover, it is known that in numerous African cities (and probably also in rural areas), youth languages are commonly used and created by young people, although no scholarly work has so far been carried out to describe or analyze them. Some examples are Ciluba de jeunes in Mbuji-Mayi and Kananga (DR Congo), as well as linguistic practices in Lagos, Luanda (Mary Chambers, p.c. 2015) and Accra that have not yet been described. Building on this foundation, we started our collaborative work on African youth languages with an international workshop on Youth Languages and Urban Languages in Africa, held at the University of Cologne in May 2012. The objective of this conference was to bring together scholars who work on and share a common interest in African urban (and) youth languages and other relevant varieties in order to discuss commonalities and differences and to shed light on closely related issues like identity, sociolinguistic contexts, multilingualism, urbanity versus rurality, age and gender aspects, linguistic and social change, to name just a few. The contributions to the resulting volume thus provide a fresh look into the linguistic practices of youths in Africa and beyond, mostly drawing on original data and shedding light on various aspects of youths’ linguistic behavior and its contexts. As mentioned above, all those case studies of African (urban) youth languages show that manipulative strategies among African youths share certain similarities and influence the creation of a new adolescent identity (cf. Edwards 2009) to a remarkable degree. Language attitudes in society towards young speakers (cf. Garrett 2010) have an influence on the inclusive and exclusive

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language behavior of youths, as do new media, music, fashion and urban lifestyle. The present volume constitutes the first comparative overview of a few youth languages in Africa, and will allow scholars to carry out further research on urban linguistic, social and cultural parameters that are mentioned by the present authors as being significant for the creation of new identities among young people. The present volume offers insights into a broad variety of African urban youth languages, considering their social and historical development as well as speakers’ position and role in society, and the analysis of identity constructions and manipulative strategies of speakers. However, more comparative work is needed with a focus on parameters of linguistic change among youths (and by which means linguistic change among youths is triggered, describing their driving forces and impulses), as well as more pragmatic and conversational studies on youth languages. So far, only a few scholars have approached pragmatic questions such as politeness patterns (including the model by Brown and Levinson 1987), language taboos (cf. Allan and Burridge 2006) and age-related language behavior among youths in their studies; and even fewer scholars have analyzed conversational structures and mechanisms in their analysis of urban youth languages. All these and more constitute possible future areas of research in the ephemeral field of study described as ‘African youth language practices’, and will contribute to a deeper understanding of linguistic and social change in Africa.

2 About this volume: commitments, limitations and overview of contributions The present volume on the linguistic practices of African youths is the first overview of this subject, combining brief sociolinguistic overviews with lexical, morphophonological and semantic data collected by scholars who had access to the respective communities of practice. The authors’ principal aim is to offer first insights into urban repertoires (which until now have been barely documented or not at all) and to contribute to a deeper sociolinguistic understanding of urban language among youths in Africa. The innovative character of the present studies becomes evident in their diverse methodology, approaches, their diverging focus (from rather linguistic descriptions to poetic analyses and more theoretical approaches) and extent. Because the contributions provide a first access to the repertoires of very secluded communities, the diverse approaches exemplify a broad picture of social variation in urban contexts. Yet, although theories

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are discussed, most of the linguistic evidence is based on pioneer studies in the form of word lists, grammatical deviations and observations which claim neither to be perfect nor complete. Social parameters are often dealt with on a basic level, since deeper sociolinguistic studies have not yet been carried out for most of the communities investigated. In order to strengthen the ethnographic character of Africanists’ approaches to ‘youth language’, with the aim of including deeper sociolinguistic dimensions of study, other scholars’ pioneer works in similar fields have to be taken into account. A model which could serve as a framework for linguists dealing with African youth language practices is Mendoza-Denton (2008), who combines a cultural with a linguistic focus in her practice-oriented analysis of female Latina youth gangs. As to the contributions in the present volume, most scholars deal with specific youth languages that they have either analyzed on-site or worked on on a comparative level, which allowed them to gain deeper insights into speakers’ cultural, social and predominantly linguistic means of behavior. Klaus Beyer’s paper constitutes a theoretical-methodological account of youth and urban language in Africa in general. The paper seeks to provide ideas for a general framework for the study of urban and youth language practices in Africa. He discusses the current international debates on youth language and sets parameters which are important for the study of urban and youth languages in an African context, including the necessary consideration of social context and superdiversity, both of which play an important role in many African (urban) societies. He reflects on the achievements in the field and argues for a new approach to the study of (African) youth languages in multilingual urban spaces which can cope with the actual linguistic practices and realities of the diverse communities of practice. Rose Marie Beck’s contribution looks at Sheng (Nairobi, Kenya) from a corpuslinguistic approach, taking into account current sociolinguistic perspectives on language practices. While she investigates a rather small corpus of natural data, she illustrates the complexity of the linguistic practices involving “Sheng” and criticizes the rather reductionist perspective that previous studies have taken both on Sheng, and on youth and urban linguistic practices in general. Beck’s paper offers a new approach to our understanding of the dynamics of the complex practices of urban youth by addressing methodological, theoretical and data issues. Langila (Kinshasa, DR Congo) is a youth language which arose in reaction and relation to Yanké, the other youth language of Kinshasa. Langila speakers belong to a different community of practice, consisting of artists, musicians, dancers and many more. Nico Nassenstein describes this Lingala-based practice

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in its social context and as part of the quite complex youth language landscape of DR Congo, which involves several varieties (see above). Moreover, he analyzes examples which reflect linguistic strategies such as onomastic synecdoches and especially onomastic substitutions which are, although not absent in other youth languages, very typical of Langila and turn it into a unique variety with a high tendency toward (phonological) aesthetics, style and unintelligibility. Moreover, he pays special attention to the members of (various) communities of practice as stakeholders in conscious linguistic practices. The paper also contributes to an understanding of the mobility of linguistic resources and how they can be used in various linguistic varieties in different places and with different backgrounds. Abdelrahim Hamid Mugaddam provides a contribution on Randuk, the urban variety spoken by youths in Khartoum (Sudan). Particularly interesting aspects that characterize Randuk youths’ linguistic practices are the organization of different groups of speakers (such as mechanics and university students) as communities of practice, as well as the broad range of morphological and semantic manipulative strategies employed. By investigating the distinctive features of several varieties of the youth language Randuk, the author shows how these reflect aspects of the social, educational and geographical background of speakers. Language variation thus depends upon where the speaker locates him- or herself socially and which community of practice (s)he chooses (and in which (s)he has a right to participate). Eric Kioko’s contribution focuses on the variation patterns of Sheng (Kenya) and stresses that Sheng must be regarded as a complex and pluralistic concept, which comprises a range of varieties. He provides empirical data from various Sheng varieties spoken in different parts of the huge area of eastern Nairobi and compares them to a rural variety which he names “shengnized Kamba”. He contributes to a better understanding of the fluidity and dynamics of multilingual repertoires and the mobility and manifold uses of linguistic resources in various urban and rural contexts, including a view of Sheng not only as a contact-induced urban language, but also as a language with multiple ethnolectal repertoires, and thus offering fresh sociolinguistic insights into the fact that youth language practices are to be understood as complex repertoires that may also depend upon regional and ethnic parameters and the degree of urbanization which have an impact on the respective communities of practice. The creation of youth identity among speakers of Yarada K’wankw’a (Addis Ababa, Ethiopia) and the linguistic strategies they employ in order to maintain a certain degree of in-group secrecy have been analyzed by Andrea Hollington. She reflects on the multilingual influences on the language as well as the multilayered social concepts that contribute to complexity of the Arada repertoire

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(for instance various styles and linguistic forms in different neighborhoods/parts of Addis Ababa). Subcategories of Arada speakers marked by different speech styles are also taken into consideration and reflect the diverse nature of the community of practice. Ellen Hurst’s contribution gives an overview of the notable number of varieties that the South African youth language phenomenon represents. She shows that most major cities/languages are involved in this complex phenomenon, with the result that the varieties that comprise South African youth language (“Tsotsitaal”) are based on a range of matrix languages and thus reveal highly fluid patterns of variation. Hurst’s comparative approach contributes to an understanding of the mobility of linguistic resources and the manifestation of creative linguistic strategies and manipulation in various urban contexts in South Africa. She illustrates the dynamics of the South African youth language phenomenon with regard to several multilingual urban settings, in which the dynamic contact languages develop special characteristics. Nico Nassenstein’s paper on Imvugo y’Umuhanda is the first contribution that sheds light on the phenomenon of youth language in Kigali, Rwanda. The author presents data on the linguistic practices of Kigali youths and analyzes their strategies of linguistic manipulation. Moreover, he describes the youth language and its community of speakers by taking into account the social and sociolinguistic contexts of Imvugo y’Umuhanda. Nassenstein regards the playful creation of a new linguistic practice as a reaction to language policy and institutionalized multilingualism in Kigali. The paper contributes to theories concerning the use of language to construct and express identities, which are reflected through various linguistic manipulative strategies. Interestingly, and unlike many other African youth languages, Imvugo y’Umuhanda appears neither to be connected to the “criminal underworld” nor necessarily to concepts of urbanity, an observation which makes a theoretical assessment of the emergence of African youth languages necessary. Germain Landi and Helma Pasch contribute to the present volume with a detailed analysis of Sango Godobé, a youth language spoken by youths in Bangui (Central African Republic). Alongside a detailed description of speakers’ linguistic strategies of manipulation, language attitudes towards speakers and the role of society in the creative process of Godobé are reflected upon, since Godobé speakers are mainly considered to be criminal youths or so-called “gangsters”. The authors investigate the language’s reputation as being spoken in a community of practice consisting mainly of criminal street youths by tracing back the various linguistic impacts on Sango that have contributed to the emergence of this sociolect. The different sets of code-mixing strategies that are examined in this study underline the deliberate variability and creativity of multilingual Sango Godobé speakers.

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Clarissa Vierke approaches Sheng from another perspective, looking at its poetic and aesthetic aspects and the role which these aspects play for the speakers in creating and developing their language. This can be observed especially in Kenyan hip hop music, where the rappers not only use Sheng in their lyrics but also often function as “saccadic leaders” (Labov 2001: 383), creating new terms and expressions and spreading them across the communities of practice through their music. Vierke shows convincingly that poetic aspects and aesthetic matters do play a role in the creation of youth language. She stresses the importance of considering the aesthetics of linguistic practices in theorizing about language change and language contact, and emphasizes the role of musicians, which appears to be crucial in several (urban) African contexts. The first insightful linguistic data on Zimbabwean youth language practices is provided by Andrea Hollington and Tafadzwa Makwabarara, who discuss the social background that led to the creation of different linguistic varieties among the youth of Harare and Bulawayo (Zimbabwe) and analyze the most common (so far investigated) strategies of manipulation. The analysis reveals a clear multilingual setting serving as the breeding ground for a range of youth slangs that are either English-, Ndebele- or Shona-based. The same or a similar identity construction can thus come about with various lexifier languages, mainly due to the complex linguistic contact scenarios in Zimbabwe. Rasta Talk (Jamaica and beyond) is a linguistic variety which has neither been created in Africa, not is it restricted to speakers of younger age. Nevertheless, as a deliberately created language it shares certain features with African youth languages in terms of linguistic manipulation and marking identity. Havenol Schrenk demonstrates in detail how phono-semantic matching works as one of the strategies of linguistic manipulation employed by the creators of Rasta Talk. Rastafari identity, which is marked by the use of Rasta Talk, reflects a positive enhancement of and strong relationship to Africa, the origin of enslaved Africans and their descendants, who make up 95% of the population of Jamaica today, an important link that further justifies the inclusion of a contribution on Rasta Talk in the present volume. Schrenk’s contribution stresses the importance of meta-linguistic awareness, language attitudes and language ideologies which are at the heart of linguistic practices. Rasta Talk displays very special, innovative and unique strategies of linguistic manipulation which call for a new perspective on language contact and language change, taking folk linguistic accounts into consideration. Catherina Wilson who has worked extensively on Kindoubil, the Lingalabased fluid pattern spoken in Kisangani (DR Congo), shows that urban multilingualism (of Kiswahili, Lingala and French, in the case of Kisangani) plays an important role in youth identity construction. Wilson’s paper on varieties of

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Kindoubil in Kisangani stresses the importance of new emerging languages in an urban space that is dominated by a rivalry between two languages, particularly Swahili and Lingala in Kisangani. In this case, Kindoubil contributes to an enhanced personal status for speakers who strive for a linguistic urban identity. Wilson’s description of a second – to outsiders unintelligible – variety of the same language reveals that the same languages in contact can potentially create parallel, socially (as to their in-group regulations) very divergent codes to fulfill different purposes. Luyaaye (Kampala, Uganda) constitutes another urban youth language, which is discussed in this volume by Saudah Namyalo. Namyalo describes the parameters that allow youths in Kampala to create their own urban identity, also considering the role of (new social) media and music in the process of creating a new linguistic identity in the urban Ugandan context. Her paper offers a broad overview of linguistic manipulations that demonstrate the innovative character of the urban context in Kampala, where multifaceted language contact plays a major role. The author’s analysis of Luyaaye in mass media, where it is used together with many other Ugandan languages, particularly shows the ephemeral features of youth languages but also the rapidity of societal integration of new emerging linguistic practices in a complex linguistic landscape.

3 The contribution of youths’ linguistic practices to new theoretical sociological approaches in the study of language Urban spaces in Africa are the breeding ground for various dynamic and flexible practices, which display scenarios of multilingual repertoires that offer profound insights into and new approaches to the sociology of language. All youth languages examined in the present volume are sets of linguistic practices that are triggered by underlying social frameworks originating from complex societies in Africa that are – especially in urban areas – characterized by super-diversity (Vertovec 2007; see also Blommaert and Rampton 2011). Following recent developments in sociolinguistics, it has proven to be helpful to investigate complex multilingual repertoires in order to arrive at a better understanding of creative strategies in (urban) Africa and the dynamics of deliberate strategies in scenarios of language contact and change (e.g. Blommaert 2010, Matras 2009). The various deliberate, conscious and agentive strategies of linguistic manipulation and creativity are carried out by African youths in order to construct and express

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their identity, to represent themselves and their community of practice and to communicate secretly and exclude outsiders. These strategies are important aspects of the dynamics of urban and multilingual spaces in Africa and their examination is important in terms of their innovative potential to bring about linguistic change. Moreover, the intentional social strategies of youths have to be accounted for on the basis of a theoretical framework (e.g. Eckert 2000, Labov 2001), which then has to be filled with empirical substance from the respective communities. The empirical data mirroring the sociological foundations of youths’ linguistic deviations must be acquired through ethnographic as well as anthropological methods. Due to the fact that the academic study of African youth language practices constitutes a rather recent field in African linguistics, most of the preliminary available studies, sketches and observations deal with linguistic deviations manifest in lexical differences, morphological deviations and phonological changes. More profound sociological studies, using methods of participant observation have yet to be carried out and taken into consideration (see §2). The only youth language continuum for which exists a comparatively high number of sociolinguistic studies is Sheng (see Ferrari 2009, Rudd 2009). Central to the dynamic triggers for societal and linguistic change in urban Africa are the various communities of practice, whose members are the protagonists in the creation processes of new linguistic practices and who express, mediate and negotiate not only their own identities, their (linguistic) ideologies and attitudes, and their place in (or beyond) society, but also societal issues of language contact and fluidity. The diverse scenarios of various urban spaces all across the continent reveal complex strategies of (linguistic but also cultural) borrowing, calquing, translanguaging, language crossing (see García and Wei 2014, Rampton 2010) and code-switching, and enrich the field of study by offering new insights into complex (contact-induced) language innovation processes that depend upon linguistic leaders. The role of leaders of linguistic change, whose input comes from mass media and music as well as from the worlds of fashion, lifestyle and politics, has to be reconsidered in terms of the degree of deliberate agency in innovation processes. The leaders (who play an essential role in various youth languages across the continent), having been inspired by the above-mentioned media and discourses, then consciously trigger innovation processes that are deliberately modified, spread and diffused by the ‘less active part of the population’ (all speakers who have language rights and who desire to be part of the community of practice). This dynamic resembles a ‘two-step flow of communication’, as discussed by Katz and Lazarsfeld (1955) (primarily as a sociological model) and then adapted to youth languages (see Nassenstein 2014: 10–11.) We thus have to set up a theory of language contact and multi-

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lingualism which seriously takes into account the agency and consciousness of the speakers as stakeholders in linguistic creativity and language change in multilingual environments. This is to emphasize the fact that multilingual strategies, as embodied by speakers of African youth languages, deviate considerably from multilingual scenarios that are not necessarily restricted by age, a certain degree of urbanity, speakers’ anti- or resistance identities (see Halliday 1978) or by controversial attributions of linguistic prestige. In this regard, it is particularly worth mentioning the fact that speakers “reconquer” urban spaces (that society had denied them) through deliberate linguistic and cultural practices that are based on new definitions of (covert) prestige and intentionally evoked negative language attitudes. We can therefore assume that speakers of youth languages do not aim at approaching the dominant society and finding their place within its boundaries. In contrast, their agency is marked by a striving to take over (or “reconquer”) urban spaces through new (and newly structured) practices in competition with prevailing societal norms, as shown in various African settings. Some African urban spaces, that are examined in the present volume and that reveal insightful patterns of multilingual repertoires which are based on a set of deviating social parameters, include, for instance Nairobi (see Beck, Kioko and Vierke in the present volume), Kinshasa (see Nassenstein), South African cities (see Hurst), Khartoum (see Mugaddam), Addis Ababa (see Hollington) as well as Kisangani (see Wilson) and Kigali (see Nassenstein). A handful of the most salient sociolinguistic novelties found in the sphere of the listed localities will be discussed in the following paragraphs, with a particular focus on the contributions of youth practices to new sociological insights into scenarios of linguistic change. Sheng for instance, as spoken in Nairobi and other Kenyan cities today, reveals new patterns of fluidity and mobility in various urban and rural contexts. It cannot simply be considered a contact-induced urban language any longer, but also as a language that reveals multiple ethnolectal repertoires, depending on who speaks the language in which community (see Kioko, this volume). The speakers’ deliberate choices in an abstract and fluid situatedness (in a society, community or ethnic group) thus also plays a role and defines their contribution to multilingual scenarios. This clearly reveals that some of the constructed “truths” about urban youth languages are to be deconstructed in a new theoretical approach to multilingual contact scenarios. Youth languages have often been described as intertribal and interethnic bridges (e.g. Kießling and Mous 2004), yet this characteristic can possibly change in post-conflict settings or in the course of ‘bleaching’ processes (when youth languages turn into codes that are available to large parts of society, as is the case in Kenya, and create new

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‘boundless identities’), where new registers are needed in order to keep up the uniqueness that regulates the border areas of a community of practice. Furthermore, it is not only the role of speakers (and leaders) as agentive stakeholders that must be analyzed for a better understanding of multilingual spaces, but also their self-constructed ‘professional’ agency (in cases where most speakers are, for instance – and definitely not coincidentally – soccer players, artists, musicians or taxi drivers). Thus, youth languages reveal a tendency to turn into jargons, either in the same community where they have been created or when being conceptually borrowed from one community to another. A prominent example is the case of Kinshasa (DR Congo) where the great majority of Langila-speaking youths label themselves as ‘artists’ (in most cases dancers and/or singers). The emergence of Langila as a new youth language has thus, even though initially used by anybody interested in music and musicians’ linguistic manipulations, turned into the formation of a new jargon, more or less restricted to a certain professional category. The shift of categories, from the deliberate creation of a new anti-social youth identity to the formation of a restricted occupational category, can be traced back to the complex input and mechanisms of urban spaces such as Kinshasa, and to the complex sociolinguistic stamp that pervades the youths’ social identity. Moreover, it is not only the shift of categories (or identities) which is an observable phenomenon in urban Africa, but also the mobility of entire youth languages, whose emergence (with the same identity-related corner pillars) can suddenly be reported in completely different locations within the same country or even across borders (revealing new functions, matrix languages and mechanisms of manipulation). The emergence of most youth languages in DR Congo followed this rule to a great extent. After the creation of (H)indoubil(l) in Léopoldville (today’s Kinshasa; see Sesep 1990) in the late 1950s and early 1960s, the language was, throughout the following decades, transported to Kisangani (and labeled Kindoubil, Lingala-based; see Wilson this volume), Lubumbashi (labeled Kindubile, Swahili-based; see Mulumbwa 2009) and later to Goma (nowadays often designated as Yabacrâne, Swahili-based; see Nassenstein forthcoming). These languages, spoken in different cities of the Congo, all go back to the identificatory motivation laid with the emergence and deliberate creation of (H)indoubil(l) in Léopoldville/Kinshasa some decades earlier. Despite the distance and fluidity of linguistic resources, the communities of practice of the various youth languages all consider themselves as “street-based”, thus as a group of people whose range of agency is related to the social topos of the street where they work, carry out their social practices and promote new linguistic manipulations. The diverging matrix languages of these codes, as well as their deviating manipulative strategies (see the various works cited above), thus

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demonstrate the conceptual inherent fluidity of urban spaces in Africa. Analyzing the potential for mobility of categories or of entire youth languages beyond the restricted frames of one urban space can therefore provide fresh insights into linguistic mechanisms and contact scenarios. Also, these patterns of ‘mobile’ identities offer important insights in the sociology of language, which helps us to understand languages no longer as stable paradigms but as moving systems that can change their matrix language (e.g. from Lingala to Swahili), as well as parts of their repertoire of social practices (for instance the ‘street topos’ and ‘hip hop topos’ that is often maintained in similar forms across youth languages with different matrix languages). However, despite the similar appearance of communities (of youth language speakers) from the outside, the actual linguistic systems can diverge to a great extent. This becomes evident when the community of practice of Yanké speakers (Lingala-based, Kinshasa, DR Congo) is compared with that of Yabacrâne (Swahili-based, Goma, DR Congo). Both sets of social as well as linguistic practices reveal at first sight strong similarities which circle around social topoi as ‘street and lower social strata’, ‘gang identity’, ‘hip hop music’, ‘witchcraft’ and ‘fashion’, with nearly identical social practices. Yet, even though the group dynamics look very familiar from an outsider’s perspective, the internal pragmatic interaction among members reveals very divergent patterns. Impoliteness in discourse occurs in Yabacrâne but is not as essential as in Yanké; thus, the violation of linguistic taboos, the intended use of group face loss strategies in public, direct forms of criticism and refusal is carried out in a much more moderate way in Goma, among Yabacrâne speakers, than in Kinshasa, among Yanké speakers. Pragmatic interaction can only be described through very intense and profound participant observation and is barely visible from the surface (e.g. from the point of view of an excluded outsider). The case mentioned would thus be exemplary for a ‘shift of community’ (i.e. from Yanké to Yabacrâne), in contrast to a ‘shift of practices’ (i.e. from Yanké to Kisangani-based Kindoubil). The latter relates to a case in which the matrix language and the pragmatic interaction of a community may remain identical despite the shift from one linguistic group to another, yet the social practices may vary to a great extent. This is a recurrent pattern in the shift of categories or identities among African speakers of “youth language” (cf. Nassenstein forthcoming). Similarly, the comparative analysis of various South African youth languages contributes to our understanding of the fluidity and mobility of linguistic resources and the manifestation of creative linguistic strategies and manipulation in various urban contexts. Tsotsitaal, as the main youth language in South Africa, has split into several varieties with diverging matrix languages. The case of Khartoum (Sudan) reveals that youth languages cannot necessarily be considered as homogeneous entities, but that within their range of

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speakers several distinctive identities, registers and varieties are possible. The case of Randuk in Khartoum displays a linguistic practice which is realized differently depending upon the social, educational and geographical background of speakers. Language variation thus depends upon where the speaker locates him- or herself socially and which community of practice (s)he chooses (and where (s)he has language rights). This raises questions such as how complex the variation within youth languages can be and how urban African frames can give birth to such multilayered settings where cultural key, identity and linguistic register are not uniquely negotiated between “society” and “anti-society” anymore, but solely within a youth language’s barriers. A similar scenario is noticeable in Addis Ababa (Ethiopia) where we find complex repertoires and practices within the concept of Yarada K’wank’wa, which relate to the respective subgroups of the community of practice in terms of their social background and their respective neighborhood or area within Addis Ababa. This shows that subcategories and registers of the same lect depend not only upon clearly-defined societal or anti-societal affiliations but also on complex socio-regional “neighborhoods” and their respective expressive styles. The setting of Kisangani in DR Congo reveals new insights into speakers’ urban ideologies, dominated by a rivalry between Swahili and Lingala. Here, the youth language Kindoubil contributes to an enhanced personal status of speakers who strive for a linguistic urban identity that is provided neither by Swahili nor Lingala. The formation of Kindoubil and Kindoubil ya kozongela has created parallel, socially (as to their in-group regulations) very divergent codes that fulfill different purposes (as also discussed by Mugaddam for Khartoum and Hollington for Addis Ababa, for example). The study of youth language in Kigali (Rwanda) reveals insights into deviating identity constructions that are conceptually distant from a “street identity” of adolescent delinquents, as this is common in other urban spheres dominated by youth. In most cases, youth languages have been described as deviating social codes due to the anti-social self-identification of speakers (as people “of the street”, “gangsters” or “tough boys”) and also deviating language contact practices (massive borrowing and rapid chains of linguistic innovation). For the case of Kigali, neither the street or criminal image nor the massive borrowing, code-switching or translanguaging processes seem to be necessary, which leads us to question society’s projected image of what youth language practices must represent or how they should be linguistically embellished by their speakers. The preliminary work carried out on Imvugo y’Umuhanda in Kigali could thus offer a promising re-modeling of the set of (apparently) determined social practices associated with youths’ linguistic continua. It seems that identities can be constructed beyond the narrow framework of “street gangs” and without exhaustive language contact.

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Altogether, the study of urban African youth language as a flexible system of repertoires with strong social anchors thus prompts various questions concerning the role and conscious agency of speakers and the nature of complex multilingual settings in Africa, as well as the innovative mobility and fluidity concepts of languages (that exhibit strong identity-related in-group ties) and the pull and push chains for socially-triggered variability in youth languages. All these interwoven issues relating to the nature of language in urban Africa still demand further analysis. The present volume contributes to a sociological study of youths’ linguistic practices by offering insights through preliminary yet innovative case studies that aim at shifting the academic focus in further analyses from a localist view on individuals’ “codes” towards a more ethnographic and fluid understanding of “youth language practices” in the African context.

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Kießling, Roland. 2005. Bàk mwà mè dó – Camfranglais in Cameroon. Lingua Posnaniensis 47. 87–107. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–241. Koji, Mochizuki. 2006. Cognitive anthropological analysis of slang as an expression of subculture: The case of Yarada Qwanqwa, the language of Addis Ababa. In Siegbert Uhlig (ed.), Proceedings of the XVth International Conference of Ethiopian Studies Hamburg 2003. Aethiopistische Forschungen 65, 793–802. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Kouega, J.-P. 2003. Word formative processes in Camfranglais. World Englishes 22(4). 511–538. Kress, Gunther. 2010. Multimodality. A social-semiotic approach to contemporary communication. New York: Routledge Kube, Sabine. 2002. Das Nouchi in Abidjan: Vom Argot der Straßenkinder zur zukünftigen Nationalsprache der Côte d’Ivoire? In Jürgen Erfurt (ed.), “Multisprech”: Hybridität, Variation, Identität. Osnabrücker Beiträge zur Sprachtheorie 65. 131–153. Kube, Sabine. 2004. Gelebte Frankophonie in der Côte d’Ivoire. Münster: Lit-Verlag. Kube-Barth, Sabine. 2009. The multiple facets of the urban language form Nouchi. In Fiona McLaughlin (ed.), The languages of urban Africa, 103–114. London/New York: Continuum. Labov, William. 1966. The social stratification of English in New York City. Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. Labov, William. 1972. Language in the inner city: Studies in the black English vernacular. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change (Language in Society). Oxford: Blackwell. Lave, Jean and Etienne Wenger. 1991. Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lüpke, Friederike and Anne Storch. 2013. Repertoires and choices in African languages. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Makhudu, K. Dennis Papi. 2002. An introduction to Flaaitaal (or Tsotsitaal). In Rajend Mesthrie (ed.), Language in South Africa, 398–406. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Marshall, Jonathan. 2004. Language change and sociolinguistics. Rethinking social networks. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Matras, Yaron. 2009. Language contact. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. May, Stephen. 2005. Language rights: Moving the debate forward. Journal of Sociolinguistics 9(3). 319–347. Mazrui, Alamin M. 1995. Slang and codeswitching: the case of Sheng in Kenya. AAP 42. 168– 179. Mendoza-Denton, Norma. 2008. Homegirls. Language and cultural practice among Latina youth gangs. Oxford: Blackwell. Mesthrie, Rajend & Ellen Hurst. 2013. Slang registers, code-switching and restructured urban varieties in South Africa: an analytic overview of tsotsitaals with special reference to the Cape Town variety. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 28(1). 103–130. Milroy Lesley. 1980. Language and social networks. Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, Lesley. 2004. Social networks. In J. K. Chambers, Peter Trudgill and Natalie SchillingEstes (eds.), The handbook of language variation and change, 549–572. Oxford: Blackwell. Momanyi, Clara. 2009. The effects of ‘Sheng’ in the teaching of Kiswahili in Kenyan schools. Journal of Pan African Studies 2(8). 127–138. Mugaddam, Abdel Rahim Hamid. 2012. Aspects of youth languages in Khartoum. In Matthias Brenzinger & Anne-Maria Fehn (eds.), Proceedings of the 6th World Congress of African Linguistics, Cologne 2009, 87–98. Cologne: Köppe.

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Mulumbwa Mutambwa, Georges. 2009. Étude sociolinguistique du Kindubile, argot Swahili des enfants de la rue de Lubumbashi. Brussels: Faculté de philosophie et lettres, Université Libre de Bruxelles dissertation. Mulumbwa Mutambwa, Georges. 2010. The spread of Indubil in D.R. Congo. Paper presented at the 19th Afrikanistentag, Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz, 8–10 April. Nassenstein, Nico. 2014. A grammatical study of the youth language Yanké. Munich: Lincom. Nassenstein, Nico. Forthcoming. The new urban youth language ‘Yabacrâne’ in Goma (DR Congo) – a first preliminary analysis. Nortier, Jacomine & Bente A. Svendsen (eds.). 2015. Language, youth and identity in the 21st century. Linguistic practices across urban spaces. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ntsobé, André M., Edmond Biloa & George Echu. 2008. Le Camfranglais: Quelle parlure? Frankfurt: Peter Lang. Ogechi, Nathan Oyori. 2005. On lexicalization in Sheng. Nordic Journal of African Studies 14(3). 334–355. Rampton, Ben. 2010. Language crossing and the problematisation of ethnicity and socialization. Pragmatics 5(4). 485–513. Reuster-Jahn, Uta & Roland Kießling. 2006. Lugha ya Mitaani in Tanzania. The poetics and sociology of a young urban style of speaking with a dictionary comprising 1100 words and phrases. Swahili Forum 13. 1–200. Rudd, Philip W. 2008. Sheng: The mixed language of Nairobi. Muncie, IN: Ball State University dissertation. Rudd, Philip, W. 2009. Nairobi, Sheng and the creole-interlanguage continua. Nairobi, Sheng and the Creole-Interlanguage Continua. Paper presented at the Sixth World Congress of African Linguistics. University of Cologne, Germany, August 2009. Sesep, N’Sial Bal-Nsien. 1990. Langage, normes et repertoire en milieu urbain africain: L’indoubill. Québec: Centre International de Recherche en Aménagement Linguistique. Slabbert, Sarah & Carol Myers-Scotton. 1997. The structure of Tsotsitaal and Isicamtho: codeswitching and in-group identity in South African townships. Linguistics 34. 317–42. Stenström, Anna-Brita, Gisle Andersen & Ingrid Kristine Hasund. 2002. Trends in teenage talk: corpus compilation, analysis and findings. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Stenström, Anna-Brita & Annette Myre Jørgensen (eds.). 2009. Youngspeak in a multilingual perspective. Pragmatics & Beyond New Series, 184. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Stenström, Anna-Brita. 2014. Teenage talk: From general characteristics to the use of pragmatic markers in a constrastive perspective. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Storch, Anne. 2011. Secret manipulations. Language and context in Africa. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sure, Kembo. 1992. The coming of Sheng. English Today 32. 26–28. Tiewa Ngninzégha, Kathrin. 2008. Stadtsprachen im südlichen Kamerun. Eine linguistische und soziolinguistische Darstellung der Varietäten Cameroonian Pidgin English und Camfranglais. Mainz: Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz MA thesis. Van Pelt, Frank. 2000. Lingala ya Bayankee: een beschrijving van het Lingala Argot [Lingala ya Bayankee: A description of Lingala argot]. Leiden: Leiden University MA thesis. Vertovec, Steven. 2007. Super-diversity and its implications. Ethnic and Racial Studies 30(6). 1024– 1054. Wilson, Catherina. 2012. The Congolese Yankee. Leiden: Leiden University MA thesis.

Klaus Beyer

2 Youth language practices in Africa: achievements and challenges Abstract: This theoretical contribution looks at the present state of the art in African youth language research and connects it to current trends in the field, which rely mostly on data from European metropolitan centers. The aim is not to present new data on African youth languages but to highlight findings already described, and to consider the challenges still remaining on the way toward achieving a general framework for the description of youth language practices worldwide. To this end, theoretical and methodological insights from various research subfields and different geographical areas are presented, all of which pertain to a comprehensive appraisal of the phenomenon “youth language”. The paper makes reference, however, to some currently ongoing research projects in Africa (and elsewhere) that – at least partly – already fulfill some of the proposed requirements for the goal aspired to.

1 Introduction Research on youth language practices in Africa is by no means an extremely new or exotic topic, but in the course of time theoretical perspectives and research goals have changed tremendously. Until recently, research on youth language varieties was dominated by a division into mere descriptions and analyses of linguistic structures of emerging youth codes1 on the one hand, and more or less detailed accounts of the socio-cultural contents and contexts of the various languages on the other. For instance, in the papers collected in Chaudenson (1990), one author (Manessy 1990) looks at recurrent structures in urban languages all over the continent, while another (Antoine 1990) reflects on young urbanites and their

1 One of the challenges in youth language research is already apparent in these few lines. The object of research is often not clearly defined, which is also visible in the different denominations (e.g. variety, code, ways of speaking) also used in this paper. For the time being, the most appropriate term seems to be “youth language practices”, as this signals the fluid and unsteady character of the ways of speaking that reflect individuals’ ideologies and self-portrayals in ever varying shades.

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social status as being the driving forces behind linguistic hybridization. Whether and how these two facets of urban youth languages are connected is not actively considered by the authors. The same division is apparent throughout the discussion of the language nowadays known as “Nouchi”. Lafage (1998) describes in detail the linguistic processes underlying the “hybridation” of the “français des rues” [Street-French] but sacrifices only the last page for some reflections on its function and social status. On the other hand, Kube (2002, 2004) explores extensively the social background and language attitudes of Nouchi speakers while only very briefly commenting on the linguistic make-up of the code.2 Moreover, whereas European research on young and urban ways of speaking has mainly been concerned with processes of integration into a given multicultural society, approaches to African urban youth language varieties have often been conceived of as contributions to Creole and/or contact linguistics, in the sense of observing “new” linguistic varieties as they come into being (Hattiger 1983, Manessy 1992, 1994). Although in recent years more integrative approaches and comparative research have been promoted in Africa and elsewhere, we are still far from anything that comes close to a unified theoretical framework for the assessment of youth language practices. Notwithstanding the fact that theory building is currently informed by studies predominantly from western-style urban centers, I believe that data from African contexts will add substantially to an empirically informed theoretical framework in this emerging field of research. Following up on this claim, it is high time to define and adjust research questions and methodologies as well as a descriptive framework that accounts for the different layers and facets of youth language practices. A first step in this direction is provided by Neuland (2006, 2007). She distinguishes six layers for an adequate description of what she invariably calls “youth languages”. Such a description must begin with a global appraisal of the relevant historical context, continue with a sociolinguistic differentiation of speakers, institutional frames and linguistic domains, and finally look at functional styles and their related linguistic outcomes (Neuland 2006: 51–53). As Neuland’s framework has been developed in European contexts it is not only biased data-wise but perhaps also in her conception of a “youth language” as a 2 To be sure, I am not saying that a given author is only capable of doing either this or that. For instance, Lafage (1980, 1984) has also described the social functions and cultural background of the current varieties of French in Abidjan, but, like many researchers of her time, she did not really try to correlate the findings in a coherent way.

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discrete code. For researchers acquainted with less standardized languages in generally multilingual contexts it is much easier to conceive of “youth languages” as less stable linguistic practices that are enacted in ever varying shades according to speakers’ ideologies. Despite this critique, Neuland’s descriptive layers may still serve as a starting point insofar as the complex interrelations of the social and linguistic spheres become apparent. In the following, I will first outline some of the latest developments in the field of youth language research, which is quite often closely connected to the wider field of research on urban language practices. To that end, I start with an account of the state of the discussion as it is currently led in Europe and the US. I then concentrate on the African context and specify findings and still remaining challenges when considering its possible input for a general theoretical framework of youth language practices. In this section I also make reference to some of the latest research projects in Africa, which apparently already fulfill the proposed requirements but which also raise important questions relevant for a general theoretical framework of urban language practices.

2 Developments in “youth language” research “Youth languages” as a sociolinguistic research topic in its own right is currently gaining growing awareness worldwide. This is due to a general interest of linguists studying language variation (variationists) who see youth language practices as an example for newly developing linguistic means of expression. As such emergent language practices also generally appear in urban contact situations, research topics are often extended from youth to urban languages. The earliest forerunners of this field of study were descriptions of youth and/or student languages in anecdotic lexicon-style compilations dating back to the 19th century. This kind of youth language lexicon was the only way of describing special youth registers in Europe for at least a century (Kluge 1895, Müller-Thurau 1983). Later, the related topic of dialect studies in urban centers began to see young and/or marginalized speakers as pivotal actors for linguistic innovations (e.g. the Northern Cities Shift in the USA; Labov et al. 2006). In the African context, comparable research started with a focus mainly on the different varieties of English and French that frequently provided the basis for Creole-like codes prospering in the emerging urban centers predominantly situated at the (West-)African coastline. One motivation for this kind of application-oriented research was to support French language development in Africa

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under the label of “francophonie”3 and, more generally, to support educational institutions based on the former colonial languages (Alidou 2009, Chaudenson 1993, Derive 1986, Dumont 1993, Manessy 1992, 1994). This kind of driving force behind research on predominantly younger speakers appropriating or even corrupting former colonial languages continues to be valid in some places, but we are currently also witnessing a sea-change in research orientation that does away with essentialist views on languages and ethnicity, turning to an understanding of (linguistic) diversity as an asset rather than a problem. This latter view is connected to most recent developments in the field of migrant sociology as well as to concomitant advances in general sociolinguistic theory and method. The following section briefly sums up these developments.

2.1 Recent paradigmatic shifts 2.1.1 From “multiculturalism” to “superdiversity” From the sixties onwards, the growing numbers of labor migrants reaching the metropolitan centers of Europe (and North America) fostered migration research within sociology and related areas. Driven by the same motivation, sociolinguists started studying questions of multilingualism and related problems of integration into the host societies. One of the sociological answers to the growing integration problems of second and third generation migrants was the “multiculturalism” paradigm of the late seventies and eighties. This paradigm prompted local government institutions as well as businesses and public organizations to adopt policies and structures “designed to address newly emergent modes of diversity and their accommodation in wider society” (Vertovec 2010: 84). Although by the end of the last millennium this paradigm was subject to anti-essentialist critiques, as not being able to cope with the multiple and highly diverse facets of contemporary migration patterns, ideas of neatly separable groups connected to classical categories like “nation”, “ethnicity”, “religion” and “language” still linger on in the governmental politics of most western countries. In reality, one currently observes a multiplicity of motives, itineraries and patterns of migration into European centers that are mirrored by likewise highly 3 “Francophonie” was originally a cover-term for all French speaking countries and later became a kind of label for the French interest in keeping the language on a par with English as world-wide means of communication.

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diverse processes of integration into the host countries’ societies (Vertovec 2010: 86). This change in patterns of migration to Europe has altered the notion “migrant” tremendously in terms of both its cultural and linguistic features. Vertovec (2007) introduces the notion of “super-diversity” to account for this “diversion of diversity” (Blommaert and Backus 2011: 4) that constitutes the complex nature of contemporary migration to Europe and the US (Vertovec 2010: 87). In sociolinguistic theory the linguistic correlates of such “superdiverse” biographies are no longer viewed as stable linguistic systems (i.e. languages) but as a continuum of practices with fuzzy transitions between different registers and styles due to ever varying contexts, identity constructions and speaker ideologies. The developments in sociolinguistic theory leading to this view will be sketched in the next section.

2.1.2 The “third wave” in variationist sociolinguistics Alongside the aforementioned sociological adaption to the contemporary superdiverse make-up of urban centers, a paradigmatic shift in sociolinguistics took place. This so-called “third wave”4 in the variationist paradigm of sociolinguistics (Eckert 2012) brought about some major conceptual changes which, for the most part, predated “superdiversity” but were also informed and reinforced by this new framework in migration studies (Blommaert and Rampton 2011). The focal points of the “third wave” may be divided into three interrelated subfields. a) Language ideology Since the work of Anderson (1983), we know that the formation of nation states relied heavily on “imagined communities” which employed, among other concepts, “named languages” as ideological constructions for the definition of national membership. Such an ideological construction of a coherent language 4 This term was coined by Eckert (2012) and refers to three successive stages observable in sociolinguistic research. She equates the first stage with Labov’s correlations of linguistic variables with major demographic categories (e.g. age, sex, class) in the seventies. From the mid-eighties onwards, the second stage in variation studies, represented by the Milroys (1985), employs more ethnographic methods to highlight the relationship between linguistic variables and local community configurations. The currently rolling third wave of variation studies focuses more on the social meaning of variables. It understands variables not directly as expression of identity and group belonging but views styles, rather than variables, as directly associated with identity categories, and explores the contributions of variables to styles (Eckert 2012).

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as a pure, bound device for referring to things in the outer world and reflecting national idiosyncrasies has by now been deconstructed (Schieffelin et al. 1998) and can thus no longer serve as an ideological kernel for the definition of any ethnically based group of speakers. Contemporary sociolinguistics therefore strives for a differentiated account of communicative practices as they emerge and develop. So the “third wave” concept does not presuppose one coherent language for all speakers in a given community; instead it admits that any speaker has several linguistic styles and registers at his/her disposal which serve different kinds of communicative purposes. In a multilingual context, the possibilities of variation within a given communicative context may be multiplied (superdiverse) because any single speaker’s repertoire potentially encompasses styles and registers from more than one language. However, the general principles of variation-based communicative practices do not change, as the speakers still need to choose the “right way” of speaking for any given communicative setting. Although such views are beginning to be more widely accepted in ever widening linguistic circles, the traditional linguistic orthodoxy is still the dominant paradigm, at least in African languages research (Lüpke and Storch 2013: 1–3). Moreover, traditional ideas on coherent language systems as a crucial criterion for defining national membership still play out in current government politics. Contrary to such conservative views, youth language practices in Africa seem to fit extremely well into the model of interwoven styles and registers based on multilingual repertoires that may be adapted to any communicative needs in a variety of communities of practice and in individual self portraying. b) Speech communities and linguistic repertoires The correlate of the “ideal language” employed to define any kind of ethnically or nationally based group of speakers is the well known notion of a “speech community”. From the viewpoint of the current sociolinguistic approach a “speech community” is just another “imagined” community that has no empirical basis. Much more suitable concepts replacing these broad and empirically unreal notions are approaches that look at actual “communities of (language) practice”. This notion was introduced into sociolinguistics by Eckert (2000) and relates to speakers who actually communicate with each other on a regular basis and thereby develop specific observable linguistic features and norms. Such features may then take up the function of (temporary) in-group shibboleths and identity markers. Under such a perspective, research, then, “has to address the way in which people take on different linguistic forms as they align and disaffiliate with different groups at different moments and stages” (Blommaert and Rampton 2011: 5).

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Another related concept also employed in third wave sociolinguistics is the “social network approach (SNA)”. It was first introduced to sociolinguistic research by the Milroys (1985), who studied qualities and quantities of social relations in a given group of actors and correlated these data with specific language behavior of the respective actors. This approach brought to light the fact that close-knit social networks with strong ties between the actors foster conservative speech behavior while loose network connections are more favorable for linguistic innovation and changes in norms. One of the major advantages of these concepts is their adaptability to “often mobile and flexible sites and links in which representations of group emerge, move and circulate” (Blommaert and Rampton 2011: 4). Although this latter remark characterizes the strength of this approach very well, a fruitful application of the SNA to urban and youth language practices in Africa still awaits its solid proof of concept. Some advances have, however, been made in recent research as will be reported below (see 3.2). The above-mentioned approaches also bring into question another stronghold of classical descriptive linguistics, which is related to the concept of a coherent national “speech community” and tied to an ideal monolingual standard family model. The “ideal hearer-speaker” acquires complete native speaker competence around the age of 16 (end of language faculty development of individuals) through so-called “normal” language transmission by his/her parents. The “ideal hearer-speaker” is pictured as the natural point of reference for a grammatical description in traditional generative linguistics. Building on sociolinguistic works from early Labovian times onwards it is by now utterly clear that nothing like an “ideal speaker” with a complete grammatical competence exists. Thus, in the current paradigm the concept of “linguistic repertoire” supersedes such generativist idealizations. The notion of the “linguistic repertoire” accounts for the totality of linguistic resources that an individual speaker or a community of practice may actuate in the process of a socially significant interaction. Already introduced to sociolinguistics by Gumperz and Hymes (1972 (1986): 20–21), this notion was originally tied to the concept of “speech community” as the totality of linguistic resources that a speech community has at its disposal. However, in late post-modern times of superdiversity this notion is gradually shifting to a concept applied more to individual speakers, as the presumption of stable communities is replaced by more fluid views of networks, communities of practice and knowledge communities. Moreover, individual linguistic repertoires in a superdiverse world can also be analyzed as records of a given subject’s mobility patterns through his/her life-time, as different bits and pieces of his/her repertoire develop at different times and places (Blommaert and Backus 2011: 22). So, in the context of research on youth language practices,

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a refined concept of the linguistic repertoire is indispensable to reconciling linguistic diversity, mixed languages and individual multilingualism. Again, to this end not much original empirical work from African contexts is at hand. This may be due to the fact that it is quite difficult to disentangle the output of a multilingual repertoire from general language-contact phenomena and variation introduced through incomplete language acquisition. This is all the more the case when we consider that the analysis works mostly on the backdrop of already diffuse linguistic systems (see 3.2 below) within supposedly rather unfocused societies. What seems clear is that discourse partners under such conditions tend to stretch the acceptance of linguistic variation to the very limits of an already diffuse linguistic system as long as social conduct and behavioral norms of communication are respected (Beyer, forthcoming). This adds a further complication to the description of the basis on which youth language practices develop. c)

Communication and meaning

The classical generativist’s notion of linguistics concentrates on grammatical structure, which produces meaning by processing meaningful elements through a set of rules creating “language” as the output of the linguistic generator. In stark contrast to this, current sociolinguistics treats meaning as an active process that is situated in the context of communicative practice. Seen from the angle of communicative interaction it becomes clear that linguistic production is not the only source for meaning because other semiotic devices like gesture, facial expression and posture may equally add to the generation of meaning. Language is, then, just one of several semiotic resources that need to be accounted for in an analysis of the entire meaning production of a given communicative interaction. Correlated to this aspect is the need to cover not only the denotational and propositional function of language but also to analyze its indexicality and connotational significance. Meaning, under this broadened view of communication, is multi-modal, and any relevant analysis of meaningful conversation needs to adjust empirically to these communicative conditions. This is even more so in cases where an already diffuse linguistic system (see above) lacks the tertium comparationis that is needed for any linguistic deviation to become meaningful in terms of signaling individual or group identity. This line of argument provides the background for Kress’ (2009) proposition to widen the sociolinguistic research object from “language” to “semiosis” as part of a discipline called “semiotics”. This proposition also sheds light on the hitherto unsolved problem of terminology. If we accept that languages are more than ordered sets of rules shared by an “imagined” speech community, and that individual linguistic repertoires

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enclose linguistic devices from various subsets together with further nonlinguistic means of communication, we should actually coin a new term for the output of this system. Whether notions such as “semiosis” or “languoid”5 or anything else are more promising in this respect is not yet clear. The multimodal nature of language, together with its widened indexical potential, both of which are integral parts of the process that communicatively develops “meaning”, also raises questions about common knowledge production and the status of negotiability, creativity and linguistic profusion in this process. It is far from clear how all these additional elements of a meaningful conversation are established in the first place. If we add to this the complication that derives from the superdiverse backgrounds of communicative actors that mostly do not share common knowledge and cultural norms, the challenges and chances of such a situation become obvious. The observation of communicative practices in superdiverse contexts bears all the facets of linguistic norm development as linguistic structure and meaning is negotiated and established in ever ongoing cycles. Or, in the words of Blommaert and Rampton (2011), the linguist observes “the emergence of structure out of agency” (Blommaert and Rampton 2011: 7).

2.1.3 Some words on methods The above outlined developments of the “third wave” in sociolinguistics also have a substantial bearing on methodological issues. It goes without saying that the coverage and description of what has been called “semiosis” presupposes a fine-grained investigation of the communicative contexts and its participants that are part and parcel of its substance. As meaning takes shape in places, through activities and social relations, these facets need to be described in meaningful ways with an adequate methodology. The already evoked tool-kit of the social sciences and ethno-methodologies plays a major role in this undertaking. The coverage of a given actor includes an account of the internal organization of her/his repertoire and resources building on her/his individual biography. This is achieved through close-up descriptions of an individual’s language uses and performances in a wide variety of communicative settings (see Matras 5 Good and Hendryx-Parker (2006) coined the term “languoid”, thus highlighting the arbitrary nature of the concept of a uniform (named) language. For them, “languoid” is “a cover term for any type of lingual entity: language, dialect, family, language area, etc.” (Good and HendryxParker 2006, cited in Lüpke and Storch 2013: 3).

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2009: 9–10). Such descriptions of current communicative activities and social relationships call for the researcher’s interaction and participation in relevant situations. Technical support, such as audio and video recording, will be helpful when applied with caution and respect. Awareness of the “observer’s paradox”6 helps the researcher to avoid its pitfalls and to develop adapted strategies to counter its effects. Apart from the immediate communicative contexts, all language data will need further contextualization against the background of institutional regimes, language ideologies and policies. Without going into further detail, suffice it to say that such a program presupposes a research team that is extremely well acquainted with the respective setting under scrutiny.

2.2 Achievements of research on youth language practices in Africa and Europe I will now turn to the African context and compare some insights from this research area with some of the latest findings from European urban centers. I will claim that there are many common points that may feed into a general theoretical framework of youth language practices but that there are also major differences and case-specific idiosyncrasies that challenge such a general framework. It is, for instance, by no means clear whether the complex nature of migration as it is now described under the “superdiversity” paradigm for Europe is also a relevant concept for the description of African urbanities and the accompanying developments of youth language practices. Although in many ways youth language practices may be viewed as interethnic codes (Kießling and Mous 2004: 315, 316) not bound to any particular ethnic identitiy, there are places where the respective codes are still closely connected to specific ethnic backgrounds (see 3.2 below).

2.2.1 Recurrent social background In most accounts of the historical beginnings of youth languages they are depicted as what Halliday (1978) has called “anti-languages”. Whether we speak

6 Since the first description by Labov, “the aim of linguistic research in the community must be to find out how people talk when they are not being systematically observed; yet we can only obtain these data by systematic observation” (Labov 1972: 209), the “observer’s paradox” has always been an issue in sociolinguistic and variationist research. A short account of more recent responses to the paradox can be found in Cukor-Avila (2000).

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of London (Hewitt 1986), Paris (Lodge 2004), Abidjan (Kube 2002, Ploog 2001) or Johannesburg (Aycard 2008, Childs 1997), the beginnings of specific youth ways of speaking are usually traced back to marginalized groups7, often situated in juvenile male-dominated low income and low education class milieus where specific ways of speaking become a marker of “resistance identities” (Castells 1998). The linguistic repertoires at the disposal of such groups may vary in quantity and kind but the underlying processes of language manipulations are often very much alike in Europe and Africa (see section 2.2.2 and Kießling and Mous 2004). The next step often observable in Africa and Europe (or elsewhere) is a gain in general societal prestige of such resistance identities, which come to be conceived of as indexical of an urban life style (Freywald et al. 2011, Kube 2002, Ploog 2001, Rampton 2010). When this point is reached, erstwhile linguistic markers of marginal groups now become markers of “project identities”. At this stage the linguistic repertoires that feed into the make-up of the youth language expand and diversify, because now more speakers with a wider range of languages and styles at their disposal take part in its formation. This means that the general Gestalt of any emerging youth code is also diversifying. Although a development like the one just outlined is not inevitable, it is reported time and again from urban centers all over the world. Further developmental possibilities of youth languages are, however, less clear and unitary. Some researchers see these ways of speaking as a strictly age-related phenomenon. Dittmer and Bahlo (2008) coined the term “juventulect” for such a variety, describing it as: “Anders als dialektale [. . .] Varietäten, die langfristig und meist generationenübergreifend an landschaftliche Räume [. . .] gebunden sind, ist die Jugendsprache (oder der Juventulekt) eine generationsspezifische Übergangsvarietät, die den biologisch bedingten Aufbruch der Jugendlichen zum Erwachsenenstatuts in der Suche nach individueller und sozialer Identität in der Altersspanne zwischen 10 und 30 sprachlich und kommunikativ zum Ausdruck bringt.” (Dittmer and Bahlo 2008: 265) [Unlike dialectal varieties which are usually bound to specific landscapes in the long run and across generations, youth language (or juventulect) is a generation-specific transition variety, which linguistically and communicatively expresses the biologically-conditioned departure of the youth between 10 and 30 to adulthood in search of individual and social identity.]

7 But see McLaughlin (2008) for another historical account of an urban code. She describes how urban Wolof, a Wolof-French mix currently widely spoken in the urban centers of Senegal, developed from a prestigious mixed code employed by métise-elites in the earliest French settlement on the West African coast, St. Louis, from the 18th century onwards.

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Wiese (2006) follows the same line of argument when she pictures Berlin Kiezdeutsch as part of an adolescent identity-marking variety of German that is given up as soon as its speakers are promoted to adult lifestyle, on finishing their studies or on starting a paid job after, for instance, an apprenticeship. There is, however, growing evidence that denies such an inevitable outcome for European cases. Rampton (2010: 10-11) describes urban businessmen in their forties in London who use marked youth varieties not only in informal settings but also in business talk. He then introduces the term “contemporary urban vernacular” for this kind of code to account for the fact that it is not just a variety used by adolescent speakers. As for African contexts, it has been stated for some time now that – at least in some places – youth codes are not (or are no longer?) age-bound. There are many reports of “juventulectal” varieties that become urban languages, effectively bridging generations. In some cases (e.g. Ferrari 2004, Rudd 2009) it is reported that Kenyan children are brought up with a variety of the youth language Sheng as their L1. The same is reported for Isicamtho in Soweto, SA, which is likewise reported to be taken up by children as a first language (Aycard 2008, 2014). The famous Nouchi from Abidjan is not only spreading along the coast and to other major towns of Côte d’Ivoire and beyond, but is also used in advertising, informal writing and on the internet. Some Ivoirians even think that it may develop into the legitimate lingua franca of Côte d’Ivoire (Kube 2002), as it unites a multitude of Ivorian languages into a kind of “native” creole: “Le Nouchi se présente comme une volonté manifeste de notre génération de s’affirmer, mais surtout de rejeter la colonisation linguistique que veut imposer l’occident. Véritable créole ivoirien, il développe toute une philosophie qui nécessite de connaître l’environnement ivoirien pour percer ses mystères” (http://leblogdeyoro.ivoire-log.com, 29 January 2008). [Nouchi presents itself as a manifest desire of our generation for self-affirmation, in which especially the linguistic colonization imposed by the West is rejected. A true Ivorian Creole, it develops a philosophy which requires knowledge of the Ivorian environment to permeat its mysteries.]

The reports of children speaking urban codes as L1 and the high hopes expressed for the erstwhile code of juvenile delinquents in Abidjan all seem to indicate the potential that these youth ways of speaking have to spread to wider parts of the urban communities and beyond. Thus, we are witnessing right now how these formerly age-bound codes develop into markers of “legitimate identities” (Castells 1998) and become a general means of urban communication. There are, however, also opposing factors. In accounts of the Cameroonian youth language Camfranglais it is often reported that elder people and intellec-

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tuals in general see Camfranglais as a threat to education in English and French. Furthermore, Camfranglais is felt to be responsible for undermining the civilizing function of those languages, as it is closely related to a sub-culture and youth culture that are not held in equally high esteem by the country’s elites (Féral 2009). It is through such concerns that we realize that the traditional essentialist view of a “pure” language, together with its traditional functions, is still very much in place. The same line of argument is still heard in the context of many youth languages in European and other contexts.8 Another recurrent question deals with the internal structure of the social groups that use and develop the targeted language practices. Depending on the analytical goal and the scope of the research, the most promising approaches look at language use within a given community of practice to find out how exactly meaning develops through (verbal) interaction of the participating actors. Or – taking a wider perspective – one might want to look at connections of actors within and outside the relevant groups in terms of social network ties, to assess societal impact and flow of innovations. Nassenstein, in his inspiring work on the youth language Yanké, presents two aggregates of communities in Kinshasa that practice Yanké: while the more open organized Kolúna “gangsters” are better represented with a network model, the much more closed circles of gangs of street children better fit the community of practice representation (Nassenstein 2014: 23, 24). It is clear, however, that communities of practice also always form social networks on a higher level. Intimately tied to group structure is the question of leadership within a given community of practice. In search of recurrent features and characteristics of leading actors who have the influence and power to turn a mere linguistic deviation into an emblematic sign for a given group, some elements have been highlighted in recent research. Labov, in his study of sociolinguistic forces in the city of Philadelphia, found pioneers of ongoing sound change that he named “saccadic leaders”, thus highlighting their advanced and somewhat unexpected use of two specific phonological variables. His characterization of these “saccadic leaders” – in this case all women – states that: “their use of the Philadelphia sound changes is more than a step beyond their peers, and surpasses the level of other neighborhoods more advanced than their own. For them, this way of speaking is not a mode of conformity, but an expression of nonconformity, which matches their rejection of the dominant norms for the stable sociolinguistic variables” (Labov 2001: 382).

8 It is only through the work of currently ongoing research that such prejudices are slowly given up. See for instance the numerous texts, reports and audio files that are presented by Wiese and her collaborators on the “Kiezdeutsch” web-page. (http://www.kiezdeutsch.de/).

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Although the term “nonconformity” recalls the “anti-language” function of youth language practices, it seems at least unlucky to apply a term coined for female leaders of sound change in Philadelphia to the central figures in communities of youth language practices in Africa. This proposition (Dimmendaal 2011: 249; Nassenstein 2014: 10) seems to ignore the role of gender and of consciousness in the manipulation of the linguistic change. While in many accounts of youth language practices in Africa the main actors are reported to be male (Kießling and Mous 2004: 317; Nassenstein 2014: 24, 25; Beyer 2014: 3, 4), Labov explicitly states the leading function of women: “To sum up the findings so far on the leaders of linguistic change, we find that they are women who have achieved a respected social and economic position in the local networks” (Labov 2001: 409). Moreover, he even points out that these “saccadic” women are rather unconscious in their leading function and do not have the “language engineering” capacities that seem to play a major role in youth language practices. In comparing leaders in fashion with leaders in sound change, Labov reminds us: “to bear in mind the deep-seated difference between fashion and language. Decisions on fashion are conscious decisions, or close to consciousness, linguistic change from below is entirely hidden from leaders as well as followers, at least in the early stages. [. . .] Even when people become aware of change in its late stages [. . .] efforts to control behavior have limited success” (Labov 2001: 362).

Beyond any doubt, it is high time to compare recurrent features in search of a typology of structures and hierarchies typical for all the aggregates of African communities of youth language practises, but it is also my view that we should not rely too closely on models and terminology developed from very different data and contexts in the Global North.

2.2.2 Recurrent linguistic backgrounds Comparing the linguistic structures of youth codes, we also observe a number of elements that time and time again appear as structural building blocks of such varieties. Most youth language varieties employ the local dominant language of wider communication (LWC) as their grammatical matrix language. In the case of African cities, this might be an African or a European language. While for instance Isicamtho is based on Zulu or Sotho and Sheng relies heavily on Kiswahili, Nouchi and Camfranglais are both based on French as their gram-

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matical matrix language. This choice is closely related to the respective colonial history and further socio-linguistic idiosyncrasies of each situation. In European contexts the grammatical matrix of urban languages is usually the colloquial “standard” variety of the host country. Be it London, Paris or Berlin, the urban codes are all built on the respective “national” languages. The hybrid nature of youth language practices becomes most obvious in the lexicon. It is this part of the grammar where the contact languages of a given urban area become easily visible. In comparison to European situations, African youth language practices usually rely on a greater number of input varieties, reflecting the usually much more diversified linguistic repertoires of African cities and their hinterlands. Where in Germany, for instance, youth languages make heavy use of two or three foreign language sources, Nouchi has traces of various indigenous African languages (Jula, Baulé, Bété) alongside French, English and Spanish (Kießling and Mous 2004). However, this reflection of the linguistic landscape is rather a difference in quantity than in kind. Most youth languages employ comparable linguistic processes that help to integrate vocabulary into the code. Among these processes, linguistic means such as word truncation, syllable metathesis and semantic metaphors figure most prominently. This is again true for both African and European youth codes. Furthermore, one often observes hybrid morphology, employing elements from several contact languages and a grammatical structure that displays paradigms simplified in both form and function. Telling examples for all these shared features are abundant in the literature (Dittmer and Bahlo 2008, Dürscheid and Neuland 2006, Kießling and Mous 2004, Nassenstein 2014). As most of the youth language varieties discussed here have not (yet) reached a state of stability, let alone any form of standardization, another common feature can be seen in their extremely rapidly changing nature. This is most obvious in the lexicon, where new words are very quickly introduced, altered and discarded. This flexibility may also be visible in other parts of the structure, with morphology and word order being the most vulnerable to change (see Neuland 2007: 26). In conclusion to this second part we hold that youth language practices in Africa and Europe develop in the context of comparable social backgrounds and employ comparable linguistic processes. It is therefore not beside the point to think of developing a common theoretical framework for their description. There are, however, still some major open questions that need to be addressed first. These challenges become visible when we look at recent and ongoing research and the problems and questions that are encountered in these works.

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3 Challenges of youth language research There are many open questions that await in-depth consideration. Most of them are related to the paradigmatic shift that has been outlined in the preceding paragraph. Although they are also intimately interrelated I split them again into three subfields for convenience.

3.1 The object of youth language research As already mentioned above, one intriguing question is that of defining the object of research. This is related not only to the widening perspective on the production of meaning (see 2.1.2) but also to the status of the semiotic system within the context of a particular community of practice. Do we describe such a system as a language, a variety or a style? Or is it all three at once, in the sense of Kress’ (2009) “semiosis”, and should we always have to decide which of these subsystems we want to highlight in a given context and choose our label accordingly? Hurst (2008) coined the term “stylect” for the urban language of Cape Town Tsotsitaal, thus underlining the fact that it has no unified grammatical basis and is, according to her: “a performed discursive practice, linking in to historical narratives yet surpassing these through ongoing generic negotiation to provide a range of identity alignments which are reflected in the linguistic range” (Hurst 2008: 2).

As in the case of Tsotsitaal, many African youth languages receive a name that is often coined by the community of practice that developed the code in the first place. Interestingly, many such varieties subsumed under a general name do not even have the same grammatical bases and are thus not mutually comprehensible. The urban language Isicamtho is a case in point: while many people in Soweto (South Africa) claim to speak the “language” Isicamtho, they refer to different varieties based on a grammatical frame that may be derived either from Zulu or from Sotho (Ntshangase 2002). Indoubil, an urban/youth language in the Democratic Republic of Congo, spread from West to East and in the process changed its grammatical basis from Lingala to Swahili (Goyvaerts 1988, Nassenstein 2011). Nowadays the Lingala version is spreading to regions such as Kisangani in DR Congo where it has received yet another name, Kiyankee (Wilson 2012).

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So, the naming practices are manifold and shed some light on the object of research problem. There are many different approaches in the literature that reflect different research traditions and interests. They also depend on whether the perspective is synchronic or diachronic and whether we are describing parts of an individual’s repertoire or the code of a specific community in a specific context. Finally, political interest within and outside a given community of practice also plays a role in the naming of languages, as is amply shown for the African context by Féral (2009). The same observation also holds for Europe. The currently well researched urban language of the German capital Berlin has been labeled “language variety” by Dittmer and Bahlo (2008) but nonetheless received its own name, Kiezdeutsch (urban quarter German), from Wiese (2006). This author promotes the view that Kiezdeutsch is not just a pidgin variety of German but that it is developing naturally as a dialect of German under contact conditions. She characterizes her object of research as “a multiethnic youth language” that “can be regarded as a new, dynamic German dialect” (Wiese et al. 2012: 1). However, it is hard to judge from the published data whether it is a real “lectal” variety of German or a contextual style or register employed only in specific situations. The data presented in Wiese et al. (2012) only show a limited picture of usage contexts, which also seem to be biased by the “observer’s paradox”. Given these uncertainties, another set of research challenges develops quite naturally: how do we define (or redefine) the criteria for the possible states of a youth language and how can we assess the factors involved in a potential status transition?

3.2 Stability and norm development While we acknowledge the fact that no two speakers have exactly the same linguistic resources at their disposal and that consequently the number of repertoires is infinite, it is nonetheless clear that a shared code that serves as communicative device needs at least some degree of stability and a generally accepted norm throughout the relevant community of practice. This question is even more relevant in superdiverse contexts, where the divergence of linguistic backgrounds and the general lack of common sociolinguistic histories oppose the development of common interpretations of communicative signs and general norms. One important area of research is therefore the description of processes and key factors that lead to common ground in a given community of practice. Can

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we describe, for instance, social positions that correspond to “innovators”, “early adaptors” and “conservatives” in the process of linguistic sign development? The flip side of this is the question of whether specific linguistic and other semiotic features correlate with specific social parameters. This whole issue refers back to our discussion of the role of “saccadic leaders” and to appropriate ways of describing interrelationships between social and linguistic features of youth language practices. As already mentioned, not much substantive research regarding such questions has been undertaken in African contexts so far. There are, however, some rare studies pointing to the importance of young people in newly organized communities of practice in African cities leaving behind the traditional ethnically based networks (but see also below). Honwana and de Boeck (2005) point to the role of adolescents as major players in new informal economies, as well as innovators and creators of new forms of popular culture who transform global trends into local forms. It is among such groups that adapted network research needs to look more closely in order to identify processes of innovation and norm development. An earlier study from Ile Ife (a Yoruba-speaking major city in central Nigeria) also points to the role of predominantly young speakers’ social networks as a key factor for the development of locally spoken varieties of standard Yoruba in the city (Salami 1991). Looking at linguistic aspects of social network positions in a rural African contact situation, Beyer and Schreiber (2013) demonstrate that highly mobile actors who are not restrained by too many strong social ties are the leading innovators with regard to contact-induced language features. In the course of this research it also became clear that in a multilingual community where most languages do not display a high degree of standardization (i.e. “diffuse linguistic systems” (Le Page and Tabouret-Keller 1985: 181, 182)), the social network approach (SNA) needs some fine tuning in order to capture locally prevailing patterns of linguistic variation and, even more importantly, to understand their possible indexical values. It is, for instance, quite feasible to identify variation in the pronunciation of a given phoneme by speakers of a specific vernacular variety in well-defined social networks, but it is less clear what we can make of such data. SNA studies from the Global North usually rely on vast datasets signaling the direction and speed of ongoing changes through space and society, and thereby assign individual speakers or communities of practices a place in the continuum from conservative to innovative language users. As such a background of comprehensive linguistic data is rarely available for multilingual contact zones in urban areas in Africa, one needs other means to appraise the significance and extent of any variation. One first step towards a solution to such problems is the definition of a “descriptive norm” based on diachronic linguistic evidence combined with a

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classification of variables in terms of their correlated usage patterns in the given community of practice. One could, for instance, describe how a specific element (e.g. a vowel or a morpheme) displays extreme variation or how speakers from all parts of the community only vary within a very small range. This leads to a classification of variables in terms of their indexical possibilities and functional load within the targeted community of practice and thus prepares the background for further analyses along variationist guide lines. This is possible not only for phonological or morphological variables but also for other parts of a linguistic system, such as syntactic structure and lexical items. Such an approach is currently being developed on the basis of linguistic and network data from a rural contact zone in West Africa. From these findings it seems as if variables could be used in the same way as in classical sociolinguistics but based on the divergent premise that they just tell different stories (Beyer and Schreiber, forthcoming). It is also clear that general questions relating to norms and stabilization are intimately connected to the social reality in which a given youth language practice develops. Whereas in European urban centers the superdiversity paradigm seems very fruitful as a framework for understanding the social background of a particular code, this is less clear for African cities. An often reported pattern of intra-African migration from rural to urban centers follows pre-established family and ethnic lines (e.g. Antoine et al. 1998, Southall 1973). This means that the suburbs of many African urban centers have been and still are ethnically organized, so that newcomers to town are usually directed to the quarter where they are sure to find people speaking their languages and sharing the same cultural background (e.g. Salami 1991). For instance, many South African townships are (still) organized along ethnic lines. Migrants from rural areas usually search for their first urban contacts in specific township areas where ethnically determined networks already exist (Hurst, personal communication). Consequently, urban language practices in such areas often rely on an specific vernacular language that ultimately finds its way also into the respective youth language practices. However, social realities are – at least partly – also changing in Africa and new trajectories of urbanism are developing that need an adapted response (e.g. K’Akumu and Olima 2007 on Nairobi).

3.3 Methodological challenges The aforementioned challenges also call for a mix of adapted research methods to cover the whole range of factors productive in youth language formation. Corresponding to the different levels of description, a layered approach seems the most fruitful.

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On the micro level, we need to focus on individual speakers’ practices in their different communicative contexts. To that end, real life data of communication in peer groups and small communities of practices need to be recorded alongside a full account of all other relevant semiotic subsystems like, for instance, posture, gesture and dressing style. Audio and video recordings are indispensable tools for data preparation and storage but need to be used with great caution and responsibility in order to reach a good balance between the individual rights of the speakers, the obligations of the researcher and the effects of the “observer’s paradox”. On the intermediate level researchers need to look at social network constellations and collect attributive data within the communities of practice. Qualitative and quantitative analyses of correlations between social and linguistic behavior within the relevant groups in relation to different contexts, places and situations will bring out the focal points of norm development and stabilization of urban codes. The development of a “descriptive norm” (see 3.2 above) as a backdrop for further analysis is indispensable to making sense of any data from heterogeneous and diffuse contexts. Additional reports of self-estimations and group-internal meta-discourse on the relevance and forms of urban speech will complete any data of a given youth language variety.9 The kind of approaches suggested above put some pressure on any person doing the research. Not only does s/he need to speak the maximum possible number of the languages and codes involved in the communicational patterns of a given community of practice, but s/he also needs to adapt her/his personal lifestyle to the community researched and interact closely with any relevant actors. This can only be possible when the researcher becomes intimately acquainted with the group under scrutiny, or – even better – is already an integral part of it. Although this is admittedly a real challenge for researchers working in African urban contexts, I am not as pessimistic as some colleagues, who speak of “insurmountable difficulties” in most multilingual settings in Africa (Lüpke and Storch 2013: 39). My more optimistic outlook is fueled by the fact that a number of interesting projects are currently under way where young researchers are establishing close contacts to various African communities of practices – often in collaboration

9 A lot of relevant background information and meta-linguistic knowledge is nowadays available on the internet. There are innumerable web-sites where youth languages are discussed by users (and non-users) and additional fora where the communities of practice discuss related themes (e.g. http://www.nouchi.com/; https://www.facebook.com/TsotsiTaal; http://matadornetwork.com/abroad/guide-to-swahili-street-slang-in-stone-town-zanzibar/; http://www.kiezdeutsch. de/).

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with local researchers – and are starting to delve deep into the different layers of youth language development and diffusion. For instance, Hurst (this volume) and her collaborators in the South African based SANPAD project are at present researching various communities of practice in various major cities and have already come up with inspiring audio and video material, currently still in the process of analysis (Hurst 2014). Other currently ongoing projects cover various capital cities all over Africa and also follow a participatory approach, generating data in natural contexts of very fine quality (Nassenstein, this volume). For a grounded appreciation of any data deriving from the micro and intermediate level, the wider picture also needs coverage. It goes without saying that every research project on a given youth language should be firmly embedded in a general sociolinguistic account of the linguistic landscape under consideration. This includes descriptions of historical and contemporary migration patterns alongside an account of the historical and current developments of relevant language politics. Such a macro approach to historical facts is found for instance in Ploog and Reich (2006).

4 Conclusions As pointed out in this paper, research on youth language practices in Africa and elsewhere is at least as complex as fascinating. Its multifaceted character calls for a combination of linguistic and sociological approaches under both synchronic and diachronic perspectives. Consequently, it reaches out into a multitude of areas, including studies of language contact, urban development and social psychology. It is also clear from the outset that no single researcher could handle this plurality of aspects, which leads quite naturally to the insight that scientific collaboration and mutually adjusted approaches are not only desirable but a necessity in order to grasp the whole of the phenomenon. In an ideal world we would form research teams combined of specialists for each and every aspect of youth language practices all over the world. These specialists would gather data from a multitude of benevolent consultants, which would then be organized and analyzed following comparable methods and pre-established principles. All this would then feed into an international database network that could be consulted by scientists and other interested people. Knowing that an ideal world is just a daydream, it may however be helpful to recapitulate the key points emerging from the research undertaken so far.

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From everything we know by now, the most critical aspect is the data themselves. It is indispensable to work with naturalistic data that cover not only phonetic output but also gesture, posture and other performance aspects of communication. To that end, naturalistic video data seem most promising, provided the camera does not interfere too much with the situation. This is, admittedly, a problem in its own right. Alongside such primary data on any given youth variety, an array of secondary data, e.g. language use in media, education, formal contexts etc. completes the picture and helps to define the status and extent of a given youth speech form. I am also convinced that research in Africa and beyond has now reached a level at which cumulative comparisons allow interesting generalizations. Given that in contemporary urban adolescent contexts, change is rapid and mobility is high, it will be helpful to compare old and new data sets from the same loci, assuming there are any forerunners at all. This is definitely the fact for such “famous” cases as Nouchi of Abidjan, Sheng of Nairobi and Isicamtho/Tsotsitaal in South African cities, to name but a few. Another comparative approach should address different generations from a synchronic perspective. A case in point is McLaughlin’s (2009: 74, 75) report on different language attitudes towards urban Wolof by various age groups. Interestingly, it is the age group from 30–45 years that is very critical and against urban Wolof, while older speakers are very tolerant and accept it as a convenient means of communication that has always been around. Whether this difference in attitude is also reflected in differences on the linguistic level or in usage contexts is not reported. Other interesting fields of comparison relate to different channels of mediation of the youth codes. How do oral and written instantiation relate to each other? What is the role of mass media and advertisement and how do the new media add to the shape of a youth language? For instance, Vold-Lexander (2011) describes the impact of text-messaging in Dakar on the literacy potential of the related African languages. This also relates to the general make up of urban Wolof itself. It seems that new media help – at least partly – to stabilize urban Wolof, as it establishes mixing as a possible means of texting communications. So far, comparative evidence also indicates that urban languages mostly develop out of youth language practices. However, a dividing line is hard to pinpoint. At least we can try to narrow it down by comparing diachronic data and data from different sites. Following Mesthrie and Hurst (2013), defining South African Tsotsitaals as “essentially a highly stylised slang register of an urban form of language, expressing male youth culture within the broader

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matrix of an urban identity” (Mesthrie and Hurst 2013: 125), I believe that youngsters will always try to have their own way of speaking but that their linguistic practices can provide a starting point for more stabilized urban languages. Just how and when this happens is as yet unclear and thus provides one of the key questions for the whole research field: how can we define unambiguously the status of a given youth language form and consequently the elements needed for a switch to another aggregate state? Putting all our forces together, considering previous and currently ongoing research, developing new coordinated approaches and projects, I firmly believe that youth language research from Africa will have a deep impact on this still young research field in general. I also believe that it will fertilize other linguistic sub-disciplines and have a bearing on areas such as urban sociology and development studies.

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Halliday, Michael A. K. 1978. Antilanguages. In Michael A. K. Halliday (ed.), Language as social semiotic: The social interpretation of language and meaning, 164–182. London: Edward Arnold. Hattiger, Jean-Louis. 1983. Le Français Populaire d’Abidjan: un cas de pidginisation. Abidjan: Université d’Abidjan, Institut de linguistique appliquée. Honwana, Alcinda & Filip de Boeck. 2005. Children and youth in Africa: Agency, identity and place. In Alcinda Honwana & Filip de Boeck (eds.), Makers and breakers: Children and youth in postcolonial Africa, 1–18. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. Hewitt, Roger. 1986. White talk black talk. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hurst, Ellen. 2008. Style, structure and function in Cape Town Tsotsitaal. Cape Town: University of Cape Town dissertation. Hurst, Ellen (ed.). 2014. Tsotsitaal studies: urban youth language practices in South Africa. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies (Special issue) 32(2). K’Akumu, Owiti A. & Washington H. Asembo Olima. 2007. The dynamics and implication of residential segregation in Nairobi. Habitat International 31. 87–99. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 308–341. Kluge, Friedrich. 1895. Deutsche Studentensprache. Straßburg. Kress, Gunther. 2009. Multimodality: a social semiotic approach to contemporary communication. London: Routledge. Kube, Sabine. 2002. Das Nouchi in Abidjan: Vom Argot der Straßenkinder zur zukünftigen Nationalsprache der Côte d’Ivoire?. In Jürgen Erfurt (ed.), “Multisprech”: Hybridität, Variation, Identität. Osnabrücker Beiträge zur Sprachtheorie 65. 131–153. Kube, Sabine. 2004. Gelebte Frankophonie in der Côte d’Ivoire. Münster: Lit-Verlag. Labov, William. 1972. Language in the inner city. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change. Vol. 2. Social factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Labov, William, Sharon Ash & Charles Boberg. 2006. The atlas of North American English. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Lafage, Suzanne. 1980. Petite enquête sur la perception du français populaire ivoirien en milieu estudiantin. Bulletin du Centre d’études sur le Plurilinguisme 6(80). 1–37. Lafage, Suzanne. 1984. Note sur un processus d’appropriation socio-sémantique du français en Côte-d’Ivoire. Cahiers de l’Institut de linguistique de Louvain 9(3–4). 103–112. Lafage, Suzanne. 1998. Hybridation et ‘Français des Rues’ à Abidjan. In Anne Queffélec (ed.), Alternances codiques et français parlé en Afrique, 279–291. Aix en Provence: Publications de l’Université de Provence. Lodge, R. Anthony. 2004. A sociolinguistic history of Parisian French. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lüpke, Friederike & Anne Storch. 2013. Repertoires and choices in African languages. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Manessy, Gabriel. 1990. Modes de structuration des parlers urbaines. In Robert Chaudenson (ed.), Des langues et des villes, 7–23. Paris: ACCT/Didier Erudition. Manessy, Gabriel. 1992. Normes endogènes et normes pédagogiques en Afrique Noire. In Daniel Baggioni, Luis-Jean Calvet, Robert Chaudenson, Gabriel Manessy & Didier de Robbilard (eds.), Multilinguisme et développement dans l’espace francophone, 43–75. Paris: ACCT/ Didier Érudition.

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Manessy, Gabriel. 1994. Normes endogènes et français de référence. In Gabriel Manessy (ed.), Le français en Afrique Noire: Mythes, stratégies, pratiques, 215–227. Paris: L’Harmattan. Matras, Yaron. 2009. Language contact. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McLaughlin, Fiona. 2008. On the origins of urban Wolof: Evidence from Louis Descemet’s 1864 phrase book. Language in Society 37. 713–735. McLaughlin, Fiona. 2009. Senegal’s early cities and the making of an urban language. In Fiona McLaughlin (ed.), The languages of urban Africa, 71–85. New York: Continuum. Mesthrie, Rajend & Ellen Hurst. 2013. Slang registers, code-switching and restructured urban varieties in South Africa: An analytic overview of Tsotsitaals with special reference to the Cape Town variety. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 28(1). 103–130. Milroy, James & Lesley Milroy. 1985. Linguistic change, social network and speaker innovation. Journal of Linguistics 21. 339–384. Müller-Thurau, Claus Peter. 1983. Laß uns mal `ne Schnecke angraben: Sprache und Sprüche der Jugendszene. Düsseldorf: Econ Verlag. Nassenstein, Nico. 2011. Tozóyékola Lingala: eine Einführung in die aktuelle Sprache von Kinshasa. Aachen: Shaker Media. Nassenstein, Nico. 2014. A grammatical study of the youth language Yanké. München: Lincom. Neuland, Eva. 2006. Deutsche Jugendsprache Heute: total normal? In Christa Dürscheidt & Jürgen Spitzmüller (eds.), Perspektiven der Jugendsprachforschung, 51–73. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Neuland, Eva (ed.). 2007. Jugendsprachen: Mehrsprachig, kontrastiv, interkulturell. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Ntshangase, Dumisani K. 2002. Language and language practices in Soweto. In Rajend Mesthrie (ed.), Language in South Africa, 407–418. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ploog, Katja. 2001. Le non-standard entre norme endogène et fantasme d’unicité. Cahiers d’Études Africaines 41(3–4). 423–442. Ploog, Katja & Uli Reich. 2006. Urbane Prozesse. Migration und Variation in Lima, São Paulo und Abidjan. In Thomas Krefeld (ed.), Modellando lo spazio in linguistica/ Modellierung sprachlicher Räume, 215–256. Frankfurt: Lang. Rampton, Ben. 2010. From ‘multi-ethnic urban heteroglossia’ to ‘contemporary urban vernaculars’. Working Papers in Urban Language & Literacies 61. http://www.kcl.ac.uk/ldc (accessed 11 June 2014). Rudd, Philip W. 2009. Nairobi, Sheng and the creole-interlanguage continua. Paper presented at the Sixth World Congress of African Linguistics. University of Cologne, Germany, August 2009. Salami, L. Oladipo. 1991. Diffusion and focusing: Phonological variation and social networks in Ile-Ife, Nigeria. Language in Society 20(1). 217–245. Schieffelin, Bambi B., Kathryn A. Woolard & Paul V. Kroskrity. 1998. Language ideologies: Practice and theory. New York: Oxford University Press. Southall, Aidan (ed). 1973. Urban anthropology. Cross-cultural studies of urbanization. New York: Oxford University Press. Le Page, Robert B. & Andrée Tabouret-Keller. 1985. Acts of identity: Creole-based approaches to language and ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vertovec, Steven. 2007. Super-diversity and its implications. Ethnic and Racial Studies 30. 1024–1054. Vertovec, Steven. 2010. Towards post-multiculturalism? Changing communities, contexts and conditions of diversity. International Social Science Journal 199. 83–95.

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Vold Lexander, Kristin. 2011. Texting and African language literacy. New Media & Society 13(3). 427–443. Wiese, Heike. 2006. ‘Ich mach dich Messer’: Grammatische Produktivität in Kiez-Sprache (‘KanakSprak’), Linguistische Berichte [Linguistic reports] 207. 245–273. Wiese, Heike, Ulrike Freywald, Sören Schalowski & Katharina Mayr. 2012. Das Kiez DeutschKorpus: Spontansprachliche Daten Jugendlicher aus Urbanen Wohngebieten. Deutsche Sprache 2. Wilson, Catherina. 2012. The Congolese Yankee. Leiden: Leiden University MA Thesis.

Rose Marie Beck

3 Sheng: an urban variety of Swahili in Kenya1 Abstract: This paper critically contributes to the question of what a descriptive approach can contribute to the clarification of the linguistic status of Sheng. As a starting point I take my own experience of the transparency of the transcripts of conversations amongst young people from Eastleigh (Nairobi) which were labeled “Sheng”. From this follows a methodological and conceptual critique of the available literature on Sheng that aims at operationalizing the notion of linguistic practice and language as resource. As one possible alternative I suggest to make use of a repertoire based approach to language description and applying a corpus linguistic perspective to the data. From that point of view, however, categorial distinctions between Swahili, Nairobi Swahili and Sheng lose relevance. Taking (Standard) Swahili as a descriptive background, the results show that the verbal complex is marked by a surprisingly high degree of Swahili linguistic proficiency and some innovation. Restructuring and reduction is mainly visible within the nominal phrase. Therefore the results support the literature with regard to the nominal phrase, albeit from the background of a more “disinterested” data collection. In addition, processes of innovation and restructuring are displayed through the instability of the phenomena that become visible in the corpus. Finally, I suggest understanding Sheng primarily as the name given to urban/urban youth practices of which linguistic practices are but one aspect.

1 Introduction Sheng is generally seen as an urban or youth language based on Swahili (Bantu G42) and is spoken mostly in Nairobi, Kenya.2 First documentations of Sheng

1 This article is based on my Habilitationsvortrag “Sheng aus bantuistischer Sicht”, Faculty of Linguistics and Cultural Studies (Fachbereich 09 Sprach- und Kulturwissenschaften), Goethe University of Frankfurt 2 July 2008. The text was translated by Kathrin Tiewa Ngninzhéga, University of Mainz. I am grateful to Manuela Kirberg for final formatting and proofreading. 2 For an overview of youth languages in Africa see Kießling and Mous (2004), for urban languages in Africa see McLaughlin (2009) and Beck (2010).

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can be found in the feuilletons of Kenyan daily newspapers from the late 1970s. Indications for earlier forms of Sheng can apparently be dated back to Nairobi’s social underbelly of the 1930s (Mazrui 1995, Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997). Spyropoulos dates Sheng to the early 1950s (1987: 30). Carol Myers-Scotton’s seminal writings on code-switching certainly display some forms of Sheng (e.g. 1993). From the 1990s onwards, Sheng has enjoyed wider attention in the Kenyan context in society as well as in linguistics. Early commentaries were mainly concerned with fears regarding the potential danger to existing standards, language corruption, decreases in the speakers’ linguistic competence, extensive processes of borrowing from contact languages such as English, Gikuyu, Luhya, Ekegusii and Dholuo and also, apparently, massive grammatical reduction. This (de)valuative point of view is still being reproduced today by speakers of Sheng who – when asked – state that their language does not have any grammar (Natascha Bing, p.c., 2012). Since Sheng has started to spread not only among the poor and the young, but across the whole city and even beyond (see e.g. Kioko, this volume), the phenomenon has been met with ambivalent attitudes about the status of the speakers’ linguistic behavior that resound with society’s ambivalence about contemporary urbanity and life in the city. With regard to academic literature, over the last few years an increasingly differentiated and more pragmatic discussion can be observed in the Kenyan context: It has become clear that this speech form as an urban phenomenon has become an inherent part of everyday life in Nairobi and has found its place in the media, schools and even in politics.3 In its early publications, academic study is not quite devoid of prejudice, especially within investigations of the lexicon, because this is where the influence of English and thus the “corruption” of Swahili becomes apparent. Presuppositions about the role and prestige of English and Swahili in the Kenyan context as well as speech competences among Sheng speakers were relevant in this context as well.4 The early literature further assumed that the development of Sheng was brought about by communicative necessity. From about 2000 onwards the number of qualitatively significant linguistic and sociolinguistic investigations, as well as further analyses which see the linguistic phenomenon in a wide range of different social and cultural contexts, has fortunately increased (Githinji 2006, 2008, Momanyi 2009, Ogechi 2003, 2005a, 2005b). Among the

3 See also, for instance, the article in the online version of the Kenyan daily “Standard” from October 27th, 2012, http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/?articleID=2000069320&story_title=KenyaWhy-Sheng-craze-is-unlikely-to-die-down-among-urbanites (accessed 5 November 2012). 4 Cf. McLaughlin (2001: 162–163) about knowledge of French among speakers of the urban Wolof in Dakar.

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questions discussed in current Africanist linguistics, those inquiring into language birth and the status of Sheng within the system of languages (Mous 2012, Kang’ethe-Iraki 2004), its status as a hybrid or a “mixed language” (Bosire 2006, 2008, 2009, Githiora 2002, Shinagawa 2006, 2007), or a combination of these topics seem to be of particular interest. The following paper is intended as a contribution towards these issues. The implicit argument is that much literature takes for granted a correlation between the social phenomenon – Sheng as an urban youth “language” – and its linguistic expression. However, this correlation remains implicit, unclarified and, most importantly, undertheorized. The explicit argument is directed towards methodological approaches in research on Sheng so far, which are considered either unspecific or too restricted (see below). It will be shown that there is reason to see Sheng as a variety of Swahili and that the observable restructuring can be interpreted systematically in the context of Swahili and Bantu paths of development. The data clearly show that, especially with respect to the verbal complex, Sheng is influenced to a limited extent by restructuring. Reduction or simplification cannot be observed (but see Shinagawa 2007). Instead there is some innovation. For the noun class system, viewed from a corpus-based perspective, only preliminary statements can be made. Although there are indications for a reduction of genders, especially with regard to controller genders, a high variability and redundancy of forms and word order are the main phenomena that can be observed within the nominal phrase. The data analyzed in the following consist of a corpus of about 32,000 words of recorded conversations made in November 2007 between young men and women, who were mainly from Eastleigh (Nairobi). They claimed to be speaking Sheng, which was confirmed by other participants. These conversations were transcribed and analyzed from a corpus-linguistic perspective. The data were thus not collected with the aim of conducting a linguistic analysis. As the size of the corpus is limited, this study must therefore be seen as exploratory.

2 Methodological background In November 2007 I was invited by the GIZ (Deutsche Gesellschaft für internationale Zusammenarbeit – German society for international cooperation) to evaluate an educational game on HIV/AIDS, which had been designed for youths from the urban slums of Nairobi. The game was adapted by the GIZ in 2007 from its German model developed in the 1980s by the Federal Centre for Health Education (BzgA and GTZ 2006; see also Beck 2009). According to their

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everyday intuitive knowledge, the Kenyan facilitators, who were from Nairobi and who conducted the educational game for the GIZ, as well as Prof. Dr. Nathan Ogechi from Moi University of Eldoret, Kenya, who observed the course of the game, stated that the attendants spoke Sheng. In order to transcend the dichotomy between what participants say they do and what they actually do, we transcribed the texts with the aim of gaining access to their verbal (and non-verbal) behavior through conversation analysis in an ethnomethodological approach. But while transcribing what was described as “Sheng”, I was surprised at how “normal” the texts were, and how accessible the material was with my knowledge of Swahili. Apart from some words and expressions the material was fairly transparent. This was in no way as exceptional as I had expected from my knowledge of the available literature.5 So I started to wonder what kind of object had been looked at, looked for and constructed by (socio-) linguistic research on Sheng so far. What would happen, if I took at face value that “this” was Sheng and looked at it with a suitable conceptual and methodological background? In what ways could a change of perspective be useful for a linguistic perspective on this phenomenon? In the investigations with which I am familiar, data were usually collected by asking informants to produce Sheng. Githinji (2006) for example, gave his informants a list of items and asked them to produce a Sheng equivalent, or else he asked for specific Sheng vocabulary. Many authors do not make their methods of data collection explicit (e.g. Kioko, this volume). Sometimes the material is anecdotal (e.g. Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997). Texts from Nairobi’s music scene are increasingly used, as they represent a particularly rich source for the use of Sheng (Samper 2004, Ferrari 2004, 2006, among others). From a linguistic point of view they are, however, limited in that poetic rules on the one hand limit linguistic choices while at the same time poetic texts explore the limits of what is linguistically possible. Poetic texts are thus not representative of everyday linguistic behavior. Shinagawa (2007) makes use of literary texts (Maillu 1989 and texts from Kwani?), too. However, he explicitly includes in his corpus only a limited set of examples, which according to his pre-analysis display code-mixing. These are incomplete data for the analysis of a language system insofar as the focus is only on a limited range of linguistic characteristics, i.e. on those phenomena which mark difference. The problem is that with this kind of data we run the risk of inferring the phenomenon we set out to 5 Or from informal talk with some linguists, who would claim that Sheng was not researcheable for its great variability of lexicon. A further possibility could be that it is in the interest of its speakers to emphasize the differences between what is perceived as a hegemonial form of language (Standard Swahili) and what they speak (see Kießling and Mous (2004) on antilanguage).

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describe. Accordingly, an approach that starts from actual everyday linguistic practices such as conversations, and which in a methodologically relevant way indiscriminately looks at the data thus obtained, allows for a broader perspective on Sheng. This short circuit – inferring the phenomenon instead of describing it – may be owed to the fact that this urban phenomenon has a name which seems to make reference to languages. The etymology of “Sheng” as a contraction of “Swahili” and “English” (cf. Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997) or of “Swahili English slang” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 311, their emphasis) is not convincing – where does, for instance, the voiceless palatal fricative ʃ come from? However, as de Féral (2009) points out, there are differences in naming and categorizing (linguistic) practices between speakers/practitioners and observing linguists and other outsiders (journalists, educationalists, etc.). Therefore the connection between what is perceived as a language name by linguists and the linguistic phenomena it represents, as well as what Sheng denotes for its users, including that the language name could stand for an urban practice per se, may need to be specified. Undisputedly Sheng can be seen as an urban dissident practice which also contains linguistic aspects (e.g. Kießling and Mous 2004: 313, 316). However, it has been shown to be more difficult to define Sheng as a “language” or a “variety”. The focus on linguistic difference from Standard or Nairobi Swahili certainly assumes the existence of a linguistic entity with an uncomplicated relationship to a social reality, much in parallel to the long held supposition that if there is a term “Shona” there should be a linguistic entity corresponding to a social entity, or vice versa. That this is too simple has been shown, for instance, with regard to non-French-speaking Francocanadians (Heller 1999). Furthermore, Harries (1988, 1995) reconstructs the emergence of Tsonga in Southeastern Africa as owing to mission politics informed by homogenizing ideas about linguistic description. With regard to contemporary urban contexts, McLaughlin observes that while the inhabitants may still make reference to such colonially connoted categorizations, the concepts must be critically evaluated: “[T]he terms of the new paradigm are not forthcoming, but the terms of the old no longer mean what they once did” (McLaughlin 2001: 170). Returning to methodological and conceptual questions raised by the data collected in November 2007, I suggest a change of perspective on two levels. First, I assume that there is some kind of linguistic correlate of the contemporary urban speech practice called Sheng that becomes visible in my data. Second, in order to gain a broader insight into what Sheng can be, language description should be based on naturally occurring, i.e. practical use of language. I therefore adapt a resource-based approach to language which includes both individual as well as societal linguistic repertoires on which speakers

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draw in order to manage any kind of task at hand (see also Blommaert 2009, Blommaert and Rampton 2011, Otsuji and Pennycook 2010, Makoni et al. 2007). Language in this sense is primarily understood not as a stable object consisting of a fixed set of rules (grammar) and an open inventory of items (lexicon), but rather as a fluid knowledge sediment with particular routines attached to it that is incrementally operationalized, invoked and put to use in a particular situation. Since we can safely assume that Sheng speakers are multilingual, this approach can be more precisely described as “plurilingual mode” (Waldburger 2012: 115–117): “bilingual (or multilingual) speakers have a complex repertoire of linguistic structures at their disposal. This repertoire is not organized in the form of ‘languages’ or ‘language systems’; the latter is a meta-linguistic construct and a label which speakers learn to apply to their patterns of linguistic behavior as part of a process of linguistic socialization. Rather, elements of the repertoire (word-forms, phonological rules, constructions, and so on) gradually become associated, through a process of linguistic socialization with a range of social activities, including factors such as sets of interlocutors, topics, and institutional settings.” (Matras 2009: 4).

Linguistic competency therefore is the result of linguistic socialization, which includes all elements of the repertoire; linguistic behavior can thus be marked in various ways and to varying extents by code-mixing/switching. More important for the aims of my paper is that “multilingual speakers do not ‘block’ or ‘switch off’ one of their languages when communicating in another, but that they have the full, complex linguistic repertoire at their disposal at all times” (Matras 2009: 5). Elicited data, as are prevalent so far in the literature on Sheng, are also a part of speech behavior. Strictly speaking these are data which originate in linguistic experiments, and whose form and content are determined by the researcher, his/her particular interests and his/her theoretical assumptions about language, and not necessarily by the speech behavior of the speaker or speakers. Usually such data aim at closely connecting speech behavior and speech structure, if possible without detour via everyday speech practice. The advantages of this procedure are obvious. In contrast, there are data which are collected without precisely defined linguistic goals but rather with the aim of displaying, as representatively as possible, the speech practice of a particular speech community. The advantage of this data collection method is that such corpora display actual language usage including everyday speech. They may consist of sound and video recordings and their transcriptions or the collection of text documents of all kinds. The difference between data collected in linguistic experiments and those taken from a corpus of naturally occurring language is that the former are oriented towards linguistic structure whereas the latter are

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oriented towards speech practice. Linguistic experiments, as described above, and corpus data may complement each other depending on the circumstances and questions of research. In this study, the methodology takes a corpus linguistic approach (Köhler 2005, Stubbs 2008, de Beaugrande 2001) which enables a naturalistic understanding of the data; elements of structure, lexis and grammar are observed with a focus on the real behavior of the speakers in a specific situation. The corpus consists of about 32,000 words, a quarter of which have been analyzed intensively. Breaks, corrections, hesitations and filling elements are therefore part of the data, and constitute about 15% of my material. However, these will not be integrated into the following description. Obviously, there also exist some elements which occur frequently and some which do not. The type-token ratio for nominal elements is 1:4 and for verbal elements 1:2. Not all elements which ought to be considered from a descriptive point of view can be found in the data. Lexis and grammar can, therefore, not be dealt with extensively. This is, however, typical of small corpora and even large corpora only resolve this limitation through their statistical significance (representativeness, homogeneity, extreme skew of the frequency distribution in occurring forms; see Köhler 2005: 5–6). In the description that follows, I nevertheless make reference to available descriptive resources from general Bantu language studies, since the influence of the Bantu languages of the urban catchment of Nairobi, such as Gikuyu, Luhyia and Ekegusii, defined as being Bantu G languages in the Guthrie classification (Guthrie 1948), has been amply demonstrated. Standard Swahili, as represented by Ashton (1944) or Schadeberg (1992), as well as literature on Sheng (eg. Bosire 2006, Shinagawa 2007 and others), are also taken into account. Within African linguistics, Swahili and also the other Bantu languages have been described extensively on a synchronic and diachronic level. The argumentative thrust is not to discuss the differences between these various “languages” (Bantu is no language anyway) but to provide a framework for analysis of the data at hand. The focus on the verbal complex and the nominal phrase runs along common descriptive linguistic paths and enables further insights into Sheng beyond sociolinguistic definitions. The question of borrowing, codeswitching and lexical innovation in Sheng is not considered in this paper as these topics are positioned at the interface of empirical linguistics and sociolinguistics. These topics can and should be reconsidered later, when a better descriptive basis has been established. Since the data were collected in order to evaluate the appropriateness of the adaptation of the game to the Kenyan context, and not for linguistic reasons, it can be assumed that the speakers made free use of their linguistic resources in

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the context of the topic of the game, HIV/AIDS prevention. As the results of the analysis show (see below), the topic of the game imposed a limit on the number of lexical items used, but not of grammatical forms. Moreover, not all elements displayed in the appendices will be systematically discussed. My aims are to show, against the intuition of current debates, the proximity of Sheng to Swahili and to disprove widely spread allegations of reduced linguistic competencies (of Swahili) by the Sheng speakers recorded here. In the conclusion I shall return to some implications of the methodological approach applied in this paper.

3 The verbal complex An overview of selected aspects of the verbal morphology found in the corpus is presented in Appendix 1. The forms are arranged according to the description used for Standard Swahili (for reference see Schadeberg (1992)), which, given the fact that the matrix language for Sheng is some form of Swahili, is obviously a well-defined point of comparison.

3.1 TAM and copulae Minimally, in Swahili, the verbal complex consists of a subject or agreement marker (SC 6), a tense-aspect-modality marker (TAM ), a verbal stem and a final vowel (FV ). In negative clauses a negation marker (NEG ) precedes the subject or agreement marker, or sometimes, depending on TAM marking, follows it. Optionally, object (OCD ) or relative (REL) markers can be inserted after the TAM marker. Finally it is also possible to include derivational elements (DER ) between the verbal base and the final vowel (for a more precise description see Schadeberg (1992); a summary of abbreviations used can be found at the end of this paper). In addition, a number of copulae can be mentioned here, which roughly follow a similar pattern, i.e. generally consist of a subject marker and an element of reference to place or association. In this corpus a wide range of verbal forms can be found which show coherence with Swahili in terms of tense, aspect and mode. Nearly all forms appear.7 There are only a few constructions which differ from Standard Swahili and at the same time do not show a systematic structure at least against a Bantuist 6 All abbreviations of Swahili morphology follow Schadeberg’s Sketch of Swahili morphology (1992). 7 The marginal form -ngali-is missing.

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background. In general, negative forms appear only rarely in the corpus (examples (18), (22), (24); see also example (19) further below). (18)8

(22)

A-si-contract. 1-NEG -contract-(FVØ ) ‘So that she doesn’t contract [HIV].’ Mie si 1SG . PRON . POSS NEG . ID.COP ‘I am no genius.’

genius. (9)genius

With two exceptions (examples (22), (24)), copula forms appear in affirmative forms: (26)

A-ko positive. 1-LOC .COP (9)positive ‘She is [HIV] positive.’

(27)

A-ko ni carrier. 1-LOC .COP ID.COP (9)carrier ‘She is a carrier [of HIV].’

(28)

A-ko na ball, ama 1-LOC .COP CONN (9)pregnancy or(CONJ ) ‘She is pregnant or HIV positive.’

HIV HIV

positive. positive

The future tense (example 12) can only be found once: (12)

A-ta-tak-a ma-neno. 1-FUT-want-FV 6-word ‘She will want to talk.’9

Monosyllabic verbs in Swahili may or may not include the affix -ku- (class 15) in penultimate syllable position in order to secure the obligatory stress on the penultimate syllable, depending on the respective TAM morphemes (Ashton 1944: 142–144). In Swahili, -ku- is applied if the penultimate stress would fall on 8 All language examples are listed in a table in the appendix where they are systematically arranged and numbered. From there they are quoted in this paper in a deviant order. 9 This translation derives from the context (not: she will want to fight).

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an element which cannot be stressed. Bosire (2006: 189) writes that in Sheng -ku- can be found in all tenses, aspects and moods both in the negative and the affirmative. (11)

Ha-ja-ku-w-a VCT. 1.NEG - CXP-15-be-FV VCT ‘She hasn’t been to the VCT [Voluntary Testing and Counseling] yet.’

(14)

A-ku-l-e mboga. 9vegetable 1-15-eat-FV ‘She should eat vegetables.’

This is a discrepancy from Swahili. It is probable that the corresponding rules prescribing that -ku- must precede all verbs containing only one syllable10 have been copied from closer contact languages such as Gikuyu, Meru and possibly also Luhya, in which -ku- must precede all verbs containing only one syllable. A surprising complexity of coordinated and subordinated phrases were discovered in the data for the modal marker -nge- (examples (19), (20)), which is known as the “conditional” in Swahilist literature. (19) Ni-nge-ku-wa tu m-janja si-nge-duu k-enye 1SG - COND -15-be-FV only(ADV ) 1-clever 1SG . NEG - COND -do-FVØ 17-POSS wa-na-ni-ambi-a ni-duu. 2-PRS - OCD 1SG -say-FV 1SG - ØSUBJ-do-FVØ ‘If I only were clever, I wouldn’t do what the others tell me to do.’ (20)

A-nge-tumi-a condom. 1-COND -use-FV 9condom ‘She should use a condom/She should have used a condom.’

Example (20) enables two readings from the context of the speech situation, one which denotes the use of a condom as an option for action, and the other which depicts this option as retrospectively impossible. Swahili and also Sheng have three different copula forms: identity, locality and association (Bearth 1995: 209). Examples (21) and (22) show the copula of identity ni and the negative form si.

10 I am grateful for this information to Dr. Frida Kanana (p.c., June 2008).

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(21)

Baba-ke ni gavaa. (9)father-POSS . 3SG ID.COP (9)police officer ‘Her father is a police officer.’

(22)

Mie si 1G . PRON . POSS NEG . ID.COP ‘I am no genius.’

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genius. (9)genius

The copula forms which imply existence can be found in both Sheng and Swahili and are connected with -na (with), as shown in examples (23) and (24). (23)

Ku-na wengine [wa-ingine]. 17-EX .COP 2-others ‘There are others.’

(24)

problem. (9)problem ‘There is no problem.’

Ha-i-na

NEG -9-EX . COP

Apart from these copulae, locative copulae can often be found which end in -ko and code a local existence. The copulae ending with -ko as found in examples (25) and (29) represent an independent development in Sheng. (25a)

A-ko kolee. 1-LOC .COP (9)college ‘She is at college.’

(29)

dem a-ko girl 1-LOC .COP ‘The girl has six lovers.’

(25b)

U-u

na

DEM 1-1

CONN

Yu-ko kolee. 3SG - LOC .COP (9)college ‘She is at college.’

ma-chali 6-boy/lover

wa-sita. 2-six

These examples show the locative copula with the 3rd person singular: not with the pronominal concord yu as in yuko, as would be the form in Standard Swahili, but rather with the subject concord of class 1a (the Standard Swahili form, also taken from this corpus, is given in example (25b)). Example (26) also shows this form of the copula. Its content, however, refers to the copula ni which implies identity. (26)

A-ko positive. 1-LOC .COP (9)positive ‘She is [HIV] positive.’

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Ako and ni therefore compete. Example (27) shows the forms occurring together.11 (27)

A-ko ni carrier. 1-LOC .COP ID.COP (9)carrier ‘She is a carrier [of HIV].’

Examples (28) and (29) raise the question of whether the locative copula has extended functions, such as that of association. (28)

A-ko 1-LOC .COP

na CONN

ball, (9)pregnancy

ama or(CONJ )

HIV HIV

positive positive

ama or(CONJ )

a-ko na hi-zi ma-STI-s. 1-LOC .COP CONN DEM 9-9 6-STI-PL ‘She is pregnant, or she has HIV, or she has these . . . sexually transmittable diseases.’ (29)

U-u

na

DEM 1-1

dem a-ko Girl 1-LOC .COP ‘The girl has six lovers.’

CONN

ma-chali 6-boy/lover

wa-sita. 2-six

The progress of this process and its stability will have to be examined using further data. In contrast to what has been observed with regard to Kisetla Kenya Pidgin (Heine 1973), nothing seems to point at petrifaction or the taking over of functions by the form iko, which is formed with the subject concord of class 9 and the locative copula. Shinagawa (2007: 160) interprets the existence of forms such as ako as an indicator for the simplification of concords. My corpus is too small to systematically show such simplification in the agreement patterns for verbs (but see below on the nominal complex). From a functional and semantic point of view ako could be analyzed in terms of the adoption of the functions of a copula, implying identity by a locative copula. Additionally the choice of the subject concord a- from class 1 shows that the locative copula has a higher functional load. The copula, therefore, can be interpreted to contain more of the characteristics of a verb.

11 The question of whether these two forms occur in parallel or compete, i.e. whether ako can be replaced by ni and vice versa, cannot be answered from the data in this corpus.

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3.2 Extensions Verbal extensions belong to the most complex phenomena of the Swahili verbal system, as they occur at the interface of morphology, syntax, semantics and pragmatics and necessitate high competence of the speaker in their application. Sheng regularly makes use of these (see examples (31) to (35)). (30)

A-na-donee. 1-PROG -donate-FVØ ‘She donates [sex].’

(31)

A-na-m-donat-i-a. 1-PRS -1OCD -donate(sex)-CAUS - FV ‘She donates sex to him.’

Example (31) shows the causative extension of ‘donate’, donat-ia. Donee constitutes an example of borrowing from English donate. We talk of borrowing because we find a semantic manipulation which has taken place already. In this particular case donate means “to donate sex”, or, as can be understood from the conversation, to exchange sex for different types of natural produce. What is interesting about example (31) is that it is in contrast to example (30), where the basic form of the verb can be found: donee. This is a truncation which is typical of Sheng and is followed by the extension of the final vowel. The final vowel -a, which is a regular form in Swahili, is missing in the inflected form. This, however, is not totally new as we know that other borrowings, especially those from Arabic which end in -i or -u, also lack the vowel a in the inflected form. The basic form done has, therefore, undergone truncation and has not been completely assimilated on the morphological level. For the verbal extension in example (30) the basic English form is referred to, although the derivation of donee, donea would also have been possible. The speaker’s intuition refers to the basic English form which differs from the basic Sheng form, donee. The verbal extension -ang-, an innovation from the point of view of Standard Swahili, can often be found in my corpus. Such is the case in examples (32) to (34) with anawanga, anamwondoanga and wanafanyanga. (32)

A-na-w-ang-a a-na-mw-ondo-a. 1-PRS -be-REP-FV 1-PROG -1OCD -have sex-FV ‘She usually sleeps with him.’

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(33)

A-na-mw-ondo-ang-a. 1-PRS -1OCD -have sex-REP- FV ‘She repeatedly sleeps with him’

(34)

Wa-na-fany-ang-a. 2-PRS -do-REP- FV ‘They repeatedly do.’

This form is analyzed in Luhya and Gikuyu as “diffusive” (Benson 1964: xi).12 Schadeberg (2003: 72) reconstructs -ang- for Proto-Bantu and calls this extension “repetitive”. Shinagawa (2007: 164–165), referring to Meeussen’s (1967) reconstruction, adds the grammatical functions of habituality, imperfective and emphasis for this form. A particularly good example of this extension can be seen in (35). It is an – albeit in my corpus unique – example for the stacking of extensions, a common phenomenon in Bantu languages: (35)

Ha-gaw-iw-ang-w-i. 1NEG -share-PASS - REP- PASS - FV ‘He has repeatedly not gotten his share.’

The utterance in this context constitutes a sympathetic reaction of a participant towards a young man from the slum, whose girlfriend only sleeps with the rich boys and not with him, although he is serious about her.

3.3 Double verb forms The fact that Sheng speakers are highly competent in Swahili can further be illustrated by double verb forms. A double verb form is a verbal construction with the auxiliary verb ‘to be’ and a main verb. By combining tense, aspect and modality and distributing the morphemes on both constituents, several perspectives of one incident can be taken. Usually the auxiliary verb situates the incident temporally, i.e. anteriorly, simultaneously or posteriorly, whereas the TAM marker on the main verb indicates the aspect or modality. A marking of aspect on both the auxiliary and the main verb is also possible. Such a form

12 Shinagawa (2007: 155–156) additionally mentions a form -engo, an extension expressing emphatic modality, for which he analyzes -eng- as Luhya and -o as Dholuo. The import of a Luo morpheme into Swahili/Sheng derivational morphology or as final vowel clearly still needs to be explained further. Without additional contexts this cannot be attempted here.

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can be found in example (32) where anawanga anamwondoa is translated as “she usually sleeps with him”. (32)

A-na-w-ang-a a-na-mw-ondo-a. 1-PRS -be-REP-FV 1-PROG -1OCD -have sex-FV ‘She usually sleeps with him.’

(13) Wa Buru hu-w-ang-a a-na-mw-ondo-a. 1POSS .CONN Buruburu-Estate HAB -be-REP- FV 1-PROG -1OCD -have sex-FV ‘She repeatedly has sex with him [her lover] from Buruburu.’ The progressive is emphasized here by marking it both on the auxiliary and the main verb. Alternatively, the progressive form on the main verb can be emphasized/accentuated by the progressive on the auxiliary. At the same time the event is coded as being without a beginning or an end. The repetitive extension adds a pluractional meaning to the event. I was able to find such forms, especially those with repetitive extensions on the auxiliary, in my corpus. Example (13) shows a common variant of this form. The progressive of the main verb is categorized more precisely through the marking of the habitual aspect on the auxiliary. The latter coincides in meaning with the repetition of the action encoded by the extension -ang-. The progressive indicates incomplete action at a specific time, not boundlessness, whereas the habitual refers to repeated action performed over a longer period of time. A marked coding of boundlessness, duration and repetition is developed, or more precisely, the action expresses the girl repeatedly exchanging sex for natural produce over an indefinite period of time. I am not aware of such a form in Swahili, although the familiar grammatical mechanisms of Swahili have been advanced here. Possibly this is a process in which verb semantics and inflection interact on a morphological and functional level.

4 Nominal phrase The limits of the corpus which I have mentioned should be taken into consideration with respect to the nominal phrase. That means that because of the necessarily limited subject matter of the conversations the nominal class system cannot be illustrated in its full breadth. Instead, the nominal classes have to be reconstructed in combination with other qualifying elements, which are usually demonstrative pronouns and other pronominal and adverbial extensions such

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as -ingine ‘other’, -ote ‘all’, -ngapi ‘how many’, as well as possessive constructions. This is in accordance with the definition of class or gender, as class is a combination of a morphological class and the corresponding set of concord markers, i.e. a controller gender and a target gender (Corbett 1991: 151–152; Beck 2003: 312–313). The appendix shows elements exclusively taken from the corpus. Despite its limitations some tendencies can be observed, which seem to confirm the existing literature on the reduction of the complexity of the nominal class system as well as extensive borrowing in Sheng. Thus it can be stated that the separation into animate and inanimate, which has been described for Bantu in general and Swahili in particular, remains of primary relevance. The controller gender can, however, vary in Sheng and also in Swahili. It has been attested in the corpus that nouns with human referents which belong to the controller genders, i.e. to classes 1/2, 5/6 and 9/10, take the target gender 1/2. The exception is the combination of the possessive pronoun with some lexemes. Due to such combinatory phenomena it is common practice in Bantu studies to sub-divide classes 1 and 2 into 1 and 1a, 2 and 2a respectively. As Sheng has a significant number of terms for human referents in classes 5/6a, class 1b/2b is assumed to exist (see also the discussion in Beck 2003). As can be seen in the table, there are three classes to which inanimate referents are assigned and in which borrowings from English cannot be found. These are classes 3/4, 7/8 and 11. Ogechi (2003, 2005), Bosire (2006) and Githinji (2006) report a large number of lexemes to belong to classes 5/6. Surprisingly, in my corpus not many lexemes of class 5/6 (apart from terms for human referents) could be found. Many lexemes from classes 9/10 are in different stages of borrowing from English, for example condom, (play)station, chance and (HIV)status, which have been taken over directly without semantic manipulation. Assimilated to a higher degree are the well-known Swahili borrowings picha (‘picture’) and the Sheng word stoori (‘story’). The long vowel could perhaps be seen here as an interpretation of the Swahili penultimate stress and its transformation into vowel length in Sheng. In Swahili, classes 5/6 and 9/10 are the preferred noun classes to which borrowed words are assigned because of the phonological property of the initial syllable. The singular classes of both genders contain a large number of morphologically unmarked lexemes (Heine 1982, Pasch and Strauch 1998: 146). Bosire (2006) writes: “Sheng has made class 6 the ‘default’ plural class so that all nouns that traditionally do not have overt plurals (class 14) and most borrowed nouns especially those in class 9 that should be pluralized in class 10 (in standard Swahili), are all pluralized in class 6.” (Bosire 2006: 190)

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The tendency to prefer class 6 plurals has been described for Bantu in general by Francis Katamba (2003). The present corpus also supports this tendency with respect to terms referring to human referents. However, such a radical statement cannot be generally affirmed. It is likely that there is a connection between the paths of borrowing and its practice. Since material is borrowed on a large scale, it is probable that this reinforces the existing paths of gender allocation that have been attested in Bantu languages and their application to other areas of the lexicon. The instability of class or gender allocation becomes visible in the fluctuation of agreement markers, especially in the case of dependent demonstratives. The example of kitu (7/8) ‘thing’, whose markers of agreement with its dependent elements come from class 9/10 or 5/6, shows this clearly: (36)

hi-i

ki-tu DEM -9 7-thing ‘the thing’

i-le 9-DEM

(37a)

ki-tu i-ngine 7-thing 9-other ‘another thing’

(37b)

ki-tu hi-yo 7-thing 9-DEM . REF ‘the thing mentioned’

(37c)

zi-le vi-tu 10-DEM 8-thing ‘those things’

/ /

/ /

ki-tu 7-thing

ki-tu 7-thing

(38)

ma-vi-tu 6-8-thing ‘things’

(39)

vi-tu ha-zi-kam 8-thing NEG -10PROG -occur ‘the things don’t occur’

(40)

ki-tu first m-baya 7-thing first 1-bad ‘the first bad thing’

ki-le 7-DEM

ki-ngine 7-other

ki-tu 7-thing

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(41)

ki-tu ki-ngine ya 7-thing 7-other 9CONN ‘which third point’

tatu three

(42)

ki-tu ch-o-ch-ote ha-ki-ja-tokea NEG -7-CXP-occur 7-thing 7-REL -7-all ‘up until now nothing has happened’

(43)

ki-tu gani ki-baya 7-thing INTERR 7-bad ‘which bad thing’

Another matter is the instability or change of word order within a nominal phrase, which can be considered in the context of reorganization of the nominal complex/nominal structures. The proximal demonstrative pronoun is consequently positioned in front of the noun, as examples (44) to (49) show. (44a) u-u

dem DEM -1 (9)girl ‘the girl’

(44b) u-u

dem m-supa DEM -1 (9)girl 1-super ‘the good-looking girl’

(45a) ha-wa ma-chali DEM -2 6-boy/lover ‘the lovers’

(45b) ha-wa ma-chali w-ake DEM -2 6-boy/lover 1-POSS . PRON .3SG ‘these her lovers’

(45c) ma-chali wa-sita 6-boy/lover 2-six ‘six lovers’ (46a) hu-o chali DEM -1REF (5)boy/lover ‘this lover’

(46b) chali w-ake (5)boy/lover 1-POSS . PRON . 3SG ‘her lover’

(47a) hi-i

story (9)story ‘this story’ DEM -9

(48a) hi-i

ki-tu, ki-le ki-tu 7-thing, 7-dem 7-thing ‘this thing, the thing’ DEM -9

(48b) ki-tu hi-yo 7-thing DEM -9REF ‘the afore mentioned thing’

Sheng: an urban variety of Swahili in Kenya

(49a)

hi-i

picha (9)picture ‘the picture’ DEM -9

(50b)

(49b)

69

picha fulani (9)picture ‘a certain picture’

siku hi-zi (9/10)day DEM -10 ‘these days’

This kind of clause-initial positioning of demonstratives does not occur in Swahili or in the other Bantu languages which are relevant in this context. In Swahili the demonstrative pronoun is only positioned in front of the noun if it has a referential function. In my data, the proximal demonstrative pronoun loses its deictic function and is interpreted as an article. It can be seen in example (48a) that the non-proximal demonstrative pronoun -le, as in ki-le, is also affected by this reinterpretation. This hypothesis is supported by several accompanying phenomena. The referential demonstrative pronoun, as in example (48b), kitu hiyo, differs in the semantics of deictic reference in that it refers to something that has already been mentioned; it is thus not placed in clauseinitial position. Furthermore, all other modifiers are placed after the noun, as can be seen for instance in (44b) with the attributive noun msupa ‘the great one’, in (45b) and (46b) with the possessive pronoun wake ‘his/her’, in (45c) with the numeral six and in (49b) with the attributive noun fulani ‘so-and-so’. An example of unclear status is (50b), where the demonstrative pronoun of proximity follows the noun, siku hizi. In these and other similar cases, taking a construction grammar approach (cf. Deppermann 2006, Günthner and Imo 2006) plus a conversational analytical orientation, it could possibly be argued that siku hizi be considered as a stable construction meaning ‘these days’ which would have been taken over as a whole.

5 Conclusion In critically assessing the choice of conceptual and methodological approaches of resource-based and corpus linguistic analysis which are applied to this corpus of data, a number of conclusions can be drawn, despite the small size of the dataset. First, although this approach is not suited – and not intended – for a differentiation of the registers or varieties that the speakers make use of, some of the phenomena described for Sheng in the literature also occur in this corpus. This

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pertains in the first place to structural change in the nominal phrase. Looking at the high degree of lexical innovation in combination with the paths of gender allocation for borrowings, a tendency towards the classes 5/6 and 9/10 becomes visible. This conforms to a wider trend in Bantuist studies. The high instability in terms of the choice of concords of the lexemes stemming from genuine Swahili vocabulary shows that this restructuring is typical of what is commonly termed Sheng, and goes hand in hand with the reduction in the number of noun classes. Second, the analysis, which does not make any assumptions beforehand about registers and varieties, can show some processes more clearly, for instance that the change in the syntax of the noun phrase13 is still underway. The analysis can also demonstrate the high proficiency of the speakers as displayed in the morphological diversity used in the verbal complex. It is also here that innovative processes have become visible. Third, the repertoire-based perspective further allows for a reformulation of the debate around hybridity and language mixing. There is a need to realize that these notions make explicit our everyday intuitions and with them implicit assumptions about what a language is or should be. The notion of hybridity itself needs to be questioned, since it contains the idea of something that is not hybrid, i.e. pure, or, with regard to languages, in various ways a closed, bounded, systematic, relatively stable, entity. The experience of hybridity occurs whenever a phenomenon is perceived of as being dependent on at least two such entities.14 In other words, hybridity and mixing will be a topic – not only in linguistics, but in research on African urbanity – until a shift in paradigm occurs to the effect that the existence of a “Third Space” (Bhaba 1994) of its own right is broadly accepted and a new perspective beyond the source languages/phenomena becomes possible. As Debra Spitulnik writes, African urban languages seem to be “moving targets” (1998: 32), highly fluid and to varying degrees unstable phenomena oscillating between individual creativity and social transformation. It is therefore also questionable whether it makes sense at all in the current state of development of African urban languages to try to fix this fluidity with research on linguistic hybridity and mixing. If these data are Sheng, as has been claimed by some of the actors (facilitators, linguist) for the conversations analyzed here, then what is “Sheng”? In accordance with the state of research on African urban and urban youth languages, I suggest understanding Sheng as the name given to urban/urban 13 Structural leveling according to Shinagawa (2007). 14 This idea is retained in the notion of language birth and with it the same notion of a closed, bounded, stable entity.

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youth practices of which linguistic practices form an intrinsic part (see also Hurst 2009, Spitulnik 1998, Kießling and Mous 2004, McLaughlin 2009, to name but a few). Newell (2009) describes Nouchi of Abidjan and the Ivory Coast as a symbol for “ivoricité” and modern, urban life. The name itself displays this urbanity, as can be seen, for example, also in the wide circulation and high degree of variation of what is known as Indoubil/Kindubile in the DRC (Nassenstein 2012). The linguistic matrix changes from Lingala to Swahili, but apart from that, the practices connected to these names are marked by their urban context. A similar pattern can be found with the oscillation of the linguistic base between Tsotsitaal and Iscamtho (M. Mous, p.c.). Undoubtedly, in the case of “Sheng”, (Standard) Swahili forms the “matrix”, but this terminology in itself points to the fact that “Sheng” is a variety of Swahili and not yet something of its own. This resounds with my findings, for which I would maintain minimally that what was spoken by the young people in Eastleigh in November 2007 intensively draws on (Standard) Swahili as a resource, combining it with icons of urbanity, or shibboleths (Githinji 2006).

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Spitulnik, Debra. 1998. The language of the city: Town Bemba as urban hybridity. Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 8(1). 30–59. Spyropoulos Mary. 1987. Sheng: some preliminary investigations into a recently emerged Nairobi street language. Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 18(1). 125–136. Stubbs, Michael. 2008. The turn of the linguists: text, analysis, interpretation. In A. MüllerWood (ed.), Texting culture culturing texts. Essays in honour of Horst Breuer, 1–14. Trier: WVT. Waldburger, Daniela. 2012. Komorisch im transnationalen Kontext. Vienna: University of Vienna dissertation.

Appendix Table 3.1: Morphology of the verbal complex Affirmation

Negation

-na(present progressive)

NEG-SCdØ-. . . -FV-i

-a(general present)

-li(past)

NEG-SCdku-

(1)

mnathink m-na-think(-FVØ) 2PL- PROG -think ‘you think’

(2)

wanamchapisha wa-na-m-chapish-a 2- PROG -1OCD -publish-FV ‘they [pl.]?? her [sg.fem.]’

(3)

hawavai ha-wa-va-i NEG - 2-be dressed-FV ‘they are not dressed [as XY]’

(4)

hatunapenda ha-tu-na-pend-a NEG -1PL-PROG - like-FV

(4a)

hatupendi ha-tu-pend-i NEG -1PL-like-FV ‘we do not like [that]’

(5)

najua n-a-ju-a 1SG - PRS -know-FV ‘I know’

(6)

vitu alitoa vi-tu a-li-to-a 1-PST-give away-FV 8-thing ‘she gave away [her] thing’ (i.e. she had sex)

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(7)

mabeste wake hakufanya chochote ma-beste w-ake ha-ku-fany-a ch-o-ch-ote 6-friend 1-POSS . PRON 1NEG - PST-do-FV 7-REL-7-all ‘her friend did not do anything’

-me(perfect)

(8)

naye ameenda a-me-end-a na-ye 1-PRF -go-FV CONN -1PERS . PRON ‘he went with her’

-ka(subsecutive)

(9)

akaoga a-ka-og-a 1-SBS -shower-FV ‘[and] she showered’

(10)

akamchukua a-ka-m-chuku-a 1-SBS -1OCD -take-FV ‘[and] he took her with him’

NEG-SCdja- (contraexpectative)

(11)

VTC hajakuwa VTC ha-ja-ku-w-a 1NEG - CXP -15-be-FV (9)VTC ‘she hasn’t been to the VCT [Voluntary Testing and Counseling] yet’

[NEG-ta-]

(12)

maneno atataka ma-neno a-ta-tak-a 1-FUT-want-FV 6-word ‘she will want to talk’

(13)

Buru huwanga wa Buru hu-w-ang-a wa 1POSS . CONN Buruburu-Estate HAB -be-REP - FV

-ta(future)

-hu(“habitual”)

anamwondoa a-na-mw-ondo-a 1-PROG -1OCD -have sex-FV ‘she repeatedly has sex with him [her lover] from Buruburu’ -Ø- . . .-FV-e (subjunctive)

SCd-NEG. . .FV-e

(14)

mboga akule mboga a-ku-l-e 1-Ø -15-eat-FV 9vegetable ‘she should eat vegetables’

(15)

tuseme tu-sem-e 1PL- Ø -say-FV ‘let’s say’

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-ki(conditional)

-nge(conditional)

(SCd)NEG-nge

(16)

lakini alale na mmoja lakini a-lal-e na m-moja but 1- Ø -sleep-FV CONN 1-one ‘but she should [only] sleep with one’

(17)

nikiwapa ni-ki-wa-pa 1SG - COND -2OCD -give-FV ‘if I give them’

(18)

asicontract a-si-contract 1-NEG -contract-(FVØ ) ‘so that she doesn’t contract an illness’

(19)

tu mjanja ningekuwa tu m-janja ni-nge-ku-w-a 1SG - COND -15-be-FV only(ADV ) 1-clever singeduu kenye si-nge-duu k-enye 1SG . NEG - COND -do-(FVø) 17-possessive wananiambia niduu wa-na-ni-ambi-a ni-duu 2-PRS - OCD. 1SG -say-FFV 1SG -SUBJ -do-(FVØ ) ‘if I were clever, I wouldn’t do what the others tell me to do’

(20)

angetumia condom a-nge-tumi-a condom 1-COND -use-FV (9)condom ‘she should use a condom/she should have used a condom’

(21)

babake bab-ake (9)father-POSS ‘her father is a

(22)

mie si genius mie si genius 1SG . POSS . PRON NEG . ID. COP (9)genius ‘I am no genius’

(23)

wengine kuna wa-ingine ku-na 17-EX . COP 2-others ‘there are others’

Copulae ni/ndi(identity)

-na (existence)

si/si-

NEG-SCd-na

ni ni

gavaa gavaa ID. COP (9)police.officer police officer’

Sheng: an urban variety of Swahili in Kenya

-ko (general location)

[NEG-SCd-ko]

(24)

haina problem ha-i-na problem NEG -9-EX . COP (9)problem ‘there is no problem’

(25a)

kolee ako kolee a-ko 1-LOC . COP (9)college ‘she is at college’

(25b)

yuko kolee yu-ko kolee 3SG - LOC . COP (9)college ‘she is at college’

(26)

ako positive a-ko positive 1-LOC . COP (9)positive ‘she is [HIV] positive’

77

-ko ni (local identity?)

??

(27)

ako ni carrier a-ko ni carrier 1-LOC . COP ID. COP (9)carrier ‘she is a carrier [of HIV]’

-ko na (local association?)

??

(28)

na ball ama HIV ako na ball ama HIV a-ko 1-LOC . COP CONN (9)ball/pregnancy CONJ (9)HIV positive ama ako na hizi positive ama a-ko na hi-zi (9)positive CONJ 1- LOC . COP CONN DEM -9 . . .maSTIs . . .ma-STI-s 6-STI-PL ‘she is pregnant or she is HIV positive or she has these sexually transmittable diseases’

(29)

uu [h]u-[y]u DEM -1 ‘this girl

dem ako na machali wasita dem a-ko na ma-chali wa-sita girl 1-LOC . COP EX . COP 6-lover 2-six has six lovers’

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Table 3.2: Noun class system (forms exclusively from the corpus) Controller Gender

Data

SG / PL .

Target Gender (cf. Corbett 1990: 151–152, Beck 2003: 312–313) SUBJ

PRON

ADJ

DEM

POSS .

POSS .

PRON

CONN

wa-/ wa-e

wa/wa

1/2

m-/wa-

watu wa down to earth (normal people, down to earth, people like us) mbabe (cool guy) msupa (super girl)

1a/2a

(Ø/)N-/N-

baba (father), gaavaa (police officer, counselor)

ya-

1b/2b

Ø/ma-

chali/machali (lover) dem/madem (girl) madown-to-earth hasla/mahasla (‘hustler’) jamaa/majamaa (friend)

wa-/ wa-

3/4

m-/mi-

mkono (hand), miaka (years)

5/6

Ø/ma-

design/madesign maneno (words), maziwa (milk)

7/8

ki-/vi(ma-)

kitu/vitu (thing)

ki/zi

9/10

(Ø/)N-/N-

condom, station, chance, status picha (picture), stoori (story) siri (secret), nywele (hair), siku (day)

i-/zi-

11

u-

ukweli (truth)

a-/wa-

yu-/ wa-

u-

m-/ wa-

uu/ huyu/ hawa yule/ wale hao

m-/mi-

ch

ki Ø im-

kile/ vile/ zile hicho hii hiyo hii/ hizi

ya

ya-/ za-

ya / za

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Abbreviations (following Schadeberg 1992) 1, 2, 3, 4 etc. (9) 1SG/PL , 2SG/PL

ADV COND CONJ CONN CPX DEM -[Number] DEM -[Number]-REF

[Number]-DEM EX.COP FV FUT HAB ID.COP INTERR LOC.COP NEG OCD PASS PERF POSS POSS.PRON PROG PRS PST REL REP SCD SUBJ SBS

Noun classes: class markers, agreement markers implicit noun class/agreement marker Subject or object concord of 1st and 2nd person singular/plural (3rd SG/PL is analyzed as an agreement marker for classes 1/2) Adverb Conditional (verbal morphology) Conjunction Connective Contraexpectative (verbal morphology) Demonstrative, proximal Demonstrative, referential Demonstrative, non-proximal Copula of existence Final vowel Future (verbal morphology) Habitual (verbal morphology) Copula of identity Interrogative Copula of location Negative (verbal morphology) Object concord Passive (extension) Perfect (verbal morphology) Possessive Possessive pronoun Present progressive (verbal morphology) General present (verbal morphology) Past (verbal morphology) Relative Repetitive (extension) Subject concord Subjunctive (verbal morphology) Subsecutive (verbal morphology)

Nico Nassenstein

4 The emergence of Langila in Kinshasa (DR Congo)1 Abstract: The present article aims to summarize some of the main features of the Lingala-based youth language Langila spoken among young people, mainly singers, choreographers, painters and dancers in Kinshasa (DR Congo) since approximately 2004. A short introductory note on its emergence and a comparison of the variety with other Lingala-based youth language practices is followed by an analysis of identity construction in Langila, also taking into consideration language attitudes and the organization of social networks within the main community of practice. In the following, the main strategies of phonological and morphological manipulation are discussed and illustrated with several examples. Some general (sometimes arbitrary) deviations from a more “standardized” Lingala speech concerning its verbal system are also analyzed. An outlook for further research on innovation mechanisms and language change in youth languages will also be discussed for the specific case of Langila, before the most salient features of Langila are summarized in a short conclusion.

1 Origin and emergence of Langila Langila is a Lingala-based youth and artists’ language spoken in Kinshasa (DR Congo) by at least 20,000 people, most of whom are young dancers, choreographers, painters and musicians. Langila in its basics was first created in 2003– 2004 by King Kester Emeneya (head of the successful band Victoria Eleison) and his musicians, after which it quickly became an important medium of communication among young artists who were attracted by the creative and “artistic” character of this newly established linguistic practice. The second 1 The first linguistic fieldwork on Langila was carried out in September 2009 and March 2010 in Kinshasa. I owe thanks to my main informants Chris Losele and also Fidel Omende, Pedro Almeida and Pius Mopindo, who helped me to understand the (socio)linguistic phenomenon of Langila, which constitutes an important part of today’s youth culture in Kinshasa. Furthermore, I am grateful for the comments that the Lingala teacher Joseph Zoleya provided on the general development of youth languages and youth cultures in Congo from the 1960s on. I warmly thank Andrea Hollington for her advice and comments on previous drafts of the present chapter.

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youth language in Kinshasa is Yanké, which is only spoken by street children and so-called Kolúna gangsters (who are generally described as Bayanké(e)) and is often associated with brutality, criminality and street life (see Nassenstein 2014). The monopolization of youth culture and language by the so-called Yankees and street children and the strict exclusion of other young people such as musicians and dancers created a certain vacuum that was filled by the emergence of Langila-speaking groups of youths. King Kester Emeneya’s creation of this new linguistic practice encouraged especially those interested in music, dance, painting and choreography (all artists and “wannabes”), thus all young people who considered themselves as educated and more sophisticated than their peers who ruled Kinshasa’s streets, to develop their own linguistic code and their own social identity. The coined lexemes and linguistic strategies employed by these musicians were quickly adopted by numerous young people and then modified and extended. During the following years musicians such as Werrason, Fally Ipupa and J.B. Mpiana started making use of this variety of Lingala in some of their lyrics and Langila – first uniquely seen as an in-group practice of performing artists – quickly spread in Kinshasa and was adopted by many young people who considered themselves as creative minds – and who henceforward began to use Langila in daily life communication among each other, alongside more standardized Lingala.

2 The community of practice (CoP) and the construction of social identity While Langila was first uniquely considered as an in-group practice of artists such as dancers, choreographers, musicians, painters who worked together in ateliers, dance classes, bands or generally in larger groups, its community of practice (CoP) began to change through a process of popularization and diffusion, as its innovative and creative image took hold among young people in Kinshasa. The community that employed Langila as its main medium of in-group communication grew extensively within a short time, and the community of practice began to change as this “aggregate of people who come together around mutual endeavors”, as described by Eckert (2000), splintered into more and more small social units that began to use Langila within their social practices. Social parameters such as gender, age, ethnicity or social class did not then play any role anymore – since language rights were from then on

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conveyed to practically anybody who considered himself an artist or “wannabe”. Nonetheless, there are generally more male than female speakers of Langila. Altogether, a total of at least 20,000 Langila speakers can be estimated for Kinshasa. To understand the Langila community of practice, Eckert’s (2012) three-wave model of variation study has to be taken into account, in which she describes three different waves in the study of variation, beginning with studies like Labov’s (1966) focusing on a correlation of linguistic variables with parameters such as age, gender, ethnicity and class and followed by more ethnographic models that were used to describe linguistic variation (among others, by Milroy (1980) on social networks in Belfast). The third wave is based on the claim that it is not static social variables or networks that are push factors for variation, but rather stylistic practices as a semiotic system, where these variables are (re-)filled with a social meaning in a stylistic context. Moreover, Eckert assumes that variation also triggers social meaning and can thus lead to social change itself, instead of simply mirroring or depicting social meaning. For the case of Langila this means that stylistic linguistic features as a robust semiotic system – i.e. phonological and morphological manipulations – both express a social need of differentiation and distinction and that they gain their social meaning as “youth identity” through the stylistic practice itself. Furthermore, Langila as a semiotic system itself constructs new social meaning. Langila speakers fill a gap, or as described above, a “vacuum”, seen in the context where they gain meaning and influence social change, especially by forming new communities, new identities, by introducing new social practices and by establishing “new ways of thinking”. These “new ways of thinking” are a reference to globalized signs such as cities, personal names of famous personalities, brand names and so on (the practice of “onomastic substitution” as described below). When analyzing African youth language practices, the degree of inclusion and exclusion of outsiders reveals much about how language rights are extended or denied (cf. Hornberger 1998: 450–451). In the case of Langila, language rights are less exclusive than for the case of Yanké, the language of Kinshasa street children. The regulations of extending rights to outsiders can be considered as a kind of “negative inclusion”, since the only criterion for Langila speakers that has to be fulfilled seems to be the fact that they do not dwell in the streets as street children or Kolúna gangsters do. Spending time in the streets is not considered to be desirable for anything other than hip hop practice. A social distance is created from those who live in the streets and do not use Langila at all; nonetheless, anybody besides those who are typically described as Bayanké will be legitimated to speak Langila or to use it as a playful medium of com-

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munication (such as university students and the so-called babelés, ‘house children’, or youths with a foreign background). This might have to do with the fact that Langila-speaking groups of youths are less strictly and less hierarchically organized than Yanké groups. Thus, the language and practices of the Langila-speaking community are much more accessible to outsiders than is the case with Yanké communities, mainly due to the fact that codifying language constitutes a necessary tool of survival for Bayanké in the streets of Kinshasa and access for outsiders is extremely restricted in order to keep the language exclusive (and the secret code more or less intact). The playful character of Langila, up to the point that it is sometimes simply described as “ludling” (language game), does not require exclusive language rights since codifying language among Langila speakers cannot be considered a necessary tool of survival. The sociolinguistic analysis of African youth or urban language practices also requires taking into consideration prestige and language attitudes. Langila – in contrast with Yanké as the main language of the streets – is a tool of social prestige for many youths who are not willing to gain so-called “negative prestige” or “covert prestige” (cf. Labov 2010) in the streets through the use of the street language Yanké. Langila can, regardless of whether its speakers really come from families of a higher social class or not, be seen as a stepping stone to social and artistic appreciation, mainly due to its association with music, creativity, dance and the arts. Thus, Langila speakers do not have to use any form of covert prestige to construct linguistic identity, since language attitudes, described by Garrett (2010: 20) as “an evaluative orientation to a social object of some sort”, towards Langila are clearly positive, in contrast with attitudes towards Yanké. The positive prestige embodied by Langila speakers correlates with the common picture of Langila-speaking youth, depicting them as people coming from secure homes, with artistic backgrounds, good educations and standing for financial freedom and up-and-coming (artistic) careers. The fact that popular Congolese Soukous musicians such as Fally Ipupa and Werrason are perceived as idols in the eyes of the populace, with regard to their high salaries, lifestyle and sometimes even juridical freedom2, contributes to the positive image of Langila in society (since these musicians frequently use the language in their songs). The music (and arts) business has always been highly appreciated in DRC and thus conveys a higher degree of social prestige than 2 Most popular Congolese musicians recruit a whole group of bodyguards and even policemen to assure their personal security, which enables them to avoid police checkpoints or traffic controls. They are often not made responsible for minor offences.

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anything else. In contrast to Langila – whose speakers could even be described as striving for social peace since they are socially educated and peaceful – common language attitudes towards Yanké are dominated by a brutal image of criminality and looting youths, which is a typical feature of many CoPs that can be found in Africa when analyzing youth language practices. Langila speakers’ attitudes towards their Yanké-speaking age mates are usually deprecating, considering them as barbarian and deprived philistines without any interest in the arts, a sophisticated lifestyle and creative play with language. The concept of constructing a social identity, which is described by Auer (2005: 404) as “the mediating concept between language and social structure (. . .) through which they claim or ascribe group membership”, plays an important role in group formation among youths as well. The mediating concept for the present case is a mixture of linguistic creativity (leading to the steadily changing linguistic code Langila) and a range of social practices that are bound to each other within the ties of social networks, as described by Milroy (2004). Speakers of Langila describe the core of their social identity as an act of kochangé baterminaison (Std. Lingala for ‘changing final syllables’) which describes their perception of their own linguistic manipulations that create a new identity. Very often, the core of Langila is described by speakers as troisième phase, as a so-called “third phase” after more standardized Lingala and Yanké, underlining the creative aspect of Langila. The development of a new social identity and the context of its diffusion can be considered parallel to the conditions of the emergence of Engsh in Nairobi (whose existence has for long not been certified, although it was mentioned by Kießling and Mous (2004) and has been ascertained by Kioko in the present volume) as a linguistic code in the residential Eastland quarter of Nairobi (see Kießling and Mous 2004: 311) in a Sheng-dominated youth culture. The creation of Langila in a Yanké-dominated youth culture reveals again the social need for a linguistic equilibrium (with a self-prestigious view on their social class) to typical socially despised sociolects (Sheng, Yanké) that are usually associated with a lack of education, a rough and brutal life in the streets, criminality, a rebellious spirit or the image of “strong young men ruling the streets”. This equilibrium can guarantee youngsters from the “richer areas of Nairobi” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 312) or Kinshasa to “build a new identity that redefines their position in society and, by doing so, seek the transformation of overall social structure”, as Kießling and Mous (2004:313) point out, citing Castells (1997). In the case of Langila it is not only wealthy young people who constitute the speech community, but also almost any youth who can identify with other Langila speakers and who wants to stand out from the crowd, since Yanké is considered to be on the edge of losing its “resistance

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identity”. Yanké is thus nowadays finding its way into Kinshasa’s homes as an informal way of speaking among the younger generation and is gaining broad popularity among people who had not been using it as an in-group code before. Since youth languages are usually classified as “anti-languages” (cf. Halliday 1976), Langila (and Engsh) can thus be called anti-anti-languages since they stand in opposition to Sheng and Yanké, although neither reveals a strong resistance identity towards society. The new linguistic identity serves from then on as the basis of the speakers’ social identity, portraying them as artists and as different from their peers, with strongly positive language ideologies. New social media such as Facebook, Twitter and the video-sharing website Youtube play an important role in the diffusion of Langila lexemes and the language innovation techniques that keep the youth language in a steady state of flux. Facebook is one of the social multimedia networks that has helped Langila to become a modern attribute of online communication among Congolese youth, and has promoted the youth language practice to a remarkable extent, for instance through Facebook groups that have several hundred members (see also Hollington and Nassenstein in the conclusion to this volume). From 2010 onwards numerous short videos have been uploaded on YouTube, containing messages from musicians, comedians and the so-called “Prof de Langila José de Londres” who is one of the main leaders of opinion or “saccadic leaders” (Labov 2001: 383) apart from the Soukous musicians. Labov points out in his essential framework (1994, 2001, 2010) that socially motivated linguistic change and innovation can often be traced back to the impact of saccadic leaders, who incorporate authority and give impulses that are thus imitated by the community of practice, describing “innovation” as an “expression of nonconformity” (Labov 2001: 383). The nonconformity that causes Langila speakers’ speech style to deviate from the standard variety is increased even more through new social media, where new saccadic leaders (who could often be described as the most creative or influential speakers due to their prestige within the community of practice) emerge regularly and initiate linguistic innovation. Before Langila became a frequently used medium on Facebook, other youths who were not interested in music, dance and arts were not affected by the Langila speech practice around them to the same extent that they are today. New terms, lexemes and linguistic trends can easily be followed or adopted by youths who get to know them online. Thus, the Internet has made Langila (become) even less exclusive and has pushed it to a turning point of losing its originality by loosening up the boundaries between community of practice and outsiders as a consequence of its exposure in new social media.

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3 Main strategies of language manipulation The number of manipulative strategies is restricted to a few semantic and phonological manipulations as well as cases of morphological suffixation, all of which will be analyzed in the following. Unlike other youth language practices such as Sheng or Yanké, Langila shows less variation in its manipulation patterns and concentrates on fewer techniques of manipulation, which is one reason why scholars might describe it as a “ludling” (see Bagemihl 1995: 698) or language game rather than a youth language. Bagemihl contrasts fully functioning (youth) languages with ludlings that are “typically used to disguise the identity of their speakers and/or facilitate private communication between them, or else (. . .) serve as a challenging (and fun) test of linguistic prowess”. Semantic and phonological manipulations are therefore more important for the creation of new linguistic innovations in Langila than morphological techniques.

3.1 Semantic manipulations The main semantic manipulations applied by Langila speakers are onomastic synecdoches, multiple semantic extensions and few hyperboles. Onomastic synecdoches are defined as a situation in which a name (of a person or object) represents a concept that is usually related to it (cf. Kießling and Mous 2004), whereas the semantic link between the name and the concept can be complex. Multiple semantic extensions require a certain degree of insider knowledge since the semantic connection cannot easily be unveiled. Table 4.1: Onomastic synecdoches Onomastic synecdoches PPRD

‘good, okay, nice’

→ Std. Lg. pépélé & President Kabila’s political party PPRD

S’grave

‘fufu, manioc dumpling’

→ nickname of the musician Felix Wazekwa who put on weight in recent years

kojamaique [koʒamaík]

‘to smoke marijuana’

→ Jamaica

kanga journée [kángá-ʒurné]

‘bread’

→ name of one of the biggest bakeries in town (Kanga Journée)

Table 4.2: Multiple semantic extensions Multiple semantic extensions kojakarta [kodjarkáta]

‘to steal’

→ Avenue Jakarta in Kinshasa is said to be full of pickpockets; no association with the city Jakarta

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Table 4.3: Onomastic substitution Langila form

Gloss

Source

ko-jean-claude-van-damme, kovandamme [koʒɔklodvandám]

‘to live, to sit’

→ Std. Lg. kofánda ‘to sit, live’ & actor Jean-Claude van Damme

venezuela [venɛzwéla] (h)awaí!

‘Come here!’

→ French venir ‘to come’ & Venezuela; Std. Lg. áwa ‘here’ & Hawaii

apreparé

‘after, afterwards’

→ French après ‘after’ & preparer ‘to cook’

koparlementaire [koparlemõtɛr]

‘to speak, say’

→ French parler ‘to speak’ & parlement ‘parliament’ (→ semantic link)

melankolík!

‘drink!’

→ Std. Lg. komela ‘to drink’ & French mélancolique ‘melancholic’

karlós

‘car’

→ English car & name Carlos

kosúmbalesa

‘to defecate’

→ Std. Lg. kosúmba ‘to defecate’ & border town Zambia-DRC Kasumbalesa in Katanga

kobayern [kobajɛrn]

‘to drink, to smoke’

→ Yanké kobayé ‘to drink, to smoke’ & French bailler ‘to yawn’ & FC Bayern München

miamí

‘hunger, hungry’

→ Yanké myá ‘hunger’ & Miami

mawampánga

‘sad, sadness’

→ Std. Lg. mawa & former minister of finance Mawampanga → semantic link: disapproval of politicians

mobutú et yannick

‘the night has come’

→ Std. Lg. butú ‘night’, eyê/koyâ ‘has come/to come’; the names Mobutu, Yannick

mercedes [mɛrsedɛs]

‘mother’

→ French mère ‘mother’ & Mercedes

komangester [komanʒɛstɛr]

‘to eat’

→ French manger ‘to eat’ & Manchester (United)

3.2 Phonological manipulations The most common manipulation technique in Langila is what can be called “onomastic substitution” (described as “alliterate substitution“ by Wilson (2014) with reference to Langila, see Tables 4.3–4.5) and has so far not yet been

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Table 4.4: Onomastic substitution – Cardinal numbers Num.

Langila form

Gloss

Source

1

mokolo

‘one’

→ Std. Lg. móko ‘one’ & mokolo ‘day’

2

dezimbwési

‘two’

→ French deux ‘two’ & name of a musician of the popular band WMMM

3

?

4

caterpillar [kartəpilár]

‘four’

→ French quatre ‘four’ & English (brand name) caterpillar

5

?

6

sisco

‘six’

→ French cinq ‘five’ & name Cisco (musician)

7

septembre

‘seven’

→ French sept ‘seven’ & septembre ‘September’

8

whisky [wiskí]

‘eight’

→ French huit ‘eight’ & whisky ‘whisk(e)y’

9

neuvaine [nœvɛn]

‘nine’

→ French neuf ‘nine’ & French neuvaine ‘novena (prayer)’

50

kambanyoka [kambanjɔka]

‘fifty’

→ Yanké kamár ‘50 francs bill’ & fish species Kambanioka, native to DRC

Table 4.5: Onomastic substitution – ‘Women’s buttocks’ Langila form

Gloss

Source

simaró lutúmba

‘women’s buttocks’

→ Std. Lg. síma ‘behind’ (preposition) & name of the popular singer and songwriter Simaro Lutumba

cimenterie de Lukaya [simatɛrí dɛ Lukaja]

‘women’s buttocks’

→ Std. Lg. síma & French cimenterie de Lukaya ‘cement factory of Lukaya (Bas-Congo province)’

simekólí

‘women’s buttocks’

→ Std. Lg. síma & ekólí ‘it has become big/grown’ & Werrason’s bottom-shaking dance simekólí

bibiche na filemon [bibiʃ na filɛmɔ̃]

‘women’s buttocks’

→ French term of endearment Bibiche (‘honey’) & French male name Philémon (?)

fesbam [fɛsbám]

‘women’s buttocks’

→ French fesses ‘buttocks’, English bum & supermarket name Fesbam

Cube Maggi [kíb maʒí]

‘women’s buttocks’

→ French cul ‘ass’, French magie ‘magic’ & Cube Maggi ‘Maggi stock cube’

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Table 4.6: Suffixation of inflectional/derivational morphemes Suffixation of French & French-sounding derivational morphemes -ère [ɛr]: korentrestère [korɔ̃trɛstɛ́r]

‘to return’

→ French rentrer ‘to return, get back’

chemical alcohol suffix -(z)ol [(z)ɔl]: kobendazol [kobéndazɔl]

‘to steal’

→ Std. Lg. kobénda ‘to pull’

-ule [-íl] (as in French formule, molecule): kopartikíl

‘to go’

→ French partir ‘to go away’

Suffixation of English inflectional morphemes (as also found in other youth language practices such as Yanké, Luyaaye, Nouchi etc.) -ing [íŋ]: borkíng [bɔrkíŋ]

‘thing, stuff; male sex’

→ Yanké bɔr ‘thing; male sex’ & beer brand Turbo King

Suffixation of Std. Lingala lexemes ([n]tína ‘sense, purpose’) koyókantína

‘to hear, feel’

→ Std. Lg. koyóka ‘to hear, feel’ → lit.: ‘to understand the sense, get the sense’

devantína

‘further, in front of’

→ French devant ‘in front of’ → lit.: ‘in front of the sense’

kosálatína

‘to do, make, produce’

→ Std. Lg. kosála ‘to do, make’ → lit.: ‘to make sense’

kotála(n)tína

‘to look at, watch’

→ Std. Lg. kotála ‘to look at, watch’ → lit.: ‘to look at/see a sense’

kolingatína

‘to want, like’

→ Std. Lg. kolinga ‘to like’ → lit.: ‘to like the sense of something’

described for other African youth languages, although similar processes are also attested for Randuk (see Mugaddam this volume). It can be defined as a situation in which a name (of a person, concept or geographical name) replaces a similar-sounding standardized Lingala, Yanké or French word stem (or word), whereas a semantic link may be accidental, but not obligatory. The habit of using city names (Miami, Jakarta, Venezuela → venɛzwéla! ‘come!’) as well as country names (Germany → alemán! ‘go!’) thereby expresses both the striving for a certain kind of “worldliness” and the impact of a globalized youth culture on Langila. It is interesting to realize that metathesis is not used as a manipulation technique in Langila even though the language name itself makes use of it.

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This is one of the most salient features of that code since most youth language practices make extensive use of this linguistic strategy. As also common in other youth languages such as Sheng, Yanké or Tsotsitaal, certain semantic fields are represented to a greater extent than others; the same applies to Langila. In Table 4.5, several synonyms for ‘women’s buttocks’, all representing onomastic substitutes, are listed.

3.3 Morphological manipulations The most common morphological manipulation in Langila – which can also be found in other youth languages – is the suffixation of French (and Frenchsounding) derivational morphemes, the suffixation of English inflectional morphemes and the suffixation of Standard Lingala lexemes. In Table 4.6, examples will be provided for each of them.

3.4 General deviations in verbal morphology Besides conscious manipulative strategies that are applied by Langila speakers, a range of general morphological deviations – mostly realized unconsciously – can be attested for Langila and will be discussed in the following. The omission of verb-initial subject markers, especially in cases where speaker and addressee are clear, is a salient feature of Langila. Neither Standard Lingala nor Yanké reveal similar features. Nonetheless, speakers are not obliged to omit the subject markers since this constitutes a free variation in Langila, as shown in (1a) and (1b). (1a)

O-partikíl wapipí? 2SG S-leave where ‘Where did you go?’

French partir ‘go away’ & Std. Lg. wápi ‘where’

(1b)

Partikíl wapipí? t-leave where ‘Where did you go?’

French partir ‘go away’ & Std. Lg. wápi ‘where’

Furthermore, the omission of tense and aspect markers constitutes a common feature of Langila due to its reduced morphological structure, as presented in (2a) and (2b), respectively (3a) and (3b). Very often past and present do not have to be expressed morphologically, but periphrastically by temporal adverbs such as sikaténda ‘now’ or lobiló ‘yesterday/tomorrow’.

92 (2a)

(2b)

(3a)

(3b)

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Langila O-mónastère ngalyéma 1SG O 2SG S-see-Ø ‘Didn’t you see me?’ Std. Lingala O-món-ákí ngáí 2SG S-see-PAST 1SG O ‘Didn’t you see me?’ Langila Na-mónastère yelemí 3SG O 1SG S-Ø-see ‘I don’t see him.’ Std. Lingala Na-zó-móna yĕ 1SG S-PRG -see 3SG O ‘I don’t see him.’

telési? NEG

té? NEG

telési. NEG

té. NEG

Furthermore, several cases of morpheme contraction can be attested for Langila, although this does not affect the verbal morphology of the language (see (4a) and (4b)). In the case of (4a) a new portmanteau morpheme is coined through the contraction of the negative marker non and the conditional conjunction sókí. (4a) noki (‘if not, otherwise’) . . .nokí e-ko-zairoise pacifique! → French non & Std. Lingala sókí ‘if’ ‘otherwise, if not’ otherwise 3SG SINAN -FUT-be pain ‘. . .otherwise it will hurt!’ (4b) malukú (‘sore throat’) O-yókatína malukú? → French mal ‘pain’ & French prep. au & French cou 2SG S-feel sore.throat ‘neck’ & district of Kinshasa Maluku ‘Do you have a sore throat?’

4 Mechanisms of linguistic change in youth language practices: the case of Langila Linguistic change and the dynamics behind it have fascinated scholars for centuries. The mechanisms of innovation processes leading to linguistic change

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have been described by Keller (1989) with his “invisible-hand theory” and have also been discussed by Milroy and Milroy (1985, 1993), Labov (1994, 2001), Aitchinson (2001) and Miller (2010).3 In the following section existing models of linguistic change will be discussed for youth language practices with a view to constructing a possible theory of language change for inherent, regularly occurring processes of innovation in languages like Langila. The question of how and why Langila speakers adopt and spread innovations is of particular interest in the present paper.4 The motivation for language change in youths’ linguistic codes can be classified as socially based, without necessarily being of interest to scholars within the scope of historical linguistics.5 An analysis of the mechanisms and spread of Langila innovations among speakers constitutes unknown territory for scholars because the social motivations for linguistic change among adolescents follow their own regularities of leadership, hierarchy, innovators and spread through the community of practice. Until now the only study taking youth languages into consideration (in terms of linguistic change) was published by Androutsopoulos (2005) using the example of German slang among young people. First of all it is important to recall the fact that language is never stable and “changes through our communication”, as Keller (1989: 118) puts it. His “invisible-hand theory” is best explained as “the unintended consequence of individual actions which are not directed towards the generation of this structure” (Keller 1989: 118), i.e. as a development or emergence of a certain structure that is formed by numerous participants who do not shape or change the

3 The motivations for linguistic change and social factors as drivers of language change have been arousing scholarly interest for much longer. Sturtevant was one among the first to argue that linguistic change and techniques of lexical change happened “due to a desire for novelty” (1917: 107), which is also characteristic nowadays of the striving for linguistic innovation in African youth languages such as Langila. 4 Another interesting aspect is the fact that most African youth languages, though being spoken geographically far away from each other, share numerous manipulative, phonological and also morphosyntactic innovations, even if those occur at different times (cf. Aitchinson 2001: 136). The question of whether common innovations are triggered due to similar social processes in diverging localities (influencing the emergence and development of the respective youth language) is also fascinating and will be treated separately elsewhere. When taking Miller’s tripartite distinction between socially, functionally and contact motivated change into consideration (cf. Miller 2010: 123), one possible explanation could be the fact that linguistic change in African youth language practices is mainly limited to socially motivated change and therefore follows the same regularities in various settings across the continent. 5 Both Milroy and Milroy (1993: 66–67) and Labov (2001) point out that linguistic change and social class (and also, to a lesser extent, ethnicity and gender) are neatly interconnected in many cases.

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structure – in this case the language – intentionally. The formation of a certain structure is dependent upon certain maxims that are respected by the number of people who are carrying out the collective action, whereas the stability of the structure depends upon the nature of the chosen maxims.6 One of the most important maxims in human communication seems to be the so-called (as Keller puts it) “Humboldt maxim”, expressing in a shortened form the notion that everybody is supposed to talk like the others around him under the same circumstances (cf. Keller 1989: 122) in order to guarantee a process of homogeneity. A group that makes suppositions about how individuals of that group should speak to each other, leads to a quick establishment of common norms of language use within that group. This illustrates the fact that linguistic innovations that are invented by a leader of the same group are thenceforward spread and inter-exchanged in communicative situations among the individuals of that group, until the point is reached where the entire group shares them. This would characterize the spread of innovations and thus linguistic change in youth language in the terms of the invisible hand theory. Briefly worded, linguistic change and spread of innovations could thus usually be explained as a cumulative action carried out by individuals on a micro-level, mutually copying each other’s language norms in communicative actions (following the “Humboldt maxim”), whereas one linguistic leader gives an innovative input that intrudes into the peer group and leads to a linguistic phenomenon (language change) on the macro-level, as happens in Langila. Milroy and Milroy (1985: 344–345) argue that socially motivated change is controversial and that apart from the common idea that social motivation is an important explanation for change (as also assumed by Milroy and Milroy themselves), numerous scholars tend(ed) to separate language from speakers, which constitutes rather a “traditional” view on language (as if languages had their “own life”, independent from speakers). Today this argument is less common than for instance in the 19th century, and as Milroy and Milroy point out, “it is 6 In addition to this sketchy description of his theory, Keller points out that an invisible hand explanation also takes into consideration (1) the personal motives and intentions of the individual actions, (2) a description of the process of generating a new structure and (3) the depiction of the generated structure (Keller 1989: 120). As far as practices like Langila are concerned, it is doubtful whether the invisible hand theory can be employed as an explanation for innovation spread, since the individuals’ actions in his theory are not directed towards the generation of a new structure. However, individual speakers in youth movements do use innovations that are initiated intentionally by leaders in order to shape a new linguistic code, with the motivation of distancing themselves from society. The invisible hand theory might seem to be more reasonable for linguistic change in standardized varieties where speakers’ use of variations does not necessarily imply the same social meaning, than for repertoires like Langila.

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not languages that innovate, it is speakers who innovate” (1985: 345). Moreover, Milroy and Milroy explain that linguistic innovations such as new linguistic forms are often resisted until they are finally adopted and accepted by speakers. They separate the two concepts “linguistic change”, which can have several causes and is not necessarily only bound to innovations among the speech community, and “speaker innovation”, which can be classified into four stages depending upon the success in diffusion. Miller (2010: 125) mentions an example of socially motivated change that is quite similar to linguistic change in African youth languages. Very often, regular linguistic change is implicit and happens among adult speakers who are oriented towards socially prestigious speech styles and try to imitate positively perceived language (see also Aitchinson 2001: 57–58). The example presented deals with a sound alteration among adolescents who do not want to evoke negative associations when pronouncing a certain vowel the way adults in that region of the United States would do. Both factors, first that language change is mostly a conscious development among youngsters and second that the intention of distancing themselves from a certain social stratum (instead of copying or imitating prestigious speech as adults mostly do) are also relevant for Langila and help to classify those characteristics of innovation spread as two major aspects of linguistic change among adolescents. Aitchinson (2001: 65–66) differentiates four stages of innovation spread when discussing Labov’s example of fishermen’s speech style on the island Martha’s Vineyard (Massachusetts). For Aitchinson, stage (1) comprises the fact that “an aspect of the speech of a particular social group differs from that of the ‘standard’ dialect”, whereby this “particular social group” could stand for saccadic leaders in Langila who stimulate innovations and thus speak differently than the populace (Langila majority), whether these are Langila leaders themselves or outsiders such as musicians. Stage (2) is described as the admiration of the first group by a second social group and a process of unconscious adoption and also exaggeration of the new linguistic features of the innovators. This second group can thus be classified as the collective community of practice of Langila speakers, who adopt innovations to some extent unconsciously, but to an even greater extent consciously. Aitchinson describes stage (3) as the situation where the new linguistic features are solidified among those who have adopted them and become the linguistic norm, as is happening in Langila with all the linguistic manipulations that are innovated by “pressures from above” (Aitchinson 2001: 55), meaning above the level of conscious awareness. Stage (4) represents the fact that the process repeats itself and a new social group models itself on the social group that has adopted the linguistic innovations. For Langila, this means that outsiders such as speakers of Standard

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Lingala adopt some Langila words, which thenceforth become part of the standard lexicon. As a principle for youth languages such as Langila, a step between stages (3) and (4) could be added. After spreading innovations and these becoming solidified among the group of speakers, innovators of youth languages (or playful language) stimulate speakers to manipulate language themselves, very often oriented towards their idols or leaders. This stimulus of innovation towards speakers themselves happens more often in lexically completely free and creative youth languages than in languages that have developed over a long period of time and do not contain the same number of free lexical variations (for instance Yanké). Another stimulus for innovations can be seen in the pursuit of exclusiveness in language in order to enrich one’s own language and make it more complex and thus more distinctive. This process is called “esoterogeny” and has been described by Dimmendaal (2011: 359), referring to Ross’ view that this motivation can lead to processes as assimilation, elision, lexical changes and borrowing (see Ross 1996: 183, cited in Dimmendaal 2011: 359). The desire for exclusiveness also constitutes a common motivation for innovations in practices such as Langila. Speakers choose to distance themselves from society and make their linguistic practice as special and distinctive as possible by employing manipulative strategies, extensive borrowing and conscious changes in phonology and morphology.

5 Conclusion After analyzing identity constructions of the Langila-speaking youth in Kinshasa as well as taking into consideration the most common manipulative techniques, it becomes obvious that Langila reveals a ludic character that is not realized to the same extent in practices such as Sheng or Yanké. This has primarily to do with the fact that Langila makes use of numerous free variations that allow speakers to coin their own “onomastic substitutions” (or “alliterate substitutions”) that are then – if they are creative and outstanding enough – adapted and adopted by other speakers, underlining the creative character of this practice. Since the community of practice is less hierarchically organized and can be considered as an acephalous speech community, language rights and language regulation are less restricted than with other youth languages. This and the fact that Langila reveals only a limited number of manipulative linguistic techniques may together influence certain scholars to view Langila as a “ludling” (cf. Bagemihl 1995) or a language game rather than treating it as

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a “youth language”, although it does constitute a fully functioning linguistic practice employed by Kinshasa’s youth. Langila reveals a less complex verbal morphology than Yanké, partly due to its ludic character and partly due to its creative suffixation patterns that erase certain verb-final tense and aspect markers. The analysis of the mechanisms of speakers’ innovations in Langila, taking into consideration several models of linguistic change, shows that linguistic stimuli leading to lexical (and to some extent grammatical) change function in much the same way in Langila as in other youth languages like Yanké. We can thus assume a common model of language change to be attested for most African youth language practices. Further research, however, is still needed in order to focus on analyzing and comparing innovation mechanisms so as to develop an understanding of the parameters of (youth language) spread and change in detail.

References Aitchinson, Jean. 2001. Language change: progress or decay? Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Androutsopoulos, Jannis. 2005. und jetzt gehe ich chillen: Jugend- und Szenesprachen als lexikalische Erneuerungsquellen des Standards. In Ludwig M. Eichinger & Werner Kallmeyer (eds.), 2005. Standardvariation: Wie viel Variation verträgt die deutsche Sprache, 171–206. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Auer, Peter. 2005. A postscript: Code-switching and social identity, Journal of Pragmatics 37. 403–410. Bagemihl, Bruce. 1995. Language games and related areas. In John A. Goldsmith (ed.), The handbook of phonological theory, 697–712. London: Blackwell. Dimmendaal, Gerrit J. 2011. Historical linguistics and the comparative study of African languages. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Eckert, Penelope. 2012. Three waves of variation study: The emergence of meaning in the study of variation. Annual Review of Anthropology 41. 87–100. Garrett, Peter. 2010. Attitudes to language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Halliday, Michael A.K. 1976. Anti-languages. American Anthropologist (New Series) 78(3). 570– 584. Hornberger, Nancy. 1998. Language policy, language education, language rights: Indigenous, immigrant, and international perspectives. Language in Society 27. 439–458. Keller, Rudi. 1989. Invisible-hand theory and language evolution. Lingua 77. 113–127. Kießling, Roland & Marten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341. Labov, William. 1966. The social stratification of English in New York City. Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. Labov, William. 1994. Principles of linguistic change. Internal factors, Vol. 1 (Language in society). Oxford: Blackwell.

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Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change. Social factors, Vol. 2 (Language in society). Oxford: Blackwell. Labov, William. 2010. Principles of linguistic change. Cognitive and cultural factors, Vol. 3 (Language in society). Oxford: Blackwell. Miller, D. Gary. 2010. Language change and linguistic theory, Vol. 1. Approaches, methodology, and sound change. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Milroy, James & Lesley Milroy. 1985. Linguistic change, social network and speaker innovation. Linguistics 21. 339–384. Milroy, James & Lesley Milroy. 1993. Mechanisms of change in urban dialects: the role of class, social network and gender. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 3(1). 57–77. Milroy, Lesley. 1980. Language and social networks. Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, Lesley. 2004. Social networks. In J. K. Chambers, Peter Trudgill & Natalie Schilling-Estes (eds.), The handbook of language variation and change, 549–572. Oxford: Blackwell. Nassenstein, Nico. 2014. A grammatical study of the youth language Yanké. Munich: Lincom. Sturtevant, Edgar Howard. 1917. Linguistic change: An introduction to the historical study of language. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Wilson, Catherina. 2014. Rumours on the Ubangui. http://www.http://rumoursontheubangui. tumblr.com (accessed 15 December 2014).

Abbreviations FUT INAN

Lg. lit. NEG

O PAST PL PRG

S SG

Std.

future tense inanimate Lingala literally negation object past tense (/perfective aspect) plural progressive subject singular Standard

Abdelrahim Hamid Mugaddam

5 Identity construction and linguistic manipulation in Randuk Abstract: This paper gives an overview of the Randuk language, its use, development and the role it plays in marking speakers’ identity. The paper is based on data collected from youths belonging to three different social groups: Shamasha (street boys), mechanics and university students. This data was collected through interviews and participant observation and the resulting analysis demonstrates that Randuk contains all the features of urban youth languages in Africa outlined by Kießling and Mous (2004). The language reveals strategies of linguistic manipulation (phonological, morphological and semantic) of preexisting forms from Arabic and other languages – principally English. Metathesis, prefixation, suffixation, coinage, borrowing, metaphors, metonymies, onomastic synecdoches and dysphemisms are frequently used in Randuk. The use of these forms clearly indicates the identity of the speakers. This means that shamasha, mechanics and university students employ linguistically manipulated forms derived from their respective environment or community of practice. As such, one can observe the co-existence of different varieties of Randuk as realized by students, mechanics, shamasha, blacksmiths, soldiers and footballers. The analysis also shows that Randuk is gradually gaining new domains represented by the daily newspapers, whose writers, especially the sarcastic ones, resort to Randuk words to serve certain functions. The ultimate consequence of this tendency will be an increasing spread of Randuk among a number of communities, leading to some form of standardization of the language.

1 Introduction Sudan, the second largest country in Africa (after the secession of South Sudan), hosts more than 80 languages belonging to three of the African language phyla: Afro-Asiatic, Nilo-Saharan, and Kordofanian. These languages are unevenly distributed across the country. While most of the languages are spoken in the Nuba Mountains, the Blue Nile and to some extent Darfur, very few are found further North or in the East. However, due to socio-political and socioeconomic factors in the last four decades, namely war and desertification, a considerable number of speakers of these languages have migrated to the urban centers, especially

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Khartoum, the capital city of Sudan. As a result, the migrants have had to adopt Arabic as a means of communication in all domains, including in their homes. The second generation of the migrants has completely shifted to Arabic (see Miller and Abu Manga 1992, Mugaddam 2006a, Mugaddam 2006b). As is the case in many other African urban centers, youths in Sudan have created a unique variety of language based on Arabic, which draws very little influence from other Sudanese languages. The resulting language contains all the features of Halliday’s (1976) so-called “anti-language”. Relexicalization, the creation of new terms for old ones, is a salient feature of so-called “antilanguages”. The norm in such languages is the adoption of the grammar of the matrix language with different vocabulary. This is typical of Randuk, where the grammar of Sudanese Arabic is retained while the lexicon is modified using various strategies such as affixation, borrowing, metaphor and metathesis. The use of these forms may signal the particular identity of certain groups of users like street boys, for example, who employ metathesis and coin totally new words, while other groups adopt borrowing and affixation. In all cases, the manipulation of pre-existing vocabulary and the creation of new words is meant to maintain secrecy among members of a given group, as well as to make fun of others, and to emphasize the speakers’ identity. Historically, Randuk was created by street boys (known also as shamasha, derived from the Arabic word for the sun, shamish, used metaphorically to refer to those working in the heat of the sun), who come from different ethnolinguistic backgrounds. The main purpose of inventing Randuk as a secret language was to protect the group against intruders and oppressors such as the police. Randuk also functions as a tool for emphasizing the identity of its speakers as distinct members of a specific community. As the language was associated with a group of disadvantaged and socially marginalized individuals, its spread among other social groups was strongly resisted. Parents would not allow their children to use Randuk in the domestic environment because of the stigma associated with it. However, Randuk has gradually managed to penetrate some social groups such as school and university students. This is evident in the processes through which the language is manipulated to meet the communicative needs of its speakers. Metathesis, borrowing, coining of new words and metaphors are observed in the speech of students, mechanics, car drivers, soldiers, etc. In other words, one can claim that each constitutes a community of practice (CoP). A “community of practice” is defined by Eckert (2000) as a collection of people who share a certain endeavour, for instance a bowling team, a book club, a circle of friends, etc. The concept of community of practice, according to Eckert, identifies a social group in terms of shared practice rather than shared

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abstract features or co-presence. In the course of joint activities, a community of practice develops ways of doing things, views, power relations, values and ways of talking. Eckert (2012) suggests three waves of linguistic variations. The first wave views linguistic change as a product of pressure within the linguistic system affecting those with the least exposure to the standard language, and gradually finds its way to other individuals within the speech community. This view is advocated by Labov (2001), who argues that members of the upper middle and lower middle class take the lead in the process of linguistic variation. The second wave of linguistic change seriously contradicts the view adopted by the first wave in that the working class are the initiators of vernacular usage. Milroy (1980), in her study in Belfast, suggested that the dense multiplex networks of the working class played a significant role in the spread of vernacular forms. The third wave makes a considerable shift from a view of variation as a reflection of social identity to a linguistic practice whereby speakers situate themselves within society through stylistic practices. The speakers are stylistic agents rather than passive and stable carriers of dialects (see Eckert 2012). In line with the second wave of linguistic variation, this study confirms Milroy’s findings that the lowest social class takes the lead in vernacular usage. Shamasha, the most disadvantaged social group, created Randuk as a means of communication singling them out from among other groups. As they are in most cases organized in gang-like groups, their leader has the final word in deciding which terms are to be used and which to be abandoned for a variety of reasons, including in-group security. This linguistically creative behavior is extended to other groups such as university students and mechanics. The analysis of the data collected for the purposes of this study also agrees with the third wave of linguistic variation in that the language used by the subjects reflects the speakers’ speech style. Thus, we may claim that the three groups investigated can be thought of as “typical communities of practice”.

2 Methods Interviews with young individuals belonging to three social categories, shamasha, male and female students at university, and mechanics, were conducted to collect data on the Randuk language. Subjects were carefully selected in order to represent the three “communities of practice” (as they are called here, cf. Eckert 2000) as they are thought to be the most dynamic and creative linguistically. Fourth year students from the University of Khartoum contributed significantly to the process of data collection. The students were involved as research

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assistants, collecting data as part of their graduation requirements. They were trained on conducting intensive interviews with the three categories of subjects selected for investigation. Data collected with participant observation by the researcher were also included in the analysis. Shamasha constitute a highly organized community whose members are tightly bound together. They work in small groups, each in certain designated areas in different parts of Khartoum and other urban centers in Sudan. Mechanics and mini bus drivers are in most cases people with little education or school drop-outs. Data was collected among mechanics in their work settings in the industrial areas in Khartoum and Omdurman, while drivers were interviewed at different places around Khartoum. This community too is characterized by strong social ties among its members. They spend most of their time together eating, drinking tea and coffee, going to football stadiums and supporting each other at a variety of social occasions. As such, these groups of mechanics and drivers constitute a unique community of practice, which is reflected in the language they use in their everyday communication. That is why they employ words from the immediate surroundings to describe and refer to items and concepts. It is important to note that mechanics and drivers have much in common due to the fact that drivers resort to mechanics if they have to repair their cars. The third category, male and female university students, is considered the most dynamic, and flexible, open-minded group of individuals that plays a very important role in the process of language change and manipulation. Their complex and multiple social networks enable them to be a focal point connecting people from different backgrounds. In this particular situation, one can imagine that university students come into frequent contact with shamasha, mechanics and drivers, borrowing words and expressions peculiar to these groups and transferring them to the university and home setting. This may justify the remarkable use of Randuk words in the speech of children, parents and intellectuals. In fact university students borrow the spirit of Randuk and invest in it by producing their own version of the language, as we will see in the analysis section. In this paper, I will investigate the process of language manipulation in Randuk and its relationship to identity constructions among the three groups investigated as part of this paper: shamasha, university students, and mechanics.

3 Analysis of the data As is the case with my previous study on youth language in Khartoum (Mugaddam 2012), this paper follows Kießling and Mous’ (2004) approach to analyzing

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urban youth languages in Africa. Kießling and Mous investigated the process by which youths employ certain linguistic strategies to create their own variety of language in a number of African urban centers. These strategies include the incorporation of foreign material in grammar, the use of foreign affixes, truncation of words or adding prefixes/suffixes to pre-existing words, as well as extending the meaning of some lexical items (i.e. semantic extension). The authors argue that the range of strategies and their frequency constitute deliberate linguistic manipulation rather than being typical examples of language change. Youths in Africa tend to deliberately manipulate the language at their disposal to mark their distinct in-group identity (Kießling and Mous 2004). This strongly confirms Halliday’s (1976) argument that “anti-language” functions to distinguish its speakers from other members of society (which means that “anti-society” uses “anti-language”). The same strategies will be investigated in the present paper to verify whether Sudanese youths actually adopt a similar linguistic behavior to emphasize their own social affiliation.

4 Phonological manipulation The cryptic function of Randuk seems to be performed according to linguistically relevant generalizations (Manfredi 2008). These generalizations can be observed in the phonological manipulations realized by Randuk speakers. The only phonological process investigated in this paper is metathesis, which appears extensively in the data collected.

4.1 Metathesis Metathesis is a common phenomenon in Randuk. Indeed, the secretive nature of the Randuk language appears to encourage the use of metathesis among its speakers. Manfredi (2008) argues that the application of consonantal metathesis in Randuk does not depend on syllable position, because it is exclusively determined by the internal syllable clusters. Metathesis involves reversing the order of segments in the word affected. For the purposes of this paper the internal structures of metathesis in Randuk will not be analyzed extensively. Instead, the paper will provide a general description of the process, demonstrating how metathesis is used as a tool by Randuk speakers to manipulate linguistic forms. As observed in the tables above, backward metathesis appears to be used extensively. However, its use seems to be limited among students, mechanics

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Table 5.1: Use of metathesis by shamasha and mechanics Word

Original form

Meaning

rabid loof bajana rasied fanas jaaha jiraasa raafa burta

baarid (Arabic) fool (Arabic) jabana (Arabic) tarries (Arabic) nafas (Arabic) haaja (Arabic) sijaara faara (Arabic) rubta (Arabic)

‘cold drink’ ‘beans’ ‘coffee’ ‘credit’ ‘breath’ ‘girl’ ‘cigarette’ ‘mouse’ (used to describe somebody who knows nothing) ‘a package of banknotes’

Table 5.2: Use of metathesis by university students Back form

Original form

Meaning

maahasies itkhabati teesh lataba maaja iaaha

ahaasies (Arabic) itkhatabti (Arabic) sheet (Arabic) talaba (Arabic) jaama (Arabic) hajaa (Arabic)

‘feelings’ ‘he/she got engaged’ ‘lecture notes’ ‘students’ ‘university’ ‘girl’

and drivers. This would indicate that the use of metathesis is a defining feature of the shamasha groups, whose members are often socially enclosed and wish to maintain a degree of secrecy with regard to their activities. This tendency was found among street boys in a study conducted among young individuals belonging to three categories: Rickshaw drivers, street boys and university students (Mugaddam 2012). The analysis also shows that female students of Khartoum University employed few instances of metathesis, such as for instance shumkila instead of mushkila (problem). In contrast to the shamasha groups, female students indicated that the purpose of using metathesis is not to make the communication unintelligible to outsiders but instead for the purposes of fun.

5 Morphological adaptation Affixation is one of the most creative linguistic strategies used by Randuk speakers in creating vocabulary. In this section we will investigate three processes of word formation in Randuk: affixation, borrowing and coinage. In doing so, we

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intend to describe the processes of morphological manipulation and how they mark individual identity in Randuk.

5.1 Prefixation Prefixation is a very important morphological process in Randuk. The procedure involves the use of a set of prefixes whose function is to make Randuk difficult to understand by people outside the respective group (Manfredi 2008). This suggests, as Manfredi argues, that prefixation in Randuk is neither grammatically productive nor semantically restricted. Prefixes are randomly attached to nouns, adjectives, verbs and adverbs without changing their meaning. As shown in Table 5.3 below, a number of prefixes are available in Randuk, including ma-, mu-, ta- and plural at-. Prefixes such as ya-, mu- and ta- are attached to English lexemes to form verbs, adjectives and nouns, respectively (Table 5.3). In addition, internal (nonconcatenative) morphology occurs, following productive patterns of modern colloquial Arabic. Similar cases of morphological adaptation are described in an earlier study (Mugaddam 2012). Table 5.3: Affixation of Arabic prefixes and suffixes to Arabic nouns and verbs ma-

mu-

ta-

Plural -at

ma-kkasar (‘deeply in love’)

musharam (‘cunning’)

tahanik (‘to persuade’)

kanjala-at (‘money’)

magahat (‘penniless’)

mujantir (‘crazy’)

tashakhit (‘to ignore’)

faraat (‘idiots’)

magaram (‘clever’)

mutramtil (‘idle’)

tama’it (‘to talk too much’)

makanaat (‘lies’)

English loanwords are very well represented in the speech of our sample population (university students, Shamasha and mechanics/drivers). While the use of English loanwords among university students can be attributed to the academic environment that the students are part of, mechanics and drivers encounter English words as they deal with spare parts (mostly English terms) or through the media. In addition to the vocabulary of academia, such as ‘examination hall’, ‘lecture’, ‘attendance’, ‘substitute’, ‘supplementary’, ‘library’, ‘sheet’, ‘lecture notes’, a number of terms for modern technology are also found in Randuk. Computers, mobiles and the internet are the main sources for these lexical items. Thus, words such as anternet (‘internet’), miskol (‘missed call’),

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kiredit (‘credit’), skratch (‘scratch’), faisbok (‘facebook’), masij (‘message’), masinjar (‘messenger’), shat (‘chat’), imail (‘email’), sistim (‘system, fashion trousers for boys’), and iskini (‘skinny, fashion trousers for girls’) are noticeable in the speech of students in and outside the university campus. Examples of loanwords used by shamasha groups are words such as santarlok (‘center lock, car keys’), kaps (‘caps’), san (‘son’), fiftia (‘50 pounds banknote’), shooma (‘chewing, i.e. food’) and makana (‘engine’). It is noticeable that mechanics tend to use words from their immediate environment, most of which have Arabic origins. As a result, apart from the names of cars and spare parts, very few English words can be detected in their discourse. The use of words such as makana (‘engine’), baboorjaz (‘a fat woman’), sujubar (‘super’), sakandand (‘second hand’), shamber (‘chamber’), bistim (‘piston’), satrtar (‘starter’), blag (‘spark plug’), tank (‘tank’), kataut (‘cut out’) and karitjamarik (‘customs cards’, manipulated to mean ‘a new car’) all serve to underline this point. Table 5.4: English loanwords in the speech of university students Word (Noun)

Original

Manipulated meaning

mutandis

‘attendance’

‘one who attends the lecture’

mubaasi

‘to pass an exam’

‘a fat woman’

mufasbik

‘to use Facebook’

‘using Facebook’

musakin

‘skinny’

‘wearing a certain kind of trousers for girls’

murabit

‘repeat’

‘one who repeats the academic year’

mujakis

‘checks (one who is in love)’

‘one who is in love with a girl’

musatim

‘system’

‘wearing in a certain kind of trousers (boys’ fashion)’

munatin

‘internet’

‘one who uses the internet’

mufarfish

‘fresh’

‘cheerful’

The Arabic prefix mu- is attached to Arabic and English words to form nouns and adjectives. This process is found among the three categories of subjects investigated. In some cases, the new words are formed out of pre-existing nouns, adjectives and verbs. Examples of such forms can be seen in words such as musakhin (‘penniless’, originally meaning ‘hot’), muratib (‘leading a good life’, originally meaning ‘wet’), murabit (‘in love’, original meaning ‘tied’), mukasar (‘deeply in love’, originally meaning ‘broken’), and muhambik (‘he/she got angry’, from the verb hambak ‘to blow’). Adjectives are also formed by attaching muto nouns as in hawa ‘air’ and kanab ‘bench’, to produce the forms muhawi (‘hungry’) and mukanib (‘sitting on a bench, doing nothing’), respectively. Table 5.6 gives a summary of affixation patterns as used by the sample population.

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Table 5.5: Foreign words in the speech of mechanics Word

Source

Additional explanation

jarboks

gearbox (English)

A machine consists of a power source and a power transmission system, which provides controlled application of the power

kataout

cut out (English)

(Electric power distribution), a combination of fuses and knife switch used on power poles in a car

camshaft

camshaft (English)

A device that allows the valve opening duration to be varied over a wide, continuous, step-less, range, with all of the added duration being at full valve lift

karbaretar

carburetor (English)

A device for mixing vaporized fuel with air to make energy

tank

trunk (English)

The compartment in a car that carries luggage, shopping or tools

blug

spark plug (English)

The assembly which includes an electrode, an insulator, and a shell that provides spark in the engine

bistim

piston (English)

A cylindrical plug that fits inside a cylinder. It receives and transmits motion as a result of pressure changes applied to it

makana

engine (English)

The engine of the car

satartar

starter (English)

A high-tongue electric motor that cranks the engine

fujuz

fuse (English)

A resettable protective device that opens an electric circuit to prevent damage when the circuit is overheated by excess current flow

kalatshi

clutch (English)

A mechanical device that provides for the transmission of power (and therefore usually motion) from one component (the driving member) to another (the driven member) when engaged, but can be disengaged

5.2 Coinage New words are coined in Randuk for a multiplicity of reasons such as punning, for the purposes of humor, and for maintaining secrecy. While university students form new words by adding suffixes or prefixes to pre-existing words (Arabic or English), mechanics, drivers, and shamasha groups tend to produce words that did not previously exist. By doing so, these word forms cannot be understood by people from outside the group. The tight-knit nature of these groups and their strong tendency to keep certain things in strict secrecy may justify this behavior. Mugaddam (2012) found similar trends among street boys, where secrecy as a security strategy against enemies, particularly the police, was reported as the

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Table 5.6: Affixation among the sample population Shamasha

Mechanics

University students

dahakaat: ‘money’ (Arabic, ‘laughter’)

kafaraat: ‘tires’

khastakaat: ‘state of being bad’

kanjalaat: ‘money’ (newly coined)

isbiraat: ‘spare parts’

masijaat: ‘SMS messages’ (English)

faraat: ‘foolish ones’ (Arabic, ‘mice’)

kalatshaat: ‘clutches’ (English)

imelaat: ‘e-mails’ (English)

dafaraat: ‘fat women’ (Arabic 'lorries')

farmalaat: ‘a story told many times’

shitaat: ‘sheets’ (English)

krankaat: ‘cranks’ (English)

jibaat: ‘skirt’ (English)

taraat: ‘bread’ (Arabic, ‘circles’)

turumbaat: ‘pumps’

jakaat: ‘lies’ (English)

lagoyyaat: ‘girls’ (newly coined)

karkassaat (onomatopoetic): ‘a device used to fix a tire’

rahaat: ‘drugs’ (Arabic)

jahaat: ‘beautiful girls’ (Arabic) waamaat: ‘tricky acts’ (Arabic, ‘illusion’)

makanaat: ‘engines’ (English)

main motive. In fact, secrecy is a strategy that is employed by almost all Randuk speakers in order to protect interests and ensure benefits, i.e. to protect working zones from competitors and to ensure the control of certain trades). In the event that a word is known and used by people outside the group, an alternative word is coined and circulated. This may be the reason behind the intensive existence of synonyms in this language, as will be shown in Section 8.

6 Semantic manipulation 6.1 Metaphor Randuk is characterized by the use of intensive metaphors, which indicates a high level of expressive ability on the part of its speakers. As is the case with morphological adaptation, the metaphors strikingly mark the cultural context of the speakers. The identity of mechanics, shamasha and university students is reflected in the respective metaphorical expressions they use. Thus, mechanics use metaphors such as baabor (‘engine’ manipulated to mean ‘a fat woman’),

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Table 5.7: Coinage of new words Shamasha

Mechanics

University students (female)

kajal (‘thief’)

siej (‘passed away’)

mudagas: ‘one who belongs to a well off family’

kaddaka (‘thief’): ‘to make a mistake’

mukitik (‘sick’)

mushatit: ‘those belonging to well off families’

magani (‘tea’)

abarkit (‘to check a car up’)

mujantir: ‘tea’

nirka (‘food’)

dagas (‘to make a mistake’)

fanki: ‘?’

falik/jalikh (‘cleaning cars’)

tara: from Arabic yatier (‘to fly’ but manipulated to mean ‘to send away’) used by mechanics to refer to a security man

muzza (‘a beautiful girl’)

kawamied (‘drugs’)

yafarmil (V) from farmala (Sudanese Arabic meaning ‘brakes’): ‘to stop’

nard (‘an ugly boy’)

randaga (‘mobile’, derived from the name Randuk)

zaarba (‘an ugly girl’)

sonognog (‘young beautiful girls’)

adashdash (‘a broken hearted boy/girl’) kabanga (‘drugs’)

taara (‘clutch disc’ manipulated to mean ‘security man’ or ‘police’), turash (‘vomiting’, manipulated to mean ‘a car which is not in a good condition’) and haarigdafira (from dafira which means ‘an electric circuit in a car’). With regard to this last metaphor, when the electric circuit is damaged due to burning, the car stops functioning and the mechanics manipulate this to refer to someone who has mental problems. It is clear then that mechanics derive these metaphors from their immediate environment. Similar practices can also be observed in the speech of shamasha, such as dafaar (‘transport lorry’) meaning ‘a fat woman’, saargeel (‘a snake that lives in wet areas’) meaning ‘train’, and kharasaana (‘small stones’) meaning ‘beans’ (see Table 5.8 below), and among university students, where the use of metaphors reflects relationships between male and female students, the teaching and learning environment, and other issues of interest to students.

6.2 Metonymy Metonymy is a figure of speech used in rhetoric in which a thing or concept is called not by its own name but by the name of something intimately associated

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Table 5.8: Sample of metaphor use by the study sample Shamasha

Mechanics

University students

hanabak (Arabic from hanbooka meaning ‘balloon’): ‘to get angry’ – Similarity between a balloon full of air and a person full of anger

turash (Arabic ‘vomiting’): ‘to buy a car and take it back’

farasa (Arabic ‘female horse’): ‘a beautiful sexy lady’

kharasaana (Arabic ‘small stones’): ‘beans’

haarigdafira (Arabic, dafira means ‘an electric circuit in a car’. ‘Haarig’ means ‘damaged due to burning’). This phrase is used to refer to a mad person

najada/najaada (Arabic, ‘burning’): ‘a beautiful girl’

dafaar (Arabic, ‘transport lorry’): ‘a fat woman’

nuru mushatat (Arabic ‘when the lights of the car are not adjusted’): ‘one who cannot see well’

bagara (Arabic, ‘cow’): ‘a fat woman’

sentarluk (English, ‘center lock’): ‘boss’

yagasim (Arabic, ‘the sound of the engine when it functions pretty well’): ‘one who laughs’

dish (English, ‘satellite dish’): ‘a girl’s back’. While a satellite dish catches signals, a girl’s back catches men’s attention

saargeel (Arabic, ‘a snake that lives in wet areas’): ‘train’

salam awraagu (Arabic, ‘one who submits his/her documents of accreditation’): ‘a dead person’

braai/maʔaat (Arabic, ‘sharpener’): ‘a lecturer who talks too much’

baboor (Arabic, ‘lorry’): ‘a very fat woman’

bataatiraknaazla (Arabic, ‘dead battery’): ‘one who is very tired/exhausted’

internet: (English) ‘a boy who has emotional relations with many girls’

mashi bi jaazelmasaafi (Arabic, ‘the last little fuel left in the tank’): ‘one who is almost dead/becoming penniless’

shakoosh (Arabic, ‘a hammer’): ‘breaking down of a love relationship’

dairammra: (Arabic, ammra means ‘a full maintenance of the car’s engine’): ‘one who suffers from a number of diseases’

monoliks: (French) ‘a brand name of a blender’ used to mean ‘a boy who is always in the company of girls’

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Table 5.9: Metonymies used by university students Randuk lexeme

Original form

Meaning

elgadah (Arabic)

gaddah: ‘a big bowl’

‘market’

intarnet (English)

internet

‘a place where internet is accessed’

elsoogelsha’bi (Arabic)

a market in Khartoum/ Omdurman

‘restaurant at the university campus’

libia (Arabic)

Libya

a market in Omdurman

with it. Metonymies can be either real or fictional concepts. However, metonymies are often regarded as a second name for the concept they represent. The use of metonymic expression is widely observed in Randuk. As such, many instances of metonymic expressions have been detected in the discourse of the sample population. The word elgadah which originally means ‘a big bowl’ from which a number of people eat together (found exclusively in the Sudanese context), is manipulated semantically to mean ‘the market’. The word intarnet ‘a place where internet services are provided’, on the other hand, shows an interesting connection between the internet service and the place where it is provided. The latter example is similar to the metonymic relation between ‘Westminster’ and ‘the British parliament’. Westminster is used to refer to the British Parliament because it is located there. Table 5.9 gives more examples of metonymic use in Randuk.

6.3 Onomastic synecdoche As is the case with other youth languages across Africa, onomastic synecdoches are commonly found in Randuk. Names of famous people and towns or villages are manipulated to refer to certain concepts. The link between the names and the concepts they denote depends primarily on formal similarity between part of the name and the word for the given concept (Mugaddam 2012). The name Khojali Osman, for instance, denotes ‘shyness’ based on the similarity between Khojali (a proper noun) and khajal (‘shyness’). A Randuk user might say albit di aamla khojaliosman (‘this girl feels shy’). The data collected for the purpose of this study indicates that almost all of the names used in onomastic synecdoches belong to famous people, such as singers, actors and footballers. It has also been observed that the use of a particular name reflects the social identity of the speaker, whether a student, mechanic or shamashi (singular form of shamashi). That is, while students mostly use the names of singers and actors,

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Table 5.10: Onomastic synecdoches Mechanics

Shamasha

University students

Faatna Elhaaj: a famous Sudanese singer, used to mean fatoor (‘breakfast’).

Bakuma: a famous footballer, resembling buka (‘crying’), used for one who cries.

Elfaatih Elnagar: a football manager, used to mean ‘ignoring somebody’.

Asha Elfalatia: a famous Sudanese singer, used to mean ʔasha (‘dinner’).

Bireme: a famous footballer. The word resembles the verb barama (‘rolled’), used for ‘drug’ (hash).

Druggba: a boy who has a hairstyle like Drogba, the international football player.

Kasala: a city in eastern Sudan, used to mean ‘lazy’ (kaslan in Arabic)

Sharhabeel: a famous singer, used to refer to the act of keeping someone waiting for a long time.

Bakeen, Beijin: used to refer to someone who is crying (yabbki in Arabic).

Abba: a small town in Sudan, used to mean ‘to refuse’ (abba in Arabic).

Jinena: Eljinena, a town in West Darfur used to mean ‘insane’ (majnoon in Arabic).

Ahmed Ratib: a famous actor, used to mean ‘salary’ (ratib in Arabic).

Kamaal Tarbaaz: a famous singer, used to mean ‘lock’ (tarbaaz in colloquial Sudanese Arabic).

Gadambalia: is a village in Eastern Sudan, used to mean ‘lunch’ (gada in Arabic).

Kamaal Elshinawi: a famous actor. The second part, Shinawi, is used to mean ‘an ugly girl’ (shaina in Sudanese colloquial Arabic).

Bakumba: Bakuma, a famous footballer: resembles buka (‘crying’) used for one who cries.

Khojali Osman: khojali resembles khajal (‘shyness’), used for a shy person.

Zidaan Ibrahim: a famous singer. The first part zidaan is used to mean ‘increase’ (zied in Arabic)

mechanics and shamasha tend to employ names of footballers and local singers (Faatna Elhaaj and Asha Elfalatia). Table 5.10 gives more examples for this phenomenon.

6.4 Dysphemism Dysphemism refers to the substitution of a more offensive or disparaging word or phrase for a less offensive one. Though often meant to convey shock or offend, dysphemisms may also be used to signal closeness among members of a given group. However, in this study, dysphemisms are used to express negative attitudes towards individuals or a group of people (the role of the police as seen by the shamasha and the role of security men among university students). Table 5.11 shows dysphemisms among the sample population.

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Table 5.11: Instances of dysphemisms Word

Original meaning

Intended meaning

difddaʿa (Arabic)

‘frog’

‘intruder’

sagur (Arabic)

‘eagle’

‘an ugly boy’

kilab (Arabic)

‘dogs’

‘security men at the university campus’

hakkar (Arabic)

‘old car’

‘an old ugly woman’

shahmoota (Arabic)

‘aunt’

‘an ugly girl’

dabieb (Arabic)

‘snake’

‘a bad guy’

rugbba (Arabic)

‘knee’

‘a girl that is considered to be ugly’ ‘a stupid girl’

sheeta (Arabic)

‘chimpanzee’

nimiti (newly coined)

‘harmful insects’

‘police’

loohtalij (Arabic)

‘a bar of ice’

‘traffic police’ (the meaning is taken from the color of ice and the white uniform of the police). The word looh (‘bar’) stands for ‘foolishness’ in the Sudanese context.

The use of dysphemisms in order to insult or ridicule others is a common behavior among speakers of Randuk, as can be observed from the data in Table 5.11. This behavior is evident among the majority of our sample. University students, particularly females, use the names of insects and animals that are characterized as being disgusting to refer to colleagues or other disliked persons. Words for insects, such as dubbaana (‘a fly’), hashara (‘an insect’) and baʿuda (‘a mosquito’), are employed to describe an intruder or an unwanted individual. On the other hand, words like farasha (‘butterfly’) and nahla (‘bee’) are manipulated to mean a beautiful girl and an attractive colleague, respectively. For security persons who often confront students whenever there is political tension within the university, words like kilabelamn (‘security dogs’) and kilablahab (‘wild dogs’) are used. A similar attitude is found among the shamasha towards the police. Words such as nimity (‘noisy insects’), loohtalij (‘a bar of ice’), shawaalfaham (‘a sack of charcoal’) are frequently used to refer to the police. In a similar study among university students, Regsha drivers and street boys, Mugaddam (2012) found that street boys use offensive language to describe the police (i.e. bunyya ‘a box’).

6.5 Synonymy Synonyms in Randuk are created by manipulating the meaning of pre-existing Arabic words and borrowing from other languages (European and Sudanese).

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Table 5.12: Instances of synonyms in Randuk among shamasha groups Police

Money

Drugs

Girls

shawalfaham (Arabic, ‘sack of charcoal’)

kanjalaat (newly created)

banga (newly created)

jazara (Arabic, ‘carrots’)

Kandoora (name of a person)

sharateet (newly created)

duku (newly created)

bagara (Arabic ‘a fat girl’)

nimiti (newly coined)

farash (Arabic, ‘butterflies’)

kabanga (newly created)

lagoja (newly created)

bunja (newly coined)

ganzab (newly created)

xaboor (newly created)

sonongnog (newly created)

loohtalij (Arabic, meaning ‘a bar of ice’)

dahakaat (Arabic, ‘laughing persons’)

kawamiet (newly created)

garamboz (newly created)

elwadak (?)

mazamiz (?)

Abu Khadija (name of a person) kaps (English ‘caps’) katamat (Arabic, meaning ‘to get pressed’)

Table 5.13: Instances of synonyms in Randuk among university students Beautiful girl

Ugly girl

Handsome boy

Ugly boy

Burj-El-Arab (Arab ‘Tower in Dubai’)

rukkba (Arabic, ‘knee’)

kawaai (Arabic, ‘one who teases others’)

sagur (Arabic, ‘eagle’)

afna (Arabic, ‘stink’)

wash tawa (Arabic, ‘pan’)

harami (Arabic, ‘thief’)

anternet (English, ‘internet’)

farasa (Arabic, ‘female horse’)

bikamon (Arabic, ‘spicy, hot’)

nashaal (Arabic, ‘pickpocket’)

shalolah (newly created)

tier (newly created)

ash ash

tayaara (Arabic, ‘plane’)

falaah (Arabic, ‘farmer’)

shijri (newly created)

zaarba (newly created)

galaxsi (English, ‘a kind of chocolate’)

nird (newly created)

sholoox (newly created)

shahmoota (Arabic, ‘ant’)

dashdash (newly created)

baʿaati (Arabic, ‘ghost’)

najaada (Arabic)

biesh (Arabic, ‘of no value’)

shagab (Arabic, ‘riots’)

haammud (Arabic, ‘sour’)

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Table 5.14: Instances of polysemy used within the sample population Word

Meaning 1

Meaning 2

xamsa

Arabic meaning ‘five’ (circle shape)

‘anus’

tufahaat

‘apples’

‘breast of girls’

kafaraat

‘balls’

‘big buttocks’

taraat

‘tires’

‘bread’ (rolled shape)

xarasaana

‘tiny stones’

‘beans’

dish

‘satellite dish’

‘behind of a girl’

The dynamic nature of Randuk speakers might play a role in the production of synonyms. Shamasha, for instance, tend to change the meaning of a word almost every single day because they need to maintain strict secrecy among the group. In most cases, although a word may acquire a new meaning, it can still be used simultaneously or interchangeably with the original one. Words denoting ‘police’, ‘money’ and ‘women/young girls’ appear to have a number of synonyms, as can be observed in Table 5.12.

6.6 Polysemy A polyseme is a word or a phrase with different but related meanings. According to Manfredi (2008), the use of polysemy in Randuk is rare and is always induced by metaphorical expressions. Manfredi was able to cite only one example of polysemy in Randuk: the word xamsa, meaning two different things. First, it stands for the number ‘five’ and the second meaning is ‘anus’ which is derived from the circular shape of the number five in Indian script (٥), used in Arabic. Likewise, the word dish refers to two things: ‘satellite dish’ and ‘behind of a girl’. The link between the two meanings is twofold. First, both can be big and round. Second, while a satellite dish attracts signals, buttocks may attract male attention. Table 5.14 gives some examples of polysemy detected in our data.

6.7 Randuk and the media Randuk was created by street boys as a means of communication and as a tool for maintaining secrecy. As Randuk is spoken by this extremely dynamic group, it found its way to other sectors of the community in urban centers in Sudan,

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Figure 5.1: Elintibaaha daily: in the first caption the word massora appears. In the second caption, the word taftiha appears.

Figure 5.2: Alray Alaam newspaper (February 4, 2012): The sarcastic columnist Elfatih Jabbra writes on corruption “Corruption Bank for Investment”.

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especially in Khartoum. In recent years, the language has experienced a significant spread among other sectors of society, including to some highly educated individuals. Thus, it has become normal to hear words such as maasora (‘goodfor-nothing guy’) and taftiha (‘one who knows “what is what”’) in the speech of educated people with higher socioeconomic backgrounds. These words are occasionally used in the daily newspapers, including the populist celebrity and sports journals and more intellectual publications, such as Alray Alaam and Elintibaaha, which are the two biggest newspapers in terms of circulation and readership. The following extracts from the two papers give a practical example of the steady penetration of Randuk into the media domain. In the above article, a number of Randuk words have been used. Most of these words are directly related to corruption, expressing concepts such as stealing, ignoring corrupt activities and finding a way to cover corruption. The words are treated according to the Arabic morphological system to form verbs, nouns, and adjectives (see Table 5.15 below). Table 5.15: Instances of Randuk words in the daily newspapers Word

Source

Meaning

el-tanash el-habaareen yakhaarij el-lahateen el-lahatu el-malhuta el-lahatuha lahtahu

Coinage Coinage Coinage Coinage Coinage Coinage Coinage Coinage

‘to turn a blind eye on’ ‘thieves’ ‘to get rid of something’ ‘thieves’ ‘those who stole’ ‘the stolen thing’ ‘they stole something’ ‘his theft’

7 Conclusion An analysis of data collected from a stratified sample of Randuk speakers belonging to three different social groups – university students, shamasha and mechanics – reveals that Randuk has all the features of youth languages spoken in African urban centers. Youth groups in Khartoum, the capital of Sudan, as well as other urban areas in the country have shown an observable tendency to create their own language, Randuk, which is based on Arabic but also borrows from English and other sources. Randuk is created to serve a number of functions such as maintaining secrecy, having fun and marking the speakers’ identity. To this end, speakers of Randuk manipulate pre-existing lexical items

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phonologically, morphologically and semantically. Intensive use of metaphors, dysphemisms, and onomastic synecdoches was found to be the norm among the groups examined. The analysis also shows that Randuk is gaining more ground away from its traditional domains. This is particularly evident in the use of many Randuk words in a variety of communication settings. An interesting example of this tendency can be seen in the daily newspapers where a considerable amount of Randuk vocabulary can be found. This leads to the assumption that the language is progressing steadily towards standardization, as it moves from being associated with disadvantaged and socially marginalized individuals, such as street boys, to a language used by people from all sectors of the community.

References Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Eckert, Penelope. 2012. Three waves of variation study: The emergence of meaning in the study of sociolinguistic variation. Annual Review of Anthropology 41. 87–100. Halliday, Michael A. K. 1976. Anti-languages. American Anthropologist 78. 570–84. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341. Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change (Language in Society). Oxford: Blackwell. Manfredi, Stefano. 2008. Rendók: A youth secret language in Sudan. Estudios de dialectología norteafricana y andalusí 12. 113–129. Milroy Lesley. 1980. Language and social networks. Oxford: Blackwell. Miller, Catherine & Al-Amin Abu Manga. 1992. Language change and national integration in Sudan. Khartoum: Khartoum University Press. Mugaddam, Abdelrahim Hamid. 2006a. Language maintenance and shift in Sudan: The case of migrant ethnic groups in Khartoum. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 181. 123–136. Mugaddam, Abdelrahim Hamid. 2006b. Language status and use in Dilling City, the Nuba Mountains. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 27. 290–304. Mugaddam, Abdelrahim Hamid. 2012. Aspects of youth language in Khartoum. In Matthias Brenziger & Anne-Maria Fehn (eds.), Proceedings of the 6th World Congress for African Languages and Linguistics, Cologne 2009, 87–98. Cologne: Köppe.

Eric M. Kioko

6 Regional varieties and “ethnic” registers of Sheng Abstract: The increasingly dynamic Sheng language is characterized by regional varieties and “ethnic” registers. This paper introduces a new perspective of looking at the already complex Sheng language from an insider’s point of view by presenting the dimensions of “ethnicity” and “regionality” as key drivers constantly shaping and redefining varieties, registers and codes of Sheng. What is commonly referred to as Sheng is purely a complex of highly unstable and everyday-changing urban varieties and rural registers, some of which become key identity and group markers and the first language of some speakers, especially in Nairobi and other urban centers in Kenya. Furthermore, ethnic mother tongues are increasingly forming part of these registers, as the over 50 mother tongues in Kenya contribute to the formation of grammatically unstable grassroots codes, often comprehensible only to speakers of the particular mother tongues from which many borrowings are made. In this sense, Sheng could be thought of as a rather vague concept. Engsh, a more popularized variety, is only a tip of the iceberg in the developments of Sheng. The paper utilizes results of an exploratory study conducted in Nairobi, in the Westlands, Dandora, California (Calif) and Machakos and explores sociolinguistic features that define Engsh (spoken in the richer suburbs of Westlands in Nairobi), and the Dandora and California (Calif) varieties, both spoken in the less-affluent and slum areas of Eastlands in Nairobi. To show how Kenyan mother tongues shape rural registers of Sheng, the paper uses “Shengnized Kamba” to refer to a rural register of Sheng.

1 Introduction Deliberate manipulation of language to suit different purposes, situations and people is largely characterized by avoidance, creativity and the creation of identity, among other social-cultural aspects. This is especially true for language-rich Africa. The dynamics characterizing most of these language manipulations have a time-geographic component, which is sometimes difficult to grasp. The developments within Sheng (including the varieties and registers) exhibit similar uncertainties, which are further complicated by the lexical instability exemplified in the varieties and registers.

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Although previous Sheng studies mention the existence of regional varieties of the language,1 little if any efforts have been made to document these varieties and show the regions in which they are spoken. Indeed, the Sheng language can be thought of as a tree with many branches, given the multiplicity of varieties and the regions in which they are spoken. These varieties function to distinguish speakers with respect to places of residence or regions. I use “regionality” to refer to different social settings/settlements/estates within a given area – in this context Nairobi’s vast affluent and less affluent estates. Linguists interested in Sheng (Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997, Momanyi 2009, Rudd 2008, Githiora 2002) agree that Sheng originated from the less affluent and slum areas of Eastlands in Nairobi. However, Eastlands is a vast area encompassing 25 distinct estates2 whose residents constantly create unique words to form specific “Shengs” that identify their bazes/mitaa (Sheng: “residential areas/estates”). This leads to what speakers refer to as “our Sheng” (referring to unique varieties or registers of Sheng). Notably, the Sheng varieties in these bazes unite youthful urbanites, often leading them to desist from speaking individual mother tongues, Swahili or English in day-to-day social practices. In the rural areas, however, Sheng varieties which are imported from the urban areas are somehow fitted into mother tongues to form “ethnic registers” of the language. These registers are largely characterized by borrowings and manipulation of the mother tongue in question. Sheng Town3 observes that Sheng comes with an explosive world of arts/ drama, struggles, beauty, success, competition and youth. Consequently, competition among and between the youth over the most fashionable and popular “Sheng” is a major driver in the creation of regional varieties. The existence of several varieties of Sheng, as well as the recognition that Sheng has permeated other urban settings, breaking out from its perceived confinement in the Eastlands parts of Nairobi, has been noted by some linguists (e.g. Githiora 2002), but pinpointing these several variations remains a difficult task. On the other hand, while regional varieties are evident especially among speakers in Nairobi, ethnic registers often go unnoticed and this can be attributed to the fact that most scholars delve into Nairobi’s Eastlands (believed to be the origin of Sheng), thereby neglecting the rural and peri-urban settlements into which Sheng spills

1 For instance Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997, Ogechi 2005, Momanyi 2009, Kießling and Mous 2004, Rudd 2008, among others. 2 Including Dandora, California (Calif), Buruburu, Kaloleni, Majengo and Mathare, among others, shown in Map 6.1 (see Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 47) 3 Sheng Town is a Kenyan drama film conducted in Sheng that aims at promoting the recognition of Sheng as an example of societal growth, as well as its importance in the country’s economy.

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over. The impact of urban Sheng4 is increasingly felt in the rural areas of Kenya. This, for instance, has resulted in the creation of new speech styles and grammatically unstable codes5 with a higher percentage of mother tongue loans, but still featuring Swahili and English borrowings or manipulations. Usage of these new codes is dependent on multilingual proficiency with respect to the languages mentioned. Sheng (with its varieties and registers) continues to attract a lot of attention, making it almost the new order in day-to-day interactions in the media, work places and in the streets, especially in Nairobi. For instance, various media houses have followed this unique language in the streets and have come up with video materials on the usage of Sheng in Nairobi and its environs. Some of these materials have been uploaded onto YouTube.6 Therefore, this paper shows the existence of two levels of Sheng: “urban Sheng” and “rural Sheng”. The urban varieties are different competing varieties of Sheng which often contain words with different origins (i.e. Swahili, English and Kenyan mother tongue manipulation of lexemes, coinages and creations of words, hip hop music loans, and manipulated borrowings both from European languages7 and other African languages). These expressions have been analyzed using interlinear analysis.8 Rural Sheng varieties, such as “Shengnized Kamba”9, use ethnic mother tongues as matrix languages, whereas Swahili, English and the different varieties of urban Shengs function as embedded languages. However, it is important to note that each of these levels of Sheng has numerous “communities of practice” (Eckert 2000) which are tied together through multiplex social networks, depending on the socio-economic relationships that individuals form with one another. Examples of such social groups 4 Referring to the varieties spoken in urban centers. 5 See the Engsh, Dandora and Calif varieties of Sheng in this paper. 6 See for instance, Wakenya na Sheng by East African Television (EATV); http://www.youtube. com/watch?v=eDC-Ed2ksbU, The Sheng Supremacy by NTV Kenya, http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=AaZdZlOUOSQ, and Language is a Virus by Omar Jabbar, http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=7uucFURw2HI, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyKUYfcpduI, among others. 7 Some European languages are taught in Kenya and thus easily find their way into the creation of Sheng. Examples include German, where, for instance, the word kaputt (‘destroyed, broken, ruined’) is used in Sheng to mean ‘tired’ or ‘being broke’ i.e. lacking money. 8 I am thankful to Maren Rüsch for her assistance with the analysis of texts and the final draft of the paper. 9 “Shengnized Kamba” refers to the use (or manipulation) of the Kamba language utilizing Swahili and/or English and borrowings from Sheng (any dialect). This way, a new code is formed which has a higher percentage of Kamba loans, making its grammatical structure and is mostly comprehensible to Kamba speakers at varying degrees, depending on their multilingual capacity.

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include touts, sales men and women, faith-based groups, football fanatics and local football clubs, business partners, musicians and entertainers, to mention a few. The specific communities of practice use Sheng coinages, loanwords or manipulations to varying degrees to suit their style and taste. Even so, specific bazes can be identified with unique varieties, which are discussed in this contribution. By taking the Nairobi areas of Westlands, Dandora and California (Calif) as study sites, I illustrate how the less affluent bazes of Eastlands and the affluent Westlands area identify with varieties of Sheng. Additionally, I show how ethnic mother tongues contribute to rural registers of Sheng by focusing on the Kamba speakers of Machakos in the Eastern part of Kenya. The paper is based on the results of a one month exploratory study of Sheng in the areas mentioned, with the assistance of four key informants10 aged between 20 and 25. It also borrows heavily from the Sheng website,11 which is an important social networking platform for Sheng speakers from different regions, to show the extent of regionality and its importance in identity formation. Specifically, the paper presents special features of the varieties of Sheng and their usage by giving examples of grammatical structures and lexemes used in the specific varieties and registers. It begins by exploring the origin and spread of Sheng in Kenya and later shows how speakers keep their language fashionable by abandoning the original meanings of Swahili and English loans to come up with unique meanings of these borrowings. The first part of the paper explores how speakers’ identities are constructed through the creation of unique varieties (focusing on the Engsh, Calif and Dandora varieties) as well as ethnic registers (drawing from Shengnized Kamba). The paper concludes by reflecting on the inexorable growth of Sheng against its popular depiction as an inferior, immoral and unwanted youth code. The results of this paper are intended to ignite discussion and raise researchable questions on the nature of the Sheng language. Above all, linguists should attempt to answer the question of the existence of variations and registers of Sheng within and outside Nairobi by presenting their grammatical composition and making comparisons between them.

10 I am indebted to Mathew Sam (Dandora), Nixon Omondi (Dandora), Jane Njeri (Calif), Mark (Westlands), Esther Juma (UoN) and their networks of friends and speakers of Sheng for their involvement in the exploratory study. These are speakers of Sheng who control a wide knowledge of the varieties of this language within and outside Nairobi, also having reliable networks of friends who are speakers of these varieties. 11 http://www.sheng.co.ke

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Despite its defiance of a simplistic definition, “Sheng” is understood here as a complex of grammatically unstable and competing urban varieties and rural registers characterized by deliberate and varying manipulations of Swahili, English, loan words from both western languages and mother tongue languages in Kenya, and with unique coinages and a multiplicity of word creations across the Sheng varieties and registers. The Sheng language can only be comprehensively understood by bringing into focus the emerging varieties and registers across urban and rural settings of Kenya, while noting the ease with which such youth language practices change.

1.1 Origin and spread of Sheng General agreement among linguists points to the less affluent Eastlands part of Nairobi as the origin of Sheng, and specifically to Kaloleni, one of the 25 estates in the area (see Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 47; Githiora 2002: 159; Momanyi 2009: 131). Abdulaziz and Osinde (1997) posit that Sheng may have started around the early 1970s, but some authors argue for the language’s existence already in the late years of colonialism (Kenya became independent in 1963). The very early grammar and vocabulary of this language and the manner in which Sheng spreads is a debate that will linger in linguistics for a little longer. Linguists are mostly interested in unmasking the current confusion clouding morphology, phonology and syntax as well as the use and changes in vocabulary, while the nature of the very initial stages of the language’s vocabulary12 remains a mystery. Understanding the initial grammar of Sheng will necessitate better mapping of changes currently occurring in the development of the language. While there is evidence of the spread of Sheng across different estates in urban areas and to rural areas, the mechanism of spread and the rise of different varieties and registers is uncertain. Tracing the language’s spatial and temporal changes also remains problematic owing to its unstable nature, among other factors. Meanwhile, the impacts of Sheng across ethnic mother tongues and in the socialization process are yet to be determined. In terms of spread, Sheng is borderless but still has many followers in Nairobi and other big towns in Kenya. Its spread to rural areas is profound and its threat to mother tongues and impacts on the socialization process and formal education grow each day. 12 Early Sheng (the earliest code) in this case is understood as to characterize much of older Sheng. See below for details on older Sheng.

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1.2 Usage and growth of Sheng Although earlier understood as a dirty slang spoken by Matatu Manambas (public transport touts), drug peddlers, local hip hop musicians, school dropouts and other related categories of peoples and jobs, Sheng has rapidly permeated the formal social, political and economic fabrics to become a language of the masses. The spread of Sheng to rural areas (including rural primary schools, secondary schools and higher education institutions) illustrates a firm resistance of traditionally urban vernacular speakers (see for instance Bosire 2006: 186) against efforts to abolish the language by educationists and scholars, who blame Sheng for the erosion of Kenya’s national language (Swahili) as well as the official language (English) (see for instance Momanyi 2009: 127–138). Measuring the extent of the spread of Sheng and its appreciation by people of all ages (professionals included) may be impossible, but the common view suggests that the majority of Kenyans are Sheng speakers, and it is only the degree to which people converse in Sheng that varies greatly. Indeed, political campaigns and rallies almost always feature the Sheng language, as politicians try to associate themselves with the youths who form the largest proportion of voters, as well as of the entire population. If we were to characterize Sheng as a product of code-switching13 like many linguists have, then it is not surprising that every Kenyan versed in English or other foreign languages, Swahili and mother tongue(s) is actually a Sheng speaker. However, since Sheng cannot be attributed to code-switching alone, it is also important to mention that not all people versed in these languages can understand or speak the language. Bosire (2006) observes that sections of the electronic and print media regularly use Sheng; furthermore, popular music features Sheng as a language of choice. Currently, there are several radio broadcasts that are conducted purely in Sheng, such as “Ghetto Radio”, which has branded itself as the country’s official Sheng station. Most television programs also feature Sheng entertainment, while local musicians are credited with spreading the gospel of Sheng. Electronic and print media advertisements are produced in Sheng more than ever. Most profitable companies, organizations and institutions, including banks and other financial institutions as well as charity organizations, nongovernmental organizations, political parties, religious organizations, government ministries and private businesses, are increasingly using Sheng as their 13 Sheng is not entirely a product of code-switching; scholars such as Rudd (2008) show that Sheng is a first language of most speakers, meaning that one does not necessarily require the knowledge of English, Swahili or other mother tongues to be a Sheng speaker.

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main choice to run adverts, to convey information and to market products and services, especially those targeting the youth. Sheng graffiti dots every other street wall, especially in the informal settlements of Kenyan urban centers. Artists are expressing their thoughts through the popular Sheng language. Examples include messages calling for peace and inter-ethnic unity, especially after the 2007/2008 post-election violence, the importance of environmental conservation and planting trees, and exposing corruption and corrupt individuals artistically, among other examples. With the advent of social media (Facebook, Twitter, etc.), digital networks concerning Sheng are now available where members chat and constantly add new words and idioms to enrich specific Sheng varieties. It cannot be denied that Sheng is the new popular language in schools, business and politics especially in Nairobi and other big cities. This highly dynamic language paints an uncertain picture of the future of other languages in Kenya (including mother tongues), as mentioned earlier. With this level of enormous growth, appreciation and usage, Sheng can be argued to have reached a point where neither educationists nor language policy makers and researchers have the capacity to control it. Therefore, the possibility of promoting Sheng as a marker of societal growth and as a contributor to social unity and economic growth may be more feasible than the passionate hostility from some quarters towards the language. Other mechanisms of controlling Sheng’s impacts on formal education and on Kenyan languages have to be sought, since the reality of this language in the society today and in the future cannot be denied. Sheng Town emphasizes that “whether we like it or not, Sheng exists and will continue to grow”.

1.3 Sheng: the complex and increasingly independent language Understanding and studying Sheng is not simple even to Sheng speakers. By the time linguists begin to produce a Sheng dictionary, the words they intend to use change drastically, and deciding which version of a word to include becomes problematic. Tracing the changes in a single word (changes brought about by truncation, transposition or coinage) may be impossible since changes in words are unpredictable. The release of a new hip hop song in the USA, an utterance in a Spanish soap opera watched in local television, the death of a politician or an athlete (e.g. athlete Samuel Wanjiru), an overly beautiful lady, an ugly haircut, the resistance of the so-called dictators in power (e.g. Muammar Gaddafi) or the

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enactment of a law (e.g. the law regulating drinking hours in Kenya, pioneered by John Mututho, a member of parliament), among other events or happenings, could lead to the birth of the next new Sheng word.14 Today’s Sheng (especially vocabulary and grammar) is also complicated by the ease with which Swahili and English words or manipulations are losing importance as building blocks of Sheng. English and Swahili words, or their manipulations, which have been thought of as the main sources of Sheng words, are now being replaced by completely new coinages and creations derived from multiple day-to-day human interactions, situations and happenings. Thus, Sheng is increasingly disassociating itself from directly using English and Swahili words, leading into a complex of new independent vocabulary built out of arbitrary coinage. In most instances where English and Swahili words are used, the original meanings of such words are lost, as illustrated in examples (1)–(4). (1) Cold case – ‘cold food’ This Sheng idiom originates from a famous locally watched American TV crimes series (Cold Case). The idiom refers to cold food: Maze ni-li-fik-a keja-ni ni-ka-pat-a waifudhes after 1SG S-PAST-reach-IND house-LOC 1SG S-NAR-get- IND wife hayu-ko u-sikii i-li-bidi ni-investigate cold case. 3SG S:NEG - LOC 2SG -IMP:listen CL .9-PAST-be.a.must 1SG S-eat:SUB cold food ‘I arrived home and found that my wife wasn’t there. I had to eat cold food.’ In this case, investigate is used to refer to ‘eating’, waifudhes is a manipulation of ‘wife’ and cold case refers to ‘cold food’. (2)

Chips funga – ‘a girl/woman picked from a club solely for sex’ This Sheng idiom is derived from English chips ‘French fries’ and Swahili funga ‘tie, pack’, so chips funga means ‘take away chips’. Simo a-na chips Simon 3SG S-have:IND chips ‘Simon has picked up a girl.’

funga. take.away

14 After the death of athlete Wanjiru by suicide, Sheng speakers use going to Wanjiru to mean ‘committing suicide’. After the enactment of the so-called mututho law restricting hours of drinking and opening of bars from 5 p.m. to midnight, 5 p.m. is now commonly referred to as mututho time, while ‘taking beer / drinking’ is mututhoing in Sheng.

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(3)

mse wa jirani – ‘a gay person’ This Sheng idiom is derived from the Swahili word jirani ‘neighbor’. In this case, jirani is a metonym for the anus and penis and hence, for gay men, the two body parts being intimately related. Mse wa jirani thus describes homosexuality and specifically refers to gay men. Mato ni m-se Martin COP CL .1 ‘Martin is gay.’

(4)

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w-a

ji-rani.

CL .1-CONN

CL .5-neighbor

toka teke – ‘run fast’ This Sheng idiom originates from Swahili teke which means ‘kick’, in turn used in Sheng/Engsh as kicks to mean ‘shoes’. This is descriptive of the act of running: Ma-boy

teke.

CL .6-boy

wa-me-tok-a 3PL S-PERF-leave-IND ‘The boys have run fast.’

CL . 5.kick

As illustrated by (1)–(4) above, the Swahili and English loans lose their original meanings when they are used in Sheng. If we were to compare the current/ fashionable Sheng, as illustrated in the above examples, with older Sheng,15 we see some resemblance and closeness in meaning when the borrowings from English and Swahili are used in older Sheng. In this case, older Sheng retains some sense of the original word. For example:16 (5)

a-m e-come 3SG S- PERF-come ‘He has come.’

(6)

tw-end-e tu-ka-dish 1PL S-go- SUB 1PL S- NAR-dish ‘Let’s go and eat.’

In (6), twende is a direct borrowing from Swahili meaning ‘let us go’ while the Swahili prefix tuka- is added to dish, an English word to mean ‘eat’.

15 Sheng speakers differentiate between new/fashionable Sheng and old Sheng (also outdated Sheng). However the time period between the two varieties is unclear and is only differentiated by the use of new words (coinages, manipulations etc.) as compared to previously used words. 16 Examples (5) and (6) are derived from Momanyi (2009: 133).

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In examples (5) and (6), there is a notable closeness in the meaning of the borrowings with reference to the original words, as compared to the examples (1)–(4), where the meanings of the borrowings are almost completely lost when used in Sheng. (1)–(4) thus illustrate the new/current/fashionable Sheng.

2 Competing identities and the birth of varieties of Sheng Just like culture, language forms an integral part of identity building in social groups and social spaces. Githinji (2006) discusses how Sheng constructs social groups and social spaces in which different images of “we” vs. “them” are negotiated. In part, he argues that deliberate strategies are invoked by members of different bazes (referring to local hang out joints, where the bulk of members’ interaction takes place in Sheng) to manipulate and coin new words that draw and enhance categorical boundaries. Historically, ethnic identities have been marked by the numerous ethnic languages in Kenya. With the coming of Sheng, these identities are partly enhanced by new speech styles borrowed from Sheng, and partly eroded as the majority of youths socialized in Sheng bazes easily adopt Sheng as their language of communication and do not learn their indigenous languages. Given the rate of rural-urban migration in Kenya today, a sizable percentage of children are born and socialized in multi-ethnic urban settings where daily interactions and communication are devoid of mother tongues. Therefore, most urban-socialized children and youths lack knowledge of their mother tongue(s) and are thus increasingly identifying with Sheng as a first language. The Sheng varieties and registers discussed here (Engsh, Dandora, Calif and Shengnized Kamba) are examples of what I refer to as competing identities. The need to stand out from the “others” is characterized by sophisticated manipulations and coinages of words aimed at building a dialect that separates social groups and social spaces. Varieties of Sheng are also a means through which different social groups are negotiating superiority over other groups and estates. For instance, Engsh, which is spoken in Westlands area of Nairobi by middle class and rich speakers, is currently believed to be the simplest variety by virtue of its reliance on English as the main donor language and on borrowings from European languages and US hip hop music, which forms the speakers’ preference for entertainment. Thus, Engsh speakers have a limited array of coinages and word manipulation required of them to reach a sophisticated level, unlike

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Sheng speakers from Eastlands, who employ Swahili, English and mother tongue manipulations, creations and coinages to form rich varieties, as discussed later on. However, the future of Engsh (just like the other varieties) is uncertain, and the superiority or inferiority of any variety in the eyes of some speakers may be misleading at present.

2.1 Regional varieties and ethnic registers of Sheng Earlier sections have noted that Sheng began in the Eastlands area of Nairobi. Eastlands is a vast region with the highest percentage of Nairobi residents within its 25 distinct estates, most of which are informal settlements. If the Kaloleni estate marked the beginning of Sheng, as Osinde (1986, quoted in Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 47) posits, the language then spread across the remaining 24 estates of Eastlands. It remains unclear whether speakers from outside Kaloleni adopted the earliest Sheng (referring to grammar and vocabulary) as was spoken by Kaloleni residents, or if they only borrowed part of the morphology, phonology or syntactic structures constituting the vocabulary of this initial code. The movement of Sheng across Kaloleni’s borders into the densely populated estates of Eastlands can be explained by their geographical proximity to one another and connectedness in commerce and social life. However, the point at which different estates/regions began to orchestrate linguistic uniqueness to produce the Sheng varieties that identify these estates remains uncertain. While it is clear that Sheng’s building blocks are English/Swahili and mother tongues (and recently some African and other western languages), the influence of mother tongues on the creation of rural/ethnic registers of Sheng receives little if any recognition in Sheng studies. As mentioned earlier, this can be attributed to the fact that linguists are keen to disentangle and comprehend Sheng as used in Nairobi and other urban centers in Kenya, whereas no comprehensive studies have been conducted in the rural areas and small towns outside Nairobi. The first part of this paper attempts to demonstrate the existence of regional varieties and ethnic registers of Sheng, beginning by discussing Engsh and thereafter introducing the Dondora and Calif (California) varieties and presenting the features that mark these varieties. For “ethnic” registers, the focus is on Shengnized Kamba, which utilizes Kamba as the matrix language (whereas Swahili, English and the different varieties of urban Sheng function as embedded languages) to form what can be understood as a rural register of Sheng.

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2.2 Engsh: Westlands’ variety of Sheng Engsh is a later development of Sheng which represents an alternative/competing strategy of language use spoken in the Westlands region of Nairobi. Westlands encompasses Muthaiga, Lavington, Lower Kabete, Loresho, Kilimani and Spring Valley (Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 50). These suburbs (Map 6.1) are inhabited by people of a much higher socioeconomic class than those living in the Sheng-speaking areas/estates of Eastlands (Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 50). The lifestyle of inhabitants of Westlands is basically above average, with adequate infrastructure and amenities including schools, sporting and other leisure facilities, compared to Eastlands. Unlike Eastlands, where the majority of children use Sheng (various varieties other than Engsh) as their first language, children in Westlands mostly speak either English or Swahili as their first language and the area has a higher preference for spoken English, especially in schools. Ethnic mother tongues are not popularly used in Westlands. As a marker of socioeconomic status, Engsh can be thought of as a popular register among youths and members of the working class in Westlands. Map 6.1 shows regionality (the regional differences) in relation to the different varieties of Sheng, i.e. the Eastlands and Westlands areas of Nairobi. Abdulaziz and Osinde (1997) observe that English is the main language of social interaction in Westlands and signifies status, while Kiswahili is used to a less extent, although the area still has a large percentage of multi-ethnic groups. Thus, in terms of grammar and vocabulary, Engsh relies heavily on English as the main donor language, while utilizing Swahili and mother tongues to a lesser extent (see Abdulaziz and Osinde 1997: 50). Most Sheng speakers and youths of Nairobi therefore prefer other varieties of Sheng to Engsh and perceive Engsh as the simplest and most limited with regard to coinages, creations and manipulations of words. Compared to Engsh, other varieties of Sheng have unique coinages and utilize borrowings from a variety of sources (see below for the Dandora and Calif varieties). A most remarkable factor in the vocabulary and grammar of Engsh is its continued reliance on US slang and Western hip hop music, from which borrowings are made (Table 6.1). Abdulaziz and Osinde (1997) note that most of the entertainment in Westlands is Western-oriented and the language used is English. Specifically, US hip hop music has contributed to a wealth of Engsh vocabulary, in contrast with other varieties of Sheng (Dandora and Calif) which are influenced by Sheng music (consisting of Swahili, slang and mother tongue manipulations to form fashionable/current structures) and reggae music, pro-

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Map 6.1: Varieties of Sheng in Eastlands (Sheng, Dandora and Calif [California] varieties) and Westlands (Engsh, spoken in Kilimani, Kilileshwa, Lavington, etc.), Nairobi

viding a large pool from which borrowings, word creations through truncations and transpositions, as well as coinages, are possible to create fashionable Sheng varieties. Table 6.1 shows a collection of Engsh morphemes and their relationship to US slang or hip hop music. The words used in Engsh (in Table 6.1) have different forms in the Calif and Dandora varieties. A comparison of these lexemes and their usage across the Engsh, Calif and Dandora varieties is shown in Table 6.2. It is important to note that some lexemes used in Tables 6.1 and 6.2 (as well as Table 6.3, discussed later on) have been constructed from manipulation of or borrowing from Swahili, English or mother tongues while other words are unique coinages from speakers of the three varieties. The construction/genesis of each lexeme is not discussed in this paper, but only for a few Engsh lexemes.17 Unlike Sheng varieties, the popularity of Engsh as shown through previous research is quite minimal. Comprehensive research on Engsh is therefore paramount especially to understanding its nexus with Sheng and mother tongues, 17 This paper is limited to showing the existence of varieties and registers of Sheng and thus features grammatical analysis only to a limited extent. One needs to note that some of the words in the tables are loans from Swahili with unchanged meaning, including uji, njugu, majani among others.

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its vocabulary and grammar, and whether similar varieties are sprouting in other richer suburbs of Nairobi or in other urban environments in Kenya. Comprehensive linguistic knowledge of Sheng varieties, however, requires a careful and lengthy study in both urban and rural areas of Kenya.

2.3 Dandora and Calif varieties California (Calif) is part of Nairobi’s Eastleigh area. Eastleigh and its environs (Eastleigh North, Air Base, Eastleigh South, California and Kiambiu) have a multi-ethnic and multi-lingual population of 348,778 inhabitants.18 Dandora, which is located about 15 km from Nairobi’s central business district in Eastlands (Map 6.1), is divided into five phases (Dandora Phases I, II, III, IV and V). The examples of words given for these two varieties are a small representation of the entire linguistic environment. For the case of Dandora, the linguistic features are not specific to any of the five phases but form a general representation of what is referred to here as the “Dandora variety”. The Dandora and Calif varieties show a tendency to rely heavily on Swahili as the main donor language while still utilizing English and mother tongues. However, new coinages are the defining aspects of Eastlands’s urban Sheng compared to Engsh, but at varying degrees for either variety.19 The words used in Table 6.1 to exemplify the vocabulary of Engsh are represented in Table 6.2 to show how the same words differ across Calif and Dandora varieties. From Table 6.2, there is a clear difference in the usage of lexemes, manipulated borrowings (through truncation and/or transposition) or coinages across the three varieties. Words for monetary values also show some difference in usage across the three varieties, as shown in Table 6.3. The varieties of Sheng are not confined to the Eastlands and Westlands areas of Nairobi alone. Just like the upcoming rural registers, other parts of Nairobi and its environs also show the tendency towards the formation of unique varieties of Sheng. This is shown in Table 6.4.

18 Daily Nation, September 2010. 19 The degree of coinages within Eastlands’s Shengs is not easily established, owing to the languages’ unstable nature, among other factors.

Regional varieties and “ethnic” registers of Sheng

Table 6.1: The vocabulary of Engsh ENGSH

WEST COAST/ US HIP HOP SLANG

ENGLISH GLOSS

4wheels (derived from the song ‘Grills’ by Nelly ft Paul Wall, Ali and Gipp)

4-banger, 4’s

‘car’

rims

rims

‘wheels’

douse, digs, crib (crib is commonly used in US hip hop to mean ‘house’)

crib, cut, spot, hizzy

‘house’

‘diesel’

lubb dude, hommy (Engsh borrows dude from Eminem’s song ‘Sing for the moment’)

dude, homeboy, homz

‘man’

‘boy’

chali chiq (derived from chic, popularly used to refer to young fashionable/sophisticated ladies)

chick

‘girl’

boo, shawty (used by Lil Wayne in his song ‘Lollipop’, boo has been popularized by Usher from the US)

boo, chika, chile, shawty

‘girlfriend’

bief

BF

‘boyfriend’

mjames, paps

papi, pop

‘father’

mthamos

ma, mamacita, mama

‘mother’

bro (derived from brah/bro, popular in US slang)

brah

‘brother’

siz

‘sister’

chineboh

‘housemaid’

kastrong

‘tea’

133

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Table 6.1 (continued) ENGSH

WEST COAST/ US HIP HOP SLANG

ENGLISH GLOSS

wode

‘water’

soda

‘soda’

uji

‘porridge’

mandao

‘mandazi’

fries, chips

fries, macs

‘chips’

bullets

‘ground nuts’

sembe

‘ugali’

pilipili

‘pepper’

balle (popular in American slang)

swill, barley-juice, liquid sleep, barley soda

‘beer’

ngem

cancer stick, fug, butt, lungdart, cigga

‘cigarette’

tuyu, gurunedi

wac, a-bomb

‘marijuana’

junkie

binger, junkie

‘being an addict’

kuwa hewani (from the word ‘floating’ – used to mean being in the air)

floating, get on, wasted

‘being high’ (on alcohol or drugs) ‘love’

love hala (hala is derived from holla, commonly used in US hip hop e.g. 50cent’s ‘P.I.M.P.’ and Chris Brown ft. T-pain’s song ‘Kiss Kiss’) but is originally a Spanish term

kukutana majab (jab is commonly used in US English to mean ‘bother’ i.e. jab s.o. ‘bother s.o.’)

hala, ping, buzz

‘make a call’

to dump, to cut

‘to break up with a loved one’

jab

‘fighting’

Regional varieties and “ethnic” registers of Sheng

Table 6.1 (continued) ENGSH

WEST COAST/ US HIP HOP SLANG

ENGLISH GLOSS ‘sending credit’ (eg. Safaricom airtime)

slide units

smunch

to take out

‘kiss’

kublaze, balling (balling is from TI’s song ‘What you know’)

balling

‘hanging out’

screen, digital

digital (from Sheryl Crow’s song ‘Soak up the sun’ referring to digital television)

‘television’

boom

‘radio’

kunyesha

‘rain’

njeve

‘cold’

solar

‘sun’

bike

‘bicycle’

honda

‘motorcycle’

demo

‘food’

kipa

‘goalkeeper’

ongiso, ak

9mil, loaded 44

‘gun’

musi

snirl

‘phone’

greens, cheddar, bucks (greens is mostly used in US hiphop to refer to money)

bills, greens, cheese

‘money’

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Table 6.2: Calif, Dandora and Engsh varieties of Sheng ENGLISH

CALIF SHENG

DANDORA SHENG

ENGSH

WEST COAST/US HIP HOP SLANG

‘car’

dinga, pasonol

ndai

4wheels

4-banger, 4’s

‘wheels’

tire

tire

rims

rims

‘house’

keja

jake, mbanyu

douse, digs, crib crib, cut, spot, hizzy

‘diesel’

ngata

lubb

‘man’

mannie

mse

dude, hommy

‘boy’

boyie

chali, dranya, yutman

chali

‘girl’

msupa, mresh

mkoba, binti, mbuss

chiq

chick

‘girlfriend’

mshi

totos, totoise

boo, shawty

boo, chika, chile shawty

‘boyfriend’

boyfie

mshiks

bief

BF

‘father’

buda, fadhe

bazenga, mkoro, buda, maze

mjames, paps

papi, pop

‘mother’

masa

mkanya, makoro, masa

mthamos

ma, mamacita, mama

‘brother’

bro

kibronjes

bro

brah

‘sister’

siz

mtasis

siz

‘housemaid’

mboch

mboch

chineboh

‘tea’

majani

ngiale, tiabe

kastrong

‘water’

waba

mawaba

wode

‘soda’

daso

jode

soda

‘porridge’

uji

ugaliwaba

uji

‘chips’

chipo

njiva

fries, chips

‘groundnuts’

njugu

mauchuchu, njoti

bullets

‘ugali’

sembe/mbese

mbese

sembe

‘pepper’

pilipili

teargas

pilipili

‘beer’

keroro, geje (popularized by local musician Nonini from Calif)

ngano, tei

balle

dude, homeboy, homz

fries, macs

swill, barleyjuice, liquid sleep, barley soda

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Table 6.2 (continued) ENGLISH

CALIF SHENG

DANDORA SHENG

ENGSH

WEST COAST/US HIP HOP SLANG

‘cigarette’

fegi

ngife

ngem

cancer stick, fug, butt, lungdart, cigga

‘marijuana’

ndom, ndukulu

ndom, nduku, tuyu, qurunedi tirre, gush, gwill, vela

wac, a-bomb

‘being an addict’ kunaswa

kurunda

junkie

binger, junkie

‘being high (on alcohol or drugs)’

kublaze

kulola

kuwa hewani floating, get on, (related to the wasted concept of ‘floating’ – used to mean ‘being in the air’)

‘love’

maroho

masparks

love

‘make a call’

kuvuta waya

kuvuta nangos, kuvuta waya kushtua tenje

hala holla, ping, buzz (Hala is derived from Holla used in US hip hop e.g. 50 cent’s P.I. M.P and Chris Brown ft T-pain’s song Kiss Kiss)

‘to break up with kumchill a loved one’

kumtoka, kumpiga kisigino

‘fighting’

kukutana

vurugana

kukutana majab ( Jab is commonly used in US English to mean ‘bother’ i.e. jab s.o. ‘bother s.o.’ In this case jab is used to mean fighting or boxing)

‘sending credit (eg. Safaricom airtime)’

bambua

bambua

slide units

‘kiss’

buss

munju

smunch

to dump, to cut jab

to make out

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Table 6.2 (continued) ENGLISH

CALIF SHENG

DANDORA SHENG

ENGSH

WEST COAST/US HIP HOP SLANG

‘hanging out’

kudunda

kuhepi

kublaze, balling (balling is from TI’s song ‘What you know’)

balling

‘television’

telly

mbulu, tenje

screen, digital

digital (from Sheryl Crow song ‘Soak up the sun’ – referring to digital television)

‘radio’

masignal

dionaree

boom

kuteremka

kunyesha

njeve

njeve

njeve

‘rain’ ‘cold’ ‘sun’

solar

kuni

solar

‘bicycle’

bicky

sululu

bike

‘motorcycle’

honda

nduthii

honda

‘food’

mdifu

medda, demo, keroma

demo

‘goalkeeper’

jagoal

jaguar, jagoal

kipa

‘gun’

bonoko, mbunde mchuma, fee, mdungi

ongiso, ak

9mil, loaded 44

‘phone’

tenje

musi

snirl

‘money’

dollare, mkwanja chums, mkwaja

musi, mneti

greens, cheddar, bills, greens, bucks (Greens is cheese mostly used in US hip hop to refer to money)

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Table 6.3: Monetary values and the varieties of Sheng ENGLISH

CALIF SHENG

DANDORA SHENG

ENGSH

5 10 20 40 30 50 100 200 500 1000 10000 1000000

tano dala, ashu mbaola fourty tharba nich soo rwabe punch ndovu tenga mita

ngo’ri miku, kinde omba, blue, kefao obako tharba nich, finje, chuani hoss, ng’at, sow, soo jill, rwabehossmbiekse, berwa punch kappa wahed, ngiri, brown thao kappa kumi mita

ngovo ashara blue fouty thirty finje soo soo mbili punch brown kavu kumi mita

Table 6.4: Upcoming varieties of Sheng in other parts of Nairobi (idioms from the Sheng website http://www.sheng.co.ke) SHENG WORD

SHENG IDIOM

IDIOM MEANING

IDIOM USAGE

AREA OF USAGE

vutia

kunywa na straw

‘to overwhelm’ (lit. ‘to drink with straw’)

Suzie ananikunywa na straw ‘Susan overwhelms me’

Buruburu Phase 1

ka plastic

paka mafuta

‘to con’ (‘apply oil’)

biz ya Kim ni ya kupakana mafuta ‘Kimani’s business is a con’

Buruburu Phase 1

bale

mguu ya kuku

‘gun’ (‘leg of chicken’)

mandigo walimuja na mguu ya kuku ‘The thugs had a gun’

Buruburu Phase 1

bamba

bamba vimeja (originates from a local musician)

‘be gripped by / be overly, fascinated by’

uskii huyo manzi amenibamba vimeja ‘I tell you! That girl has had me smitten’

Unknown

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Table 6.4 (continued) SHENG WORD

SHENG IDIOM

IDIOM MEANING

IDIOM USAGE

AREA OF USAGE

zinja

cold case (ex.1) (originates from a famous local programme)

‘cold food’

maze nilifika kejani nikapata waifudhes hayuko. . . uskii ilibidi niinvestigate cold case ‘I arrived home and found that my wife wasn’t there. . . I had to eat cold food.’

Buruburu Phase 5

teke

toka teke (ex.4)

‘run fast’

maboy wametoka teke ‘The boys have run fast.’

Unknown

p-square

mambo PSquare (originates from Nigeria ‘twin brothers and musicians’)

‘It’s about sex, let’s have sex, I’m having sex’ (“Issues PSquare”)

siezi bonga sasa. . . mambo p-square ‘I can’t talk now. . . I’m having sex.’

Unknown

clande

chips funga (ex.2) (‘take chips’)

‘a girl/woman picked from a club or such a place. . . solely for sex’ (“chips to go”)

Simo ana chips funga ‘Simon has picked up a girl.’

Unknown

jirani

mse wa jirani (ex.3)

‘a gay person’

Mato ni mse/ msee wa jirani ‘Martin is gay.’

Unknown

vee

sonko uma vee (popularized by a local musician)

‘big man stop rushing. . . take it easy’

ambia sonko aume vee ‘Tell the big man to take it slow.’

Dandora (also known as D/Dando/ Dandoch/Dee)

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Table 6.4 (continued) SHENG WORD

SHENG IDIOM

IDIOM MEANING

IDIOM USAGE

AREA OF USAGE

manyu

manyu ka boot (figurative speech to show that you are last or behind in issues)

‘you are at the very end of issues’

niko mbele ka poke ya shati na wewe uko manyu ka boot ‘I’m in front like a shirt pocket and you are behind like a car boot’

Unknown

rangi

rangi ya thao (thao is Sheng for ‘thousand’. The denomination is brown in color)

‘a lightskin or brown colored woman / girl’

Diana ni Rangi ya thao ‘Diana is lightskin’

Unknown

vuvuzela / nyundo (both: ‘penis’)

piga vuvuzela (the act of blowing the vuvuzela, an instrument popularly blown during football matches)

‘to give a blowjob’

Mary alipiga vuvuzela ya mine ‘I got a blowjob from Mary.’

Unknown

nare

kula nare / shikisha nare / kulisha nare (originates from the fiery emotion associated with anger)

‘to make somebody angry’ (“eat anger/to be gripped by anger”)

Jemo amenikulisha nare sana ‘James has really annoyed me’

Eastleigh (Easich)

piga bafu / pigwa bafu / pigana bafu (popularized by local musicians Bafu Chafu ‘play dirty’)

‘to be conned, to con others’

bafu

Wambo amenikulia nare leo. ‘Wambo is angry at me today’ nimepigwa bafu na maordinare huko tao ‘I have been conned by thugs in town’

California (Calif)

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Table 6.4 (continued) SHENG WORD

SHENG IDIOM

IDIOM MEANING

IDIOM USAGE

AREA OF USAGE

maji

kata maji

‘to take alcohol’ (“cut water”)

twende tukakate maji ‘Let’s go drink some alcohol’

Thika main street

waya

vuta waya (derived from the action of making a call)

‘make a call’ (“pull the wire”)

nivutie waya jioni ‘Give me a call in the evening’

Nairobi – Central Business District (CDB), Calif

pamba

Uma pamba (From the cotton wool usually placed inside the mouth of the dead upon their being embalmed)

‘to die’ (“bite cotton”)

Michuki ameuma pamba ‘Michuki is dead/has died’

Unknown

3 Ethnic Registers: “Shengnized Kamba” The Akamba are an ethnic group of Bantu people predominantly occupying Kitui, Machakos, Makueni and Mwingi Counties of Kenya in the Eastern Province. The Akamba also live in Mbeere, Kirinyaga, Kwale and Taita Taveta districts, among other parts of the country, and are the fifth largest ethnic group in Kenya (after the Kikuyu, Luhya, Kalenjin and Luo communities) with a population of 3,893,157.20 Kikamba/Kamba (the Akamba language) has four main dialects, namely Masaku, South Kitui, North Kitui and Mumoni (Lewis 2009). Shengnized Kamba does not adopt the grammatical structures of Sheng entirely, but it adopts the strategies that Sheng uses to manipulate, and uses lexemes not only from English or Swahili, as Sheng does, but also directly from different urban varieties of Sheng. This register does this by using lexemes from different urban varieties. Since the way of using this language and of manipulating the Kamba structure seems to be quite similar to the one that Sheng uses, it can be seen as a type of Sheng which is influenced not only structurally by 20 According to KNBS census (2009).

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urban Sheng (the different varieties) but also shengnized by using lexemes from the language. Linguistic features for Shengnized Kamba are derived from the Machakos dialect of Kamba language, what Lewis (2009) refers to as the Masaku Kamba dialect. Just like the Dandora, Calif and Westlands varieties of Sheng, the Shengnized Kamba, as represented here, is not representative of all parts of the larger Machakos County. However, its features are important indicators of how urban Sheng has infiltrated the rural mother tongues to form new registers of Sheng. Though popularly known to be a rural county, Machakos encompasses some areas that are more rural and remote than others, and usage of English and Swahili varies widely with respect to closeness to urban centers (especially to Machakos town). In this case, the areas close to urban centers have a higher usage of these languages than most remote areas, where Kamba dominates almost all forms of socio-cultural, political and economic interactions. Therefore, Shengnized Kamba is popular especially in the areas surrounding Machakos town. Machakos, just like other parts of Kenya, is multi-ethnic, though Kamba is the dominant language across Machakos, Kitui, Mwingi, Makueni and other areas of the larger Ukambani (much of the Eastern province of Kenya). As mentioned earlier, the construction of Shengnized Kamba is not entirely from loans or manipulated lexemes involving Kamba, English and Kiswahili, since speakers also show a tendency of borrowing lexemes directly from urban Shengs. This aspect may be associated with mobility patterns, specifically ruralurban circular movements, which have defined the livelihoods of Kamba speakers, many of whom live in Eastlands, Nairobi. This means that Kamba speakers living or working in areas of Eastlands where varieties of Sheng are spoken (e.g. Calif and Dandora) are important agents in the spread of Sheng lexemes from these urban varieties to their rural backyards, where such lexemes are used to enrich their registers. The following examples show the construction of Shengnized Kamba. (7)

Nu-u-thi ku-mindo samsido things 2SG S- FUT-go INF-do ‘Will you go to do those things?’

isu? DEM :those

Nuuthi and isu are fully Kamba words but samsido is a creation in Shengnized Kamba to refer to ‘something’. Samsido is derived from the Sheng word samu and also forms parts of some Kamba words such as kasamu, isamu. Kumindo is Shengnized Kamba (Kamba: kwika ‘to do’). Example (8) shows the deliberate manipulation of Kamba words (shengnizing them) and borrowings from Sheng originating from English vocabulary.

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m-supa usu e-na side mbosho noma CL .1-lady DEM :this 3SG S-have side pockets good ‘This lady has nice hips’ (i.e. referring to the hip region of a woman).

Msupa is a Sheng word derived from the English word super and commonly used in Calif Sheng. The prefix m- precedes the root to create msupa. Usu and ena are Kamba words, whereas side is English. Mbosho is a Sheng word used to mean ‘pockets’. In this case the phrase side mbosho, which in a literal sense refers to the pockets on an item of clothing such as trousers, is used in this case to refer to the hips of a woman. Finally, noma is a Sheng word which means shida/matata in Swahili i.e. ‘problem/scandle’. However, in this context its use connotes something good and big (as in the good big hips of a lady). Noma, just as in Kamba, is also used in Sheng to mean something either good or bad depending on the context. The example thus shows a combination of Sheng, English, Swahili and Kamba used together to form Shengnized Kamba. (9)

Ndu-u-ni-vut-i-a 2SG S- FUT-1SG O-pull-APP- IND ‘Will you call me later?’

waya wire

ma-time time

CL .6

angi? other

Vuta waya/vutia waya is a Sheng idiom describing the action of making a call. The idiom is popularly used in Calif Sheng, while in the Dandora variety, vuta waya also occurs as vuta nangos or shtua tenje (see Table 6.2). In this context, Kamba morphemes are placed before the Sheng verb. Waya is Swahili and is also the Kamba word for ‘wire’ and thus an English loanword. Matime is a word in the older Sheng where traditionally a class prefix ma-, commonly used to form plural Swahili and Kamba words, is added before an English word (time) to shengnize it into matime. The quantifier angi is again Kamba. Just like (7) and (8) above, example (9) is another example of complex language manipulation to form Shengnized Kamba. Apart from utilizing the Kamba, English, and Swahili languages, there is also the use of urban Sheng loans. (10) U-naa-on-a ila ndai i-na-ina ngoma mbaya? 2SG S- PAST-see- IND DEM CL .9:car CL .9-REL-have CL .9:music CL .9:good ‘Did you see the car with the nice music?’ In this last example unaaona, ila and inaina are Kamba words; ndai, however, is Dandora Sheng for ‘car’. Ngoma is borrowed from Swahili (music) and is popularly used in Sheng (in several registers and in Nairobi’s central business district). Mbaya is Swahili, meaning ‘bad’; the word as used in this example

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connotes ‘something very good’, however. Thus, examples (8) and (10) show an interesting tendency where words which usually have a negative meaning are used to connote positive or good things when used in Sheng and Shengnized Kamba. In the other varieties of Sheng, the equivalents of examples (7)–(10) use different lexemes purposely to identify these varieties and their speakers. The same phrases utilize different lexemes as one crosses ethnic speech communities, such as the Luo, Kikuyu, Kalenjin and Turkana communities, amongst others, whose speakers are likely to borrow Sheng lexemes and/or structure to manipulate their own mother tongues into new registers. In the Eastlands’s estates of Nairobi for instance, the equivalent sentences have a totally different style depending on the uniqueness of each estate’s variety. For instance, the word that the Akamba use to refer to a nice lady (i.e. msupa among others) have received many coinages and manipulations across most speech groups and varieties of Sheng. As mentioned earlier, the Shengnized Kamba exemplified here is mostly comprehensible to multilingual speakers, but at varying levels depending on their degree of competence in English and Swahili. However, non-English and non-Swahili Kamba speakers will undoubtedly embrace and use these loan words upon continuous usage by their friends in conversations. The same way infants learn Sheng as a first language without knowledge of English and Swahili as the main donor languages, it can be expected that many Kamba speakers without knowledge of Swahili or English will learn to use Swahili, Sheng and English loans so as to identify with Shengnized Kamba. Shengnized Kamba, just like the other varieties of Sheng discussed, requires careful study and analysis to reach a concrete linguistic understanding of the whole phenomenon of Sheng in Kenya. It is only through such comprehensive studies that linguists will decipher the complexity of the language. More importantly, extensive study on Sheng will necessitate a clear understanding of the connectedness or disconnectedness between and within its varieties and registers.

4 Conclusion Attitudes towards Sheng are at best mixed. A sizable population in Kenya recognize the language’s importance in social interactions and communication, as a form of socio-cultural growth, as an identity marker and unifying tool as well as in driving business. Educationists, language policy experts and most citizens of affluent Kenya appear to be in the minority in terms of castigating this rapidly growing language. Against spirited efforts to downplay Sheng and dismiss its

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position in the Kenyan society lies the paradox of a growing need and appreciation of this language in conveying information, marketing products and services and entertainment (TV, Radio and print media) across all ages, sectors of the economy and politics. This paper has contributed to our understanding of the Sheng language and its breadth of growth through presenting existing regional varieties and ethnic registers. Whereas the varieties (Engsh, Dandora and Calif) share structural similarities, differences in coinage indicated by various words show an important component of competition, resulting in the creation of varieties of Sheng that mark socioeconomic status or class, as well as reinforcing inferiority and superiority complexes across these varieties and their speakers. Shengnized Kamba, which does not necessarily adopt the “structure of Sheng” in its entirety, uses lexemes not only from English or Swahili as Sheng does, but also directly from the different urban varieties. Since the structure and the way of using these languages and of manipulating the Kamba structure seems to be quite similar to those that Sheng uses, it is somehow a type of Sheng which is influenced not only structurally by urban Sheng(s) but also Shengnized by using lexemes from the language. The development and growth of Sheng(s) is a reality and one wonders how to define this language given the upcoming varieties and registers, whose stability and future remains a puzzle. The answer, as mentioned before, lies in long term engagement in Sheng studies, to discern the existence, structure and other linguistic features of Sheng varieties and registers.

References Abdulaziz, Mohamed H. & Ken Osinde. 1997. Sheng and Engsh: development of mixed codes among the urban youth in Kenya. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 125. 43–63. Bosire, Mokaya. 2006. Hybrid languages: the case of Sheng. In Olaoba F. Arasanyin & Michael A. Pemberton (eds.), selected proceedings annual conference on African Linguistics, 185– 193. Somerville, MA: Cascadilla Proceedings Project. Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Githinji, Peter. 2006. Bazes and their shibboleths, variation and Sheng speakers’ identity in Nairobi. Nordic Journal of African Studies 15(4). 443–472. Githiora, Chege. 2002. Sheng: peer language, Swahili dialect or emerging Creole? Journal of African Cultural Studies 15(2). 159–181. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3181415 (accessed 11 June 2014). Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS). 2009. Population and housing census highlights. Government of Kenya. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341.

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Lewis, M. Paul (ed.). 2009. Ethnologue: languages of the world. Sixteenth edition. Dallas, Texas: SIL International. Online version: http://www.ethnologue.com/. Momanyi, Clara. 2009. The effects of ‘Sheng’ in the teaching of Kiswahili in Kenyan schools. The Journal of Pan African Studies 2(8). 127–138. Ogechi, Nathan Oyori. 2005. On lexicalization in Sheng. Nordic Journal of African Studies 14(3). 334–355. Rudd, W. Philip. 2008. Sheng: the mixed language of Nairobi. Muncie, IN: Ball State University dissertation.

Websites, Youtube videos and Newspapers (accessed June 30, 2014) Daily Nation: The making of a Somali capital base at the heart of Nairobi: September 26, 2010. Sheng Town – A Docu-dramatization film. http://www.rastaites.com/news/hearticals/kenya/ shengtown.pdf Sheng Nation (the Sheng website). http://www.sheng.co.ke Wakenya na Sheng. East African Television (EATV) [Kenyans and Sheng]. http://www.youtube. com/watch?v=eDC-Ed2ksbU The Sheng supremacy. NTV Kenya. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaZdZlOUOSQ Language is a virus. Omar Jabbar. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uucFURw2HI, http:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyKUYf

Abbreviations 1SG O, 1PLO 1SG S, 1PL S APP CL .1 CONN COP DEM FUT IMP IND INF LOC NAR NEG PAST PERF REL SUB

1st person singular object, 1st person plural object 1st person singular subject, 1st person plural subject applicative noun class one connector copula demonstrative future tense imperative indicative infinitive locative narrative negation past tense present perfect relative subjunctive

Andrea Hollington

7 Yarada K’wank’wa and urban youth identity in Addis Ababa1 Abstract: This paper provides an introduction to Yarada K’wank’wa, an Amharicbased linguistic variety spoken by youths in Addis Ababa, which has not gained very much academic attention until now. The main focus of the paper is to illustrate the variety’s function as a marker of group identity. After a short introduction and some notes on the development and spread of Yarada K’wank’wa, the paper sheds light on the strategies of linguistic manipulation which the speakers employ and which reflect and project processes of identity formation. Violation of the linguistic norms as well as the creation of (linguistic) categories (“labels”) for members of the Ethiopian society are examples of how the youths’ linguistic practices mark their speakers’ urban youth identity, which is constructed in opposition to mainstream society, the older generation and the rural way of life. This also sheds light on the complex set-up and ever-changing nature of the community of practice of speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa.

1 Introduction Yarada K’wank’wa (ያራዳ ቋንቋ)2 is a linguistic variety developed and spoken by the youth of Addis Ababa (and other urban centers of Ethiopia) and, as is the case with other youth language practices, one of its main functions is to mark group identity. It is based on Amharic, an Ethio-Semitic language and the official language of Ethiopia, and has developed through playful and creative language manipulations which reflect the ways in which the speakers see and categorize the world in order to build and express their identity in an urban context. There are only a few studies on Yarada K’wank’wa, consisting of short

1 I would like to thank Anne Storch and Seyum Bekale, who encouraged my work on Yarada K’wank’wa, Yvonne Treis and Kathrin Tiewa, who commented on earlier drafts of the paper, Nico Nassenstein, who contributed to the paper through comments and discussions, and an anonymous peer reviewer. Above all, I want to thank the speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa who introduced me to the linguistic variety and shared their knowledge of it with me. 2 The transliteration used in this paper is based on Leslau (2005) with the following variances: ቀ = k’ä, ጠ = t’ä, ጨ = č’ä, ጰ = p’ä, ጸ = s’ä, ፀ = s’ä

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surveys of the variety or focusing on the linguistic strategies used and especially on lexical manipulation. Among these studies are two bachelor theses presented in Amharic at the Addis Ababa University, by Makwännən Bälachäw (1968 E.C.), who was probably the first to collect words in Yarada K’wank’wa, and by Fasil Däbbäbä (1981 E.C., see Koji 2006). Mochizuki Koji’s article (2006) concentrates on socio-cultural and cognitive aspects of the variety. Very little has been said about the function of Yarada K’wank’wa as a marker of identity, but this has been described as a predominant function of other youth language practices in Africa (Kießling and Mous 2004). In this paper I want to show how the speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa use linguistic practices to express their identity and to differentiate themselves from other members of society, such as the older generation, the rural population and members of the “high society”. In this regard, we will also take a closer look at the community of practice. Kießling and Mous’ article is used as an orientation for the analysis, as the authors demonstrate the function of marking identity for a range of other youth language practices in Africa (Kießling and Mous 2004). After giving a short description of Yarada K’wank’wa, I briefly discuss gender issues, the origin of the youth variety and the terms “slang”, “youth language”, “argot” and “antilanguage” (see Kießling and Mous 2004) with regard to Yarada K’wank’wa before taking a look at its relationship to identity. Beyond the general objective of investigating the linguistic encoding of identity, another aim of this paper is to show that Yarada K’wank’wa is quite wide-spread and gaining momentum, while having a covert prestige. Indeed, speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa can be found throughout Addis Ababa and even in other cities of Ethiopia and the variety is nowadays used by youths of different social strata and with a variety of personal, professional or social backgrounds. The linguistic data presented in Koji’s paper (2006) was used as a basis for the analysis, and additional data was collected in May and June 2008 in Addis Ababa.3 The data was gathered in informal contexts in the streets of Addis Ababa, especially in Piazza, as well as on and around the university campus in Sǝddǝst Kilo, through unstructured interviews and conversation with young people, who refer to themselves as Yarada ləğğočč (ያራዳ ልጆች, ‘Arada children’, ‘children of Arada’) or Arada (አራዳ). Additional data was collected in collaboration with convicts who were detained in the police station Wäräda 9 in Addis Ababa in May and June 2008. The research on Yarada K’wank’wa (including my own research) is still in a preliminary state and in order to provide a detailed 3 In the following, examples quoted from Koji (2006) will be marked, while unmarked examples are from my own data.

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and comprehensive analysis of Yarada K’wank’wa and its synchronic and diachronic aspects, more research needs to be undertaken.

2 Yarada K’wank’wa 2.1 A short description of Yarada K’wank’wa4 In order to describe Yarada K’wank’wa properly it is first of all necessary to take a closer look at the word Arada (ኣራዳ), which is a constitutive concept of the identity and consciousness of the speakers of this youth variety. Basically, Arada refers to an area in the center of Addis Ababa (including the old city center Piazza), but the term has undergone many semantic extensions and is used by the Arada people in different contexts with various meanings. Koji states: “The Amharic word Arada has many meanings. Depending on the context, it can mean the ‘central area of Addis Ababa’, ‘dangerous person’, ‘crafty’, ‘cool’, ‘thief’, ‘outwitting’, ‘city center’, ‘playboy’, or ‘person who knows’. Some of the young people in Addis Ababa identify themselves as Arada. These young people use and develop the slang called Yarada Qwanqwa (‘the language of Arada’) in their daily lives.” (Koji 2006: 793).

He further explains that the young people he consulted in his research referred to themselves as Arada especially in the context of their in-group, but not always in the general public (Koji 2006: 793). This is supported by my own findings: most of the young people to whom I talked explained to me that they do not like the term Arada to be used too much in public, especially in front of “non-Arada people”. Within the in-group, however, the term Arada is used by the youth to refer to themselves proudly in order to express the difference in their style and way of life and to set themselves apart from others (see also Koji 2006: 793). This behavior and attitude is an indicator of the covert prestige of the variety. The speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa (nowadays) are youths of different social strata, although many of them belong to the so-called “lower classes”. Some of the speakers are unemployed, others are students or workers (e.g. conductors of minibuses). Many of them like to spend their free time in Piazza. Furthermore, the complex set of meanings of the concept Arada illustrates and reflects the complex, fluid and diverse nature of the community of practice 4 As it goes beyond the scope of the present paper to give a detailed descriptive analysis of Yarada K’wank’wa, only the main aspects and strategies are outlined and illustrated here in order to introduce the reader to Yarada K’wank’wa and to enhance those aspects which are important for the sociolinguistic analysis concerning the variety’s relation to identity.

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(CoP), since Arada serves as an umbrella term that encompasses the members of the CoP. The rather flexible and broad definition of CoP provided in Eckert and McConnell-Ginet (1992) and Eckert (2000) simply relates to people who come together and share practices. This leaves room for the establishment of a fluid community which is comprised of various sub-groups and which is subject to constant change as speakers move in and out of the CoP (through growing older, changing social status, procreation of new speakers, etc.). The complex set-up of the CoP will be investigated in more detail later in this chapter as we will look at the linguistic labels that speakers have created for subgroups of the Ethiopian society (in- and out-group). The origin of Yarada K’wank’wa has not been satisfactorily investigated, but it has been suggested that its origin can be found in the argot of criminals, thieves and prostitutes (see Demisse and Bender 1983). Similar origins have been reported for other youth language practices in Africa, e.g. Sheng and Tsotsitaal (Kießling and Mous 2004). The words and phrases that comprise Yarada K’wank’wa are a result of various creative strategies of language manipulation, and many words, especially those which are frequently coined and created anew, are largely unknown to “non-Arada people”, although there is a tendency for the variety to spread across society. In order to maintain the secrecy of their variety (or rather of parts of it),5 the youths create new terms as soon as old terms become known by the wider society. For instance, ‘marijuana’ had been described by the term ək’a (እቃ), which in standard Amharic means ‘things, object, utensil, baggage, goods, stuff, effects, article (object)’ (Leslau 2005: 132). As this usage of ək’a is now commonly known, especially by police officers, many other terms are now used to refer to ‘marijuana’. The latest term I came across was k’ədus k’ət’äl (ቅዱስ ቅጠል ‘holy leaf’), which also reflects affinity to the Rastafari discourse, where marijuana is often called the ‘holy herb’ or ‘holy leaf’. Such ideas may spread among the youths through reggae music, which is appreciated and listened to by many Arada people, and also through the presence of repatriated Rastafari in Ethiopia. There are other instances which show that Yarada K’wank’wa undergoes rapid changes. For example, Koji (2006) presents the term ufa (ኡፋ) with the meaning ‘food, leftovers (of restaurants)’. Many of the Yarada K’wank’wa 5 The “secrecy” is basically confined to parts of the repertoire, especially to vocabulary that refers to criminal or illegal things or activities. Moreover, the notion of “secrecy” is relative to the particular context/communicative situation. While many “outsiders” do not understand Yarada K’wank’wa terms (partly also because they do not want to engage with these linguistic practices), the speakers did not hesitate to reveal these words and phrases to me during interviews.

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speakers whom I asked did not know this term; others stated that it was old and not in use anymore. Instead, most speakers used the term bule (ቡሌ) with the same meaning. Moreover, these processes illustrate the fluid and ever-changing nature of the linguistic practices under the label of Yarada K’wank’wa, as meanings are constantly created, changed and negotiated within their respective contexts of use. There are several strategies of language manipulation used by the Arada people in order to create their linguistic variety, some of which are also found in other African youth language practices such as Tsotsitaal, Sheng, Yanké, Langila, Camfranglais or Nouchi (see for instance Kießling and Mous 2004, Nassenstein 2011, and the other contributions to this volume) and in Ethiopian argots described by Leslau (1964a, 1964b) and Demisse and Bender (1983). The main and most frequently used strategies in Yarada K’wank’wa are borrowing (basically from English, but also from other Ethiopian languages like Tigrinya or Oromo), semantic manipulation (especially dysphemism, metonymy and metaphor) and morphological hybridization.6 Words borrowed from English can be classified into four groups: Borrowing without semantic shift or affixation (1)

ፒፕል pipəl

‘people’ < English people

(2)

ችክ čək

‘girl’ < English Slang chick ‘girl’

(3)

ቢዚ bizi

‘busy’ < English busy

(Koji 2006: 797)

(Koji 2006: 795)

Borrowing with Amharic affixation (morphological hybridization) (4)

ሀርደኛ hard-äňňa hard-NAG

‘a person who is hard’ < English hard + Amharic -äňňa

(Koji 2006: 797)

6 In order to present a comprehensive analysis of all strategies of linguistic manipulation, more research on Yarada K’wank’wa needs to be undertaken. An interesting question which is not considered in this paper is whether or not Yarada K’wank’wa speakers make use of root formation as a strategy, as has been described for Ethiopian argots (Leslau 1964, Demisse and Bender 1983).

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ችኬ čək-e chick-POSS .1SG

‘my girl’ (cf. above) < English Slang chick ‘girl’ + Amharic -e

Borrowing with semantic manipulation (6)

ትሪፕ t(ə)rip

‘addiction (to c̆’at, alcohol, smoking, sex etc.)’ < English trip

(Koji 2006: 799)

(7)

ፍሪክ f(ə)rik

‘person who is addicted, likes party and music’ < English freak

(Koji 2006: 799)

(8)

ጀለስ ğäläs

‘friend’ < English jealous

Borrowing with Amharic affixation and semantic manipulation (9)

ትሪፐኛ t(ə)rip-äňňa trip-NAG

‘addict’ < English trip + Amharic -äňňa

(Koji 2006: 797)

The semantic manipulations of borrowings from English are sometimes very transparent, as in (6), (7) and (9), whereas in other cases, the motivation for the semantic shift is not so obvious, as in (8) where the manipulation is dysphemistic. These deliberate changes reflect the role of agency and consciousness with regard to the youths’ linguistic practices. The semantic shift that Amharic words undergo when they enter Yarada K’wank’wa is also motivated by various strategies which are transparent to varying degrees: Metonymy (10)

ቀሚስ k’ämis

meaning in Yarada K’wank’wa ‘girl’

meaning in Amharic ‘dress’

‘100 Birr note’

‘ash of coal’

‘old man/woman’

‘king’ (in a skat cards deck)

Metaphor (11)

አመድ amäd

Euphemism (12)

ሼባ šeba

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The semantic manipulations in (10)–(12) are in opposition to the “original” Amharic meaning and thus reflect processes of dissociation with regard to identity formation processes, as we shall see below. Apart from semantic manipulation, there are other linguistic strategies employed in Yarada K’wank’wa, which are also commonly found in other African youth language practices (see Kießling and Mous 2004 and contributions to this volume). Yarada K’wank’wa speakers make use of morphological manipulations like the Amharic affixation to English words exemplified in (4) and (5) above, and of phonotactic manipulations like metathesis and truncation: Metathesis (13)

Yarada K’wank’wa ትሴ tse

Truncation (14) ቦሩ boru

Amharic ሴት set

meaning ‘woman’

ቦርሳ borsa8

‘bag’7

Most of the examples presented so far are nouns and nominal phrases. More research and investigation on Yarada K’wank’wa verb forms is needed, since the verb is the most complex part (in terms of morphology) of Amharic and other Semitic languages. It seems as if verbs in Yarada K’wank’wa do follow the morphological patterns of Amharic verbs. Further research is needed to determine the origins of the verbs presented below which are realized differently in Amharic.9

(15)

(16)

Yarada K’wank’wa ይፀዳል ‘it’s amazing’ yəs’ädall

Amharic አስደነቀ, ገረመ asdännak’ä, gärrämä

እናቅጥንው ənak’ət’ənəw

ሄደ hedä

‘let’s go’

‘be amazing’

‘go’

7 See http://www.cyberethiopia.com/warka4/viewtopic.php?p=211808 (accessed September 2012); the -u in boru could be interpreted either as a definite article or as dummy affixation. 8 The word borsa is ultimately a loan from Italian. 9 Semantic manipulations are conceivable. Compare the verbs in (15)–(18) to the following Standard Amharic verbs: ቀጠነ (k’ätt’änä) ‘slim down, be slim, be fine’ ነካ (näka) ‘touch, reach’ ጸዳ (s’ädda) ‘be clean, be pure’.

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(17)

እንንካው ənnənkaw

‘let’s go’

ሄደ hedä

‘go’

(18)

ይደብራል yədäbrall

‘it’s boring’

ተሰለቸ täsäläččä

‘be boring’

The examples provided so far give some insights into the creative linguistic manipulations undertaken by speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa. It should be stressed again that Yarada K’wank’wa (like other youth language phenomena) is a very dynamic variety that steadily changes and develops. This aspect underlines the importance of looking at the concept of “language” as a fluid phenomenon, as is increasingly done in current sociolinguistic approaches (e.g. Lüpke and Storch 2013). Regarding Yarada K’wank’wa as a fluid variety is indeed helpful to understanding various aspects of the linguistic creations of the youths, for instance, not only the fact that the practices and linguistic forms are everchanging and constantly developing but also that the practices subsumed under the concept of Yarada K’wank’wa are not always delimitable from other languages or linguistic practices. Moreover, the linguistic creativity of the speakers and the strategies which they employ illustrate the most important function of the youth language practices: to create an in-group language that reflects the identity of the youth and helps them to distinguish themselves from other parts of the society. Furthermore, there are different linguistic practices within Yarada K’wank’wa that coexist at the same time in different parts of Addis Ababa and among different youth groups (see also Koji 2006). Sometimes terms that are known by a particular group of people are not known by speakers of another group. However, there still seems to be a large set of terms and phrases which are “common Yarada K’wank’wa” and which were known by all Yarada K’wank’wa speakers I consulted. Such internal variation is common in languages and has been described for other youth language practices such as Sheng (see for instance Kioko, this volume).

2.2 Yarada K’wank’wa and gender Yarada K’wank’wa seems to be predominantly used and developed by male youths. All of the speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa to whom I talked and who saw themselves as experts of the youth language were male. A male dominance in African youth languages has been described by Kießling and Mous (2004), although female youth varieties do exist in Africa and probably need more aca-

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demic recognition. The male dominance in Yarada K’wank’wa becomes linguistically evident in numerous expressions for girls and their body parts, e.g. (19)

ቀሚስ k’ämis

‘girl’ (see above)

(20)

አይኑካ aynuka

‘girl with beautiful eyes’ < Amharic አይን ayn ‘eye’

(21)

ጊር gir

‘a girl’s buttocks’

(22)

ስቴፓ stepa

‘a girl’s buttocks’ < English step

But this does not mean that women and girls do not take part in or have influence on Yarada K’wank’wa. Most of the girls and young women I met at the university campus or in my neighborhood in Sǝddǝst Kilo knew quite a lot of the Yarada K’wank’wa terms and examples I had collected from other speakers and also used some of them. There are also hints that female practices within Yarada K’wank’wa exist alongside the male-dominated practices, and further research needs to be done to find out more about women’s linguistic practices within Yarada K’wank’wa and also about connections to the female-dominated varieties (argots) described by Leslau (1964) and Demisse and Bender (1983). With regard to Yarada K’wank’wa, it does not seem to be the case that a “female variety” exists as a separate practice, but rather that Yarada K’wank’wa comprises registers or at least vocabularies which are tend to be used by women, while other expressions (like (19)–(22)) are rather used by men. It has been stated for other youth language practices that female varieties often emphasize the ludic aspects of linguistic creativity and that female youths often engage in language games (e.g. Nassenstein 2011). One group of women seems to be specially linked to or involved in the creation of the youth language practices, namely the group of prostitutes in Addis Ababa (see Koji 2006, Demisse and Bender 1983), who seem to have played an important role in processes of linguistic creativity, manipulation and the development of linguistic variation.

2.3 The origin of Yarada K’wank’wa As briefly stated above, the origin of Yarada K’wank’wa (and of other African youth languages) is suggested to be associated with one or more argots of

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deviant groups (see Koji 2006, Kießling and Mous 2004). This hypothesis can be supported by the fact that there is a well elaborated vocabulary in Yarada K’wank’wa for terms relating to criminal activities. For example, there are many terms for different kinds of ‘thieves’. Many of them are presented by Koji (2006): (23)

ጮካ č’oka

‘thief’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(24)

አጨናባሪ ač’änabari

‘con man, swindler’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(25)

ቀስት k’äst

‘pick pocket’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(26)

ድቅታ dək’k’əta

‘thief who exchanges a container or a bag with an empty one’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(27)

መንጩ mänč’u

‘bag snatcher’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(28)

ጋቡ gabbu

‘car burglar’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(29)

አንከቴ ankäte

‘house breaker’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(30)

ላቦሮ laboro

‘pick pocket’

It can be observed that Yarada K’wank’wa is very elaborated in the criminal field. In fact, convicts serving their term at Wäräda 9 (a small jail affiliated to a police station in Addis Ababa), whom I visited during my research, knew many more words and phrases related to criminal activities (especially theft, and many of them were sentenced for thievery). Many of these expressions were not known even by other Arada people (for instance college students who in their free time hang out in Piazza and refer to themselves as Arada). These findings, similar to some other youth language practices in Africa, support the assumption that (criminal) argots can be considered as origin of Yarada K’wank’wa,

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although this may not be the only possible origin.10 But Yarada K’wank’wa is not only to be seen in connection to argots and the criminal field, as its usage and functions nowadays also go beyond these highly stigmatized varieties.

2.4 Yarada K’wank’wa: slang, youth language, antilanguage Kießling and Mous (2004) differentiate between slang and youth language, stating that a youth language is more elaborated than slang. While in a slang the base language is still strongly recognizable and intelligible, and only certain terms and phrases differ from it, in youth languages “the linguistic material that is deviant from the base language is so different and so extensively used that the outcome is incomprehensible for the uninitiated” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 303). The speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa stated that when they speak Yarada K’wank’wa uninitiated listeners (i.e. speakers of Amharic) can understand certain parts, as the framework is Amharic, but they will not “get the main point”. On the other hand, the variety shares many features with other African youth languages, especially in terms of the linguistic strategies employed and the marking of identity (see Kießling and Mous 2004). It also has its own name, Yarada K’wank’wa, meaning ‘language of Arada’ or ‘Arada language’ (and not ‘Arada slang’), which is a common feature of African youth language practices (Kießling and Mous 2004: 305).11 In fact, the borderline between slang and youth language might not always be that clear, as youth languages incorporate slang and often arise from criminal argots via slang (Kießling and Mous 2004: 313). To go one step further, this discussion illustrates the difficulties of delimiting “languages”, since linguistic practices, especially in multilingual spaces (like Addis Ababa), are based on complex repertoires which comprise all our linguistic resources, competences and “languages” (cf. Blommaert 2010, Lüpke & Storch 2013, Matras 2009). This means that youth language practices, for each speaker, are part of a large set of linguistic resources, which are individually shaped by each person’s indexical linguistic biography and hence strongly tied to aspects 10 Another Amharic-based argot/variety which is quite widespread in Addis Ababa and beyond is the language of č’at chewers. It could be interesting to look at this in connection to Yarada K’wank’wa, since many youths seem to be speakers of both, for chewing č’at is a very widespread activity among (male and “deviant”) youth in Addis Ababa. The language of č’at chewers is quite elaborated and comprises many terms and expressions that differ from Standard Amharic and are not known or understood by the uninitiated (see Yilma 2005). 11 But see Kießling and Mous (2006: footnote 9), who do not regard Yarada K’wank’wa as being a proper name as compared to other African youth languages, since it includes the word ‘language’ (k’wank’wa) and translates as ‘language of Arada’.

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of identity (cf. Blommaert & Backus 2011). Moreover, this perspective views youth language practices as embedded in speakers’ repertoires and as not delimitable from other linguistic practices, as speakers make use of all their linguistic resources at the same time (cf. Matras 2009; see also Beck, this volume). In this regard, the question of whether Yarada K’wank’wa qualifies as slang or youth language may ultimately not be that relevant, especially since it is obvious that the creation of Yarada K’wank’wa is a constant process. This can also be observed from the fact that Yarada K’wank’wa is spreading into different parts of society and into different urban areas of Ethiopia. While it is not completely unintelligible for outsiders, it is steadily developing and maintains some kind of secrecy, which turns these practices into a multifaceted phenomenon. Whether youth language, slang or argots, all of these youth linguistic practices fall into a group of varieties that Halliday (1978) classifies as “antilanguages”: “In an antilanguage, language exists primarily to create group identity and to assert group difference from a dominant group. . . . The meaning at the core of a metasign of antilanguages is hostility and rejection of the dominant order.” (Halliday 1978, quoted in Kießling and Mous 2004: 313).

Together with other variables like clothing style, music, dancing style, style of walking, hair style, caricatures and styles in popular media, way of life, preferred places to “hang out”, etc., the antilanguage is meant to express an “antisociety identity” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 313) in opposition to the rest of the society.12 We will now see how Yarada K’wank’wa is used by its speakers to create this kind of group identity.

3 Yarada K’wank’wa and identity Markers of identity can be linguistic as well as non-linguistic, but language is a crucial factor in connection to encoding identity: the language one speaks and the way one talks reveal so much about one’s identity that the phenomena of language and identity become inseparable (see Joseph 2004). Thus, language plays an important role in constructing and expressing identities. Even a single phoneme can make a difference in terms of identity; for instance, a slight 12 In this regard see also Hurst (2008) who suggests the term ‘stylect’ for Tsotsitaal and other youth languages that are closely connected to a specific style.

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pronunciation difference of one phoneme within a word could reveal one’s membership in a community that speaks a certain dialect and asserts a shared group identity. Group identities are shared by a group of people who use different attributes, like objects, symbols or language, to indicate and express this group membership. Group identity and individual identity are linked to each other in a reciprocal relationship: on the one hand, group identities consist of the individual members who are part of the group, while on the other hand, the individual identity of a person is affected by his or her group identities: “Group identities would seem to be more abstract than individual ones, in the sense that ‘Americanness’ does not exist separately from the Americans who possess it, except as an abstract concept. Yet combinations of such abstractions are what our own individual identities are made up of. What is more, group identity frequently finds its most ‘concrete’ manifestation in a single, symbolic individual. The group identities we partake in nurture our individual sense of who we are, but can also smother it. Individual identity is established in part by rank relative to others with the same group identity.” (Joseph 2004: 5)

One of the main functions of youths’ linguistic practices is the encoding of a group identity which is shared by the speakers of the variety and which is constructed through creative language manipulation and embedded in urban youth culture (see Kießling and Mous 2004). Thus, the language is reckoned as an emblem of the group identity, among other features like clothing, music, films, hair style, a way of life or a political attitude (Kießling and Mous 2004). The youths are committed to creating their own linguistic variety proudly, which then serves as a kind of secret language in certain contexts, but especially as an emblematic in-group language, excluding the uninitiated from their communication. The secrecy maintained through dynamic manipulations helps the speakers also to maintain their social distance (from the dominant/mainstream order), which is of great importance for the youth “anti-identity” (see Storch 2011). These aspects also play a major role in Ethiopian youth language practices. As previously stated, Yarada K’wank’wa serves as a strong marker of group identity for the youth of Addis Ababa in association with an “underworld lifestyle” (Kießling and Mous 2004), a criminal image that may play a role in the life of some of the speakers, and an “antisociety identity” in the sense of Halliday (1978). This constitutes a parallel to the linguistic youth varieties of other African cities. Kießling and Mous conclude: “Specific groups of speakers, predominantly male youth, who see themselves as marginalized, who live on the edges of society, close to the underworld, and who conduct themselves as rebels, are in the vanguard to create the consciousness of a new social identity, that of urban youth.” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 328)

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Since Yarada K’wank’wa has already spread among the youths of different areas of Addis Ababa (and even other cities in Ethiopia) and of different social status (“street children”, durəyye (see below), students, “working class” youth etc.), it is insufficient to describe Yarada K’wank’wa as a phenomenon solely connected to the “underworld” or the “edges of society”. Though criminal, stigmatized and marginalized youth are a very productive part of creating and developing Yarada K’wank’wa (e.g the linguistic creativity and productivity of the convicts mentioned in the previous section), students or other groups of youths who are not at the “edge of society” also use and shape Yarada K’wank’wa nowadays. This also relates to the complex notion of the fluidity of languages discussed above. So it seems that there are different subgroups of Yarada K’wank’wa speakers (recall that there are also different versions of Yarada K’wank’wa spoken in different parts of Addis Ababa) and the membership in the group that shares Arada identity seems to have different degrees. The group identity is also influenced by all the different identities which the individual Yarada K’wank’wa speakers bring in. Thus, there is not one static or consistent Arada identity (again relating to the notion of fluidity). But there are still common aspects shared by all members of the group and a common Yarada K’wank’wa stock that is understood by all speakers of the variety. The identity expressed by Arada people through their language is in strong opposition to that of the older generation, the rural people, the rather “traditional” way of life and the “high society”, i.e. people of the “upper social classes”. The linguistic manipulations we have seen in section 2.1 exemplify this identity: the rather non-transparent manipulations in the form of metaphor, metonymy, dysphemism or euphemism, as well as morphological hybridization, truncation and metathesis, show a violation of the linguistic norm and create a strong linguistic opposition which in turn reflects the social opposition which is part of the youths’ social reality. All linguistic strategies which are employed in Yarada K’wank’wa (borrowing, morphological hybridization, truncation, metathesis and semantic manipulation) violate the linguistic norm and thus reveal the resisting element which is part of the “anti-society identity” of antilanguages. These practices strongly enhance the agentive and conscious aspects of speaking and linguistic practices. Here, the dissociation from other parts of the society is expressed on a symbolic level and the language serves as a mirror for the social reality of the youths. The differentiation from the older generation and the rural people is expressed explicitly by specific terms for those non-members of Yarada K’wank’wa:

Yarada K’wank’wa and urban youth identity in Addis Ababa

(31)

ሸዋዬ šäwaye

‘country man’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(32)

ቆምጨ k’om(ə)č’ä

‘country boy/man’

(33)

ሼባ šeba

‘old man/woman’ (see (12))

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As Joseph suggests, names and labels (“signifiers”), like the ones indicated in (31), (32) and (33), are primary and obvious markers of identity, which have the deictic function of indicating persons or groups, and can also reveal more about their identity through connotations and meanings of the name or label (see Joseph 2004). As a part of their identity construction, the Arada people create labels for those who are not part of their group and classify them in opposition to themselves, as (31)–(33) show. More examples are: (34)

ፋሩከ farukä

‘foreigner’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(35)

ፋራ fara

‘person who is not Arada’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(36)

ገገማ gägäma

‘person who is not Arada’

(37)

ፍሬው f(ə)rew

‘person who knows nothing (non-Arada)’

This categorization shows a clear separation from non-members of the group. In opposition to these “outsiders”, many of the Arada people refer to themselves as č’olle (ጮሌ), which means in Standard Amharic ‘prompt, quick, clever, smart, perspicacious, slick (ingenious), schemer’ (Leslau 2005: 237), and which can be regarded as some kind of label for the CoP (although it may not be used by all speakers). There are different kinds or subgroups of Arada people, who are labeled differently and who are associated with specific traits, characteristics or professions. This reflects the complex nature of the CoP, and also shows that in the process of constructing identities, members within the group are categorized as well as “outsiders” and constitute opposing groups. Koji presents the following in-group categories:

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(38)

ፍሪክ f(ə)rik

‘freak’ (see above) (Koji 2006: 797)

(39)

ዱርዬ durəyye

‘rogue, hoodlum’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(40)

ሀርደኛ hardäňňa

‘person who is hard’ (see above) (Koji 2006: 797)

(41)

ፍንዳታ fəndata

‘bomb’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(42)

ወያላ wäyyala

‘conductor of minibus’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(43)

አየር ባየር ayär bayär

‘broker’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(44)

ሸሌ šälle

‘prostitute’ (Koji 2006: 797)

(45)

ጮካ č’oka

‘thief’ (Koji 2006: 797)

These are subcategories which constitute (among others) the Arada people, who all share a common Arada identity which is expressed through their shared creative language. The subcategories are associated with unique features and characteristics. Some folk definitions are presented by Koji (2006): Frik ‘freak’ “First of all, they smoke, drink and so on. Then they like music and like going to parties. A person who displays this kind of behavior is called frik. They take their style from rappers.” “Fekede is a frik. He troubles his family because he is in fayrä eji [fire age]. You know, he is such a hard c’at addict that he was driven away from home because he was sneaking money out of his father’s shop.” Fəndata ‘bomb’ “Fəndata is in fayrä eji [fire age]. They live with their family, but they are always looking to fight. Some of them extort money from others. They fight, in most cases, as a team. When they begin to date girls, they fight so hard over girls that they split each other’s head and some of them may die. Such people are called fəndata.”

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“if one is fəndata, one must do weight lifting. To build a fizikal (‘muscular body’), he gets up early in the morning and plays sports. Eating all day is their main activity.” “fəndata loves eating. You know, Taklai eats ufa ‘leftovers (of restaurant)’, squeezing lime and drinking it with water (for disinfection). fəndata feels happy when he eats.” Durye13 ‘rogue’ “durye is a person who sleeps on the street. They eat ufa ‘(restaurant) leftovers’.” “They are called durye because they sleep on the street.” “One becomes durye because he is tərippäňňa ‘an addict’.” “A durye is so brutal that he steals and splits another’s head” (Koji 2006: 799)

These different subcategories of Arada people show the complexity of the youths’ identity and how they oppose the “norm of society” in different ways. But not all of the Yarada K’wank’wa speakers are members of one of the subgroups. As pointed out earlier, not all Yarada K’wank’wa speakers can be considered deviant (as according to the subcategories outlined above) or delinquent. I have observed that very different youths with different social backgrounds speak Yarada K’wank’wa and assume an Arada identity and they like to separate themselves from the wider society through their language use, style, behavior and way of life. Especially nowadays Yarada K’wank’wa seems to be becoming the variety spoken by the young generation of Addis Ababa, whose members express their identity in far more respects than those associated with the marginalized and criminal youth. Nevertheless, the subcategories of Arada outlined by Koji (2006) constitute the core of Arada identity and are an important drive in the dynamic processes of developing Yarada K’wank’wa. These aspects of Arada identity and membership (which is loose) and the description of the various people who comprise the speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa depict the complex nature of the CoP, which is understood to be comprised of people who come together and share practices (see Eckert 2000). This rather loose definition (in opposition to the rather restricted notion of “speech community”, see also Beyer, this volume) leaves room for the complexity and fluidity that actually characterizes the group of speakers. Other important aspects of Yarada K’wank’wa and Arada identity result from the influence of “cultures from outside”, which play a big role in urban globalizing centers. Here the affinity to American popular culture, hip hop and reggae is particularly important. This is evident in the use of borrowings from (American) English and English slang (as pointed out earlier on; see (1)–(9)) and also through extensive use of code-switching (Amharic/Yarada K’wank’wa – English). 13 Also durəyye (see Leslau 2005).

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Furthermore, phrases from American slang, hip hop and reggae songs or Rastafari discourse are used, like ‘What’s up, man?’, ‘let’s bounce’. Since Rastafari – in Jamaica and beyond – strongly relates to Ethiopia and some Jamaicans have also repatriated to the country, Rastafari discourse and Jamaican music (especially reggae) became a source of inspiration for Ethiopian youths in search of a modern and urban identity. This can be observed in popular music in Ethiopia but also in Yarada K’wank’wa, where expressions from Rasta Talk (the language of Rastafari; see Schrenk, this volume) are inspirational sources of new words in Yarada K’wank’wa, such as the above mentioned expression k’ədus k’ət’äl (ቅዱስ ቅጠል ‘holy leaf’). These features are also an indicator of a globalizing urban identity and are linked to other features of style (for example clothing or music/ dance) which show the speakers’ affinity to these popular culture(s) or subcultures. Access to these cultures is provided not only by the popular media but also by strong diaspora connections to different parts of the world. The internet is also used by Yarada K’wank’wa speakers to proudly represent their linguistic creativity and exchange or to discuss the latest Yarada K’wank’wa words with other speakers of the variety, who are not only found in Ethiopia.14 Another important factor mentioned briefly earlier on is that in some public contexts, speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa may not feel comfortable being referred to as Arada. While inside their group being Arada is regarded as something positive, cool and smart, Arada people are stigmatized and looked down on by the majority of the society. In this tenor, Yarada K’wank’wa is denounced as the language of marginalized durəyye, criminals, prostitutes and members of lower social status. The prestige of Yarada K’wank’wa is thus a covert one. It is among Arada people that Yarada K’wank’wa is associated with positive features and that being linguistically creative in “the Arada way” is considered to be a great contribution to their language and urban youth culture.

4 Conclusion As we have seen, the speakers of Yarada K’wank’wa make use of creative strategies in order to develop their variety, which displays their urban youth identity in opposition to that of the older generation, the rural (traditional) population and other social classes. The linguistic practices are a strong marker of group identity in a unifying sense, indicating membership of a group that opposes the social norm by creating its own identity. Yarada K’wank’wa serves as a marker of 14 See http://www.cyberethiopia.com/warka4/viewtopic.php?p=211808 (accessed September 2012).

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youth identity in two ways: on the one hand, it expresses the speakers’ dissociation from the rest of the society (the uninitiated), through violating their established linguistic norms, through secrecy which excludes them from conversations, and through labeling and categorizing them (the latter being a strategy that “mainstream society” also makes use of in order to stigmatize groups or people who deviate from the norm). On the other hand, it encodes group identity and expresses solidarity with other members of the group. This identity is dynamic, which is also reflected by the fact that the linguistic practices are in a constant process of changing and developing and that there is regional variation. The linguistic identity displayed by Yarada K’wank’wa is not only dynamic but also versatile, and Yarada K’wank’wa is able to reflect different aspects of the subgroups of Arada people and of the different members who share the Arada group identity. It is the covert prestige of Yarada K’wank’wa that attracts youths to use the variety and to take creative influence on its development, especially since Yarada K’wank’wa has started gaining momentum among the youth of Addis Ababa and other urban centers of Ethiopia. It can be stressed again that the dynamicity of these practices and their functions and contexts of application underline the importance of the notion of fluidity with regard to both language and identity.

References Bälachäw, Makwännən. 1968 (E.C.). “ያራዳ ቋንቋ”፣ለአርትስ ባችላር ዲግሪ ማሟያ ጽሕፍ፣አዲስ አበባ ዮኒቨርሲቲ. [“Yarada K’wank’wa”]. Addis Ababa: Addis Ababa University BA thesis. Blommaert, Jan. 2010. The sociolinguistics of globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blommaert, Jan & Ad Backus. 2011. Repertoires revisited. ‘Knowing language’ in superdiversity. Working Papers in Urban Language and Literacies 67. 1–26. Pagination refers to online version: http://www.kcl.ac.uk/sspp/departments/education/research/ldc/publications/ workingpapers/67.pdf (accessed December 2014) Däbbäbä, Fasil. 1981 (E.C.). “በአዲስ አበባ ከተማ በክፍለተ ሀገር አውቶቡስ ተራና አካባቢው የሚነገሩ የበረንዳ አዳሪች ቋንቁኛ፤ለአርትስ ባችላር ዲግሪ ማሟያ ጽሕፍ፣አዲስ አበባ ዮኒቨርሲቲ [Street youth language in the Autobus Tera area of Addis Ababa and its vicinity]. Addis Ababa: Addis Ababa University BA thesis. Demisse, Teshome & Lionel M. Bender. 1983. An argot of Addis Ababa unattached girls. Language in Society 12(3). 339–347. Eckert, Penelope & Sally McConnell-Ginet. 1992. Think practically and look locally: Language and gender as community-based practice. Annual Review of Anthropology 21: 461–490. Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Halliday, Michael A.K. 1978. Language as a social semiotic: the social interpretation of language and meaning. London: Arnold.

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Hurst, Ellen. 2008. Style, structure and function in Cape Town Tsotsitaal. Cape Town: University of Cape Town dissertation. Joseph, John E. 2004. Language and identity. National, ethnic, religious. Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–241. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2006. “Vous nous avez donné le français, mais nous sommes pas obligés de l’utiliser comme vous le voulez. [You gave us French, but we are not oblidged to use it in the way you want it] Youth Languages in Africa.” In Christa Dürscheid & Jürgen Spitzmüller (eds.), Perspektiven der Jugendsprachforschung, 385– 402. Frankfurt am Main: Lang. Koji, Mochizuki. 2006. “Cognitive anthropological analysis of slang as an expression of subculture: The case of Yarada Qwanqwa, the language of Addis Ababa”. In Siegbert Uhlig (ed.), Proceedings of the XVth International Conference of Ethiopian Studies Hamburg 2003 (Aethiopistische Forschungen 65), 793–802. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Leslau, Wolf. 1964a. Ethiopian argots. The Hague: Mouton & Co. Leslau, Wolf. 1964b. Linguistic principles of Ethiopian argots. Journal of Semitic Studies 9(1). 58–66. Leslau, Wolf. 2005 [1976]. Concise Amharic-English English-Amharic dictionary. Addis Ababa: Shama Books. Lüpke, Friederike & Anne Storch. 2013. Repertoires and choices in African languages. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Matras, Yaron. 2009. Language contact. Cambridge University Press. Nassenstein, Nico. 2011. The Lingala-based youth language Yanké. Cologne: University of Cologne MA thesis. Storch, Anne. 2011. Secret manipulations. Language and context in Africa. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Yilma, Aklilu. 2005. Jargon of chat chewers: A sociolinguistic analysis. LISSAN: Journal of African Languages & Linguistics 19(1). 23–39.

Internet sources http://www.cyberethiopia.com/warka4/viewtopic.php?p=211808 (accessed 11 June 2014).

Abbreviations E.C. NAG POSS SG

Ethiopian Calendar Nomen Agentis Possessive Singular

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8 Overview of the tsotsitaals of South Africa; their different base languages and common core lexical items Abstract: Tsotsitaal in South Africa has many characteristics in common with other African “urban youth languages”; for example, it incorporates lexical innovation, metaphor and neologisms, its origins are in criminal argot, and it is used primarily by male youth in urban centers, possibly as a marker of being modern and “streetwise”. It can be considered as a set of language resources rather than a “language” in any traditional sense of the term, and one of the more interesting characteristics of tsotsitaal in South Africa is its existence in multiple base languages – all the official languages in South Africa (11 in total) have their own accompanying tsotsitaal. Other non-official languages, including mixed forms of language in highly multilingual townships such as Soweto, also have their variety of tsotsitaal. This paper gives examples of tsotsitaals which utilize a range of base languages – Setswana (Tswana), Tshivenda (Venda), Sesotho sa Lebowa (Northern Sotho), Sesotho (Sotho), IsiZulu (Zulu), Sepedi (Pedi), and IsiXhosa (Xhosa) – to demonstrate the core features of the phenomenon, and to try to outline why the tsotsitaal phenomenon is an exemplar of youth language practice as fluid repertoire.

1 Definition, historical description of tsotsitaals Tsotsitaal is a youth language practice found in all the major urban centers of South Africa (Hurst and Mesthrie 2013). It can be considered as a set of language resources rather than a “language” in any traditional sense of the term, and can be characterized as a “register” (Mesthrie 2014) or “style” (Hurst and Mesthrie 2013) of speaking, rather than a “language” per se. It finds commonalities with other African “named” varieties of youth language such as Sheng, Nouchi and Camfranglais (Hurst forthcoming). Tsotsitaals exist in multiple base languages – all the official and many non-official languages in South Africa have their own accompanying tsotsitaal. This article uses the word tsotsitaal as a noun, e.g. a tsotsitaal, rather than as the name of a single variety, and therefore follows Mesthrie (2008) who refers to tsotsitaals in lower case. A tsotsitaal in fact can

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go by many different names (for example isiTsotsi, ringas, Iscamtho), and sometimes has no name; calling the phenomenon tsotsitaal may to an extent be an artifact of linguists (Brookes and Lekgoro 2014). However, if you ask practically any township resident (whether speaker or non-speaker, perhaps excluding very recent migrants) to talk about tsotsitaal they know which aspect of the township repertoire you are referring to. Tsotsitaal consists of lexical items which make up a register or style, borrowed mainly from the national African languages, English and Afrikaans. In older vocabulary, from the tsotsitaal varieties of the 1940s and 1950s, a high proportion of words are adapted from Afrikaans (see the dictionary of this variety by Molamu (2003)), while more recent lexical items seem to be drawn primarily from the African languages of South Africa, subsequently undergoing manipulation or semantic change. A few lexical items may have their roots in other European languages; some more recent borrowings may come directly from American slang. It has a “floating lexicon” with terms spreading across different tsotsitaals via media or peer groups, and other terms that remain specific to peer groups or particular geographical tsotsitaal varieties (Hurst and Buthelezi 2014). Historically, the earliest variety of tsotsitaal originated in Sophiatown in the 1940s and 1950s, and at that time utilized Afrikaans as its (grammatical) base language (Molamu 2003). Since then it has spread countrywide. The base language of tsotsitaal in a particular geographical location is constrained by the language repertoires of its speakers. Mesthrie and Hurst (2013) demonstrate that a tsotsitaal can occur in mixed language environments where its base language may feature code-switching (e.g. in Gauteng townships such as Soweto where residents may speak several languages from a range, including isiZulu, isiXhosa, Sepedi, Setswana, Sesotho and Xitsonga, and switch between them in everyday speech), but that tsotsitaals are not reliant on switching: there are also examples of single base language tsotsitaals, for example a Xhosa variety in Cape Town (Mesthrie and Hurst 2013), and a Zulu variety in Durban (called isiTsotsi) (Hurst and Buthelezi 2014). In South Africa, many of the national languages have urban forms which are distinct from their rural counterparts (i.e. urban isiXhosa or urban isiZulu) and feature high frequencies of borrowing, particularly from English. Rural forms on the other hand are usually more closely aligned to “standard” forms taught in schools. Tsotsitaals rely on urban forms. According to Mesthrie and Hurst (2013) a tsotsitaal can be defined as a “highly stylised slang register of an urban form of language”; the relationship with the urban forms is that they form the base language of tsotsitaals. Tsotsitaal is primarily an urban phenomenon, and the urban base is necessary for the style. This “style” extends to other

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aspects of communicative performance, such as ways of walking, body posture and clothing, as well as aspects of youth culture such as musical preferences (Hurst 2009). Tsotsitaals seem to form part of identity construction and the performance of masculinity in modern townships.

2 How urban languages differ from “urban youth language practices” For clarification purposes it is necessary to distinguish between tsotsitaal and the urban forms of the African languages that it uses as its base(s). Broadly, urban languages differ from tsotsitaals in that they: – rely on one base language (unless they involve code-switching) – are not domain-restricted – are spoken by all generations and genders – emerged from contact rather than criminal slang So urban isiZulu or urban isiXhosa are the common forms used in urban centers. However, despite highlighting how urban forms differ from youth forms, some of the above points are actually true of tsotsitaal to one extent or another: it seems to be becoming less and less domain-restricted; claims are being made that it is being spoken across generations and genders; the relationship with criminal slang has never been certain (and is hard to demonstrate); and so it only really differs on the first point. The crossovers between urban and youth forms can create ambiguity around where the urban form ends and tsotsitaal begins, which is exacerbated by a lack of clarity in the literature and in terms of definitions and naming of African urban youth languages. By focusing on these phenomena as repertoire and practice, rather than attempting to characterize them as discrete codes, we are able to avoid some of this ambiguity. In this formulation, tsotsitaals primarily distinguish themselves from the urban forms through the stylized resources described above (both lexical and extralinguistic).

3 Comparisons with other African urban youth language practices Regarding the similarities and differences between tsotsitaals and comparable phenomena such as Sheng, Nouchi and Camfranglais, in summary these are some of the features that these youth language practices seem to have in common:

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Innovation in lexicon, including neologisms involving strategies such as metaphor, borrowing, form manipulations, semantic manipulations, circumlocutions, near synonyms, archaisms, ideophones (Mous 2011). The same strategies also seem to be employed in European youth styles (Dorleijn, Mous and Nortier 2015). African urban youth languages are often seen as “moving targets” as there is little to distinguish them linguistically from the base languages they rely on, other than a shifting lexicon. Many appear to have developed from criminal argots. They are used primarily by male youths, although claims are being made that some of the varieties are progressing to lingua franca status. The gender aspect however appears to have been under-researched at this juncture. There is a clear urban vs. rural dimension wherein these varieties are markers of modernity and urbanity. There are clear links to extra-linguistic style in many of the varieties; they involve wider communicative strategies which serve to communicate modern, streetwise identities. The varieties are often accompanied by particular performances which incorporate body language, such as ways of walking, body posture and gestures. They often indicate a subversive relation to colonial languages (Hurst forthcoming).

Regarding any differences between tsotsitaals and other urban youth language practices encountered in this volume, a remarkable feature of tsotsitaals seems to be the extent of the portability of resources. As stated, tsotsitaal is used across numerous base languages, while most other African urban youth languages are only used “through” one or two languages. Perhaps tsotsitaal’s portability is due to the particular language policy of South Africa, which is somewhat exceptional regarding how many languages it promotes, leading to a multiplicity of languages in the urban context. There are indications from the papers in this volume that other African urban youth languages may be following an analogous route (see for example the contributions by Kioko and Nassenstein). Considered as a set of language resources which form part of youth repertoires across South Africa, tsotsitaal has salience beyond traditional language boundaries. This may have implications for patterns of youth language practice in other African urban centers. The next section expands on international theory regarding urban youth language, repertoire and style, in order to provide ways to analyze tsotsitaals.

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4 Urban youth language, style and repertoire A great deal of work has been undertaken in recent years on hybrid or mixed languages that are emerging in urban centers across the world, leading to some theoretical descriptions and developments that are relevant to tsotsitaals and other urban youth language practices. Debates around language phenomena such as code-switching and mixed languages have arisen as part of a general shift away from ideas of languages as discrete, bounded, unitary systems, towards a concern with practice and style. This trend is described as the “third wave” in variationist sociolinguistics (Eckert 2012). According to Eckert, the third wave moves towards the view of variation as an essential feature of language which serves to express the changing concerns of a community – hence languages are inherently mutable. She states: “This mutability is achieved in stylistic practice as speakers make social-semiotic moves, reinterpreting variables and combining and recombining them in a continual process of bricolage” (Eckert 2012: 94). This move in variationist sociolinguistics has resulted in a focus on language practice, particularly linguistic styles and registers, in which speakers draw on linguistic resources/repertoires from multiple language communities and languages. Working from within this tradition, Blommaert and Rampton (2011: 8–9) describe the complexity of styles and performances in use by contemporary youth as one of the major empirical challenges of diversity for current sociolinguistics, and focus their interest on “appropriative practices” that cannot be explained by existing frameworks such as code-switching and multilingualism: “there is an emphasis on creativity and linguistic profusion when sociolinguistic research focuses on non-standard mixed language practices that appear to draw on styles and languages that aren’t normally regarded as belonging to the speaker, especially in recreational, artistic and/or oppositional contexts (and often among youth). These appropriative practices are strikingly different from dominant institutional notions of multilingualism as the ordered deployment of different language, and they involve much more than just the alternation between the home vernacular and the national standard language. Instead, they use linguistic features influenced by e.g. ethnic outgroups, new media and popular culture.”

Some of the phenomena that meet this description that have been studied in the international literature include Rinkeby Swedish (Stroud 2004), Multicultural London English (Cheshire, Kerswill, Fox and Torgersen 2011), and Straattaal in the Netherlands (Dorleijn, Mous and Nortier 2015), all of which have some features in common with the varieties described in this volume.

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The main theoretical emphases that have arisen from the third wave in variationist sociolinguistics that are useful for understanding youth language practice are style and linguistic repertoire. In addition, the third wave brings into consideration other semiotic meaning making systems such as gesture and expression. Firstly, by “style” or “performed discursive practice”, Coupland (2007: 145) means that speakers are constructing personas and contexts through speech. He argues that we need to take context into account in descriptions of language, and suggests that “speakers (consciously or not, and whether or not they can account their strategies metacommunicatively) shape their speech in anticipation of particular social outcomes” (Coupland 2007: 79). Secondly, regarding linguistic repertoire or speech repertoire, Beyer (this volume) states that “in the context of youth language research a refined concept of the linguistic repertoire is indispensable to reconcile linguistic diversity, mixed languages and individual multilingualism”. This concept describes a fluid set of linguistic resources, or a “pool of resources from which members of a speech community draw the linguistic tools they need” (Fought 2006: 21). According to Gumperz, a verbal (in his terminology) repertoire “contains all the accepted ways of formulating messages. It provides the weapons of everyday communication. Speakers choose among this arsenal in accordance with the meanings they wish to convey” (Gumperz 1964: 138). Importantly, multilingualism and alternation strategies between languages and dialects “form a behavioural whole, regardless of grammatical distinctness, and must be considered constituent varieties of the same verbal repertoire” (Gumperz 1964: 140). This removes the distinction between individual discrete languages in the speech of an individual – instead, individuals can choose from whatever linguistic practices they are familiar with from their environment. Blommaert (2010: 170) describes a “polyglot repertoire”, which is “not tied to any form of ‘national’ space, and neither to a national, stable regime of language. It is tied to an individual’s life and it follows the peculiar biographical trajectory of the speaker”. However, the notion of linguistic repertoire is not without its limitations, and Sharma (2011) and Newman (2010) identify the “development of distinct types of hybrid repertoire under different conditions”. Sharma (2011: 465) argues that therefore the concept of repertoire needs embedding within considerations of wider social structures. Finally, Kress (2009) proposes widening the object of sociolinguistic study from “language” to “semiosis”. Other authors such as Bucholtz (1999), Eckert (2008) and Irvine (2001) have focused on the stylistic practices of youths in particular. Eckert (1980), in her study of “jocks” and “burnouts” in high schools in Detroit identified a “broader stylistic complex” which included the “full range of consumption” – clothing, food, substance use, music etc., which relate to

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ideologies and the construction of identity. She describes how “Detroit versus varsity jackets, bell bottoms (at the time) versus straight-leg jeans (Eckert 1980), and dark colors versus pastels, among others – all explicitly index urban versus school orientation” (Eckert 2012: 92). In Silverstein’s (2003) terms, youth styles can be understood to be “a rather primitive form of indexicality: robust associations that connect a sign (or a particular quality of such a sign, like the code selected by the speaker) to a geographic, demographic, or occupational category” (Büscher, D’hondt and Meeuwis 2013: 539). However, the fluid nature and reinterpretation of youth styles over time may point to their “second-order indexical” nature, where “the link between linguistic form and usage context is no longer dictated by a transparent association” (Büscher et al. 2013: 539) but is mediated by “an ethno-metapragmatically driven native interpretation” (Silverstein 2003: 212) with local salience.

5 Examples of different tsotsitaals To return to the “portability” of tsotsitaal resources, this section presents examples of various tsotsitaals from existing literature. The examples have been drawn from a number of studies published in the last decade. Only in my own study (Mesthrie and Hurst 2013) do I have access to the empirical data, and for this reason I make no claims here to being able to fully characterize each variety; I rely on the authors to have done that within their own publications. Instead I am trying to draw a larger picture of what might characterize the phenomenon at a national level. As a result of my reliance on others’ data I do not always have the equivalent urban or standard form with which to compare the tsotsitaal form, nor do I have full glosses. Wherever possible I have highlighted the tsotsitaal items as well as English and Afrikaans borrowings in bold, with translations where necessary in the following line. Unless stated it can be assumed that unmarked items are the (urban form of the) base language, be it Venda, Xhosa and so on. Abbreviations for grammatical categories are given in the appendix.

5.1 The Tsotsi language variety of Tshivenda (Mulaudzi and Poulos 2001) The first example involves a survey of the Tsotsi language variety as it is used in Venda communities. In the study tsotsitaal is presented in contrast to the standard variety of Venda (Tshiphani). No particular geographical regions are

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identified in the methodology, rather the authors state that “The tsotsi language variety is prevalent in all Venda communities [in South Africa]” (Mulaudzi and Poulos 2001). They further state that “the majority of Tsotsitaal speakers in most Venda communities are teenagers, young men and old men working in urban areas or old men who once worked in urban areas”. (1)

Hu sharp, zwino ri do vaya lini? Alright go ‘Alright, when are we going to leave?’

Both of the highlighted terms in example (1), sharp and vaya have been identified by Hurst and Mesthrie (2013) as belonging to the “core” lexicon of tsotsitaals (see appendix). While Mulaudzi and Poulos do not conduct a close analysis of the grammatical features of their examples, they do state that “speakers accommodate the tsotsi lexical items in the general grammatical structure of the Standard variety” (Mulaudzi and Poulos 2001). This is in contrast with the following example: (2)

Eintlik ndi fanela uri ndi gidle early because In fact sleep ‘In fact, I would like to sleep early because I. . .

ndi

fanela u vuwa nga matsheloni ndi tshi yo geleza . . .want to wake up in the morning and read, and then. . .

vaye mi medi ri ye Jozi go girlfriend Johannesburg . . .by 12 o’clock I will be going to town with my girlfriend’. nga

vho

twelve

then

ndi

Here the authors point to an increase in codeswitching, as can be seen from the presence of both Afrikaans and English discourse markers and logical connectors. The use of logical connectors and discourse markers from English and Afrikaans has been noted in other urban varieties around South Africa (Deumert et al. 2006) and is not specific to the tsotsitaal style. In general, the authors of this study focus on the lexical features of the tsotsitaal variety of Venda rather than any grammatical effects. The majority of lexical items that they highlight are present in other tsotsitaals, for example, spana (work, from Afrikaans span meaning ‘team’); gidla (‘sleep’, from Zulu gidli, an ideophone meaning ‘the falling of a rock off a pile of objects’); and smoko (‘trouble, problem’, from the English noun smoke).

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5.2 Street Setswana vs. School Setswana (Cook 2009) This study focuses on Street Setswana (Setswana sa mo strateng). The author considers the use of non-standard varieties in the classroom, with a focus on the “street” variety and how it is managed in classrooms. While she does not explicitly focus on tsotsitaal, some tsotsitaal lexical items are present in the examples, suggesting that the “street” variety may be synonymous with tsotsitaal in this context (as it is in other South African contexts). (3)

dishopong tse dingwe ke triikllipa khapol waitse shops 300 Rands couple ‘But in the shops others are three hundred and something you know?’

Kana

mo

According to Cook (2009), “structurally, this speech form differs very little from standard Setswana, especially in terms of syntax”. One area where Street Setswana differs from Standard is in morphophonemics where “many otherwise distinct sounds are combined in Street Setswana” (Cook 2009). This is a common feature of urban forms of African languages, and indeed as Cook suggests, is also common to the spoken forms of many languages. She also highlights how Street Setswana differs from standard Setswana in terms of semantics, in that “Street Setswana typically includes standard Setswana words to convey non-standard meanings”. The highlighted word klipa (sometimes clipper) meaning ‘one hundred rand’ is a common lexical item in tsotsitaals around the country (Hurst 2008).

5.3 Tsotsitaal in Sesotho sa Lebowa, or Northern Sotho (Nkosi 2008) This study investigated language change and variation in Sesotho sa Lebowa, also known as Northern Sotho, in Shoshanguve, a township just north of Pretoria. The author asserts that the highly multilingual population of the school has led to variations in standard Sesotho sa Lebowa, which is the first language of the school. One manifestation of variation is in the appearance of tsotsitaal words (SeTsotsi in this study), and the author asserts that this form of variation is more regularly seen in boys than girls. (4)

Autie ela ga ena verstaan Young man understand ‘That guy does not understand’

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In this example, autie (going by many different spellings such as authi or outie) is one of the core tsotsitaal items listed in the appendix. Verstaan, originally from Afrikaans, is also a common tsotsitaal item (Hurst 2008). The author focuses on language use as described by learners, teachers and parents in a Shoshanguve school. For this reason, there is little naturalistic or spoken data. Furthermore, the multilingual nature of the school results in various influences on Sesotho sa Lebowa, notably borrowings from Setswana (particularly in girls’ language) (Nkosi 2008: 70). There is little comment on whether there is any effect on the grammatical structure of Sesotho sa Lebowa from tsotsitaal. We see again the occurrence of some familiar tsotsitaal terms; for example, gidla (sleep), which we saw in example (2), occurs in Sesotho sa Lebowa. Nkosi (2008: 72) states that “boys use go gitla as the phrase which refers to sleeping”. She also states that “when going somewhere boys usually say: ‘ke a waaia’. The word waaia is derived from an Afrikaans word waai” (Nkosi 2008: 73). Waaia was seen in examples (1) and (2) as vaya, and may actually come from Portuguese vai ‘to go’ (Mesthrie and Hurst 2013).

5.4 Language variation in Qwaqwa Sesotho (Sekere 2004) This study focuses on the region Qwaqwa in the Free State province, and the sociolinguistic variation in the primarily Sesotho-speaking area, “along a continuum ranging from isolated rural-standard vernaculars on the one extreme to urban varieties which are non-standard on the other” (Sekere 2004: 1). The author identifies part of the language change among youths as being due to the desire to be accepted by other language groups: “For instance, the younger generation living in Qwaqwa villages acquire the township norms of social relations, adopt the typically urban fashion of clothing and manners as well as striving as best they can to urbanise their speech.” (Sekere 2004: 28)

(5)

My

laiti boy

STD

Ngwaneso o sephoqo se fetang diphoqo ‘My boy you are stupid more than other stupids’

o

bari stupid

e

fetang

dibari stupid (PL)

tse

ding

tse

ding

This example gives the standard Sesotho equivalent in line 3. This shows a high incidence of lexical replacement, both with English and with informal lexicon. Laiti in this sentence is a South African slang term that is used throughout the country in all domains and communities, so cannot be strictly classed as

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tsotsitaal. Bari on the other hand is a common core item of tsotsitaals (Hurst 2008).

5.5 IsiZulu and isiTsotsi in Umlazi (Rudwick 2005) Rudwick’s study analyzes the relationship between the urban mixed-code isiTsotsi, spoken in the Umlazi township near Durban, Kwa-Zulu Natal, and the “standard” isiZulu of the region. She draws on concepts of diglossia in her analysis and argues that in the township domain, standard Zulu is the High variety, while isiTsotsi is the Low variety. lapha there

edawa, however

ngishaywe I find

iguzu no-one

(6)

Ngiyafika

STD

Ngiyafika enzansi kodwa ngingafici muntu ‘Whenever I come down there, I find no-one’

Rudwick (2005: 307) argues that “the discourse [of isiTsotsi] is based on informality and intimacy”. She furthermore states that isiTsotsi and isiZulu are mutually intelligible (although the example above highlights significant lexical variation between isiTsotsi and standard Zulu) and that “isiZulu is the matrix language and main lexifier of the Tsotsi variety displayed here” (Rudwick 2005: 307). Rudwick identifies three main “deriving forces” for the isiTsotsi lexicon: archaic isiZulu; re-contextualized English words; and re-contextualized isiZulu words (Rudwick 2005: 313). The Durban variety seems to have a number of lexical items not identified elsewhere, for example shayisa, which means ‘come’ or ‘bring’, is still in use in Durban tsotsitaals today, but has not been noted in other parts of the country. On the other hand some familiar terms such as isimoku ‘trouble’ (from English smoke, mentioned above) and i-clipa 100 rand, seen in example 3, both feature in Rudwick’s data.

5.6 Tsotsitaal in Bapedi communities (Mokwana 2009) This research focuses on “language contacts, language varieties, interference, and code switching and borrowing in the Sepedi1 language and dialects spoken 1 Sepedi, or Pedi, is considered one of the major varieties of Sesotho sa Leboa, or Northern Sotho, discussed earlier. The earlier study however focused on language use in Gauteng province, while this example focuses on Limpopo province.

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and written in the Limpopo province” (Mokwana 2009: 10). One of the varieties focused on is tsotsitaal. The author writes that “Tsotsitaal is a social variety spoken in all Bapedi communities” (Mokwana 2009: 105), and that it is mostly used by “teenagers, young and old men working in urban areas or old men who once worked in urban areas”. kae

bari stupid

(7)

E

yela?

STD

Se kae setlatla sela? ‘Where is that stupid person?’

The author does not comment on the grammatical framework of the Sepedi tsotsitaal variety, and focuses on the lexicon, where we find cognates of the familiar terms bari ‘stupid’, semoko ‘trouble’ (smoke), gidla ‘sleep’ and vaya ‘go’. Compare for example the tsotsitaal forms isimoku (isiZulu tsotsitaal), smoko (Tshivenda tsotsitaal), and semoko (Bapedi tsotsitaal). The author highlights isiZulu, English and Afrikaans as lexical influences, and points to the prestige associated with the variety because it indicates “that they are ahead of the current fashion, and . . . they are modern township dwellers” (Mokwana 2009: 107).

5.7 IsiXhosa-based tsotsitaal in Cape Town (Mesthrie and Hurst 2013) Mesthrie and Hurst’s article describes the essential characteristics of Cape Town tsotsitaal, which is based on isiXhosa, and “argue for its continuity with similar varieties in other South African cities”. This leads to the claim that tsotsitaals are actually registers of the urban varieties of South African languages. (8)

Su-yi-beth-ela NEG -OC -go-APP

e-towun LOC -town

STD

Musa uku-ya e-doloph-ini ‘Do not go to town today’

namhlanje today namhlanje

The final word namhlanje in the tsotsitaal version may also be replaced by an alternate lexifier; for example in Mesthrie and Hurst two alternatives for ‘today’ in tsotsitaal were given: famdukwana and vandag. Mesthrie and Hurst explain their examples as follows:

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“The basic structure of the elicited sentences . . . is that of Xhosa, with modifications to the older standard form . . . in the urban offshoot. The tsotsitaal translations use the contracted urban negative forms suku (or the further contraction su), rather than the Std Xhosa form, and adhere to the Xhosa locative form e- before a noun. However, all but one respondent omitted a second locative -ini, mandatory in the standard form, which requires a circumfix e- plus -ini, except in some nouns. The second element ‑ini is disfavoured possibly because of the status of the noun which is a conscious neologism.” (Mesthrie and Hurst 2013: 119).

They continue the discussion by arguing that the novelty of tsotsitaal is found in the lexicon. For example, in the above sentence, the verb for ‘go’, bethela, is a semantic manipulation with the original meaning ‘to beat’ found in both urban and rural forms of isiXhosa, but it is used here in the sense of ‘beat it’ or ‘hit the road’. The majority of the lexical items identified in the preceding examples are also present in the Cape Town variety, with some additional Cape Town-specific terms not encountered elsewhere in the literature.

6 Conclusions As can be seen from the above examples, tsotsitaal exists in a variety of African languages throughout South Africa, with the main identifying features being a set of “core” lexical resources that are prevalent around the country. Descriptions of the main speakers (young men) and the main reason for use (to identify a speaker as urban and streetwise) are in agreement across the various studies conducted thus far on these varieties. There appears to be little influence from tsotsitaal on the grammar of the base languages, beyond what is already common in the urban forms. This highlights the need to keep the research object of tsotsitaals distinct from urban vernaculars – urban isiXhosa and urban isiZulu are not tsotsitaals and exist independently of tsotsitaals. The position taken here is in agreement with Mesthrie and Hurst’s argument that tsotsitaals are currently a register or style of speaking the urban form, as well as with current international theory regarding language as practice and repertoire rather than as homogeneous, bounded entities. Tsotsitaal resources such as those highlighted above are used by speakers to index an urban, streetwise identity; the use of tsotsitaal terms in different base languages highlights how resources can circulate and be salient in and across many different language contexts. One remaining question concerns the future of the phenomenon. As variation and contact impact ever more strongly on “standard” forms, the line between

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urban forms and tsotsitaals may become increasingly blurry, and may ultimately necessitate a reconsideration of that “standard”. Other African varieties such as Town Bemba may have lessons for us here. These lessons may also have implications for the rapidly diversifying language situation in urban centers around the world, all of which suggests that research into youth language practices is critical to understanding language variation and change.

References Blommaert, Jan. 2010. The sociolinguistics of globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blommaert, Jan & Ben Rampton. 2011. Language and superdiversity. Diversities 13(2). 1–21. Brookes, Heather & Tshepiso Lekgoro. 2014. A social history of urban male youth varieties in Stirtonvilee and Vosloorus, South Africa. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies 32(2). 149-159. Bucholtz, Mary. 1999. “Why be normal?”: Language and identity practices in a community of nerd girls. Language in Society 28(02). 203–223. Büscher, Karen, Sigurd D’hondt & Michael Meeuwis. 2013. Recruiting a nonlocal language for performing local identity: Indexical appropriations of Lingala in the Congolese border town Goma. Language in Society 42(5). 527–556. Cheshire, Jenny, Paul Kerswill, Sue Fox & Eivind Torgersen. 2011. Contact, the feature pool and the speech community: The emergence of Multicultural London English. Journal of Sociolinguistics 15(2). 151–196. Cook, Susan E. 2009. Street Setswana vs. school Setswana: Language policies and the forging of identities in South African classrooms. In Jo Anne Kleifgen & George C. Bond (eds.), The languages of Africa and the diaspora: Educating for language awareness, 96–116. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Coupland, Nikolas. 2007. Style: language variation and identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dorleijn, Margreet, Maarten Mous & Jacomine Nortier. 2015. Urban youth speech styles in Kenya and the Netherlands. In J. Nortier & B. Svendsen (eds.), Language, youth and identity in the 21st century, 271–289. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Deumert, Ana, Ellen Hurst, Oscar Masinyana & Rajend Mesthrie. 2006. Logical connectors and discourse markers in urban Xhosa. Paper presented at South African Association for Language Teaching/Linguistics Society of Southern Africa. Durban, South Africa. Eckert, Penelope 1980. Clothing and geography in a suburban high school. In C. Kottak (ed.), Researching American culture, 139–44. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Eckert, Penelope. 2008. Variation and the indexical field. Journal of Sociolinguistics 12(4). 453– 476. Eckert, Penelope. 2012. Three waves of variation study: The emergence of meaning in the study of sociolinguistic variation. Annual Review of Anthropology 41(1). 87–100. Fought, Carmen. 2006. Language and ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 1964. Linguistic and social interaction in two communities. American Anthropologist 66. 137–154.

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Hurst, Ellen. 2008. Style, structure and function in Cape Town Tsotsitaal. Cape Town: University of Cape Town dissertation. Hurst, Ellen. 2009. Tsotsitaal, global culture and local style: Identity and recontextualisation in twenty-first century South African townships. Social Dynamics 35(2). 244–257. Hurst, Ellen. Forthcoming. Language birth: Youth/town language. In R. Vossen (ed.), The Oxford handbook of African languages. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hurst, Ellen & Mthuli Buthelezi. 2014. A visual and linguistic comparison of features of Durban and Cape Town tsotsitaal. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies 32(2). 185–197. Hurst, Ellen & Rajend Mesthrie. 2013. ‘When you hang out with the guys they keep you in style’: The case for considering style in descriptions of South African tsotsitaals. Language Matters 44(1). 3–20. Irvine, Judith. 2001. Style as distinctiveness: the culture and ideology of linguistic differentiation. In Eckert, Penelope & J. R. Rickford (eds.), Stylistic variation in language, 21–43. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kress, Gunther. 2009. Multimodality: A social semiotic approach to contemporary communication. London: Routledge. Mesthrie, Rajend. 2008. ‘I’ve been speaking Tsotsitaal all my life without knowing it’: Towards a unified account of Tsotsitaals in South Africa. In M. Meyerhoff. & N. Nagy (eds.), Social lives in language, 95–109. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Mesthrie, Rajend. 2014. English tsotsitaals? – an analysis of two written texts in Surfspeak and South African Indian English slang. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies 32(2). 173–183. Mesthrie, Rajend & Ellen Hurst. 2013. Slang, code-switching and restructured urban varieties in South Africa: An analytic overview of Tsotsitaals with special reference to the Cape Town variety. Journal of Pidgin & Creole Languages 28(1). 103–130. Mokwana, Mokwana. 2009. The melting pot in Ga-Matlala Maserumule with special reference to the Bapedi culture, language and dialects. Pretoria, Gauteng: University of South Africa MA thesis. Molamu, Louis. 2003. Tsotsi-taal: A dictionary of the language of Sophiatown. Pretoria: University of South Africa. Mous, Maarten. 2011. Language under control. Paper presented at the Linguistics Spring Seminar, University of Cape Town, 30 August 2011. Mulaudzi, Phalandwa Abraham & George Poulos. 2001. The ‘Tsotsi’ language variety of Venda. South African Journal of African Languages 21(1). 1–8. Newman, Michael 2010. Focusing, implicational scaling, and the dialect status of New York Latino English. Journal of Sociolinguistics 14. 207–239. Nkosi, Dolphina Mmatsela. 2008. Language variation and change in a Soshanguve high school. Pretoria, Gauteng: University of South Africa MA thesis. Rudwick, Stephanie. 2005. Township language dynamics: IsiZulu and isiTsotsi in Umlazi. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies 23(3). 305–317. Sekere, Ntaoleng Belina. 2004. Sociolinguistic variation in spoken and written Sesotho: A case study of speech varieties in Qwaqwa. Pretoria, Gauteng: University of South Africa MA thesis. Sharma, Devyani. 2011. Style repertoire and social change in British Asian English. Journal of Sociolinguistics 15(4). 464–492.

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Silverstein, Michael. 2003. Indexical order and the dialectics of sociolinguistic life. Language & Communication 23. 193–230. Stroud, Christopher. 2004. Rinkeby Swedish and semilingualism in language ideological debates: A Bourdieuean perspective. Journal of Sociolinguistics 8(2). 196–214.

Appendix Table 8.1: List of “core” tsotsitaal lexical items, from Hurst and Mesthrie (2013) Word

Meaning

Ultimate source

‘guys’ ‘lad/young man’ ‘fine/alright’ ‘friend/brother’ ‘sweetheart/girl’ ‘sleep’ ‘girlfriend/female’

Perhaps Eng. jitterbug dance Afr. ou Eng. Eng. brother French cherie

Example

Freq.

Sekere 2004 13 Aycard 2007 10 Khumalo 1995 10 Nkosi 2008 9 Ndlovu 1963 8 Satyo 2001 8 Eng. maid Mulaudzi and 7 Poulos 2001 moja ‘good/alright’ Rudwick 2005 7 nyuku ‘money’ Zulu Kuzwayo 2007 7 tiger ‘ten rands’ Eng. Hurst 2008 7 vaya ‘go/go away’ Afr. waai ‘to go’ Brookes 2004 7 dladla ‘home’ Zulu (archaic) Msimang 1987 6 heita ‘hello’ Perhaps Afr. hey, daar ‘hey there’ Molamu 2003 6 ma-gents ‘gentlemen’ Eng. Brook 2010 6 Translate SA 2006 6 ringa ‘talk/chat’ Eng. sharp ‘fine/alright/goodbye’ Eng. Bembe 2006 6 thayima ‘father’ Eng. old timer Hurst 2008 6 amajita authi grand bra cherry gidla medi

Abbreviations Afr. APP

Engl. LOC NEG OC STD

Afrikaans applicative English locative negative object concord standard language equivalent

Nico Nassenstein

9 Imvugo y’Umuhanda1 – youth language practices in Kigali (Rwanda) Abstract: The multilingual setting of Rwanda’s capital city Kigali, together with the strict language policy that went along with the shift of the official language (particularly in the educational system) from French to English in 2008 created a linguistic vacuum that young speakers of Kinyarwanda filled by creating the youth language Imvugo y’Umuhanda (IyU). This new linguistic practice is used today throughout Kigali, as well as in other several Rwandan cities, by young people and incorporates a strong hip hop and street identity, referring to a lifestyle that is influenced by rap music, the international movie industry and popular radio channels. Imvugo y’Umuhanda reflects a strong will to create a delimited in-group community of speakers which is linguistically determined, but without emphasizing drugs, criminality or a downright covert prestige as the driving forces of this new youth identity. Linguistically, Imvugo y’Umuhanda makes use of only one type of phonological manipulation and one morphological strategy, as well as a handful of semantic manipulations such as coinage and metaphors. Due to the already complex multilingual setting of Kigali, which allows and requires the use of four languages at the same time (Kinyarwanda, Kiswahili, French and English), lexical borrowing is restricted to very few examples in Imvugo y’Umuhanda. Also, pragmatic strategies such as greetings and forms of address in this youth language do not appear to function in the same way as in standardized Kinyarwanda.2

1 The present chapter sums up the main features of Imvugo y’Umuhanda resulting from a short research stay in Kigali in March 2013. The collection of data on IyU would not have been possible without the generous help of Fidel Shimwa Mugisha, Paulin Baraka Bose and some of their colleagues. The paper is based on a data corpus of approximately 150 expressions and sentences as well as a handful of recorded texts, obtained through participant observation. This constitutes, without a doubt, the first preliminary description of this linguistic practice, hopefully to be deepened and studied further by other scholars. I am indebted to Andrea Hollington and Gerrit J. Dimmendaal for their comments and enriching ideas on a first draft of this paper. 2 The present paper uses standard Kinyarwanda orthography for all language samples, as realized by missionaries in the late 1940s and still in use until today. This means that double vowels are not represented in the orthography and tonal differences are only marked where they could be heard and certified during the fieldwork sessions. The phonemes /g/ and /k/ are

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1 Sociolinguistic background 1.1 The community of practice Imvugo y’Umuhanda (IyU), literally ‘language of the street’, constitutes an un(der)documented linguistic practice among youths in Kigali, Rwanda. It has so far only been mentioned in several online articles.3 It takes most of its lexicon from Kinyarwanda (JD60) as spoken in the capital Kigali and is based on this standardized form of Kinyarwanda. It has to some extent been created by the formerly popular rappers Bulldog, Riderman and J-Pauli between 2005 and 2010 as a means of conscious language change in their lyrics, and in order to create a new code to prevent governmental censoring and to conceal certain questionable moral contents. Even though some IyU expressions can be traced back to periods earlier than 2008, most of the language’s lexical inventory was not created before this time. Those early rappers (of so-called gangsta rapu ‘gangster rap’ or hip hop y’umuhanda ‘street hip hop’) are often perceived of as the pioneers of implementing youth language and new terms in their music, and can thus be considered “saccadic leaders” in terms of language innovation (see Labov 2001: 383–384). The main purpose of their linguistic manipulation processes was their intention to hide their messages from outsiders who were non-initiated and belonged to other strata of society, such as university students, old people, governmental institutions and policemen. The main community of practice, a term coined by Eckert (2000), consists to a great extent of street children, street vendors, mototaxi drivers (so-called boda bodas), conductors, taxi drivers and especially artists such as musicians and dancers, most of whom are between 15 and 30 years old and call themselves

always palatalized before /i/ and /e/ (a feature that distinguishes Kinyarwanda from Kirundi, Kinyabwisha and Kinyamulenge) and are thus realized as /ɟ/ and /c/ in standard Kinyarwanda. 3 Among these is Jado Dushimimana’s article “Tuff Gangz yaba yarononnye ikinyarwanda gakondo” [Tuff Gangz (a collective of hip hop artists like Jay Polly, Bulldog and Fireman, the present author’s note) have already spoilt/damaged the classic/standard Kinyarwanda], published by Imirasire.com [http://www.imirasire.com/amakuru-yose/imyidagaduro/murwanda/Tuff-Gangz-yaba-yarononnye] (accessed 15 November 2014). In this article, where several lexemes are exemplarily presented, the standardized opposite of IyU is mostly referred to as ikinyarwanda ndacyonona [sic!], ‘non-spoilt Kinyarwanda’. This implies that IyU is perceived as ikinyarwanda cyononye ‘spoilt/damaged Kinyarwanda’.

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abaníga or ‘niggers (of Kigali)’.4 Even school children attending some of the numerous boarding schools are often counted among IyU speakers.5 These young students can choose between IyU and the collective language game – or ‘ludling’ (cf. Bagemihl 1995: 698) – Igifefeko6 [iɟifefeko] which is a kind of manipulated speech characterized by metathesis that is often employed by children, but without incorporating a specific youth identity. IyU speakers make a clear distinction between manipulative techniques in their own linguistic repertoire, which they call imvugo ‘speech code, language’, and the language games of children. Both practices make use of metathesis7, in Igifefeko simply as a kind of form play, whereas in IyU this constitutes one of a range of manipulation strategies and concealing techniques. One defining criterion is that semantic manipulations are uniquely found in IyU, but do not play any role in Igifefeko. The only group of young people who exclude themselves from the speech group of IyU users are university students – amongst whom IyU is considered an inferior sub-standard code of communication and thus not advantageous for academic use. Instead, university students would rather use standardized Kinyarwanda in daily life communication, since the educational elites of the country consider the so-called standard dialect of Gasabo8 to be the most presti-

4 The self-deprecating term nigger/nigga can be traced back to its prominence in US-American hip hop and rap music where it embodies a certain covert prestige. The term is commonly used in the US by members of the same community of practice as a mutual form of address, whereas it is still awkward to hear it in Rwanda nowadays where it evokes negative attitudes towards speakers of IyU as soon as they use it. 5 Those students who attend boarding schools are often considered important innovators of IyU since linguistic innovations whose stimulus was found in music, radio interviews of musicians and video clips used to spread the fastest in schools where many youngsters interact and constantly change language through “mutual endeavors” (Eckert and McConnell-Ginet 1992: 464), thus within the frame of their social practices. 6 The precise translation of igifefeko would be ‘speaking backwards’, thus denoting the exact process of metathesis. 7 One example would be the transformation of kugénda ‘to go, to leave’ to kudange in Igifefeko, whereas IyU would tend to use gutigita as a semantic manipulation (meaning ‘to shiver’). 8 Urwanda rwa Gasabo is a part of South and Central Rwanda, which served as the dialectal area whose linguistic variety underwent a colonial process of corpus planning and standardization and was then proclaimed as so-called “standard Kinyarwanda”. The Gasabo dialect received its name from the late Umwami (‘King’) Gasabo of Rwanda. It stands in clear contrast to the Northeastern dialects of Kinyarwanda Rera and Goyi, which are significantly closer to Rufumbira and Kinyabwisha (see Rosendal 2011: 78) as well as the Southern Nduga dialects. More detailed dialectological information on JD60 varieties will be published elsewhere (see Nassenstein, forthcoming (a)).

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gious and, alongside English – nowadays the only medium of instruction at universities – the most adequate medium of communication to be used in any domain. In Rwandan society, conscious language change and language manipulation as promoted by rap musicians and speakers of IyU is generally still frowned upon, since the official standardization process, going back to colonial and missionary times, is still bound to the representation of “correct” Kinyarwanda. After being initiated by the above-mentioned early rappers in around 2008 when more and more radio channels emerged,9 linguistic innovations were also triggered by other musicians who then served as linguistic or saccadic leaders, helping them to gain a certain celebrity status, which still persists today. Most of these are today’s superstars King James, Urban Boyz, Kitoko and Dreamboys who implement the basics of this youth language in their songs and seek to distinguish their musical style from others who are considered mainstream artists. These musicians often act as strong linguistic leaders due to their degree of popularity. Once linguistic innovations are triggered by them, speakers of the target audience will start modifying language structures themselves and pass the stimulus of consciously changing language to other speakers. Most rappers use IyU in order to “sound well” and often replace standard forms with newly coined forms and manipulated speech, for example when they are interviewed on radio channels popular among Rwandan youth. Since governmental censorship in Rwanda is stricter than for instance in DRC or Uganda, artists have to think of new strategies of how to hide certain messages with questionable moral content. The mechanisms of spread and innovation transfer as depicted above can thus be compared to youth language practices such as Langila (Kinshasa, DRC), which also emerged from a milieu dominated by artists and whose CoP also actively takes part in innovation processes (see Nassenstein, present volume). Eckert (2012) states that the importance of “social meaning” in the analytic study of variation has increased to a considerable extent and has to be taken into consideration when dealing with linguistic variables, as pointed out in her “three waves of variation study”. Following the more static concepts and categories of the first wave (Labov 1966 and others), and the role of social networks in the second wave (Milroy 2004 and others), now, in the third wave, the semiotic dimension of variables, the social meaning of stylistic practice, has come into focus. The range of stylistic variables of which IyU consists constitutes a semiotic system which expresses all the social concerns of the speakers. 9 Until around 2000, Radio Rwanda was the only channel accessible to everybody. The creation of more and more private radio channels was one of the driving forces for the emergence and spread of IyU, since rap musicians now had a much larger scale of audience.

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Thus, this semiotic system carries notions of identity construction, social differentiation, resistance attitudes and behavior, the restructuring of communities and the redefining of social hierarchy, as well as the expression of non-conformity. The variables themselves are furnished or provided with a social meaning through stylistic practices carried out by leaders and speakers. Through stylistic practice as a core element among young Rwandans’ set of social practices, variables are negotiated, defined and redefined. Categories such as the age of speakers (a typical feature of youth language practices) are reflected in linguistic practices, but do not constitute the sole trigger for variation. Furthermore, IyU speakers’ linguistic variation not only reflects a social meaning but also creates new social meaning and triggers social change. Thus, by speaking differently, young people can coin new identities and redefine social hierarchies, and by constituting new networks, society’s social standards can be influenced and altered.

1.2 Prestige and language attitudes Language attitudes and an analysis of the degree of linguistic prestige are essential in order to classify the frame of a certain linguistic practice within the society where it is spoken, approved of or rejected (as is often the case with African youth language practices). Language attitudes can, citing Garrett (2010: 20), be understood as “an evaluative orientation to a social object of some sort”, which is in the present case the youth language IyU. The analysis of standard Kinyarwanda language attitudes is already interesting in as much as it reveals a complex scenario of factors that define Kinyarwanda as “a language of war and conflict” in the entire Great Lakes region of Africa. The ongoing ethnic, socioeconomic and political conflict in the Eastern parts of DRC, triggered in 1994 by the outbreak of the Rwandan genocide, caused Kinyarwanda to become a language of both intimidation and war, which oscillates between negative language attitudes from the local population towards Kinyarwanda, and the instrumentalization of Kinyarwanda as language of terror, fear and war crimes. Yet it seems (so far) to be too easy to claim that today’s language attitudes towards Kinyarwanda as a highly politicized language are negative throughout the whole of DRC and Uganda, since language and conflict interact in a very complex way across the entire region. Imvugo y’Umuhanda, in contrast, even though it constitutes a sociolect of Kinyarwanda, is neither affected by negative presuppositions solely due to the fact that it is based on Kinyarwanda, nor does it implement war or conflict terminology within its manipulative techniques. In contrast to its matrix language, it does not evoke or embody any political, ethnic or conflict-related

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attitudes. Nonetheless, the prestige of IyU is considerably lower among standard Kinyarwanda speakers, since the created youth identity provokes negative language attitudes among other levels of society who are not initiated, but instead associate IyU with criminality, “bad” language use, street life and drugs. Yet this negative prestige is hardly embodied by IyU speakers themselves. In many cases, negative language attitudes towards youth languages lead to a chain of certain “input” and “output” processes, as explained by Garrett (2010: 21–22). The negative attitudes from society towards the speakers of youth languages would thus become driving forces for language variation processes such as manipulation or borrowing (“input”). The increasing number of manipulative techniques in this youth language will then also increase the negative view of this linguistic code (“output”). In the case of IyU, language attitudes appear to remain constant, without changing through input and output mechanisms. Even though language attitudes have never been positive towards IyU, speakers are not criminalized by their compatriots as much as speakers of other urban youth languages and the level of social stigmatization is fairly low. The act of “linguistic profiling” by outsiders due to a different speech style employed by the so-called abaníga would thus not impede speakers of IyU from applying for certain jobs, deciding to attend university or focusing on opportunities for advancement of all kinds.

1.3 The construction of youth identity The construction of identity among IyU users deviates to some extent from the identity constructions that can be ascertained for the three geographically surrounding youth languages, Sheng in Nairobi, Luyaaye in Kampala (see Namyalo, present volume) and Yanké in Kinshasa. All three are street-dominated youth languages that incorporate an image of brutality, violence and criminality, and whose speakers occupy illegal urban spaces in certain ways, such as by taking or selling drugs, fighting against police, choosing criminal activities in general and frightening civilians. The case of IyU speakers’ identity construction is special since speakers are not so much involved in criminal activities. Criminal sanctions by the Rwandan government are in many cases so radical that parts of Rwanda are said to be practically “crime free”. As ascertained by the main informants, criminality in general or a criminal image does not play any role for IyU speakers, whereas drugs – mainly cannabis and alcohol, but also the inhalation of glue – can be found among communities of rap musicians who use them in order to convey a certain image of “toughness”. The strict drug policy and sanctions of the Rwandan government contribute to the fact that

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both crime (including assaults, robbery and menacing of civilians) and drug trafficking are barely perceptible in Rwandan cities and lead to an image of IyU speakers as symbols of civil disobedience who are a part of urban life, but do not harm others. This deviates to a great extent from the fearful image that inhabitants of Kinshasa have of the so-called Bayanké and that Kampala residents usually have of the Bayaaye street kids. Certain speakers see their own language (in contrast to speakers of Sheng, Yanké etc.) as a playful means of resistance, as a “jeu commun” (‘common game’), which demonstrates their desire to oppose governmental policies on a non-violent level. The fact that they consider it to be a “playful” form of resistance contributes to the fact that it is more a lifestyle matter or fashion accessoire, rather than a serious street identity marked by a criminal lifestyle, as found in Kinshasa or Kampala. Additionally, IyU has to be understood as a social criticism of the Rwandan state, as anti-governmental messages can be conveyed only through music, since they are not understood or censored as long as they are expressed in IyU. In the early days of American hip hop, rap was seen as a voice against misery in the country, against street children and as a kind of social criticism of the state, which had made youths cover and conceal their messages. Rwanda’s generation of IyU speakers still use rap music as their way of expressing dissatisfaction with Paul Kagame’s regime and policy, whereas US rap has become a mainstream culture that does not necessarily incorporate critical voices any longer. A second reason for concealing their lyrics was the fear of censorship, since they were rapping about love and sexuality – topics that had been taboo in Rwandan society up until then. As to ethnic questions, Imvugo y’Umuhanda serves as an interethnic bridge, while ethnic topics and tensions are not mentioned, which is especially interesting since the foundations of Rwandan society have been marked by a simmering ethnic conflict up until today.

1.4 New geographical frames of urbanity Furthermore, it is interesting to note that IyU offers new insights into concepts of urbanity concerning African youth languages. The antiquated assumption that only cities give birth to new linguistic practices and serve as their pool of innovations has to be reconsidered if we take a closer look at the Rwandan scenario. In the frame of IyU, it is not only cities (Kigali, Gisenyi, Butare) that are mentioned as the geographical topoi where IyU is used, but practically any town or village where people have access to radio channels or other forms of communicative media is said to witness an increasing number of youths using

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this linguistic code. In Africa, youth languages are usually dependent upon a certain degree of urbanity, as various scholars have discussed (see Kießling and Mous 2004), whereas rural forms of youth language in Africa have only been mentioned by a few linguists (e.g. Blench 2012, Kioko this volume). Rwanda is exceptional in that even though rural areas might be affected by the spread of IyU, all towns and even villages are nowadays quite well connected through an improved infrastructure, and especially through a nationwide fast internet connection that allows computer and mobile phone users fast internet access even in completely rural areas. This shows that new forms of urbanity and social networks might be about to replace old patterns. New social media are no longer limited to urban frontiers, a certain minimal number of inhabitants or an urban lifestyle, but can also be extended to rural areas if media access is available. The short distances in Rwanda in general allow people to move from one urban center to another and thus make it easier for youths who are still based in rural areas to participate in urban social life. Milroy’s (2004) social network theory does not fully apply to IyU networks anymore, since its structures have to be reconsidered for a changing concept of urbanity. New networks within this frame can be seen as a “global village”, where neither distance, time, nor geographical or social isoglosses play a decisive role nowadays. Concepts of urbanity, as well as the boundaries of social networks (the outline layers of in-group communities) are negotiated online, on radio stations, in musical oeuvres or on an abstracted level of social practices that are no longer bound to real geographical space.

1.5 Multilingualism and language policy Most African cities are both cultural melting pots as well as settings of multilingual language use, which makes them complex urban spaces where language is among the main factors of self-identification, but also among the crucial catalysts for linguistic conflicts within society. Both language settings where multilingualism is not a salient feature, due to the fact that only one lingua franca is prominent, and settings where many vehicular languages are found in the same geographical frame, can give birth to new sociolects for the very same reason: in order to occupy and create new urban spaces that have been denied to certain communities up until then, due to the prominent status of one language (monolingualism) or many languages at the same time (multilingualism). For the case of IyU the latter is the case, since Kigali reveals a tetragonal-like language setting with four different languages that serve four different purposes with a high degree of discrepancy regarding their language domains. Three of

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those four languages, namely Kinyarwanda, Kiswahili and French, originate from a Rwandan “Tower of Babel” whose foundations were laid in the implementation of several languages for diverging purposes in the frame of colonial linguistics. The fourth language, English, has occupied the place of Rwanda’s economic driving force and thus – on an official level – has been the most significant language ever since 1994, whereas it was only declared the official language in the educational system in 2008. Kinyarwanda had always been the language employed by the Rwandan Umwami court, up until the arrival of the Germans at the end of the nineteenth century. Since Rwanda was thenceforth under German command and therefore part of German East Africa, colonial agents were transferred to Kigali who had been acquainted with the use of Kiswahili for colonial purposes, and introduced it in Rwanda. Before the Belgians introduced French in 1929 as the main medium of instruction in primary schools, Kiswahili was already an important medium of communication between the colonial administration and the local population throughout Rwanda (see Kayigema 2010: 2).10 It was only missionaries then who helped Kinyarwanda to gain more prestige as a lingua franca between colonialists and residents when they standardized the language in the 1940s and developed an orthography (that has been in use ever since). Around the same time the first grammatical descriptions were compiled and scholarly attention was thenceforward focused on Kinyarwanda phonology and morphosyntax. With the implementation of French as the official language and as the only medium of instruction in schools, the foundations for a Francophone elite11 were laid; this lasted until 1994 when the Hutu-dominated political elites were succeeded by the Tutsi-dominated Anglophone RPF, who liberated the country after the genocide. With the liberation of Rwanda in 1994, a national focus

10 This is one of the reasons why Kiswahili has now become a widespread lingua franca in Rwanda, even though it was always more of a “foreigners’ language” and has never been a favorite medium of communication amongst Rwandans. Good mastery of Kiswahili was never considered favorable in terms of socioeconomic prospects due to the linguistic supremacy of Kinyarwanda. Only after the incorporation of Rwanda into the East African Union from 2007 onwards has the political attractiveness of Kiswahili slightly increased. 11 Additionally, further indefatigable language rivalry during colonial times existed (and has persisted) between Flemish and French, both languages of Belgian missionaries who each tried to promote their own mother tongue. These conflicts will not be discussed as complex multilingual obstacles in the present article since the dominant position of French over Flemish has never been openly questioned on the colonial level, other than in the Belgian Congo where both languages were temporarily taught in school.

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shifted onto English as the main language of the political elites and the language of socioeconomic progress, as the nation state was rebuilt in Rwanda. Kinyarwanda was – even more than before under the rule of the First and Second Republics – maintained in most domains as a linguistic symbol of unity across the nation, and as an interethnic bridge that should from then on unite, but not separate, Hutu and Tutsi activists. For the sake of a nationwide linguistic “peace”, all three languages, English (as the language of the new political elites, ethnically Tutsi-dominated), French (as the language of the Hutu-dominated former political elites) and Kinyarwanda were still accorded official status, even though only English served as the medium of instruction in schools (see Kayigema 2010: 2–3). The impacts of the parallel presence of four languages on daily life communication in the streets of Kigali were probably more disastrous than the political leaders had ever imagined, since negative ethnic language attitudes are still bound up with English and French. This leads to an increasingly positive prestige of Kinyarwanda that thus tends to ban all other languages from linguistic domains and makes it the only language of daily life communication, creating a feeling of unity. Nonetheless, due to the strong linguistic identity still focused on French (for former political and educational elites) and English (for today’s elites), each of these groups still seek to use these languages both in public spaces and in informal domains of language use (as an expression of status, education and individual socioeconomic progress). This leads to a strong feeling of insecurity as to where and when in public to employ either French or English and whom to address in either or both languages. People whose favorite medium of communication had been French tend to switch to Kinyarwanda instead of English due to the negative ethnic connotations associated with French and English (see also Samuelson and Freedman 2010). The multilingual distribution of the above-mentioned four linguae francae in Rwanda today has significantly contributed to the emergence of Imvugo y’Umuhanda in the streets of Kigali. Due to the “confusing” multilingual use of all four languages, often causing insecurities and identity gaps by evoking negative language attitudes towards either English or French, young speakers are growing up with a very loose linguistic identity. The lack of a strong linguistic identity and low attachment to any of the four languages brought about a linguistic and identificatory vacuum that then resulted in the creation of Imvugo y’Umuhanda as a repertoire of orientation, youth identity and street domain. Alongside language policy issues and multilingualism as a predominant pattern in Kigali, Kagame’s political course has also influenced the ongoing innovative processes in IyU, since censoring (of violent or sexually loaded contents), issues

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such as compulsory school attendance, drug policy and criminal sanctions in general have led youths to conceal their messages to a greater extent.12

2 Manipulative techniques in IyU Generally, youth language practices are characterized by speakers who coin, manipulate and change words, lexemes and expressions in various semantic domains. Nonetheless, every youth language has a restricted repertoire of domains that serve as pools for creative manipulation and language change, and different youth languages all deviate slightly from each other when it comes to their semantic contextualization. For IyU, those are mainly the semantic domains (1) terms of address, (2) police, (3) alcohol and drugs, (4) crime, (5) symbolic and status items such as phones and cars, (6) nightlife, (7) food, (8) sex, (9) money and (10) insults, as the following examples reveal.

2.1 Phonological manipulations Unlike other African youth language practices, IyU makes use of only one kind of phonological manipulation in order to conceal meaning and to make language more exclusive; this is metathesis. One example would be the word kutígita (‘to shiver’ in standard Kinyarwanda), which underwent a semantic change and means ‘to go, to leave’ in IyU. In analogy to the language game Igifefeko, where kugénda (the standard form for ‘to go, to leave’) becomes kudange, kutígita changes to kutagiti and thence to katigitu. While Igifefeko examples reveal classic patterns of metathesis affecting both vowels and consonants, thus whole syllables, IyU metathesis seems to be limited to vowel alternation.

2.2 Morphological manipulations The only morphological manipulation found in IyU is the use of diminutive class prefixes (noun class 12 with the prefix (a)ga-/(a)ka-)13 in order to trivialize nega12 Beside the increasing use of Imvugo y’Umuhanda in Rwanda, also a practice labeled “Kinyafranglais” (mixing Kinyarwanda, English and French) has reportedly emerged at higher educational institutions, such as the KIE (Kigali Institute of Education) in the Rwandan capital (see Niyomugabo 2012). 13 The alternation of aga-/aka- according to the stem-initial consonant shows that Dahl’s Law is a prominent feature in Kinyarwanda.

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tive actions, serving as euphemisms or as a figurative whitewash of pejorative concepts. In standard Kinyarwanda, the class prefix 12 is commonly used as a diminutive to minimize concepts or (as soon as words for human beings are shifted from class 1 to class 12) to deprecate people. In IyU terms such as akántu ‘something small’, derived from ikíntu [icínhᵗu] ‘thing’ (example [1]), kámwe ‘a small one’ (2) derived from the cardinal number -mwe, and agacúpa ‘small bottle’ (3) derived from igicúpa ‘bottle’ all designate alcohol or alcoholic drinks, often local beer brands such as Primus or Mützig. Among conservative Christians in Rwanda, drinking alcohol is a sign of societal failure, personal moral decline and a symbol of belonging to lower social strata; this is why the above-mentioned terms are used in order to make alcohol appear harmless and to codify the act of drinking. n-*génd-*ye gu-fáta a-ka-ntu (1)14 ngiye gufáta akantu [nɟije gufáta aka:nhᵗu] 1SG S-go-PRV IND -take AUG -CL 12-thing ‘I go to take something (small)’ (2) tugiye kugisima gufáta kamwe tu-*génd-*ye ku-gisima gu-fáta ka-mwe [tuɟije kuɟisima gufáta kaɱe] 1PL S-go-PRV INF-meet INF-take CL 12-NUM ‘we go for a meeting/to meet (and) have a (small) beer’ (3) ndasháka gufáta agacúpa n-*ra-shák-a gu-fáta a-ga-cúpa [ndashá:ka gufáta (a)gaʧúpa] 1SG S-PRG -want-IND INF-take AUG -CL 12-bottle ‘I want to take a (small) beer’ However, it is not only concepts of alcohol that are affected by a morphologically prefixed diminutive, but also words belonging to the same semantic domain, e.g. urubyíniro ‘nightclub’, which becomes akabyíniro. The same applies to umuʦíma ‘ugali/manioc dumpling’ which is changed to agaʦíma. In both cases, non-initiated speakers might not get the actual meaning and thus will misunderstand the concept that IyU users talk about. Other cases of diminutives occur on a semantic level, when for instance a beautiful girl is addressed to as umwána wanjye ‘my child’ in order to emphasize her youth, beauty and other positive concepts, as well as establishing a kind of linguistic kinship dependency. 14 The interlinearization of the given examples is split into a phonetic and morphological analysis, including the depiction of verb stems that are not recognizable in their realization of perfective stems. This representation of data, which seems to be suitable for Kinyarwanda varieties, has also been used in a description of Rufumbira (Nassenstein forthcoming [a]) and Kirundi Slang (Nassenstein (forthcoming [b]).

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2.3 Semantic manipulations The most creative pool of manipulative techniques in IyU involves semantic manipulations that “change the meaning of the words with the function of insult, ridicule, exaggeration, or simple enjoyment and play” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 324). The following techniques of semantic change are those that contribute to the invention and creation of new lexicon among the CoP of IyU users. 2.3.1 Metaphors Most youth languages reveal numerous examples of metaphoric speech, which can be understood as a figurative connection between two concepts based on a certain resemblance (cf. Cruse 2000: 112–113). The following list shows some common metaphors used by IyU speakers. Table 9.1: Metaphors Metaphors amázi

‘alcohol, beer’

→ Std. Kinyarw. amázi ‘water’

ak(o) umugóngo w’ingóna

‘cannabis’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘which is on the crocodile’s back’

gukáta

‘to rape’

→ Std. Kinyarw. gukáta ‘to cut’ (see [4])

imbógo

‘car’

→ Std. Kinyarw. imbógo ‘buffalo’ (see [5])

kurya

‘to have sex’

→ Std. Kinyarw. kurya ‘to eat’ (see [6])

kunyerera

‘to run away, to flee’

→ Std. Kinyarw. kunyerera ‘to slide’ (see [7])

ibwota (a)masímbi

‘Europe’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘approaching snow’

gutobora

‘to finish something’

→ Std. Kinyarw. gutoβora ‘to pierce’

ingóna

‘dangerous person’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ingóna ‘crocodile’

(4) ejo yakase umudému ejo y-a-*kat-*ye u-mu-dému [eʒo jakas(e) umudému] yesterday 3SG S-PAST-cut-PRV AUG -CL 1-girl ‘he raped a girl yesterday’ (5) Paul afite imbógo nzíza Paul a-fite i-mbógo nzíza [Pɔlə afit(e) imβógo nzí:za] P. 3SG S-have AUG -CL 9.buffalo CL 9.nice ‘Paul has a nice car’ (6) nariye umwána n-a-*ry-*ye u-mw-ána [naɾí:j(e) uɱá:na] 1SG S-PAST-eat-PRV AUG -CL 1-child ‘I had sex with that/a girl’

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(7) tunyerere! tu-nyerer-e! [tuɲeɾeɾe] 1PL S-slide-SUBJ ‘let’s run away!’ 2.3.2 Coinage Coinage is a common word creation process in youth languages, where speakers invent new encoded items that are quickly adopted and spread by other speakers. The etymological origin of coined words tends to remain mostly unknown, as is also the case in IyU. Table 9.2: Coinage Coinage mapépe

‘prostitute, bitch, slut’

→?

umúngazi

‘500 RF note’

→?

imbege

‘1000 RF note’

→?

kugeta zivamo

‘to make a financial loss’

→ equivalent in Std. Kinyarw. would be kushora ugwa

2.3.3 Metonymy Metonymies describe concepts of figurative speech in which one object “represents larger objects or domains of experience” (Gibbs 1999: 61). In most cases a relationship such as a “whole for part” or “part for whole” connection can be identified when it comes to the linking strategy of the two objects. In other youth languages such as Yanké (see Nassenstein 2014), brand names often stand for a whole class of related objects. This is not the case in IyU, as the following table exemplarily shows. Table 9.3: Metonymy Metonymy réta urufito urusínga igisíga ingoma nziza

‘police’ ‘money’ ‘mobile phone’ ‘any kind of meat’ ‘nice music’

→ French l’état ‘state’ (cf. (8)) → Std. Kinyarw. ‘goods, property’ → Std. Kinyarw. ‘electric cable’ (cf. (9)) → Std. Kinyarwanda ‘raven’15 → Std. Kinyarw. ‘the good drum’

15 The metonymy of using the term igisíga ‘raven’ in order to designate all kinds of meat can be considered to be to some extent ironical, since ravens are not eaten in the Great Lakes Region. In Rwanda and Burundi their meat is said to be poisonous, and people will immediately die of thirst if they try it.

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i-ra-*z-*ye16 CL 9-FOC -come-PRF

(8)

réta iraje! réta [ɾé:t(a) iɾaʒe] CL 9.state ‘the police are coming!’

(9)

ukóre urusínga! u-kór-e [ukóɾ(e) uɾusíŋa] 2SG S-do-SUBJ ‘call me (make a phone call)!’

u-ru-sínga AUG -CL 11-cable

2.3.4 Euphemisms & dysphemisms Euphemisms and dysphemisms also play an important role as semantic manipulations in IyU; dysphemisms work by putting something positive under a taboo or pejorating whereas euphemisms make something appear harmless even though negative concepts are referred to (see also Allan and Burridge 1991). Table 9.4: Euphemisms and dysphemisms Euphemisms ibubuti

‘woman, girl’

→ English beauty

kubzinisha

‘to steal’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘to make sb. dance’ (see (10))

kugisima [kuɟisima]

‘bar’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘meeting (point)’

kurangiza

‘to kill’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘to finish’ (see (11))

kwinjirira [kwinɟiɾiɾa]

‘to attack’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘to enter by/at’

Dysphemisms umuníga

‘man, guy’

→ English nigger

abasajya

‘Ugandans’

→ Luganda abasajja ‘men, Sirs’ & Std. Kinyarw. abasajya as a negative and depreciative term to describe those Rwandans who have returned to Rwanda from Uganda, to where they had fled over the past decades.

(10) ejo babyinishije urufito ejo ba-byin-ish-ije u-ru-fito [eʒo βaβjiniʃiʒ(e) uɾufito] yesterday 3PL S-dance-CAUS -PRV AUG -CL 11-property ‘yesterday they stole (my) money’

16 The prefix -ra- is glossed as FOC (focus marker) when interacting with the perfective suffix *-ye and thus expressing a perfect (glossed as PRF ). It is glossed as PRG (progressive) when no other TAM marker is present, and thus expresses a present progressive.

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(11)

tuzákurangiza [tuzá:kuɾaŋiza] ‘we are going to kill you’

tu-zá-ku-*rangir-*iz-a 1PL S-FUT-2sG O-be.finished-CAUS -IND

2.3.5 General semantic change Besides the common and clearly structurable means of manipulation, certain expressions reveal processes of semantic change which cannot easily be classified under the above-mentioned techniques. This analytical problem may also be due, however, to the fact that the expressions require culture-specific knowledge not immediately obvious to an outsider, so to speak. Table 9.5: General semantic change General semantic change ‘to beat (up)’ ‘flip flops’ ‘pants, shorts’ ‘to deny’ ‘to gabble’

kuména amabáse isékuru kubagira kudoda

→ Std. Kinyarw. ‘to pour’ → Std. Kinyarw. ‘basins’ → Std. Kinyarw. ‘mortar’ → Std. Kinyarwanda ‘to weed’ → Std. Kinyarw. ‘to sew’

2.3.6 New phraseologisms It is a common feature of African youth languages to combine specific frequently used verbs (such as ‘to beat’, ‘to put’ or ‘to make’) with nouns in order to create new idiomatic structures and complex verbs. This phenomenon is often labeled “phraseologism” (Reuster-Jahn and Kießling 2006) or as verbs that exhibit “funktionale Eigenschaften” [functional features] (Rüsch 2010). IyU makes extensive use of phraseologisms with the verb kurya ‘to eat’ which is then preceded by nouns of all kinds. Table 9.6: Phraseologisms Phraseologisms kurya ambushi

‘to kill’

→ Swahili ambushi ‘assault’ (Std. Kinyarw. kwíca ‘to kill’)

kurya ikosora

‘to renew’

→ Std. Kinyarw. ikosora ‘correction’ (Std. Kinyarw. kuvuguruza ‘to renew’)

kurya inyuguti

‘to study, learn’

→ Std. Kinyarw. inyuguti ‘workbook (?)’ (Std. Kinyarw. kwíga ‘to learn, study’)

kurya inzuga

‘to lie’

→ Std. Kinyarw. inzuga (?) (Std. Kinyarwanda kubesha ‘to lie’)

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3 Pragmatics: greetings and terms of address Pragmatic strategies such as politeness concepts with regard to greetings deviate to a remarkable extent in IyU from standard Kinyarwanda. While standardized Kinyarwanda reveals rather “negative politeness” patterns, IyU makes extensive use of “positive politeness” strategies (Brown and Levinson 1987). While standard Kinyarwanda has many different greetings according to the time of day, social status and degree of formality, IyU uses simply kegera! [ce:gera] ‘What’s up?’, regardless of who is addressed. In several youth languages (such as Yanké in DR Congo), girls and women are often described and addressed with derogative terms (such as ‘slut’, ‘bitch’, ‘prostitute’) and reduced to being the objects of sexual fantasies. In IyU by contrast, terms that designate women are usually more positive than terms that describe or address men. Women are usually addressed as umwána (wanjye) ‘(my) child’ or ibubuti ‘beauty’, whereas men are called umuníga (by other men), derived from English nigger and adopted from US hip hop culture. Despite the deviating degree of politeness in terms of address, all of them describe a very intense and intimate kind of relationship among IyU speakers, which may be taken to be instantiations of “positive face strategies”, according to Brown and Levinson’s model. Very common are rites that prove true friendship by scarifying each other and sucking each other’s blood, which is called kunwana. The term of address umunwáni can only be used if the blood brotherhood has been executed. Less intimate friends, both male and female, are addressed as ishúmi (yanjye) which means ‘tie, bond’ (derived from umushúmi ‘drawstring’).

4 Borrowing The lexicon of IyU is almost completely derived from standard Kinyarwanda with the exception of few lexemes that have been coined by speakers and cannot be traced back to existing lexemes. Cases of lexical borrowing are strikingly rare, which is very uncommon for youth language practices such as Sheng (Nairobi) or Yanké (Kinshasa; see Nassenstein 2014). Kinshasa and Nairobi are urban spaces that are clearly dominated by one language, which is the main lexifier of the existing youth languages (Lingala in Kinshasa and Swahili in Nairobi) and allows young people to choose from a pool of different competing languages and varieties for the purpose of creating a new linguistic code, separate from the mainstream languages Lingala and Swahili. The case of Kinyarwanda has proven that, due to an extremely high degree of multilingual-

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ism in the capital city Kigali, youths tend to incorporate words mainly from standard Kinyarwanda (as a conscious language behavior) and intentionally make less use of borrowing strategies from other languages, in order to deviate from common norms and follow other linguistic strategies as most other social strata do. Not only borrowing strategies but also code-switching is avoided by IyU speakers whenever possible. A few examples of lexical borrowing are nyumbani ‘at home’ and umudemu ‘girl, bitch, girlfriend’ from Kiswahili, gupusha ‘to push’ (gucuruza in standardized Kinyarwanda) and kuganjika [kuganɟika] ‘to sleep’ from English gang, as well as the inflected expression arashamiye ‘somebody who is smart, well-dressed’ from French charmant. Loanwords from languages other than the prominent languages in the multilingual setting of Kigali include gutambara ‘to go, to leave’ from Rufumbira (Kisoro, Uganda) where it entered from Luganda okutambula, the verb kuyoka ‘to see well, to see clearly’ from Lingala koyóka ‘to feel’ and the unfriendly address of farewell caho! ‘Get lost!/ Back off!’ which is, as explained by speakers of IyU, derived from Italian ciao, whereas others claim that it has been modified from the verb (followed by a locative enclitic) guca-ho ‘to happen next to a place/somebody’.

5 Conclusion The present introduction into Rwandan youths’ new in-group language practice reveals that – despite the rather sparse techniques of manipulation, compared to other African youth language practices such as Sheng or Yanké – its speakers have created and developed a new youth identity that occupies a linguistic vacuum in a multilingual city where language determines a crucial attribution of ethnic categories. The fact of ignoring ethnically loaded linguae francae (French vs. English) as well as standardized languages of educational elites (Kinyarwanda and to some extent Kiswahili) reveals much about youth identity in this context. Young people in Kigali claim a certain urban space in a society where any social practice conflicting with governmental policies, as well as the creative elaboration of youth culture, are severely sanctioned, since this constitutes a deviation from the norm. These sanctions occur socially and culturally as well as linguistically, due to the strict language policy and corpus planning of Rwandan elites when it comes to “good” or “adequate” Kinyarwanda. The linguistically extremely complex and interesting multilingual setting of Kigali has stimulated the birth of a new linguistic practice and has influenced it in salient ways from other youth languages such as Sheng in neighboring Kenya. Further research still has to be focused on a detailed analysis of how linguistic innovations emerge, are spread and “keep the wheels (of language change) turning” on

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a linguistic level. The questions of how fast new innovations come up (i.e. the question of the length of a life cycle of linguistic features) and which role saccadic leaders (see Labov 2001) play in IyU, still have to be examined in further analyses as well. Furthermore, upcoming research should take Bujumbura youth culture (and language) from Burundi into consideration in order to analyze how new sociolects in the JD60 group deviate from each other in terms of identity constructions, and which linguistic manipulation techniques are present in all new varieties.

References Allan, Keith & Kate Burridge. 1991. Euphemism and dysphemism: Language used as shield and weapon. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bagemihl, Bruce. 1995. Language games and related areas. In John A. Goldsmith (ed.), The handbook of phonological theory, 697–712. London: Blackwell. Brown, Penelope & Stephen C. Levinson. 1987. Politeness. Some universals in language use (Studies in interactional sociolinguistics 4). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blench, Roger. 2012. Rural youth languages in Africa. Talk held at the conference African Urban & Youth Languages in Africa, University of Cologne, 30 May–1 June. Cruse, Alan. 2000. Meaning in language. An introduction to semantics and pragmatics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dushimimana, Jado. 2013. Tuff Gangz yaba yarononnye ikinyarwanda gakondo. [Tuff Gangz have already spoilt/damaged the classic/standard Kinyarwanda]. [http://www.imirasire. com/amakuru-yose/imyidagaduro/mu-rwanda/Tuff-Gangz-yaba-yarononnye] (accessed 15 November 2014). Eckert, Penelope & Sally McConnell-Ginet. 1992. Think practically and look locally: Language and gender as community-based practice. Annual Review of Anthropology 21. 461–490. Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Eckert, Penelope. 2012. Three waves of variation study: The emergence of meaning in the study of variation. Annual Review of Anthropology 41. 87–100. Garrett, Peter. 2010. Attitudes to language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gibbs, Raymond W. Jr. 1999. Speaking and thinking with metonymy. In Klaus-Uwe Panther (ed.), Metonymy in language and thought, 61–77. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Kayigema, Lwaboshi Jacques. 2010. Loanword allocation in Kinyarwanda. Pretoria, Gauteng: University of South Africa MA thesis. Kießling, Roland & Marten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341. Labov, William. 1966. The social stratification of English in New York City. Washington, D.C.: Center for Applied Linguistics. Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change. Social factors, Vol. 2 (Language in society). Oxford: Blackwell. Milroy, Lesley. 2004. Social networks. In J. K. Chambers, Peter Trudgill & Natalie Schilling-Estes (eds.), The handbook of language variation and change, 549–572. Oxford: Blackwell.

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Nassenstein, Nico. 2014. A grammatical study of the youth language Yanké. München: Lincom. Nassenstein, Nico. Forthcoming (a). A grammar of Rufumbira. Nassenstein, Nico. Forthcoming (b). Kirundi Slang: youth identity and linguistic manipulations. Niyomugabo, Cyprien. 2012. Kinyafranglais as a newly created “language” in Rwanda: Will it hamper the promotion of the language of instruction at Kigali Institute of Education? Rwandan Journal of Education 1(1). 20–29. Reuster-Jahn, Uta & Roland Kießling. 2006. Lugha ya Mitaani in Tanzania: The poetics and sociology of a young urban style of speaking with a dictionary comprising 1100 words and phrases, Swahili Forum 13. 1c200. Rosendal, Tove. 2011. Linguistic landshapes: A comparison of offical and non-official language management in Rwanda and Uganda, Focusing on the position of African languages. Cologne: Köppe. Rüsch, Maren. 2010. Funktionale Eigenschaften des Verbs “Schlagen” im Swahili und Ewe. Cologne: Institute for African Studies, University of Cologne BA thesis. Samuelson, Beth Lewis & Sarah Warshauer Freedman. 2010. Language policy, multilingual education, and power in Rwanda. Language Policy 9. 191–215.

Abbreviations AUG CL FOC FUT IND

IyU NUM PL PRG PRS PRF PRV

RPF SG

Std. SUBJ

augment noun class aspectual focus marker future indicative Imvugo y’Umuhanda numeral plural progressive present tense perfect perfective Rwandan Patriotic Front singular standard subjunctive

Germain Landi and Helma Pasch

10 Sango Godobé: the urban youth language of Bangui (CAR) Abstract: Godobé is the pejorative designation for a large part of the young urban population in Bangui (Central African Republic). The members of this multi-categorial group are considered street children, robbers, criminals, trickers, dockers and bootleggers. The Godobé have developed a sociolect which allows them to self-identify within the group, to protect themselves from the police and to survive. The present study presents some structures of Sango Godobé and analyzes their grammatical structures with reference to the etymologies of their formation.

1 Introduction Sango is a “product of colonization” (Samarin 1982: 2) which emerged as a result of colonial expansion as a contact language, when the French and the Belgians, with groups of helpers from West Africa and from the area of the Lower Congo, moved up the Ubangi river in order to gain new territories. The language had developed by the end of the 19th century from Ngbandi, more precisely from the dialects of Yakoma and Riverain Sango as lexifiers, and the major part of the grammar was also retained from this language. Lingala, Kituba and the local languages from the south of the Oubangui-Chari province constituted substrates from which lexical and some grammatical constructions were retained. The superstrate, French, also contributed to the lexicon, but not to the grammar (Pasch 1997). Sango’s status as a contact language is still unresolved. In 1958 Samarin calls it a “pidgin”, and “a creolized language”, “even a pidginized language” in 1967 (p. 17), “because it stands in somewhat the same relationship to vernacular Sango as Haitian Creole to French and Sierra Leone Krio to English”. In 1982 he underlines that it emerged as a pidgin, and in 1991 that it has been a “pidgin for almost a hundred years” and that actual creolization cannot be claimed with certainty. In 2008 (p. 228) he calls it a pidgin. Pasch (1997: 217) supports the idea that Sango is a creole, but Diki-Kidiri (1982) considers it an extension of Ngbandi, hence genetically an Ubangian language.

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Thornell (1997: 13) confirms this classification and so does Morrill1 (1997), who claims that the linguistic changes that Sango underwent in its emergence result from vehicularization and not from pidginization. After the Gbanziri’s cooperation with the French and Belgians as they moved up the Ubangi River, the French began to cooperate primarily with the Yakoma and Riverain Sango, whose language then apparently served already as a lingua franca along the river, at least from Bangui upriver to Zemio (Samarin 1982: 3), and in the village de la liberté, where Catholic missionaries raised children which they had redeemed from slave-traders (Goudart & Zoubé 1986: 171). Early Sango was the major means of communication for the French colonizers. It has been characterized as “soldiers’ language”, “trade language”, “language of labor”, “contact language” (Pasch 1997: 216), a “pidgin” or a “proto-pidgin” (Samarin 1982: 4). With the foundation of the Central African Republic (CAR), Sango became the national language and in 1992 it was declared the official language of the country alongside French (Pasch 1998). Since then it has continued to develop with borrowings from French, Arabic and Lingala, but also from English. A more recent development in the evolution of the language is the formation of a variant by the street children of Bangui, the so-called Godobé. This variant is today called Sango Godobé. It has not been investigated until now and constitutes the topic of this study. To the best of our knowledge the earliest reference is Diki-Kidiri (1986: 92), who uses the term Godobé only with regard to the speakers, but not the language. Sango Godobé is a variant of standard Sango, a sociolect without prestige, which is often indifferently characterized as a secret language or as the language of gangsters. Such pejorative qualifications of the Godobé and their language resemble those of street children and their respective languages all around the world, but they are not really justified. In this article we want not only to show the structures of Sango Godobé, but also to demonstrate that it is not a secret language but a variant which is relatively close to the standard form. The specific characteristics result from fairly transparent rules which can easily be acquired, but which need practice of listening in order to allow comprehension. Part of our information comes from published sources, websites of NGOs and music groups, internet blogs and from what people living in Bangui say about the Godobé. In addition, Germain Landi carried out fieldwork on the Godobé language in Bangui and Bangassou. Since he did not have the means to pay the Godobé for information about themselves and their language he considered it wise not to contact them directly. He rather decided to interview 1 This information is taken from Samarin (2009), since Morrill’s thesis was not available to us.

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quite informally young mechanics who have their repair shops on the market in Bangui and in the residential area in Bangassou. When he went there to have his motorbike repaired he engaged in casual conversations with them or he listened to their conversations, observing that they talked Sango Godobé among each other and with those Godobé who carried out legwork for them or were customers. Whenever he heard a word or an expression which he did not know from standard Sango he asked for an explanation, which they happily gave. These young mechanics were not Godobé themselves, but they have regular contacts with the group, who are part of their social network. As a consequence they know a lot about the Godobé way of life and they master their language, even using it themselves. Since the rules of Sango Godobé can be learned fairly easily, Germain Landi was able to develop his auditory comprehension to a level where he could observe some conversations without being noticed. This paper is organized as follows. In section 2 the living conditions of the Godobé are described, and in section 3 the structures of Sango Godobé and their development are investigated. Conclusions are drawn in section 4.

2 The Godobé of Bangui: reputation and reality The difficult economic situation in CAR, the recurrent military-political crises and the devastation due to AIDS prepared the ground for the life of about 6,000 street children in the capital (Triangle News Letter 2012) and smaller groups in other urban centers like Bangassou, Bouar, Bossangoa and Sibut. These children, generally called Godobés2, have to eke out their living in whatever way possible. Paid jobs being scarce they cannot manage to get sufficient food, and are often forced to steal. As a consequence they are quite usually in contact with violence, drugs, crime and all kinds of difficulties. Because of their practicing a particular way of constantly spying on people they are sometimes referred to as étudiants (‘students’) with a negative connotation, because they keep on “studying” all chances of getting something out of people. It is members of the younger generation who particularly characterize them in this way, while older peole rather consider them voleurs (‘thieves’). With reference to their habit of occasionally marauding and stealing people often call them simply gangsters, bandits, robbers or thieves. But with regard to the specific jobs they carry out, they are also called dockers (English), taximan de moto ‘driver of a motorbike 2 There is a voluminous sociological study on the Godobé of Bangui by Aimé Sylvestre (2000) in the university library of Nancy. Unfortunately it was impossible to get access to it.

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taxi’, orienteur ‘those who help people to get the correct taxi/bus’, chargeur de taxis ‘those who load goods on taxis’, and pouspousseurs ‘those who transport goods on a pushcart.3 As is typical for street children, membership with the Godobé begins whenever newcomers appear who seek for integration. Their ethnic background has never been discussed, and most of them speak only Sango, Sango Godobe and perhaps some French. Germain Landi observed, however, that some of them also speak a vernacular language. The youngest are of preschool-age, the oldest about 35. The Godobés do not constitute an unorganized group, but they are ready to integrate newcomers and look after the very young ones (see Triangle 2012). They make great efforts and are ready to carry out any job whatsoever or to beg in order to survive. Well situated, benevolent people tend to describe them as Sylv (2010) documents in an expatriate blog: Les godobés sont la signification en sängö de l’expression “enfants de la rue”. Parfois orphelins, ou de familles sans revenus, ils vivent de toute manière toujours dans une pauvreté extrême, et par conséquent dans la rue. Il est difficile de leur donner un âge, disons qu’ils ont en général entre 7 et 13 ans. Ces enfants, qui trainent sur les avenues principales de Bangui (en particulier l’avenue Boganda) font bien entendu la manche. Mais faire la manche en France n’a pas la même signification que faire la manche ici, je m’explique. Alors qu’un SDF5 passera sa journée assis à attendre que quelqu’un veuille bien lui donner une petite pièce, un godobé ira chercher sa petite pièce, quoiqu’il arrive. Il arrive donc souvent qu’un (2 ou 3 voire plus si affinité) d’entre eux qui a repéré ta petite tête de blanc à 50m de là se dirige vers toi, et commence à te demander de l’argent, la plupart du temps ainsi: “papa, ça ne va pas, j’ai faim, papa, j’ai faim, ça ne va pas, papa, ça va pas, j’ai faim”. [The “Godobé” is the Sango equivalent of “street children”. Being orphans, or children originating from families without income, they live in any case in a state of utter poverty, and as a consequence of this they live in the streets. It is difficult to tell how old they are, though we may state that most of them are between 7 and 13 years of age. These children, who roam the main streets of Bangui (in particular the Avenue Boganda) are beggars. But in France begging does not mean the same as here. Let me explain: while a homeless person in France may spend his day sitting and waiting for people to give him a little money, a Godobé will go and actively look where to get his little money from, whatever happens. Thus it often happens that one (if not two or three or even more) of them, who made out your little white person’s head at a distance of 50 meters, moves in your direction and begins to ask for money. Most often he begins with the words: “Papa, it’s unbearable, I am hungry, I am hungry, papa, it’s unbearable, I am hungry.”4] (Sylv 2010)

3 Poussepousse ~ puspus (< pousser fr.) = ‘pushcart’. 4 Translation Helma Pasch.

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The problems of the young people are well known, since basically everybody depends from time to time on their assistance, e.g. for pushing a broken-down car to the garage, transporting heavy goods, and – most importantly – burying deceased persons. Despite their reputation as thieves it is not unusual for a Godobé to witness burglaries and thefts and help the owners to get back their belongings. Those children among the Godobé who are to small and weak to carry out heavy labor may help blind people to find their way around. Not many girls join the group, but those that do generally leave when they are old enough to make their living as sexworkers, with the ambition of finding a man to marry them. The boys leave when they find a wife with whom to start a household and have children. Some manage to do so by the age of 20, others only when they are over 30 years old. Within the new families Sango Godobé will not be used in order to avoid that the children get in contact with it. Nevertheless they continue to use it for their dealings with the Godobé. For these reasons one might characterize the Godobé as a “community of survival”5 that came into being and remains alive because of poverty. They do not constitute a real subculture6 and do not consciously practise a specific style of life: sleeping on the bare ground as the younger ones do or on cardboard like the older ones is not a deliberate choice. They do not have group-specific political or cultural ambitions, e.g. resistance against the dominant society, as we find in youth groups in urban centers in Europe and America, whose members are generally older, i.e. teens and twens (Hebdige 1983). Each individual Godobé rather strives to get out of his situation and have a better life. Their great love of music is a topic whenever somebody talks or writes about the Godobé, but they do not have a music style of their own. Only with regard to their outfit do the older Godobé develop a specific style, through which they mock about the dress codes of the middle class and at the same time their own poverty. Unlike the young children, who must wear whatever they can get, the teenagers are occasionally able to buy second-hand clothes of their choice. They do not, however, want to wear them the way they are, but – unable to pay the tailor to alter them – they simply cut off the legs of trousers and the sleeves of shirts and jackets, making a “fashion of impecuniousness”, a behavior which reminds of that of the Beats in the urban centers of the USA in the second and and third decade of the 20th century (Hebdige 1983: 25). 5 The term “community of survival” is nowadays most frequently used with regard to groups of people who engage in survival training as a leisure occupation, a notion which is far from ours. 6 In Hebdige’s (1979) model, subcultures initially form through a common resistance against the dominant society. The dominant society often sees these groups as radical, leading to fear, skepticism and anxiety in their response.

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Under Bokassa’s regime (1966–1979) the Godobé experienced particularly difficult conditions. On the one hand the police would turn up any time and anywhere and arrest them, on the other hand the government engaged quite a few of them as spies which made them the object of even more suspicion in the eyes of the dominant society. What many people enjoyed in those days was the noticable decline of thefts, resulting from the payment of the Godobé spies, which was equivalent to the salary of a clerk at the post office (Bigo 1988: 138). Their low status and their struggle for survival, for keeping the secrets of their businesses secret and for avoiding being caught by the police, are also translated in the speech they have coined, Sango Godobé. This sociolect is characterized by several different ways of manipulating standard Sango: 1) borrowings from English, Arabic and neighboring African languages, but also from French; and 2) phonological, tonological and morphological modifications of Sango words and borrowed words. Apart from their poverty, the use of Sango Godobé is the most significant characteristic of the group. What is important is that the language is not acquired in the family but only when the children join the Godobé group, where it serves as an in-group means of communication. Of course, ex-Godobé and other young people with whom they are regularly in contact, such as the above mentioned motorbike mechanics, also have some command of Sango Godobé, but innovations are made within the group.7 While they constitute a “community of survival” with regard to the way they constantly struggle to find something to eat, one may call them a “community of practice” because of their linguistic behaviour. Eckert (2006: 1–2), who is responsible for the introduction of the term into sociolinguistics,8 defines the term as a “collection of people who engage on an ongoing basis in some common endeavor”. She considers clubs and friendship groups typical examples and observes that the members develop “a style – including a linguistic style”. The Godobé do not have a common endeavor like members of a club, and apart from the older ones’ way of dressing they do not have a style other than their language.

7 Unfortunately we do not have information on the organization of the Godobé, and we do not know who are the leaders and what competences they have nor who is responsible for the introduction of innovations. 8 The notion “community of practice” was developed by Lave and Wenger (1991) as the basis of a social theory of learning. Eckert and McConnell-Ginet (1992a, b) brought the construct into sociolinguistics “as a way of theorizing language and gender – most particularly, of responsibly connecting broad categories to on-the-ground social and linguistic practice” (Eckert 2006: 1).

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3 Sango Godobé The denotation “Sango Godobé” appears to be a fairly recent innovation. DikiKidiri (1986: 92) calls the language of the young Godobé “Double Sango”. In the last two decades of the second millenium “Double Sango” was, however, also used as a common synonym for “argot”, “language of criminals” or “secret language”. According to Voeltz (1992), the term “Double Sango” is also the designation for a ludling9 comparable to Pig Latin, i.e. each word in a given text is subject to morphophonological manipulations: the simple or double repetition of each syllable, of which the consonant is replaced by an invariable consonant. With regard to Sango, this game was presented to Helma Pasch in 1981 as being mostly played by young girls in a kind of in-group competition. During the workshop The status and uses of Sango in the Central African Republic 1992, Voeltz presented recordings of a public competition in another type of “Double Sango”10, in which only adult men participated. Here syllables were not reduplicated in a modified way, but for all words having more than one syllable the order of the syllables was inverted.11 While the ludling of the girls that was presented to Helma Pasch affects any single syllable in a text, and that of the men in the competition affects all words with more than two syllables, the manipulations of Sango Godobé affect only nouns with more than one syllable. There is, however, a considerable number of different manipulation devices that play a role. The fact that in Sango-Godobé the manipulations affect only disyllabic nouns, other word classes and monosyllabic words being unaffected, can be expected to make this ludling easier to encode and decode than the other two. Germain Landi was able to observe that in actually spoken Sango Godobé only the first noun in a clause is manipulated, while the rest is expressed in standard Sango, a restriction which indicates that a higher degree of manipulation would make production and comprehension of utterances difficult. Landi also observed, on several occasions, that with some practice at least parts of conversations in Sango Godobé can be understood, even by outsiders, and the example of the motorbike mechanics shows that good competence in Sango Godobé is not restricted to the Godobé.

9 The term “ludling” was coined by Laycock as a combination of the Latin words ludus ‘game’ and lingua ‘language’. He defines it as follows: “A ludling is defined, tentatively, as the result of a transformation or a series of transformations acting regularly on an ordinary language or text, with the intent of altering the form but not the content of the original message, for purposes of concealment or comic effect” (Laycock 1972: 61). 10 “Un deuxième type double Sango [a second type of double Sango]”. 11 Unfortunately, Voeltz’ paper was never published.

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It appears that today the preferred way of manipulating words consists of abbreviating them rather than extending them in playful morphological processes. This is true for words from standard Sango, e.g. ngbô (> ngbàngbò ‘five hundred’) ‘500 F CFA’12 as well as words of French origin, e.g. couz (> ‘cousin’). Furthermore the Godobé modify their language by introducing words from other languages. In order to enhance their chances of getting money they make big efforts to get into contact with people of affluence and money, generally Frenchspeaking white people, local functionaries speaking French and Sango, and merchants speaking Arabic, Hausa, Lingala and Sango. As a result of these contacts they learn words and concepts from the languages of their interlocutors, which they happily integrate in Sango Godobé. However, it appears that they do this with regard to Hausa and Arabic to a lesser degree than the other languages. Landi Germain was not given a single example from Hausa and only a few from Arabic. Chai [ʃáì] ‘tea’ appears to have been reintroduced after dùtê (< du thé) and tê (< thé) of French origin had replaced the older form sáì. This latter form is already listed in the dictionary by Bouquiaux et al (1978), as is bágàrà (< Arabic bagara) ‘cow’. Not listed in the dictionary are ‘woman’ (< Arabic mar’a ‫ﺍﻟﻤﺮﺃﺓ‬,13 sakine (< sakiin) ‘knife’ and yakai (< ‘yaxi)14 ‘Sir!, friend!’, which is a strong indication that these words are recent borrowings from Arabic. The same is true with regard to some number words, which are used primarily when talking about prices of goods. This might indicate that French numerals for prices are in the process of being replaced by Arabic words. Nevertheless the pata15 (coin of 5 francs in colonial times) is still the basis for the calculation of prices, as becomes apparent from the following examples, even when indicating prices in Arabic numerals. (1)

kamsa talachina /talaʃina/

<
Zanabia). 19 The use of the Gĩkũyũ term ku-thora ‘to steal’ also creates assonance with mathee, exhibiting the same dental fricative. 20 The sentence was an example given to me by Abbas Kubaff during his stay in Bayreuth, when we were discussing a book whose title he had forgotten but which we once saw in the library. 21 cheki ‘to look at’ < Engl. check

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woyee (< ?) tichee (< Engl. teacher with deformative suffixe -ee) is a well-rhymed start for an excuse.22

3.2 A striving towards semantic equivalences The semantic range represented by the vocabulary of Sheng is typically restricted. It is mostly used for horizontal communication among peers in informal settings, like bus stations, school yards, parties and football fields, about themes such as the following, listed by Kouega (2003) for Camfranglais: “food and drink, money and ways of laying hands on it, sex and relationships with women, physical look of people and their feelings, and ways of addressing people and referring to them.”23 Sheng, like other youth languages, is particularly rich in new lexical items. There are many alternatives of expression (see also Ogechi 2005).24 New lexical items with the same reference are constantly coined. For instance, there are numerous expressions for ‘girl-friend’, including, for instance, dem(u) (< Engl. (ma)dame), mujer (< Span. ‘ wife’ (title of a South-American telenovela)), kenge (< Sw. ‘monitor lizard’, Ogechi 2005: 347)25. The same is true for the police, including e.g. mavampires (< Engl. vampire) or ma-faya-ban (< Engl. burn fire).26 Lexical change in youth languages is tremendous and can be considered as one of its hallmarks.27 Halliday (1976: 571) calls the incessant creation of denotationally similar terms “overlexicalization”, which is a feature which also prevails in other “anti-languages”, such as criminal argots. With regard to the mode of lexical innovation in anti-languages, Halliday (1976: 570–1) underlines that “metaphorical modes of expression are the norm”. Also in youth languages, the key means of creating new terms is the cognitive semantic mechanism of metaphor. Re-evoking Jakobson’s notion of equivalence, we find equivalence not only determining the form, but also lying at the base of

22 -ruand- in usiniruande ‘don’t beat me’ < Rwanda (onomastic synecdoche); buu < Engl. bus + truncation; -leit-ish-a in ilinileitisha ‘it made me late’ < Engl. late + causative derivation. 23 See also Reuster-Jahn and Kießling (2006: 19–21) on the semantic domains covered by Lugha ya Mitaani. On the restricted thematic range of anti-languages, see Halliday (1976: 571). 24 See also Ogechi (2005) on synonymy in Sheng. 25 For further examples, see also Ogechi (2005: 346–348). 26 For further examples, see Ogechi (2005: 347–349). 27 As for Lugha ya Mitaani in Dar es Salaam, Reuster-Jahn and Kießling (2006: 75) calculate that compared to Ohly’s dictionary of Lugha ya Mitaani published in 1987, nearly 95% of the lexical items had fallen out of use or could not be found with the same meaning in Lugha ya Mitaani in 2006.

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lexical innovation in youth languages. By analogy, Sheng speakers constantly talk about one thing in terms of another. The similarity in appearance and importance allows speakers to use mbuyu ‘baobab’ to refer to ‘father’. Metonymies are equally important: by association, a lexical item is coined after a prominent characteristic. The constant use of flamethrowers by the police to counter riots led to speakers coining the term ma-faya-ban. The onomastic synecdoche, whereby a brand name comes to stand for the type, is also often found: the prominence of Hyundai as a car brand leads speakers to use ndai, derived from the brand name, as a generic term for car. Mujer, the title of the Spanish soapopera, is used to refer to ‘girlfriend’.28 One can understand this constant urge to create new terms as echoing the never-ending search for social distinction, cherishing one’s disrespect for established forms and conventions. Halliday (1976: 570) considers this aspect as part of the interpersonal aspect of the anti-language. However, one can also link the semantic creation of new terms with a poetic concern for substituting meaning. Playing on the paradigmatic aspect of language, it is the striving to say things differently (but in equivalent terms) which lies at the foundations of lexical innovation. Or, to put it differently, on a semantic level, the striving for equivalence manifests itself in the overuse of tropes, notably metaphors, which are a dominant feature not only of hip hop but also of youth languages. However, the principle of analogy is a universal cognitive principle that is not restricted to youth languages or hip-hop but is also the basis for word formation in language generally speaking. So what is particularly poetic about metaphorical expressions in Sheng? First of all, as Halliday’s term of “overlexicalization” already suggests, there is a quantitative difference, in the sense that lexical items are substituted much more frequently than in other language varieties. To paraphrase Jakobson, there is an overemphasis on the vertical, paradigmatic aspect of substitution. There is also a qualitative difference linked to constant change: in contrast to established metaphors, the relationship of similarity that leads to substitution hardly becomes conventionalized. Conventionalized metaphors, like mguu wa meza ‘table leg’, have lost their connotations: they denote.29 The literal meaning has faded out of focus: one hardly needs to think of a ‘leg’ and a ‘table’ to figure out the mean28 I consider this to be an onomastic synecdoche or a metonymy rather than a metaphor or even a loanword, since most Sheng speakers do not seem to know the meaning of mujer, Spanish ‘wife’. Thus, they rather associated mujer with ‘girlfriend’, since girls are notorious for watching telenovelas. 29 On the degree of conventionalization as the decisive difference between poetic and nonpoetic metaphors, see also Lakoff and Johnson (1980: 139; see also Heine, Claudi and Hünnemeyer 1991: 60, Vierke 2012).

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ing. In contrast to those, poetic metaphors in rap or some parts of Sheng initially escape a straightforward understanding. The veiled reference can be linked to the effect of secrecy often associated with youth languages and particularly with early stages of youth languages, most of which are typically considered to have emerged as criminal argots where hiding information from non-group members and creating an in-group identity through shared knowledge are key issues (see Halliday 1976: 572).30 Secondly, and even more importantly, rather than merely hiding the reference, newly created Sheng terms connote. Because they are new, their literal meaning is still palpable. They come with different connotations conveying semantic nuances (“attitudinal components”, according to Halliday (1976: 571)). It is the deviant or new collocation of ‘police’ and vampires, to take the example already given above, which are not part of the speakers’ common stockpile of conceptual schemes, which presents the ‘police’ from a particular angle: according to Abbas Kubaff, the blood-sucking vampire metaphorically highlights the corruptness of the police ‘sucking’ money out of their victims. Mafayaban, on the other hand, hints at the brutality of the police in street riots.31 In the context of suggestive language referring to girl friends or sex, fresh metaphors that stir the imagination are particularly effective, as for instance in Abbas Kubaff’s reference to the painting of Peter Marangi (line 35, Appendix 2), the protagonist of a commercial who because of the semantic ambivalence of kupaka (‘to apply paint’, but also ‘to have sex’) acquired a strongly sexual connotation. The common pressure towards semantic innovations, i.e. the creation of new terms, can be considered to reflect the speakers’ poetic concern for the power to connote. Expressions lose their connotational force after having been used widely in communication. To stay deviant from established conceptual schemes, speakers constantly have to look for new terms or new deviant collocations, and this leads to overlexicalization. In a similar way Halliday (1976: 571) also considers overlexicalization to be linked not only to the interpersonal but also to the poetic function (in his terms “the textual orientation”). Both the 30 On the typical “life cycle” of African youth languages and their development from criminal argots to youth languages to urban languages of wider communication, see Kießling and Mous (2006: 367–369). Sheng too is considered to have started as a “professional slang of the underworld” (Mazrui 1995), while nowadays it is on the verge of developing into an urban language of wider communication in Nairobi and even beyond. However, on the other hand, its stabilization as a code and its de-stigmatization fosters the creation of a new argot (“deep Sheng” according to Abbas Kubaff) used in the underworld, that is characterized by new strategies of manipulation (Githiora 2002: 160). 31 Again these metaphors for police have probably been adopted from Rasta and Reggae discourse and also allude to it (I thank the peer reviewer for pointing out the link).

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textual orientation (the “set” toward the message, in Jakobson’s terms) and the interpersonal (the “set” toward speaker/addressee, although as we shall suggest this is to be interpreted rather as a set toward the social structure) tend to produce this overlexicalization: the former because it takes the form of verbal competition and display (speakers compete making use of newly created forms and meanings); the latter because sets of words which are denotatively synonymous are clearly distinguished by their attitudinal components.32 Concerning the former, one can add that the poetic aspect lies particularly in the force to connote. Concerning the interpersonal function and the notion of competition and display, one can add that the coinage of new terms has a rhetorical effect. Unlike conventionalized metaphors, newly created metaphors surprise: they contain a collocation that is not expected by the hearer, who has to reflect upon the reference to ‘vampires’ and establish the conceptual links. The hearer has to unravel the analogies first and the effect only comes about with a delay in his or her imagination. This provides the speaker with a sense of shrewdness or cunning, affirming his or her verbal superiority that outwits the opponent.33 Hence, the notion of display is closely linked with an idea of hierarchy and competition that prevails in hip hop. A rapper first of all tries to imitate his predecessors to learn the “code”, but he does so in order to later outplay them: opponents seek to defeat (“kill”) each other not only through offensive content but in terms of virtuosity and eloquence (see Vierke 2015). Rivalry finds its expression in verbal duels, where linguistic competition not only (re)produces social order (when rappers, for instance, act as representatives or spokesmen of mitaa ‘neighborhoods’)34, but also stimulates verbal virtuosity. Thus, competition is also linked to the poetic function of language, where the message and its make-up come to the fore. Not only in Kenyan hip hop but also in Sheng, the aspect of outplaying one another in terms of form and meaning seems to be an important one (see also Halliday 1976: 572, Kießling and Mous 2006: 366). Again it is not only part of image work (in an effort to outplay one’s rival), but also fosters the production 32 In their overview of language varieties primarily based on lexical manipulation, Kießling and Mous (2006: 365) also mention the textual aspect of playing “with forms and competition” and the poetic function, “i.e. the one that focuses on the linguistic form for its own aesthetic sake” (p. 366) as an aspect of anti-languages besides the interpersonal function. 33 This effect adds to the intended attitude of disrespect or parody towards the comparandum, which manifests itself in ironic, hyperbolic and dysphemistic comparisons which are so typically found in youth languages and other anti-languages (Kießling and Mous 2006: 366). 34 See Greven 2012. The piece “Kariobangi South” (appendix 2), whose title is derived from a neighborhood in Nairobi, reflects the strong relationship between rappers and mitaa.

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of new form and meaning. It certainly also gives birth to variety-specific speech acts and forms of discourse, like boasting, telling someone off, dissing (verbal duels) and flirts, which Reuster-Jahn and Kießling (2006: 53–55) list for Lugha ya Mitaani in Dar es Salaam. Not being tied to social norms and pragmatic rules of politeness found in the mainstream code but imposing their own rules, competition, display and their associated forms of discourse, can be considered as play that takes part in a world of its own that is “primarily distinct from reality” (Huizinga 1955: 9) or at least temporarily detached from it.35 I refer to Huizinga’s Homo ludens, who considers play inter alia as detached from reality but rulegoverned (and even rule-creating) as well as unconcerned by material interest. With regard to the play function of youth languages, which is deeply akin to the poetic function (see also Huizinga 1955: 119), this means to consider form and meaning as primarily following the rules of the game. Thus, from this perspective a youth language is a game in its own right.

4 Concluding remarks This article uses examples from Sheng to suggest a perspective on analyzing youth languages which has been mentioned by some scholars (Halliday 1976, Kießling and Mous 2004 and 2006), but definitely needs further consideration. Its aim is to hint at correlations and aspects which can and need to be tested further with empirical data, particularly discourse data. In short, this article first of all sets out to argue that our consideration of hip hop lyrics (and by extension also youth language practices) as merely reflecting social realities is certainly misleading. Following more recent approaches in sociolinguistics and considering linguistic variables as indexical signs and resources, I have tried to highlight how much the notions of the street and street-smartness are constructed in hip hop lyrics. Linguistic practice in the context of hip hop, for instance, is strongly linked with the construction of stereotypical personae. Thus, hip hop and by extension youth languages create a semiotic cosmos which might initially construct defiance as its central point, but which also follows its own rules and considerations. Besides the interpersonal function of language, the poetic function is a dominant function at work in the poetic genre of hip hop and also in youth language, which share 35 Reuster-Jahn and Kießling (2006: 3) also mention the “ludic aspect of youth languages” (see also Kießling and Mous 2006: 366).

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the poetic concern for form and meaning.36 While the form has hitherto mostly been considered as deviant from and in opposition to a standard variety, I have tried to highlight first of all a strong concern for regularization or paradigmatization.37 Thus, my aim is to emphasize similarity and variation of form and meaning within the code rather than dissimilarity from the linguistic norms of the mainstream. Similarly, in terms of social structure, the focus was rather put on the agency of youth language speakers and rappers and their group-internal forces: it is the antagonism not against society but between and within youth groups which comes into focus. Besides the social concern for constructing identity, it is the play on form which might be held responsible not only for constantly created forms, but also for whole discourse sequences, like the piece “Toklezea”, which are primarily driven by associations. In Jakobson’s terms the sequence is based on equivalence (Jakobson 1981a), an all-permeating structural poetic principle, which, being pervasive rather than restricted to one linguistic level, finds its manifestation not only in form but also in the lexicon. Indeed, with respect to semantics, I interpreted the dominance of metaphorical speech and the constant generation of new terms as echoing a constant search for semantic equivalences that goes hand in hand with the poetic concern to stir the imagination or to connote. While referring to Huizinga’s notion of play in the last section, I have tried to describe the detachment from the concerns of an everyday language of wider communication and the self-centeredness of the code as related to the “poetic function”: equivalence that hardly finds any application outside of the poetic realm applies its rules to linguistic form and meaning. Following Huizinga, we can consider both hip hop and Sheng in analogy to poetic creativity as developing on “a playground of the mind, in a world of its own which the mind creates for it” (for the ludic aspects see also Nassenstein’s contribution to this volume (on Langila)). Differently from a language game or a ludling, the 36 With respect to the affinity between the poetic genre and the youth language, one could also refer to Halliday’s consideration of literary language as “anti-language”, which like a criminal argot is metaphorical in attitude, form and meaning (Halliday 1976). 37 The concern for form is often also echoed by a number of meta-linguistic or meta-poetic comments in hip hop (Vierke 2015), but probably also in Sheng, where the make-up of the language as such often becomes an issue of debate and commentary, according to Abbas Kubaff. Newly created terms can become the talk of the day and, as well as in meta-reflections, speakers tend to play around with them to explore their formal and semantic limits. When “Toklezea” came out, for instance, speakers tended to associatively generate utterances and contexts in which the term could be used. However, comments on the topic are necessarily impressionistic; it is an issue which definitely needs further research.

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“world of its own” is not only created linguistically but also enhanced through other signs, such as gestures, clothing and music – and that is exactly where it intersects with the interpersonal function of creating and enhancing identity. The “world of its own” might also build on social reality or rather stereotypical assumptions about it (as I have tried to show in the first section of the article), but necessarily transforms it according to its own rules and in terms of its own figurations. Its subversive force lies particularly in its transforming power: it adapts symbols and meaningful practices of the mainstream and changes their connotations, while at the same time, it offers a counter-discourse of its own kind which is ostentatiously uninterested in established categories of taste, morality and grammar.

References Abdulaziz, Mohammed H. 1979. Muyaka: 19th century Swahili popular poetry. Nairobi: Kenya Literature Bureau. Abdulaziz, Mohammed H. & Ken Osinde. 1997. Sheng and Engsh: Development of mixed codes among the urban youth in Kenya. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 125. 43–63. Androutsopoulos, Jannis K. 1997. Intertextualität in jugendkulturellen Textsorten. In Josef Klein & Ulla Fix (eds.), Textbeziehungen. Linguistische und literaturwissenschaftliche Beiträge zur Intertextualität, 339–372. Tübingen: Stauffenburg. Androutsopoulos, Jannis K. 2001. Ultra Korregd Alter! Zur medialen Stilisierung und Popularisierung von Türkendeutsch. Deutsche Sprache 4(1). 321–339. Androutsopoulos, Jannis K. 2012a. Introduction: Language and society in cinematic discourse. Multilingua 31. 139–154. Androutsopoulos, Jannis K. 2012b. Repertoires, characters and scenes: sociolinguistic difference in Turkish-German comedy. Multilingua 31. 301–326. Attridge, Derek 1995. Poetic rhythm: An introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Barkley, Divinity Lashelle. 2007. Kaya hiphop in coastal Kenya: The urban poetry of Ukoo Flani. Course Paper ISP, SIT, Kenya fall 2007. Blommaert, Jan. 2010. The sociolinguistics of globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cassidy, Frederic. 1971. Jamaica Talk: Three hundred years of English language in Jamaica. London: MacMillan Caribbean. Fabian, Johannes. 1998. Moments of freedom. Anthropology and popular culture. Charlottesville and London: University Press of Virginia. Greven, Katharina. 2012. Sprache als Identitätsmarker für urbane Gemeinschaften analysiert am Beispiel der Liedtexte Tokelezea and Kariobangi South von Abbas Kubaff. Unpublished MA thesis, Bayreuth University. Githinji, Peter. 2006. Bazes and their shibboleths: lexical variation and Sheng speakers’ identity in Nairobi. Nordic Journal of African Studies 15(4). 443–472.

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Githiora, Chege. 2002. Sheng: peer language, Swahili dialect or emerging creole? Journal of African Cultural Studies 15. 159–181. Halliday, Michael A.K. 1976. Anti-languages. American Anthropologist 78(3). 570–584. Heine, Bernd, Ulrike Claudi & Friederike Hünnemeyer. 1991. Grammaticalization. A conceptual framework. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Huizinga, Johan. 1955. Homo ludens: a study of the play-element in culture. Boston: Beacon Press. Hurst, Ellen. 2009. Tsotsitaal, global culture and local style: identity and recontextualisation in twenty-first century South African townships. Social Dynamics 35(2). 244–257. Jakobson, Roman. 1981a (1960). Linguistics and poetics. In Roman Jakobson & Stephen Rudy (eds.), Poetry of grammar and grammar of poetry. Selected writings Vol. 3, 17–51. The Hague: Mouton. Jakobson, Roman. 1981b (1968). Poetry of grammar and grammar of poetry. In Roman Jakobson, & Stephen Rudy (eds.), Poetry of grammar and grammar of poetry. Selected writings Vol. 3, 87–97. The Hague: Mouton. Kießling, Roland. 2005. Bàk mwà mè dó – Camfranglais in Cameroon. Lingua Posnaniensis 47. 87–107. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2006. “Vous nous avez donné le francais, mais nous sommes pas obligés de l’utiliser comme vous le voulez” – Youth languages in Africa. In Christa Dürscheid & Jürgen Spitzmüller (eds.), Perspektiven der Jugendsprachforschung / Trends and developments in youth language research, 385–401. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Kouega, Jean-Paul. 2003. Word formative processes in Camfranglais. World Englishes 22(4). 511– 538. Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change. Vol. 2. Social factors. Oxford: Blackwell. Lakoff, George & Mark Johnson. 1980. Metaphors we live by. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Mazrui, Alamin M. 1995. Slang and code-switching: the case of Sheng in Kenya. Afrikanistische Arbeitspapiere 42. 168–179. Morgan, Marcyliena. 2001. “Nuthin’ But a G Thang”: grammar and language ideology in hip hop identity. In Sonja L. Lanehart (ed.), Sociocultural and historical contexts of African American English, 187–209. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Ogechi, Nathan Oyori. 2005. On lexicalization in Sheng. Nordic Journal of African Studies 14(3). 334–355. Reuster-Jahn, Uta & Roland Kießling. 2006. Lugha ya Mitaani in Tanzania: The poetics and sociology of a young urban style of speaking with a dictionary comprising 1100 words and phrases. Swahili Forum 13 (Special Issue). http://www.ifeas.uni-mainz.de/SwaFo/ Volume13 (accessed 10 June 2014). Richardson, Elaine. 2006. Hip-hop literacies. London: Routledge. Vierke, Clarissa. 2011. On the poetics of the Utendi. A critical edition of the nineteenth-century Swahili poem “Utendi wa Haudaji” together with a stylistic analysis. Münster: LIT. Vierke, Clarissa. 2012. Mafumbo: Considering the functions of metaphorical speech in Swahili contexts. In Michael R. Marlo, Nikki B. Adams, Christopher R. Green, Michelle Morrison & Tristan M. Purvis (eds.), Selected proceedings of the 42nd annual conference on African

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linguistics, 278–290. Somerville, MA: Cascadilla Proceedings Project. http://www.lingref. com, document #2776 (accessed 10 June 2014). Vierke, Clarissa. 2015. Comparing the incomparable? Swahili hip-hop and ‘classical’ Swahili Poetry; in: Lutz Diegner und Frank Schulze-Engler (eds.). Habari ya English? – What about Kiswahili? East Africa as a literary and linguistic contact zone, 81–112. Leiden: Brill. Wa Mũngai, Mbugua. 2007. “Kaa Masaa, grapple with spiders: The myriad threads of Nairobi Matatu discourse.” In J. Ogude & J. Nyairo (eds.), Urban legends, colonial myths. Popular culture and literature in East Africa, 25–57. Trenton: Africa World Press. Wa Mũngai, Mbugua. 2013. Nairobi’s matatu men. Portrait of a subculture. Nairobi: GoetheInstitut Kenya, Native Intelligence and Jomo Kenyatte Foundation. Wairungu, Michael. 2014. The rise of Sheng: a sociolinguistic revolution from below. In Vivian Yenika-Agbaw & Lindah Mhando (eds.), African youth in contemporary literature and popular culture. New York, London: Routledge.

Discography Abbas Kubaff ft. Shaki. 2009. Kariobangi South. Album: Mista Abbas. Mandugu Digital. Abbas Kubaff ft. Chantelle. 2011. Toklezea. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7MdbRJCpXM Ukoo Flani (MauMau). 2009. Burn Dem. Album: Kaya Hiphop. Basetown Records & Headbangaz Entertainment.

Appendix 1.

Verse 1 of ‘Burn Dem’ (Ukoo Flani, Mombasa 2009, Album: Kaya Hip-Hop)38 Sheng lexical items are given in italics. (Performed by Fujo Makelele)

1 2 3 4

Kum Kum Babaz39, Ukoo Flani soldiers twaja na ndege, tumejiami na vifaru tuna majeshi wa Desert Storm na SS marine

5 6 7 8

wafuasi wa Bin Ladén tumekuja kuchukua húu uthamin, madin tuko majesh bwena, zaidi ya elfu hamsin tunatúmia TNT

Kum Kum Babbaz we Ukoo Flani soldiers are coming we are armed with jets and tankers We have a Desert Storm army and SS marine soldiers [we are] followers of Bin Laden We have come to collect these resources we are many soldiers, more than 50,000 we use TNT dynamite

38 Text, translation and explanations of lexemes largely based on Barkley (2007) and http:// www.kenyanlyrics.com. For a more detailed discussion of the content as well as the integration of English lexemes, see Vierke (2015). 39 Nickname of a person (Barkley 2007: 34).

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9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

twafanya ufiatu na B-52 kwenye umati soldier nati 40 navuta kenti naseti jeti 41, natuma missile diz hiló linageuka diesel ndani ya mental na incognito kambi ya jeshi kutoka ghetto ndani na-gain ndani na-fight for my rights

we do crazy things with B52 in the crowd a soldier with dreadlocks I smoke weed, I feel high like a jet I send missiles this and that turns into diesel fuel inside my brain and incognito the army camp from the ghetto in the ghetto I gain, inside I fight for my rights I look into the scope like a sniper boom! Kapuka! We throw it into the rubbish I put a grenade (in it), no nonsense I suddenly appear and when I turn, I have a bazooka

17 20 21 22

na-cheki kwa scope kama sniper Pum kapuka 42 tunayatupa kwenye pipa natia grenade full real gwamba nainuka nikizinduka nina bazooka

2.

Extract from ‘Kariobangi South’ (Abbas Kubaff, Nairobi 2009, Album: Mista Abbas)43 Sheng terms given in italics

Verse 1 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Sasa hizi mashida44 nazikiss goodbye kwa nywele za Sisqo45 mi najidai niko ndani ya disco niko high hapa nina Missis hapa divai wapi ile change yangu waiter anadai

6. 7.

beshte yangu amebleki kwa ndai 46 (amebleki kwa ndai, amebleki kwa ndai)

Now I kiss these problems good bye hair like Sisqo, I am proud I am in the club, I am high here I have a Miss, here I have wine where is my change, that the waiter owes me my best friend blacked out in the car (he blacked out in the car, he blacked out in the car)

40 nati ‘dreadlocks’ (< ?) 41 -seti jeti ‘to feel high (like a jet) after smoking marijuana’ < Engl. ‘to set’ and ‘jet’ 42 Kapuka ‘commercialized Kenyan hip hop’ (Barkley 2007: 34) 43 Text and translation adapted from Greven (2012) (as well as the website Kenyanlyrics (http://www.kenyanlyrics.com) with some modifications. Explanations of lexical items based on Greven (2012) and on discussions with Abbas Kubaff. 44 ma- (CL .6) has the tendency to become a commonly used nominal plural marker for nouns in class 10. In terms of agreement, i/zi (CL . 9/10) generally marks verbal/pronominal concord (ma-shida na-zi-kiss good bye CL .6-problems 1.PERS . PRES .-CL .10.-kiss good bye). See also mi-fuko zi-ja-e CL .4-bag CL .10-fill-FV ‘that bags fill’ (line 12) and [mi-fuko] z-ote CL .4-bags CL .10-all ‘all bags’ (line 13). Exceptions are animate nouns as well as nouns derived from other nouns (e.g. diminutives). 45 Sisqo (Mark Andrews) = member of the American hip hop group Dru Hill. 46 ndai ‘car’ (onomastic synecdoche) < Hyundai (see also line 14)

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8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

wacha niishie, ntapitia baadaye Chiwawa47 niaje mzae 48 umepotea, mazee is how 49 nadhania ni karibu ni bibi azae siku hizi itabidi mifuko zijae

13. 14. 15.

tujaze jaze zote walai bilai tununue matoys 50 tusukume mandai mkuje home kwangu mkeja 51 ya mine

let me go away, I will pass by later Chiwawa, how are you, man you were lost, how are you, man I think the woman will get a child soon these days it will be necessary for the bags to fill let’s fill them all, I swear you let’s buy cars, lets drive cars come to my home, my home

Chorus: 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

Kariobangi, Kariobangi South wanasema ni Abbas Kubaff anaitwa Abbas Kubaff kwa jina ni Abbas Kubaff Kariobangi, Kariobangi South wanasema ni Abbas Kubaff anaitwa Abbas Kubaff kwa jina ni Abbas Kubaff Kariobangi, Kariobangi South

Kariobangi, Kariobangi South they say it’s Abbas Kubaff he is called Abbas Kubaff his name is Abbas Kubaff Kariobangi, Kariobangi South they say it’s Abbas Kubaff he is called Abbas Kubaff by name he is Abbas Kubaff Kariobangi, Kariobangi South

Verse 2 (Abbas Kubaff) 25. 26.

Nimetoka kule Kariobangi nikitoa digaga 52 cheki 53 rangi54

27. 28.

unadhania nimefanya dhambi sina nywele, ni kipara ka 55 Gandhi

I come from Kariobangi if I put off my sunglasses, have a look at the color you think I have sinned I have no hair, I am bald like Gandhi

47 Chiwawa = Kenyan rapper 48 mzae ‘friend’, ‘buddy’ < Sw. mzee mzima ‘healthy old man’ (Greven 2012) or metathesis of Sheng mazee ‘friend’ (< Sw. mzee ‘old man’) 49 Change of English word order. 50 ma-toys ‘cars’, (metaphor) < Engl. toys. Loanwords and newly coined terms derived from English typically acquire ma- (CL .6) plural marking (see also footnote 39) often coexisting with English inflectional morphology (see also manipples ‘nipples’ (Appendix 3, line 14), marhymes ‘rhymes’ (Appendix 3, line 48), mapiercing ‘piercings’, matatoo ‘tatoos’ (Appendix 3, line 52). 51 mkeja ‘home’ < Sheng keja < Engl. cage; the dummy nasal is prefixed to “swahilize” the term. 52 digaga ‘sunglasses’ (< ?). 53 cheki ‘see’ < Engl. to check 54 Abbas alludes to drug consumption. Red eyes either indicate that one is stoned or suffers from some kind of hang-over. 55 ka short for kama ‘like’ (see also line 32 in “Toklezea”).

Some remarks on poetic aspects of Sheng

29. njaro 56 zangu utadhania ni bandi 57 30. sipendangi58 vako 59 za kulalanga Jeevanjee60 31. juu61 bila kazi inamaanisha simangi 62 32. ka amesota 63 inamaanisha hakanji 64 33. mara niko kwenye show na Kanji65 34. jeans nimesag chini 66 na nakaa gi gi gi 67 35. Nawapaka kama Peter Marangi68 36. namanga dimanga 69 za Budalangi 37. nafanya wanamove kama rent ya landi 70 38. nafunga ka Maradona akitouch na handi 71

253

my style, you think I am a gangster I don’t like your style to hang around in Jeevanjee because without work, means I don’t eat if he is broke it means he does not get paid suddenly I am in a show with Kanji the jeans I am wearing low I am gi gi gi I am coating them like Peter Marangi I eat stones from Budalangi I make them move like the rent of the landlord I score a goal like Maradona as he touched with the hand

56 njaro ‘style’, ‘pose’ 57 bandi ‘gangster’ < Engl. bandit 58 The repetetive verbal extension -ang-, which is only found in lexicalized form in Std. Sw. is productive in Kenyan up-country Swahili as well as Sheng (marking habitual) (e.g. si-pendang-i NEG .-love-REP -FV ‘I do not love’, see also ku-lal-ang-a INF-sleep-REP -FV ‘to hang around’ (line 30). 59 vako ‘style’, ‘relaxed pose’ (kula vako ‘to chill out’) 60 Jeevanjee is a park in the Central District of Nairobi, where people are allowed to hang out. 61 juu ‘because’ < Sw. ‘above’; Mazrui (1995: 176) considers juu as indicating a change in conversational topic. 62 si-mangi < Ital. mangiare ‘to eat’ (Greven 2012). 63 -sota ‘to be broke’ (metaphor) < Sw. ‘to crawl on ones buttocks and hands, as does a crippled person’ (Ogechi 2005: 350). 64 -kanji ‘to get paid’, ‘to get one’s salary’ 65 Kanji = Kenyan musician singing gospels 66 -sag chini ‘to wear low’ < Engl. to sag + Sw. chini ‘low’. Refers to the common hip hop style of wearing trousers. 67 gi gi gi [dʒi dʒi dʒi] ‘to be cool’ < ideophone or acronym probably referring to the emphasis of the letter ‘g’ in American hip hop (evoking inter alia gangster, ghetto; see Morgan 2001). 68 Peter Marangi = protagonist of the advertisement of Duracoat, a brand of wall paint. The whole line has a sexual connotation: ‘to coat or to paint someone’ is metaphorical for ‘to have sex with someone’ (Greven 2012). 69 dimanga ‘stones’ which come from the region of Budalangi (West Kenya) which are considered as medicine particularly for pregnant women. Here metaphorically used to refer to marihuana (Greven 2012). 70 landi truncated form of landlord 71 handi < Engl. hand; adaptation to Swahili syllable structure and rhyme.

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3. Extract from ‘Toklezea’ (Abbas Kubaff ft. Chantelle, Nairobi 2011)72 Sheng lexical items are given in italics. Verse 1 (Chantel) 1.

Tokelezea 73, tokelezea, tokelezea, tokelezea

2.

tokelezea, tokelezea

3.

Nikifika club watu wanatokelezea

4.

si watu wako wengi, manze wametokelezea

5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

Abbas na Chantelle wametokelezea ebu cheki vile hizo macho zimetokelezea Hizo hagga 74 zimetokelezea sababu wanasema ati mimi nakula mbolea mi supuu 75 ka stew na matoplayer za high school vile huwa zimetokelezea niko fresh 77 bila Prince nimetoka Bel-Air78

12.

natoka keja bila make-up sijajipodelea

13. 14.

na bado nakaa poa79 nimetokelezea nina bra na manipples zimetokelezea

15.

Mothers’ Union80 bado hagga imetokelezea

Surprisingly outstanding, surprisingly outstanding, surprisingly outstanding, surprisingly outstanding When I arrived at the club people were arriving aren’t there many people? The girls are outstanding Abbas and Chantelle have come can you see how those eyes are noticeable That ass is protuding because they say that I eat fertilizer I’m as beautiful as stew, like the toplayer coming to the surface in high school76 I am cool without a Prince I come from Bel-Air I leave the room without make-up I haven’t put on make-up and I still look cool I’m outstanding! I have a bra and the nipples are noticeably erect even in Mothers’ Union underwear the ass is still noticeable

72 Text and translation adapted from Greven 2012 (as well as the website Kenyanlyrics (http:// www.kenyanlyrics.com) with some modifications. Explanations of lexical items based on Greven (2012) and on discussions with Abbas Kubaff. 73 -tok(e)lezea ‘to emerge and impress’, ‘to come out with much success’ < Sw. –toka ‘to come out’; derived through the use of applicative and causative verbal extensions. Abbas tends to suppress the first vowel after the root (tok’lezea), so that for him the sound as such iconically gives the idea of a sudden emergence. 74 hagga ‘buttocks’; metonymy/onomastic synekdoche derived from a type of tight jeans (‘hugger jeans’) which make the buttocks protrude (see also line 15). 75 supuu ‘sexy/beautiful girl’ < Engl. super 76 In lines 9 and 10, Chantelle compares herself to stew served in high school, where the upper part (ma-toplayers) is considered to have more taste than the rest of the stew. 77 fresh ‘cool’ < Engl. fresh 78 The Prince of Bel-Air is an American sitcom, in which a guy from the streets stays with his rich relatives in Bel-Air. 79 poa ‘cool’ < Sw. -poa ‘to cool down’, -kaa poa ‘stay cool’ might be a loan translation from English. 80 Mothers’ Union is a brand of oversize underwear. In a hyperbolic way, Chantelle underlines that her buttocks still protrude even in oversized underwear.

Some remarks on poetic aspects of Sheng

16. 17.

(naweza kupikia ukinitembelea) ukikosa beste 81 zako watatokelezea

18.

na watatokelezea tokelezea

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

ingawa chelewa bora watatokelezea cheki vile hizo nywele zimetokelezea za Rehema kando zangu zimetokelezea hata zikikatwa bado zitatokelezea Abbas ni kubaff 82, ametokelezea Chantelle nitatell nimetokelezea Abbas ni kubaff, ametokelezea Chantelle, nitatell nimetokelezea

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(I can cook for you if you visit me) If you miss your best friends, they will come and they will be eye-catching, stunning, stunning even if late, most importantly they appear Look how that hair is stunning Rehema’s aside, mine is outstanding even if they are cut, it will be outstanding! Abbas is not quiet, he is outstanding Chantelle, I will tell I’m outstanding Abbas is is not quiet, he is outstanding Chantelle, I will tell I’m outstanding

Verse 2 (Abbas Kubaff) 27. 28.

Oya! Kimzee 83 kimetokelezea jicho nyanya cheki vile zimetokelezea

29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

oyeah nimekomaa nimekula mimea nilipokea mabajia 85 zote kwenye sinia hadi kautambi 86 kangu kakatokelezea ukiparara, utatokelezea ka si Solea87 si ungepaka Nivea nijea 88 kimzee kimetokelezea na msupa ametokelezea

Oya! The guy has come his tomato eyes84, look how they are protruding oyeah I’m ripe, I have eaten plants I’ve received all bajias, in the (big) bowl, until my tummy has protruded if your skin is skratchy, you will be noticed if not Solea you would have used Nivea how are you? the man is noticeable and the girl is outstanding

81 beste (truncation) < Engl. best friend(s) 82 kubaff ‘cunning’, semantic inversion < Sw. mpumbavu ‘fool’. According to Abbas himself, kubaff came about through a mispronunciation uttered by the Kenyan president Kibaki when he delivered a speech. The devoicing at the end can be attributed to influence from Gĩkũyũ. Abbas uses Kubaff as the second part of his stage name. 83 ki-m-zee ‘buddy’. On double prefixation see footnote 86. 84 macho nyanya ‘tomato eyes’ or red eyes metonymically refer to drug consumption. 85 mabajia < Sw. bajia ‘deep fried ball of flour, beans and spices’ 86 utambi ‘tummy’ (metaphor?) < Sw. utambi ‘wick’. Deriving the diminutive, the noun class prefix (CL .12 which is not in use in Std. Swahili) is added to the existing prefix (ka-u-tambi CL .12-CL .11-wick ‘little belly’). Double prefixation occurs in cases of the autonomous use of the nominal class system. See also ki-m-zee (CL .7-CL .1-friend) ‘crazy buddy’. In this case, agreement strictly follows the nominal class, e.g. kautumbi kangu kakatokelezea (line 31), even in case of an animate noun, e.g. kimzee kimetokelezea. 87 Solea is a locally produced skin lotion in contrast to Nivea. 88 nijea ‘what’s up?’ (metathesis) < Sheng niaje

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37. 38.

nyinyi mnadunga 89 masupa 90 juu mmeshapotea hizo njumu 91 feki feki zitatokelezea si munajua, na bado mnajitetetea 92 eh

39.

Kuna watu wengi hunichorea

40.

mi niliwapea wire 93 wakanichomea

41.

lakini mi nilishukuru nikawachorea

42.

juu najua tu mabaraka zitatokelezea

36.

you put on super shoes but you already lost those fake shoes will be noticed don’t you know it and still you are defending yourselves there are many people who draw evil plans for me I brought them into connect and they burnt me But I was grateful and made a plan for them because I know blessings will appear

Verse 3 (Chantelle) 43. 44. 45.

On the scene nimetokelezea Chantelle ni mimi nimetokelezea Abbas alinitoa nikatokelezea

46. 47. 48.

nikatokelezea nikatokelezea marhymes kama thao 94 na zikatokelezea

49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61.

kwenye show watu wengi wametokelezea walilipa wakaingia na wakapolea 95 wanajua vile sisi tutatokelezea Mapiercing na matatoo zimetokelezea pahali nimepitia hauwezi tembea vile nimetokea nimejitolea Mola baraka zako nimezipokea leo nimeamka na nikatokelezea tokelezea tokelezea nikatokelezea nikatokelezea nikatokelezea

On the scene I am amazing Chantelle its me I’m noticeable Abbas produced me, I became suddenly outstanding I became amazing outstanding I became amazing outstanding I produced about a thousand rhymes and they were amazing to the shows many people came suddenly they paid entered and chilled they know how outstanding we will be piercings and tattoos are outstanding where I have gone, you cannot walk how I have emerged I have sacrificed God your blessings I have received today I woke up and I was outstanding Surprisingly outstanding Surprisingly outstanding I was outstanding I was outstanding I was outstanding

89 -dunga ‘wear (shoes)’ < Sw. ‘to pierce’ 90 masupa < Engl. super shoes ‘kind of hip hop shoes’. In a boastful manner, Abbas makes fun of those who think that their clothing and style is up-to-date (in line with the latest fashion in hip hop). 91 njumu ‘(sport) shoes’, metonymy < Sw. njumu ‘spikes’, which is in turn derived from the original notion of ‘ornamental metalwork’. 92 -tetetea ‘to defend constantly’ (reduplication of the first syllable) < Sw. -tetea ‘to defend’ 93 kuwapea watu wire lit. ‘to give people the wire’ = ‘to bring people into contact’ 94 thao (truncation) < Engl. ‘thousand’ 95 -polea ‘to relax’ < Sheng -poa ‘to sit’ < Sw. -poa ‘cool down’

Andrea Hollington and Tafadzwa Makwabarara

12 Youth language practices in Zimbabwe1 Abstract: Youth language practices are very popular phenomena in (urban) Africa and display the linguistic creativity of their speakers. The words and phrases that the varieties or registers comprise show different strategies of conscious language manipulation and are part of identity formation processes. This paper will present some data from Zimbabwean youth language practices, which constitute a very versatile phenomenon since there seem to be different varieties based on the languages English, Shona and Ndebele.2 However, as speakers interact and bring their respective individual, complex (and sometimes multilingual) repertoires into these interactions, these varieties are not delimitable in a strict sense. The linguistic practices of Zimbabwean youth have not yet received much academic attention, thus the present contribution provides first insights into this multilayered phenomenon and should be considered as a preliminary basis from which more research needs to be carried out in order to understand the dynamics of these practices. In the following, the data presented will be analyzed with respect to the strategies of linguistic manipulation that the speakers employ. Moreover, we will take a look at the functions of the Zimbabwean youth language phenomenon, especially with regard to the varieties’ function as markers of group identity.

1 Youth language practices in Zimbabwe: some preliminaries with regard to terminology In Africa, a range of urban youth languages have been studied and described. African youth language practices display various stages of development with regard to their dispersion, development and the set-up of the particular community of practice (CoP; see Eckert 2000). While some youth language practices are so widespread and commonly used that they are becoming (urban) lingua

1 This paper is partly based on a presentation held at KANT III, November 2010. Special thanks are due to Bryan, Christine, Ahmad and Cyril. 2 Some of the data presented here were collected in Harare and Bulawayo in August and September 2010 by Andrea Hollington; other examples stem from the repertoire of Tafadzwa Makwabarara’s consultants.

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francas (e.g. Nouchi, Sheng, Camfranglais), others are more constrained in terms of their speakers, dispersion and domains of use. Our observations are that Zimbabwean youth language practices are rather fluid and not (yet) developing as a “new” lingua franca in Zimbabwe which is supported by statements of the speakers who refer to it as “slang” and by the fact that there appears to be no common name for Zimbabwean youth language.3 This reflects the fluid nature of these practices and the heterogeneity of the CoP. Following the broad definition in Eckert (2000), a CoP relates to a group of people that share practices. In Zimbabwe, the CoP is quite heterogenous and comprises youths from various social backgrounds. While youth language practices are often associated with the street and youth of “lower social status”, in Zimbabwe, the rather educated and “sophisticated” youth also play an important role as “saccadic leaders” (Labov 2001).4 Saccadic leaders is a term that refers to leaders of linguistic change, persons who are at the core of CoPs and who initiate linguistic change and serve as role models for other members of the CoP who adopt their practices (Labov 2001). In Zimbabwe, we thus have several subgroups within the CoP which come from diverging social backgrounds and which are inspired by different saccadic leaders. Furthermore, the relationship between slang and youth language seems not to be very clear-cut, and the two concepts overlap at least partly. Kießling and Mous (2004) state that youth languages arise from, or through, slangs. Although it can generally be said that youth languages are more elaborated than slangs and unintelligible to outsiders (Kießling and Mous 2004), the following definition of slang also displays certain similarities to youth languages as they have been defined by Kießling and Mous (2004):

3 Note, however, that some youths in Bulawayo seem to refer to their linguistic practices as Scamtho in analogy with Iscamtho, a youth language of South Africa (see for instance Childs 1997). This may be due to the close contact and similarities between Ndebele in Zimbabwe and other Nguni languages in South Africa, and also the impact of South African (youth) culture on Zimbabwe (in particular in Matabeleland). 4 As Veit-Wild (2009: 687) points out, the terms masalads and ma-nose-brigades (the latter referring to “speaking English in a very affected way, ‘through the nose’”) refer to “Black Zimbabwean youths from mostly well-to-do families, who imitate American hip-hop culture in dress, music taste, language and style of living [and who] are a prime example of a social in-group in present day Zimbabwe that uses speech as a marker of social distinction”. It should be added that Jamaican culture and styles relating to reggae and dancehall music constitute an equally important source for Zimbabweans creating a global style and global linguistic repertoire, especially since the rise of ZimDancehall.

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“Variously defined but usually seen as a set of informal and colloquial words and phrases used within particular social groups and that are not part of the ‘mainstream’ language. Slang is often regarded as a counter-language, adopted in opposition to ‘mainstream’ values. It tends to date rapidly, but has been collected together in numerous dictionaries [. . .]. Slang has a number of social functions: as an in-group variety it may be used to maintain group solidarity or increase social distance with outsiders; like other varieties, it may be used to redefine a context or relationship (e.g. as less serious); it may also be used as a form of humour, or language play.” (Swann et al. 2004).5

The linguistic realities of youth language practices in Zimbabwe might not allow us to clearly define them with respect to the categories “youth language”, “slang” or “sociolect”. Rather, it should be taken into account that all of these concepts can help us to understand aspects of the role and function of these varieties within Zimbabwean society. From another angle, the problems with these terms also reflect the current paradigm shift in sociolinguistics from rather static concepts of “language” to more fluid notions of “linguistic practices” and “repertoires” (for an Africanist perspective see for instance Lüpke and Storch (2013)). Zimbabwean youth language practices employ a range of strategies of linguistic manipulation which are similar to the strategies found in other African urban youth languages, and include the incorporation of linguistic material from different languages in the form of borrowing and code-switching, morphological hybridization, semantic manipulations like metaphor or metonymy and phonotactic manipulations like truncation or metathesis. Youth language practices in Zimbabwe also exhibit the same social functions of constructing and encoding group identity, expressing solidarity with the peer group and dissociating oneself from other parts of society, such as the older generation or people from rural areas. The linguistic identity created through conscious language manipulation is usually embedded in urban youth culture, which includes domains like music, clothing, movies, comics, language etc. (cf. Kießling and Mous 2004).

2 Background and origin of linguistic practices of Zimbabwean youth Zimbabwe is linguistically not as heterogeneous as many other African countries. Nevertheless it is a multilingual nation state with three official languages, Shona, Ndebele and, through colonialism, English. Among the other languages 5 For a study of slang in Africa, see for instance Fagge (2006).

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spoken in Zimbabwe are Tonga, Venda, Sotho and Hlengwe. The languages of Zimbabwe are basically Bantu languages, but they belong to different subgroups of Bantu. Among the major Bantu languages in Zimbabwe, Ndebele is part of the Nguni group of Southern Africa and very closely related to Zulu, while Shona constitutes a dialect cluster of its own with a range of regional varieties (e.g. Korekore, Zezuru, Karanga, Manyinka, Ndau, Kalanga). Shona, Ndebele and English seem to be the languages which play the most important roles in the creation of youth language practices. These practices are a linguistic phenomenon which can look back on quite a long tradition, according to statements made by older (former) speakers. There are no studies on the origin of youth language practices in Zimbabwe available so far, and within the scope of the preliminary research presented here, it is impossible to state the date of its origin as well as details of its development. Nevertheless, it is observable that the linguistic practices of Zimbabwean youths display different layers from a diachronic perspective, i.e. there is an older and (various) newer forms of Zimbabwean youth language practices. The older practice underwent a process of diffusion and generalization so that words and phrases which were part of it are nowadays widely understood by many people, including the older generation (who possibly spoke it as youths). An example of a word from this “generalized” older youth variety is “Bob”, which is used as a nickname for the president of the country, Robert Mugabe.6 Other words that are part of this older and now generalized youth variety include various names for the police and the CIO (Central Intelligence Office). The new youth variety comprises words and phrases which are created by young speakers and which help them to exclude others from their communication. New terms can be related to special events that are of interest for the youths, such as the concert of a famous singer or band. The influence of music (Zimbabwean as well as international/American) is, as is the case in other youth language practices, very important and certain phrases from songs can be used as slogans, or particular words can be used with a new meaning. As far as our preliminary research suggests, Zimbabwean youth language practices can be categorized into three “sub-varieties”: Englishbased, Shona-based and Ndebele-based practices, but it should be stressed that there are no clear-cut boundaries between these varieties. On the one hand, one can find speakers who are competent in all three sub-varieties and who “mix them together”, i.e. the varieties interact, especially in terms of borrowing and code-switching. On the other hand, there seem to be many speakers who tend to use the English-based variety and either the Shona-based or the Ndebele6 This nickname is used by young as well as older people and marks fondness and social closeness, conceptualizing the president as “one of us”.

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261

based variety, which can be connected to the geographical distribution of these two major Zimbabwean languages: Shona is spoken in northern, eastern and central Zimbabwe; Ndebele is spoken in the south-western parts of the country. The urban center of the Shona-based youth variety is the capital Harare, while the center of the Ndebele-speaking area and Ndebele-based youth variety is Bulawayo, Zimbabwe’s second city. The Ndebele-based slang shows many influences from Zulu, a South African Bantu language which is closely related to Ndebele. This variation in youth language in terms of switching base languages has been observed elsewhere in Africa, including the Democratic Republic of Congo (Nassenstein 2011, this volume) and South Africa (Hurst, this volume). The next section will introduce examples from all three varieties of the Zimbabwean youth language phenomenon.

3 Zimbabwean youth language phenomena As pointed out earlier, Zimbabwean youth language practices are very complex and comprise linguistic variation based on the use of different matrix languages. A first insight into this complexity can be gained by looking at various forms of greetings in Zimbabwean youth varieties. Greetings Ndebele-based YL

Shona-based YL English-based YL

(1) (2a)

Etha Zikiphani?

(2b) (3)

wa usharp, ugrand

(4) (5)

nde ipi? twa pa?

‘hi, hello, what’s up?’ ‘what’s up?’ (literal Ndebele meaning: ‘what’s coming out?’) ‘nothing’ (answer to (2a)) ‘how are you?’, ‘what’s up?’ (u- is the prefix for 2. PERS . SG in Ndebele which is prefixed to the English words sharp and grand. The word sharp can be used in many different contexts with varying meanings from ‘hi’, ‘what’s up?’, ‘okay’ to ‘bye’. It is often reduplicated (sharp sharp), especially in answers. ‘what’s up?’ ‘what’s up?’ (metathesis)

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After these introductory examples the following section will look at the different strategies of linguistic manipulation employed by the speakers of Zimbabwean youth varieties.

3.1 Strategies of linguistic manipulation in Zimbabwean youth language practices The strategies of linguistic manipulation employed by the speakers of Zimbabwean youth language include borrowing, morphological hybridization, metathesis and the creation of new words (neologism/coinage). The most important strategies seem to be semantic manipulations. As in other youth languages and slangs, extensive code-switching plays an important role. 3.1.1 Borrowing As stated earlier on, there is a lot of borrowing in the linguistic practices of Zimbabwean youths and within the sub-varieties involving the languages English, Shona and Ndebele. Moreover, words can be borrowed from other languages, e.g. in the Ndebele-based variety many words borrowed from Zulu can be found: (6)

uyakuphi?

‘where are you going?’ (< Zulu kuphi ‘where’)

Many words are borrowed from American English and other urban/global Englishes. Sources for borrowing (and other strategies) are available to the youths of Zimbabwe through popular media like music and film. An important aspect in this regard is also the diaspora connection to Zimbabweans living abroad, who provide Zimbabweans with new (linguistic, musical etc.) input. American youth language and slang are important sources for Zimbabwean youth, and hip hop and African-American popular culture are very influential. (7)

I’m faded

‘I’m drunk’ (< American slang faded ‘drunk, high’)7

3.1.2 Morphological hybridization Morphological hybridization is a strategy in which the stem of a word from one language is combined with (affixal) morphology from another language (see 7 This term became particularly popular (in Zimbabwe) through the song “Faded” by American rapper Tyga.

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Kießling and Mous 2004). In Zimbabwean youth language practices, Bantu morphology is commonly attached to English words, as the following examples illustrate: (8)

ocherry

‘girls’ (Ndebele Pl. Noun class o- + Engl. cherry)

(9)

usharp

‘hello/what’s up?’ (Ndebele 2. SG . Prefix u- + Engl. sharp)

3.1.3 Semantic extension/semantic shift According to this strategy, existing words are used in new contexts, thus acquiring new meanings. The following examples include forms from the various types of Zimbabwean youth language. The semantic changes are very versatile and include metonymy (e.g. [10], [16]), metaphor (e.g. [12], [18]), dysphemism (e.g. [14]) or euphemism (e.g. [21]): (10)

itisanyama

(11) (12) (13)

umzukhulu good mbewu ukuthyainyayo

(14) (15) (16) (17) (18)

orovai rap burg cut pawpaw

(19) (20) (21) (22) (23)

umahotsha dough queen mdala ride

‘party’ (Ndebele meaning: ‘braai, barbecue’, lit. ‘to burn meat’) ‘girl, girlfriend’ (Ndebele meaning: ‘grandchild’) ‘girl, girlfriend’ (Engl. good + Shona mbewu ‘seed’) ‘to sleep with a girl’ (literal Ndebele meaning: ‘to hit her legs’) ‘police’ (Shona meaning: ‘beaters’) ‘talk’ (< Engl. rap) e.g. to rap gwans ‘to talk/tell stories’ ‘town’ (from Johannesburg) ‘go’ e.g. let’s cut to burg ‘let’s go to town’ ‘marijuana’ (leaves of the pawpaw tree look similar to leaves of the cannabis plant) ‘prostitute’ (Ndebele meaning: ‘someone who shouts’) ‘money’ (English slang) ‘mother’ (English slang) ‘father’ (Ndebele: ‘old man’) ‘car’

3.1.4 Metathesis Metathesis is a playful and very productive strategy in Zimbabwean youth language practices, and it is very helpful for speakers whenever they want their linguistic performance to be unintelligible to outsiders. This strategy is commonly used in language games in many places of the world (a prominent example

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being Verlan in France). In Zimbabwe, metathesis is also a strategy that is extensively used by students in high schools and reflects the playful character of youth languages and their connection to language games. This seems to play an important role in other parts of Africa (see Nassenstein, this volume). (24)

twa pa?

‘what’s up?’ (see above)

(25)

nof

‘phone’

(26)

vig

‘give’

Students in Zimbabwean high schools employ this strategy, which they refer to as “reversing” or “talking backwards”, to create a secret code with which they can exclude others from their conversations. It seems that this strategy and parts of these in-school and in-group secret codes then spread into Zimbabwean youth language practices in out-of-school contexts. Boys and girls are both engaged in creating secret codes in high schools, which they often refer to as cabdwa/kabwards (< ‘backward’) or verers (< ‘reverse’). These names and the following examples were provided by students from St. Georges Boys High School (St. Georges College) and Dominican Convent Girls High School in Harare. At other schools students also create secret varieties, which can also be based on Shona instead of English. (27)

daije, yabe, jade

‘girl’

(28)

toob

‘party, boot’

(29)

Tath is a shref yabe

‘that is a beautiful girl’

3.1.5 Code-switching Another important and very frequent strategy is code-switching.8 The switching between languages by a speaker within a conversation is a very common phenomenon and characterizes communication in many multilingual societies. In Zimbabwe, code-switching is a frequent phenomenon that is not confined to youth language, but that plays an important role in youth linguistic conversations. The following examples involving Shona and English youth languages practices illustrate that – in the context of youth language in particular – it is difficult to define clear boundaries between code-switching, borrowing and morphological hybridization: 8 The term code-switching here is used for both inter-sentential and intra-sentential codeswitching (which is referred to as code-mixing by some authors; see the discussion in Muysken (2000)).

Youth language practices in Zimbabwe

(30)

(31)

(32)

ndi-ri 1SG -be

ku-chek-a9 INF-check-IND

u-ri 2SG -be

nice nice

here?

ma-level-s

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‘I’m checking what’s going on’

CL -level-PL

‘are you feeling good?’

INTERR

kwa

kuri

CL . PAST.be

CL . PRS .be

heavy heavy

‘it was very good’

The extent to which code-switching is exercised in Zimbabwean linguistic practices (in Zimbabwe itself but also in the Zimbabwean diaspora) is investigated in Flora Veit-Wild’s (2009) paper “‘Zimbolicious’ – The creative potential of linguistic innovation: the case of Shona-English in Zimbabwe”. While this paper basically deals with Shona and English and does not include Ndebele practices, it strongly relates to youth language practices and highlights the fluid aspects of languages in general and the Zimbabwean linguistic situation in particular. The examples analyzed by Veit-Wild illustrate that code-switching practices between Shona and English, which have a long history in Zimbabwe and started during colonialism, are pervasive in the linguistic performances of Zimbabweans (at home and abroad) and go beyond the mere mixing of two codes: the deliberate practices yield new meanings and – in the words of Veit-Wild – “creative energy” (Veit-Wild 2009: 638). Furthermore, the author underlines the subversive potential of these practices and points to the global flavor that they create (Veit-Wild 2009: 683, 685). A major playground for these innovative linguistic practices is music, a vibrant phenomenon in Zimbabwean culture. Genres such as urban groove or ZimDancehall play an important role in Zimbabwean society (again, both at home and abroad), especially for the youths. Veit-Wild presents, translates and analyzes the lyrics of “Tauya naye”, a song by David Chifunyise: Ndakamuoona first time kuchikoro Ndakamutevera kunoti ‘Hello you know’ Akandidavira. Even though moyo usingande Mainly because anga ane mukomana wake So I said Ok yo let me chill out Ndingazomakisiwa right here right now [. . .] (Veil-Wild 2009: 691)

I saw her for the first time at school [university] I followed her and said: ‘Hello you know’ She answered. Even though her heart did not want to Mainly because she had a boyfriend So I said Ok let me chill out I may be embarrassed right here right now [. . .]

9 Final -a (“Bantu suffixation”) gives the English verb a Bantu flavor.

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3.1.6 Coinage/unanalyzed words A last set of examples remains, words which are either coinages or have an origin that is unknown to the present authors. Generally, coining new words is a common strategy in (African) youth languages. Further research on Zimbabwean youth language practices will have to weigh up the role of this strategy in these varieties. (33)

dwas

‘stupid’

(34)

inyuku

‘money’

(35)

gwash

‘not cool, rural’

3.2 Zimbabwean youth language practices and gender It has been reported that linguistic practices of youths in Africa are often maledominated (see for instance Kießling and Mous 2004), which means that in many cases, boys or young men are the ones who create and use youth languages the most. But often girls have their own ways of talking to each other, and the female domain of youth varieties is a field that needs much more attention and research. Unlike other varieties that have been documented, Zimbabwean youth varieties do not seem to be strictly male-dominated. Most of the words and phrases that we collected were known by both male and female young speakers of youth varieties, and a good portion of the data was provided by female speakers. Nevertheless there are differences in the ways boys talk about girls and vice versa. For instance, male speakers use a lot of different names for girls, girlfriends and prostitutes (see examples above). There are also different phrases to describe or talk about sexual intercourse. Girls, on the other hand, have their own terms for boys, boyfriends and their sexual experiences. For example, when a girl had a good time with her boyfriend, including a (sexual) climax, she may say to her friend I went to the shops.

4 Identity The role that youth language practices in Africa (and elsewhere) play as a marker of in-group identity has been highlighted by a number of scholars (e.g. Kießling and Mous 2004, Nassenstein 2011, Brischke 2009, Aycard 2008, Tiewa Ngninzégha 2008, Hurst 2009, Jørgensen 2010). Marking group identity is also a

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main function of Zimbabwean youth language practices. Zimbabwean youths in urban centers like Harare and Bulawayo feel the need to set themselves apart from other parts of the society, such as the older generation and rural people. Language is a very helpful and identificatory tool for that, as the creation of urban youth linguistic practices enable the youths to exclude outsiders from their communication and maintain a degree of secrecy. At the same time, the in-group identity is strengthened through the use of a shared and jointly created language which marks solidarity with the group. The linguistic strategies that the speakers employ violate the linguistic norms of the society and thus reflect the distinct identity that the youths want to express (cf. Kießling and Mous 2004). The complex practices introduced briefly above also reflect the dynamic and fluid nature of languages, identities, and CoPs that are subject to constant change and that are usually not delimitable from each other and from other practices within the society. As has been suggested for other youth languages, Zimbabwean youth varieties also have to be seen in the broader context of urban youth culture and style. Other domains such as music, films, clothing etc. play an important role in that respect. In Zimbabwe, like in other English-speaking countries, the influences from American popular and youth culture (AfricanAmerican in particular) play an important role, but influences from South Africa should also not be underestimated, as well as influences from England. The relationships between South Africa and Zimbabwe are very strong, especially between the Zimbabwean Ndebele community, the urban center Bulawayo and South Africa, which reflects the strong linguistic ties within the Nguni group of Bantu. South African influences in Zimbabwean urban youth culture are evident in linguistic practices as well as in other domains like music. Exchanges of styles, music etc. often happen along Diaspora connections to Zimbabweans living abroad, especially in South Africa and England, where larger Zimbabwean communities exist. Thus, global as well as local contexts contribute to the shaping of Zimbabwean urban youth identities in Harare and Bulawayo, providing input and resources which the speakers of the respective varieties use in order to build their languages and identities.

5 Conclusion As we have tried to show, Zimbabwean youth language is a very versatile phenomenon which involves different languages and various strategies of language manipulation. The main functions of marking group identity, expressing solidarity with the peer group and dissociating oneself from outsiders are reflected through

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those strategies. Particularly the very productive strategies, such as code-switching, metathesis and “talking backwards”, as well as various semantic manipulations, help the youths to keep their linguistic performance secret and exclude the older generation from their conversations. A preliminary account of these aspects has been presented in this introduction to Zimbabwean youth language, a phenomenon comprising sub-varieties based on different languages. Many aspects of this multifaceted phenomenon have only been mentioned in passing. The complexity of these issues shows that in order to get a deeper understanding of youth language in Zimbabwe, more research needs to be carried out exploring the varieties, their relationships and their contexts in more detail. In particular, the global connections mentioned at the end of the previous section demand much more scholarly attention. In this regard, public digital spaces play an important role as the millions of Zimbabweans living in other countries (South Africa, the United Kingdom, the USA, Australia etc.) communicate with Zimbabweans “at home”. Here public digital spaces constitute important places where linguistic practices and identities are created and negotiated (see also Veit-Wild 2009).

References Aycard, Pierre. 2008. ‘Speak as you want to speak: Just be free!’, a linguistic anthropological monograph of first language Iscamtho-speaking youth in White City, Soweto. Leiden: African Studies Center, University of Leiden MA thesis. Brischke, Elvira. 2009. “Mista, wana aza gangi”! Soziolinguistik des Jugendsprachenphänomens Indoubil. Cologne: Institute for African Studies, University of Cologne MA thesis. Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. Fagge, Usman U. 2006. The use of slang among Hausa speaking communities. Warsaw: Warsaw University Institute of Oriental Studies. Hurst, Ellen. 2009. Tsotsitaal, global culture and local style: Identity and recontextualisation in twentyfirst century South African townships. Social Dynamics 35(2). 244–257. Jørgensen, J. Normann (ed.). 2010. Love ya hate ya: The sociolinguistic study of youth language and youth identities. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–241. Labov, William. 2001. Principles of linguistic change (Language in society). Oxford: Blackwell. Lüpke, Friederike & Anne Storch. 2013. Repertoires and choices in African languages. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Muysken, Pieter. 2000. Bilingual speech: A typology of code-mixing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nassenstein, Nico. 2011. The Lingala-based youth language Yanké. Cologne: Institute for African Studies, University of Cologne MA thesis.

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Swann, Joan, Ana Deumert, Theresa Lillies & Rajend Mesthrie. 2004. A dictionary of sociolinguistics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Tiewa Ngninzégha, Kathrin. 2008. Stadtsprachen im südlichen Kamerun. Eine linguistische und soziolinguistische Darstellung der Varietäten Cameroonian Pidgin English und Camfranglais. Mainz: Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz MA thesis. Veit-Wild, Flora. 2009. ‘Zimbolicious’ – The creative potential of linguistic innovation: the case of Shona-English in Zimbabwe. Journal of Southern African Studies 35(3). 683–697.

Havenol M. Schrenk

13 The positive-negative phenomenon and phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk Many good Linguists [are] blinded by an indoctrinated linguistic desire to reprimand laymen for linguistic ignorance [. . .] ignoring the fact that the subject of the matter, language, is, after all, spoken and shaped by these very laymen. (Ghil’ad Zuckermann 2000: 301)

Abstract: Rasta Talk (RT) was created by the cultural group known as Rastafarians, in an attempt to divert from the English Language which Rastafarians view as inherently deceptive. Although essentially founded on the phonology of Jamaican Creole, Rasta Talk is distinguished from it by virtue of its deliberate adjustments to English lexical items. These adjustments have their basis in certain ideological principles, the most demonstrable being what I have called the “positive-negative phenomenon” in Rasta Talk. A specific cognitive process, first described by Ghil’ad Zuckermann (2004) as “phono-semantic matching”, also plays a significant role in word formation in Rasta Talk. Word re-analyses and subsequent adjustments are centered on phonology, which Rastafarians believe bear directly and profoundly on the semantics of words, particularly on their connotative meanings. The aim of this paper is to briefly explore and analyze both of these processes observed in Rasta Talk. The concept of “positive” versus “negative” has been indicated to be a crucial element of the Rastafarian ideology and a phenomenon which appears to have a fundamental bearing on the language (RT). So what exactly do concepts of “positive” and “negative” entail within the Rastafarians’ ideology? And how do these notions impact their language linguistically? This paper seeks also to explore these concepts as demonstrated in Rasta Talk, in an attempt to answer these two pertinent questions, and to show how, through the ideological principle of the “positive-negative phenomenon” together with the cognitive process of “phono-semantic matching”, the lexicon of Rasta Talk is created. Data for this paper is drawn from the published works of Velma Pollard (1986, 1994), John P. Homiak (1999), Peter L. Patrick (1997) and Ghil’ad Zuckermann (2000, 2004), and from insights gained from my own interviews with members of the Rastafarian community (2006–2012).

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1 Introduction A wise man hears one word and understands two. (Yiddish proverb, cf. Bernstein (1908: 243), quoted in Zuckermann 2000: 287)

The language of Rastafarians, Rasta Talk (RT), is a relatively recent and deliberate innovation which began in Jamaica, in the 1930s, as an attempt by Rastafarians to create a new language that would distinguish itself from both English, the official (viewed colonial) language of Jamaica, and from Jamaican Creole (JC) or Patwa, the vernacular. Rastafarians (Rastas) may be defined as a sub-cultural group which has sought to create a unique identity. This they initiated through the internalization of a new philosophy, new ideologies and culture, which are expressed visibly though features such as special dress, locked hair (predominantly, but it is not necessarily the case that all wear locked hair), a special diet, and what they hoped would be regarded as a unique language code. Rasta Talk was therefore designed specifically to mark the identity of this group called Rastafarians. In recent years, this developing language code has captured the attention of several linguists, including John Homiak (1999) and Carole Yawney (1990), as well as Peter Patrick (1997), who has defined Rasta Talk as “a register of Jamaican Creole undergoing functional expansion”, and Velma Pollard (1994: 1), who has described Rasta Talk as a “lexical expansion within a creole system”. While this may be one way of describing this language, Rasta Talk engages more than a lexical expansion within the Jamaican Creole/Patwa system. Rasta Talk, in fact, intrinsically seeks to divert from the English language by virtue of a conscious desire of Rastafarians to detach themselves from all colonial underpinnings, while simultaneously setting itself apart from Patwa. Rasta Talk is predominantly based on calculated adjustments to perceived English lexical items. Rasta Talk, although not created in Africa, nor necessarily or solely created by young members of the society, is however a conscious and deliberate linguistic innovation, employing strategies observable in the youth language practices found in Africa. These strategies include features of identity marking and linguistic re-engineering. Rasta Talk is founded on ideologies which are specifically motivated by the Rastafarian worldview. The creators of Rasta Talk engage heavily in morphological and semantic manipulations to obtain the lexicon which they desire for Rasta Talk. Rastafarians in Jamaica see themselves as belonging to Africa, their ancestors having been brought to Jamaica from various parts of Africa via the transatlantic

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slave trade. These Rastafarians embrace hopes of returning to Africa. That the majority of Rastafarians in Jamaica do not speak any African languages does not constitute a deterrent to many of them, who conceive that Jamaica, as well as any other place outside of Africa, is only a place of temporary abode. Rasta Talk is important to Rastafarians in Jamaica because it represents for them a resistance to the English language and, by extension, a resistance to colonialism. Rasta Talk is spoken predominantly within the Rastafarian community. However, it is not the desire of Rastafarians that their language be a secret code. Increasingly, Rastafarians, in conversations with the wider society, use lexical items from Rasta Talk. This has resulted in some words in Rasta Talk infiltrating the wider society though the use of these lexical items by non-Rastarafians. Music also plays an important role in spreading Rasta Talk into non-Rastafarian communities. Lexical items such as Iration, Ilaoo, yomkin, for example, from the English lexical items creation, calaloo and pumpkin, are promoted in the songs of well-known Jamaican musical artists Etana and Lieutenant Stitchie (stage names). Rastafarians also strive to make a distinction between Rasta Talk and Patwa, which is viewed as a language that was also created by their ancestors to resist English, but which Rastafarians also distrust because it is a language which is heavily lexified by English, without the type of re-analysis of these English lexical items that Rasta Talk demands. Ras Dennis Jabari Reynolds, for example, attempts to highlight this widely held view of the uniqueness of Rasta Talk when he refers to Patwa as “Jamic”, and Rasta Talk as “Iyaric,” in his book, Authentic Jamaican Dictionary of the Jamic Language (2006: IX). Note that “Iyaric”, itself is a morpho-semantic manipulation of the word “Amharic”, a language spoken in Ethiopia, and the lexeme “I”. Here, “I” replaces the first syllable in the word “Amharic”. “I” is significant to the Rastafarian ideology because, firstly, it references Haile Selassie I, who was crowned Emperor of Ethiopia in 1930 and who remains, today, an important icon within the Rastafarian philosophy. Secondly, “I” is viewed by these Rastafarians as an important tool for focusing the self in language (Reynolds 2006). The words of Ras Anthony Whitter, General Secretary of the House of Nyabinghi and Member of the Ethiopian World Federation, also suggest that Rasta Talk has an identity of its own (Speech on Rasta Talk, UWI, Mona, November 2006). Whitter states: “The language of Rastafari is not Patwa. It is an attempt, by Rastafarians, to create a revolutionary language that denotes freedom from colonial administration, focusing on the individual and creating a more positive way of thinking, within the individual.”

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Indeed, Rasta Talk, which is a dynamic and developing language in Jamaica, not only shows significant lexical differences from both English and also from Jamaican Creole (JC), but shows, as well, considerable morphological and semantic differences, despite the fact that both languages play an integral role in the creation of the Rasta Talk lexicon. This paper, however, will focus not so much on these differences (though some of these will be brought out in later tables), but rather on two very energetic mechanisms which I propose to underlie word formation in Rasta Talk. The first is an ideological principle which I have called the “positive-negative phenomenon”. This concept has been indicated to underscore the Rastafarian’s ideology of language. It presumes that there are positive and/or negative elements inherent in every word and that the mal-positioning of such elements in words will result in lexical conflict, a language situation which is very poorly tolerated, if at all, in Rasta Talk. Words must therefore never be taken at face value, but must be reanalyzed to determine the positioning of the “positive”/“negative” elements, and these items re-structured, if necessary, to erase perceived conflicts. The second mechanism speaks to a cognitive process which I refer to as “phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk”. The concept of phono-semantic matching was first described by Ghil’ad Zuckermann (2004), in his analysis of Israeli and Revolutionized Turkish. I posit that, by this process, a word extracted from the English lexicon and targeted for use in Rasta Talk, is first transported to the Jamaican Creole (JC) language system where it receives its pronunciation, then examined for its suitability for use in Rasta Talk, based on deliberations about the degree to which the JC phonology affects the semantic content of the lexical item. Such deliberations are necessarily driven by the positive-negative phenomenon, which is demonstrated to be imperative to lexical generations in Rasta Talk. I will attempt to show why, based on the positive-negative phenomenon, English lexical items such as sleep, cigarette, hello and July are viewed as unacceptable for use in Rasta Talk; and how, via the process of phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk, words such as: aits-op “heights-up”, blaingaret “blindgarette”, aiya “higher” and djuun-tchuut “june-truth”, respectively, become their replacement.

2 The positive-negative phenomenon Firstly, this study finds that the concepts of “positive” and “negative” in Rasta Talk bear specific meanings, which are derived from the Rastafarian worldview.

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These meanings differ significantly from the meanings of the terms in English (the main lexifier), whereby connotations of these terms are comparably variable in the English language, and contextually motivated. Secondly, it is shown that there is an apparent positive-negative battle perceived by Rastafarians to be inherent in many English lexical items, but these are only revealed when such items are transported to the system of Jamaican Creole or Patwa. This phenomenon, which I shall call the Positive-Negative Phenomenon, is imperative to the process of word re-analysis and reformation. Preceding any analysis of this phenomenon, however, it is important to understand exactly what the terms “positive” and “negative” mean to the Rastafarian. The following question and response illustrate the meanings of these concepts. I call this the Rastafarian’s cultivated intuition of “positive” versus “negative”.

2.1 The Rastafarian’s cultivated intuition of “positive” vs. “negative” Question: “How would you describe a positive thought. . .or thing. . . as opposed to a negative thought. . .or thing?” Response: “Good over Evil — simply that.” (Ras Shephan Frazer ‘Bongo Shephan’, Executive of the Ancient Council and Priest of the Order of the House of Nyabinghi)1 Undoubtedly, concepts of “positive” and “negative” within the Rastafarian ideology of language, though largely grounded in pragmatics, differ significantly from denotations of the terms in English (as well as in JC). In that, as indicated by the above question and attendant response, notions of “positive” and “negative” within the Rastafarian ideology bear a specific meaning derived from the Rastafarian worldview, whereas in the English language, and in JC, the meaning of each concept (“positive” and “negative”) may be variant and contextually motivated. It is to be noted that a word which may be reasonably determined to be negative in English, may not bear the same judgment in Rasta Talk. Consider, for instance, a word such as impossible. In English, this is considered a negative

1 Interview by the author, field research April 2010.

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word, based on the denotations of that lexical item in English. However, based on the Rastafarians’ intuitive judgment, which stems from their philosophical view of what “positive” and “negative” represent, that being “good” and “evil” (or good and bad), impossible does not feature as a negative word. Conversely, words such as sleep, cigarette, hello and July are not considered to be negative words in English. However, in Rasta Talk, these words are deemed to be negative words by virtue of, what I have named, the Rastafarian’s cultivated intuition, which is motivated by the positive-negative phenomenon. Given this cultivated intuition, the seemingly unassuming term “positive”, seen in the aforementioned quote by Whitter, becomes very interesting. In fact, this term “positive” is quite instructive, (and loaded) because it speaks to one of the crucial ideological concepts that underpin the Rasta Talk lexicon. In other words, the reanalysis and recreation of English lexical items for use in Rasta Talk is motivated exactly by the perceived positive-negative interplay on word elements. This is derived from the phonology these word elements assume within the Jamaican Creole language system. In the system of Rasta Talk, a “negative” word must necessarily be perceived as signaling a referent in the world that is conceived as being “evil” or “bad”. The converse is true for positive words. They must possess the ability to summon imageries of “good” or desirable things to the mind. Simultaneously, conceptions of “evil” or “bad” are not tolerated in any element of a word viewed as having an original intent to signal a “good” referent; nor are conceptions of “good” tolerated in words which are thought of as intending to signal “bad” referents in the world. It is precisely this seemingly mandatory consideration of “good” vs “evil/bad” / “positive” vs. “negative”, that I term the Positive-Negative Phenomenon in Rasta Talk. Before proceeding to an analysis of the positive-negative phenomenon, it would be useful to illustrate a writing system for Rasta Talk and here I propose, for Rasta Talk, the orthographic system developed for Jamaican Creole by Cassidy (1961), quoted in Meade (1996).

2.2 A proposed writing system for Rasta Talk Since the phonemic realization of lexical items in Rasta Talk very closely approximates pronunciations in Jamaican Creole, the phonemes proposed for JC by Cassidy (1961, quoted in Meade 1996), could be used to represent a writing system for Rasta Talk, with modifications to the phoneme inventory as proposed by Meade (1996):

The positive-negative phenomenon and phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk

Proposed Phoneme Inventory for Rasta Talk2 Vowels Consonants /i/ [I] /e/ [ɛ] /p/ [p] /t/ [t] /a/ [a] /o/ [o] /b/ [b] /d/ [d] /u/ [u] /m/ [m] /n/ [n] /f/ [f ] /s/ [s] /v/ [v] /z/ [z] /w/ [w] /l/ [l]

/ky/ [c] /gy/ [ɟ] /ny/ [ɲ] /sh/ [∫] /j/ [ʤ] /r/ [r], [ɹ]

277

/k/ [k] /g/ [g] /ng/[ŋ] /ch/[ʧ] /y/ [j]

Vowel clusters are analyzed as phonemic vowels, as was put forward by Meade (1996) in his proposed inventory for JC. According to Meade, these clusters should be recognized as phonemes in JC, on the basis that vowel clusters, i.e., long vowels and diphthongs, contrast with single vowels in identical environments. For example: (i) pain ‘pineapple’

(iii) paan ‘to grasp’

(ii) pien ‘pain’

(iv) pan

‘on’, ‘pan’, ‘can’

(v) pin ‘pin’ (vi) pen ‘pen’.

However, Meade argues that the question might also be raised about the lack of consistency in analyses which give phonemic status to some segment clusters and not to others. He suggested therefore that the following guide be used in determining the phoneme inventory representative of JC: “If a phone is the same as a phoneme or a sequence of phonemes, then it should not be classified as a separate phoneme. Based on this principle, vowel clusters, as in examples i–iii are analyzed as sequences of phonemic vowels” (p. 338).

Meade also analyzed /i/ and /y/, and /u/ and /w/ as four distinct phonemes based on their dual functions as consonant and vowel. These principles are hereby adopted for the proposed phoneme inventory of Rasta Talk.

2.3 Analysis of the positive-negative (P-N) phenomenon in Rasta Talk The creation of words in Rasta Talk is based on the willful contemplation, and deliberate linguistic manipulations, based on the Rastafarian ideological view of language, most evident in the positive-negative phenomenon. This is a significantly active ideology underlying lexical creation in Rasta Talk. The morphological contents of lexical items chosen for use in Rasta Talk, from its main lexifier, 2 Adopted Meade (1996).

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English, are constantly being reanalyzed by these language creators, based on the positive-negative phenomenon which demands that all “morphemes” of a word, regardless of whether or not they bear meaningful content in their “pre-existing” linguistic reality, be in harmony with each other, as far as considerations of “good” versus “evil”/”bad” are concerned. These considerations are motivated by the phonology that these word segments or “morphemes” receive, which then directly impacts the semantics of these morphological components. The positive-negative phenomenon, then, renders common English lexical items such as sleep, hello, July and cigarette, unacceptable for use in Rasta Talk. The JC/Patwa equivalent of these words: sliip, ello, djuulai and sigaret would also not be acceptable in Rasta Talk. The following Tables 13.1 and 13.2 show a list of sixteen words and expressions, chosen as examples from a total of one hundred and thirty (130) words and expressions which were presented to Rastafarians in a survey conducted by the author in 2010, for elicitation of their intuitive judgments about the acceptability of these words in Rasta Talk. The responses shown in the tables are the predominant responses of the majority of the persons interviewed. It should be noted that the responses shown in Table 13.1 are representative of 100% of the persons interviewed. The common explanations regarding the reason that a word or expression is considered “unacceptable”, as well as the relevant substitute words which respondents deemed suitable for Rasta Talk, are shown under “Comments” in the tables. Respondents were asked this question: “Is this an acceptable word (or expression) in the Rastafarian’s way of speaking? If not, why? And what would be the alternative word/expression?” The words and expressions in question are shown in the left columns of the tables. The comments expressed by the respondents as shown in Tables 13.1 and 13.2 would support the position that creators of Rasta Talk use English as its main lexifier, but that words chosen from the English language will be analyzed for their positive-negative content, and reformed or replaced where it is deemed to be necessary. Further, the meanings of positive and negative are not necessarily similar to the meanings of these concepts in English. Specifically, concepts of positive and negative, in Rasta Talk, are not as dependent on context as they are in English, but are rather fixed in meaning according to the Rastafarian ideology. Lexical analyses undertaken by the creators of Rasta Talk will necessarily engage due consideration of the positive-negative phenomenon which is a crucial ideological tenet within the Rastafarian philosophy or worldview.

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Table 13.1: Unacceptable words and their alternatives in Rasta Talk Is this an acceptable word/expression in the Rastafarian’s way of speaking? If not, why? And what is an alternative word/expression? word/expression

yes/no

Comments

sleep

No

Sleep in itself signifies death. It is the dead who sleep. The word we use is res ‘rest’ or aits-op ‘heights-up’.

cigarette

No

There is no life in these things—only death. The word is blaingaret ‘blindgarette’ or sigadet ‘cigadeath’. The blind should really be spelt without the “I” because “I” is a “live” word, and thus would be giving life to something in which life does not belong.

hello

No

Hell is a very low place. Wi naa go a el, caaz a wikid piipl go a el. (We will not go to hell, because only wicked people go to hell). Wi a go a Zion High. (We are going to Zion High.) We say “I-ya aits” aiya aits ‘Higher Heights’ or just “I-ya” aiya ‘Higher’ or we use the word iel ‘Hail’ or airi ‘Irie’ (which comes from meri ‘merry’). Or we may just say ai ‘Hi’ which is a more acceptable word from the English language.

july

No

The name of the month is “June-truth” djuun-tchuut. It was the 23rd day of djuun-tchuut, 1892. . . (beginning of a song, see Appendix). His Majesty was born in this month – a lie cannot therefore be associated with this month. July means “June lie.” (‘June’s lie/June’s deceit/conspiracy’). So this would mean that the 7th month of the year is itself a lie. or that: “June iz a laiya.” (‘June is a liar’). But this is not so. “The 7th month of the year marks the beginning of the everliving truth – King Rastafari.”

Interestingly, the phonemic realization that English lexical items receive during the process of reanalysis has little to do with the phonology of English, but is rather predominantly based on the phonology of Patwa. The potency of the positive-negative phenomenon in lexical/morphological analyses is perceived to be most effective when the lexical items are scrutinized within the phonological framework of JC/Patwa. On the one hand is the fact that Patwa is the first language of contact for most of the creators of Rasta Talk. On the other

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Table 13.2: Unacceptable words and their alternatives in Rasta Talk Is this an acceptable word/expression in the Rastafarian’s way of speaking? If not why? And what is the alternative word/expression? word/expression

yes/no

Comments

kingdom

No

To be “dom” (dumb) is not a good thing - it signifies a lack of intelligence; folly. A king must not be dumb. The true king is wise. We would say “Tabernacle; Throne of Jah; Palace”. Or we say kingtchuon ‘Kingthrone’ or kingfrii ‘Kingfree’

freedom

No

To say you have freedom is like saying that you are free, but dumb. You cannot be really free if you are dumb. The word is frii-ai ‘Free-I’ or friiman ‘Freeman’ or friispiitch ‘Freespeech’, depending on context.

benefit

No

If one has to [ben] “bend” to fit something, then something is not right. One must remain straight and upright – no ‘ben’ “bending”. We say ainifit “I-nifit”

destiny

No

“Des” means to be destitute. “Wen som wan se dem “des” it miin dem desparet fi somting beta.” (When someone says that they are “des” it means that they are desperate for something better.) “Des” means to be down and out. “Des” is stress. The word is aistini ‘I-stiny’

come back

No

“Wi naa go bak.” (We will not go back). “Faawod eva, bakwod neva!” (Forward ever, backward never!) The word we use is faawod ‘forward’ or kom faawod ‘come forward’

down-right

No

Down is not a good position or direction to be in. It’s not right to be down – down is negative. We say oprait ‘upright’

down-to-earth

No

The Earth is a positive and uplifting force. To be down is a negative thing. “Rasta nuh diil wid notn doun.” (Rasta does not deal with anything down.) Rasta is opwod ‘Upward’ every time. Rasta say op-to-ort ‘Upto-earth’

last night

No

Last suggests that there is no more. A person’s last night would be his last experience of time. The word we use is fors nait ‘First Night’

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Table 13.2 (continued) Is this an acceptable word/expression in the Rastafarian’s way of speaking? If not why? And what is the alternative word/expression? word/expression

yes/no

Comments

last week

No

There is nothing positive in this word. Being laas “last” means that there is nothing coming after – no succession; Wiik “weak” suggests a lack of strength. Time is a positive thing but this expression of time (laas wiik “Last week”) is full of negatives. Rasta say fors-strang ‘First-strong’

week before last

No

“Rasta nu repuot owa experence af paas taim by kaalin dem di laas.” (Rasta does not report our past experience of past times by calling them the last.) It is a wonderful thing to be able to continue with time so we strive to make our thoughts and utterances of the experience positive. We say di strang bifuor ‘the Strong Before’

left/right (direction)

No

Having “left” and “right” as opposites is a trick. Reason: left describes direction and right denotes morality, with its opposite being “wrong” – “trick agen!” (also a trick!) What of the idea of rightist vs. leftist – is the opposite of right, “wrong”, here? This business of right/left on the one hand; and right/wrong on the other hand is confusing. For the most part we will try to use landmarks to give direction, eg. “turn beside place A” or “turn opposite to place A”.

banana

No

This food (banana) provides sustenance for the body – there should be no “ban” on it. There is always something negative associated with “ban”. A “ban” suggests some form of restriction. The fruit is for nourishment – it should be “free” for man to partake of. The word we use is frii-nana ‘Freenana’ or ainana ‘I-nana’

hand, while Rasta Talk also seeks to distinguish itself from Patwa, this language is nonetheless revered by Rastafarians in Jamaica as the language created by their ancestors, also in resistance to colonialism, and containing the legacy of the African ancesters who created this language. The culture of Rastafari is distrustful of colonial systems, of which they view the English language to be a significant aspect. Rastafarians are of the view that it would not be effective to use the systems of English to uncover the deceptions disguised by that language. As stated by Howard McTaggart (p.c. 2008), “We cannot use the English Language as its own censor.”

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The phonology of JC will therefore be imperatively applied to English lexical items, perceivably in a bid to divulge any hidden morpho-semantic conflicts existing within these items. This is a cognitive process which, in adapting an idea first posited by Ghil’ad Zuckermann (2004), I have called phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk. This will be discussed in detail in the following section.

3 Phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk Zuckermann (2004: 281) describes phono-semantic matching (PSM) as the technique whereby “a foreignism is reproduced in the target language, using preexisting native elements that are similar to the foreignism both in meaning and in sound”. In his exploration of this phenomenon, Zuckermann looks at how language planners in specific, “re-invented” languages, namely Israeli (“Revived/ Modern Hebrew”) and Revolutionized Turkish, attempt to replace undesirable loanwords (2004: 285). Thus, according to Zuckermann, particular English words become transformed into Israeli by the addition of new sememes to pre-existent Hebrew words, which are etymologically unrelated to the English words being transformed “but which serendipitously has a similar meaning and sound.” Hence, “the English word dubbing was transformed into Israeli as ‫ בובי‬dibúv, adding a new sememe to the pre-existent Hebrew, ‫ בוב‬dib-būb = ‘speech’, which is etymologically unrelated to dubbing but which serendipitously has a similar meaning and sound.” Zuckermann further holds an aspect of a phono-semantic matching to be a word which is “morphologically ‘pure’ and therefore has a high level of acceptability” (2004: 295). Within the aforementioned framework, I posit phono-semantic matching to be one of the main cognitive processes involved in the creation of lexical items in Rasta Talk. It appears that creators of RT, in contemplating an English lexical item for use, will transfer this lexical item to the JC phonological system, matching the perceived morphemes of that lexical item with pre-existing lexical items in JC on the basis of their phonological realizations in JC. Both the English lexical item and the phonologically matched element found in JC will be analyzed for their attendant imagery specifications, i.e. (+PI) for positive imagery/referent and (–PI) for negative imagery/referent. Congruence between and among perceived morphemes, in direct relation to the positive-negative phenomenon, must then be established. The aim of this is to ensure that all elements, or perceived morphemes, of a word will either summon a “positive” imagery/ referent (+PI) or a “negative” imagery/referent (–PI), depending on the perceived original intent of the lexical item to signal “good” or “bad” referents. In doing so, creators will make the lexical item perceivably “morphologically ‘pure’”.

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Where a perceived morpheme of a word signals neither a good nor a bad referent (an “uninterpretable” element), I posit that the “uninterpretable” element assumes the imagery specification of the word itself, i.e. alpha imagery specification (αPI) of the word. It is important to note that a non-meaningful (non-morphemic) element of an English lexical item may be analyzed as meaningful in Rasta Talk, based on the following considerations: (a) The English element has a phonological correspondence in JC. This correspondence or match does not have to exist linguistically. It is sufficient that it is perceived. (b) The perceived phonological match can be specified for positive or negative imagery. (c) The perceived match can be polarized (i.e. the word has an antonym). The process of phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk is represented in the following figure (partially adapting Zuckermann’s model):

Figure 13.1: Schematic process of the P-N phenomenon and phono-semantic matching

3.1 Application of phono-semantic matching in RT In examining phono-semantic matching in Rasta Talk, I am particularly drawn to an illustration of Sheng, made by Ogechi (2005). Sheng is a language variety which has been “spoken among urban youth in Kenya” over the last three

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decades. Sheng derives its lexicon from a variety of Kenyan languages, mainly Kiswahili, English, Dholuo, Kamba and Gikuyu. In his illustration, Ogechi attempts to indicate how “lexemes are sourced and meaning is encoded in Sheng”. In doing this, he showed the following example of a conversion in Sheng: [[Hi-zo digolo ni poa] [zi-na-kindwa rwabi ngovo duka-ni]] DET-CL 10 sunglasses COP cool CL 10-NONPST-sell hundred five shop-in ‘Those sunglasses are really nice. They go for five hundred shillings in the shops.’ (Waithira 2001: 37, cited in Ogechi 2005) Ogechi states that the surface morphemes in the first clause above are sourced from Kiswahili, apart from the italicized items. However, the italicized poa (‘cool’) is also a Kiswahili surface morpheme. He points out that one may tend to conclude that the first clause is a variety of Kiswahili, but that this would be an incorrect conclusion. He states that the interpretation of the two clauses “is based on Sheng encoding of sense” [sic]. In addition to knowing that digolo means sunglasses, one has to also know that “the Kiswahili surface morpheme poa does not mean cool in the Kiswahili sense; rather, it is understood from the informal English interpretation of cool which refers to nice or impressive.” Regarding the second clause, “one has to know what -kindwa (‘sell’), rwabi (‘hundred’) and ngovo (‘five’) mean in Sheng. Rasta Talk (RT) employs a similar strategy of ascribing semantics to lexical items sourced from English, through the process of phono-semantic matching. Consider an RT word such as blaingaret, which replaces the English word ‘cigarette’ (cf. Pollard 1986: 160). Evidence arising from the preliminary studies that I have undertaken in 2010 indicate that “cigarette”, pronounced si-garet in JC, has been re-analyzed and reconfigured based on what appears to be a matching of the “perceived” sememe ci, in the English lexical item “ci-garette”, with si “see” in JC. The syllable ci in ci-garette is perceived in RT as bearing “positive” or good connotations, specifically because of its phonological alignment with si in JC, meaning “to see/having the gift of sight/vision”. However, this positive element in “ci-garette” (perceived as see-garette/si-garet), is viewed as being incongruent with the overall “negative” or bad connotation of the word itself, wherein smoking, and by extension cigarettes, are viewed as being hazardous to a person’s health (or even deadly!). Hence in an attempt to bring the perceived meaningful/contentful element of the word cigarette into harmony with the overall meaning or intent of the word, which is to signal a “bad” referent, the negative word blain ‘blind’ is used as a replacive morpheme for the positive sememe ci which is interpreted

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as “see”, thus ascribing acceptability for the new word blind-garet or blaingaret to be brought into the RT lexicon. This new re-invented or restructured word is viewed as “morphologically pure”, to use Zuckermann’s term, or “morphologically harmonious” (my term). The following figures (13.2 and 13.3) show this process:

Figure 13.2: Process of re-analysis (cigarette)

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The corrective process:

Figure 13.3: Process of word reformation/re-structuring (blindgarette)

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Conversely, July is seen as a positive word. It is the month in which His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie was born, but Rastafarians see an inherent confusion in this word. Take a closer look at July:

Figure 13.4: Process of re-analysis (July)

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The corrective process:

Figure 13.5: Process of word reformation/re-structuring (June-truth)

Rasta Talk, as with Sheng, but via the process of phono-semantic matching, demonstrates a high level of semantic manipulation in the creation of its lexicon. In Rasta Talk, morphological conflict, where it is perceived by the

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Rastafarian to exist, is highly undesirable. Words are constantly analyzed for their positive/negative content, based on the phonological motivation both of the perceived morphemes of the word and of the word itself; and upon considerations of ‘good’ versus ‘evil’ or ‘bad’ (the positive-negative phenomenon). Where incongruence exists among perceived meaningful segments of a word, or between the word segments and the word itself, i.e. where imagery specifications (+PI) and (–PI) co-exist, the word is re-structured to form a new lexical item which is perceived to be morpho-semantically harmonious. It is through sound that imageries of “positive” and “negative” referents are conjured and focused. As one respondent stated: “It is not a problem with the word as much as it is a problem with the sound of the word. Words leave a psychological impression on the mind. When you change the word, you change the psychological impression.” Hayah Awwanuyah (nee Dwayne Williams)

4 Conclusion The creation of the Rasta Talk lexicon is based on a crucial ideological tenet within the Rastafarian philosophy, the positive-negative phenomenon. For the creators of Rasta Talk, the predominant and perhaps the only considerations in judging a linguistic sign (a word) as “positive” or “negative”, are the concepts of “good” and “evil” or “good” and “bad”. Such conceptions may not necessarily have a pre-existing linguistic reality, but within the Rastafarian’s ideology, it is sufficient that these concepts are perceived. These perceptions are motivated by phonology. However, words receive their phonological content not from the English language, which is the language that Rastafarians target for reanalysis, based on the notion that the English language is inherently deceptive, but from Jamaican Creole/Patwa, which is the language of first contact for most Jamaicans, including Rastafarians. This language code, Rasta Talk, which was deliberately created by Rastafarians in Jamaica in resistance to colonialism and as a mark of a desired unique identity within the Jamaican society, as well as globally (these Rastafarians hope), bears a level of similarity to the youth language creations observed in Africa. Strategies of conscious phonological and morpho-semantic manipulations of lexical items from the source language(s), English and Patwa, are observed within Rasta Talk. In illustrating the process of word formation in Rasta Talk, this paper made a very brief reference to Sheng, a youth language spoken in Kenya which shows similarity to Rasta Talk in the area of semantic manipulation. The semantic coding in Rasta Talk is executed via the cognitive process of Phono-Semantic

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Matching, a method which seeks constantly to find a phonological match in Jamaican Creole for lexical items extracted from the English language and being consided for building the Rasta Talk lexicon. phono-semantic matching is utilized in an effort to uncover the presumed true semantics of such lexical items and to right any perceived wrong contained within them.

References Homiak, John P. 1999. Movements of Jah people: From soundscapes to mediascapes. In John W. Pulis (ed.), Religion, diaspora, and cultural identity: A reader in the Anglophone Caribbean. New York: Gordon and Breach Publishers. Meade, Rocky R. 1996. On the Phonology and Orthography of Jamaican Creole. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 11,2. 335–341. Ogechi, Nathan Oyori. 2005. On lexicalization in Sheng. Nordic Journal of African Studies XX. 334–355. Eldoret: Moi University. Patrick, Peter. 1997. Style and register in Jamaican Patwa. In Edgar Schneider (ed.), Englishes around the world (Vol. 2.), 41–56. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Pollard, Velma. 1986. Innovation in Jamaican Creole: The speech of Rastafari. In Manfred Gorlach & John Holm (eds.), Focus on the Caribbean, 157–166. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Pollard, Velma. 1994. Dread talk: The language of Rastafari. Kingston: Canoe Press. Reynolds, Dennis (Ras Jabari). 2006. Authentic Jamaican dictionary of the Jamic language. Connecticut: Around the Way Books. Waithira, C. 2001. A study of the structure of the youth jargons in Nairobi. M.Phil. thesis, Eldoret: Moi University. Yawney, Carole D. 1990. Rastafari sounds of cultural resistance. In A. Y. BoBo Rastafari & Manford Kremser, (eds.), Proceedings of the 3rd Interdisciplinary Conference on the Caribbean, 33–48. Vienna. Zuckermann, Ghil’ad. 2000. Camouflaged borrowing: ‘Folk-etymological nativization’ in the service of puristic language engineering. Oxford: University of Oxford dissertation. Zuckermann, Ghil’ad. 2004. Cultural hybridity: Multisourced neologization in ‘reinvented’ languages and in languages with ‘phono-logographic’ script. Languages in Contrast 4(2). 281– 318.

Personal communication Awwanuyah, Hayah (nee Dwayne Williams). Field Research April 2010. Frazer, Shaphan Ras (Bongo Shephan). Field Research April 2010. McTaggart, Howard. March 2008. Michael, Sherlon (I-Yah John). Field Research April 2010. Whitter, Anthony. 2006–2009.

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Appendix Song It was the 23rd day of June-Truth, 1892, In the providence of Somalia, a child was born of David’s line And he was crowned the King of Kings, And he was crowned the Lord of Lords, Conquering Lion of Judah, Centenary has come! Rendition done by: Sherlon Micheal (I-Yah John)

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14 Kindoubil: urban youth languages in Kisangani Abstract: In Kisangani (Democratic Republic of the Congo), as in other African cities, young people use language playfully, giving birth to urban youth languages: languages that are characterized by conscious linguistic manipulation and which redefine the position of their speakers in society. In Kisangani the present author found two types: Kindoubil and Inverted Kindoubil. Both are based on Lingala (the language of the capital, Congolese music and (representing a symbol of) worldliness), yet they serve different purposes. In the center of town, on the one hand, individuals speak Kindoubil to enhance their personal status and to present themselves as solution finders, leading them to a potential income. This Kindoubil is not completely unintelligible to outsiders. On the other hand, in the outskirts of the city, young people speak Inverted Kindoubil. In comparison to the former, this language is unintelligible to the non-initiated and serves the purposes of secrecy and in-group identity.

1 Introduction: urban youth languages The purpose of this article is to present the language practices among the youths of Kisangani. As in other African cities, in Kisangani youths use language playfully, giving birth to urban youth languages (henceforth UYLs). UYLs have their basis in another urban language that is spoken in the same city by the same youths, in this case urban Lingala. Urban languages and UYLs share connotations of modernity and of being non-traditional. However, in contrast to urban languages, UYLs are characterized by rapid change, fluid repertoires and conscious language manipulation. These manipulation strategies are not just the result of, say, code-switching or borrowing of urban lifestyle vocabulary, but involve conscious far-reaching morphological, phonotactic and semantic manipulations. The outcome is a language that is in constant innovation and that is incomprehensible for the uninitiated. In this article I will discuss two types of UYLs that I encountered during my six-month fieldwork research in Kisangani in 2009–2010: Kindoubil and Inverted Kindoubil. This research resulted in a Research MA thesis entitled “The Congolese Yankee”, from which this article is drawn (see also Wilson 2012). Before

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embarking on their description, I will draw the background against which to place these languages – that of the city of Kisangani. Strategically located where the East and the West of the country meet, Kisangani, one of Congo’s largest cities, is a bilingual city where both Swahili and Lingala are used as means of wider communication. The two languages respond, however, to different language perceptions and carry, in the eyes of the youth, different social meanings. After introducing the city, I will set out to describe Kindoubil followed by Inverted Kindoubil. Although I will touch upon the form of both UYLs and present some examples, this article aims to highlight their social role and meaning. Under each language section, I will accordingly discuss the location where they are spoken, their communities, their practice, their linguistic characteristics and finally their purpose. In other words, why, do youngsters choose to speak either Kindoubil or Inverted Kindoubil, if available to them? And also what differences in context can bring about a difference in social practice? A last note about gender should be made; most of my informants are young men because in Kindoubil, like in other UYLs, “the role of boys is clearly more prominent than that of girls” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 317). This does not mean that women do not speak or understand Kindoubil or Inverted Kindoubil – within the right context, they do.

2 The bilingual city: Kisangani Kisangani, Congo’s third biggest city, lies in the north-eastern corner of the country.1 It marks the beginning of over 1,700 kilometres of navigability on the Congo River, one of the biggest communication arteries in Sub-Saharan Africa. Its strategic location between the East and the West of the country, in geographical, symbolic and linguistic terms, shapes the identity of the city and of those who live in it. The Boyomais, as the inhabitants of Kisangani are called, identify themselves both to the West and to the East, they talk to the East in Swahili and to the West in Lingala; the witty among them creatively play with this bivalent identity. The Boyomais proudly refer to their city as a bilingual city, the two main languages of wider communication being Lingala and Swahili.2 Bilingualism is 1 Kisangani was originally Congo’s third biggest city; lately it seems to have receded to fourth and even fifth position, after Mbuji-Mayi and Kolwezi (Omasombo 2005: 4). 2 Speakers of Lingala and Swahili see these languages as vehiculars, or languages of wider communication, and not as mother tongues, even if in reality they are often spoken more fluidly than mother tongues.

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here understood in terms of “the ability to use two or more languages sufficiently to carry on a limited casual conversation” (Myers-Scotton 2006: 44). The Boyomais use, when needed, one or the other language in order to identify or to distance themselves from a given group at a given time. If one were to place Kisangani on the map of the regional languages of Congo, of which there are four, it would lie right along the imaginary line where Lingala meets Swahili. Were one to zoom in on Kisangani, this (nonetheless fictive) line would cut right through the heart of the city, dividing the city into a Lingala-speaking half and a Swahili-speaking one, as shown in Map 15.1:

Map 14.1: Kisangani’s six districts and its multilingual situation

Kisangani is built up of six districts: Makiso, Tshopo, Mangobo, Kabondo, Kisangani and, on the left bank of the Congo River, Lubunga. It is commonly known that Kabondo, Lubunga and Kisangani, the districts at the south-eastern end of the city, are Swahili-speaking districts. It is here where the immigrants from the East, who are more prone to speak Swahili as their vehicular language, first

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settle. Meanwhile Makiso, Mangobo and Tshopo, at the north-western end of Kisangani, are Lingala-speaking districts. The riverine people who arrive in pirogues in the city populate these three districts. In both cases, the “receiving environment” serves as a transition zone into the city and is shaped as an extension of the rural areas left behind. Swahili and Lingala, respectively, are maintained as the languages of wider communication. The geographic location stipulates the expected language of communication and it is commonly accepted that one should start a conversation in Swahili in Kabondo, Lubunga and Kisangani, whereas the first language of choice in Makiso, Tshopo and Mangobo is undoubtedly Lingala. But this East-West division needs to be treated with care. It is not because there are more Swahili speakers in Kabondo, that, by definition, everyone who lives in Kabondo speaks Swahili at home. The majority will be able to understand Lingala, but convention says that conversations in Kabondo are initiated in Swahili, the unmarked code, rather than in Lingala, the inadequate and marked code. By using the unmarked code the speaker keeps a low profile while making an effort to blend into the environment. Furthermore, there are liminal cases, such as the center of town and the university campus where French is also heard, and the district of Tshopo, where Lingala and Swahili are both equally dominant. Lingala and Swahili are not only spoken in different areas of this bilingual city, they are also imbued with different meaning(s). While Swahili is viewed as the language of politeness, softness and humbleness, Lingala is considered to be the language of thieves, rudeness and force.3 On the other hand, Swahili is also linked with backwardness, ignorance and gullibility, while Lingala is the language of the capital and of Kinshasa’s cultural and musical scene, emanating prestige, urbanity, worldliness and street wisdom. Both languages are linked to the army. Soldiers were once recruited in the Equator Province and Lingala has been viewed as the language of the army since the early colonial days (Gondola 1997: 14) and throughout the Mobutu regime (de Swaan 2001: 111). More recently the tide has changed and Swahili, too, has become a language of giving orders: Swahili-speaking soldiers parade in the streets of the capital, much to the chagrin of the Kinois, as the inhabitants of Kinshasa are called. Thus, both languages are linked to power. Nonetheless, in Kisangani, and especially among youths, the general consensus reigns that “Lingala ekomi kodominer” [Lingala is taking the upper hand]. In downtown Kisangani, at the university campus and in petty trade, Lingala is more often heard than Swahili, even among Swahili 3 This is commonly believed among people coming from the eastern region, where Lingala is not spoken as a language of wider communication.

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speakers. In the eyes of young Boyomais, the advantages of Lingala outweigh those of Swahili. Youngsters seek to embody prestige and modernity, rather than an old-fashioned form of politeness. Bokula seems to be right, at least for Kisangani, when arguing that Lingala emerges as the “super-vehicular language” or “the only national language likely to carry the national signature and identity in a wide range of domains of use” (Bokula 2005: 160).4 Taking a closer look at the speaking habits of youngsters in Kisangani reveals their preference for Lingala. By speaking Lingala youngsters seek to embody the success and worldliness that Kinshasa promises; they try to prove that they are people who are “in the know”. But this simple utterance, “youths in Kisangani speak Lingala”, is to be paradigmatically deconstructed. For one thing, the concept of youth cannot be limited to one age category (cf. Honwana 2012). The parameters that define youth are constantly changing and contestable. Youth is a plural and heterogeneous category and young people occupy more than one position in it: they are “younger” or “older”, male or female, students or street children, etc. On the one hand, the number of African youngsters is growing at an alarming rate. In many cities the population under the age of eighteen constitutes half of the total population, if not more. On the other hand, African youths are growing older and older. For the purposes of this study, I have chosen to focus on those youngsters who have reached the age to enter adulthood, but who are trapped in the category of youth because they see themselves bereaved of the means and possibilities of becoming “respectable men” (Vigh 2006: 42), that is, those youngsters who see themselves bereaved of a decent means of income and so of marrying and providing for a family. For another thing, Lingala is not a monolithic entity, but consists of many variants, regiolects and sociolects. Lingala is characterized by many adjectives and attributes: “theirs”, “ours”, “heavy”, “with a bass tone”, “missionaries’ Lingala”, “difficult”, “enhanced”, “urban”, “Yankees’ Lingala”, “Kindoubil”, “easy”, “commonplace”, “from kin”, “dry”, “jerky”, “Makanza Lingala”, “hard”, “rural”, “limited”, “deprived”, “from the streets”, “Kinois Lingala”, “mixed”, “shegues’ Lingala” [street children’s Lingala], “dry Kindoubil” and so on. The list is inexhaustible. Furthermore, even though young people prefer to speak the urban variant of Lingala to prove they are in the know, this does not mean that they only speak Lingala; here as in many other African cities, multilingualism is rather the rule than the exception. Youngsters swiftly and consciously choose what to speak, 4 As Bokula calls it “la langue nationale unique susceptible de porter la marque et l’identité nationale dans plusieurs domaines d’usage” [the only suitable national language to carry a national print and identity in several domains of usage].

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when to speak it, and in what context to do so. This points to the fact that linguistic practices are not steady but form a continuum of smooth transitions among registers which in turn reflect the speakers’ ideologies. Speaking Lingala, especially Kindoubil, is a choice young people make consciously, and they do so with a purpose. They might want to embody prestige or ascertain in-group identity. I will now turn to describe the two types of UYL encountered in Kisangani.

3 Urban youth language (1): Kindoubil Kindoubil is mostly spoken in downtown Kisangani. Beyond being a language for petty trade and overall communication – a role attributed to Lingala and Swahili – Kindoubil is the language spoken in the bars; it is the language of ambiance. Ambiance is the “pleasure-seeking potential” that “helps people evolve in a world beyond that of despair and sacrifice” (Trefon 2004: 17). It is a state of uplifting fun where the impossible becomes possible. One of the best ways to embody ambiance, and thereby to enter into that dreamlike world with its new possibilities, is through language use. The use of Kindoubil permits the speaker to be part of, while at the same time recreating, a spirit of ambiance. The one who “enters into ambiance” is able to, temporarily, become someone else. Mbembe beautifully describes this “journeying outside the self” (Mbembe 2004: 86) in terms of dance, but the same can be said about language: “The dancers retreat further into themselves, seeking to become one with the sound. At the same time, the dance distances them from themselves; their existence onstage takes over: they are no longer who they are in ‘real’ life. The dance takes place at the very center of this alienation form the self” (Mbembe 2004: 89). Unmistakably linked to ambiance are the ngandas, where Kindoubil is often heard. A nganda is usually an open-air bar-restaurant or pub, located by the roadside, occasionally fenced off, furnished with plastic chairs and tables where people come to rest, to chat, occasionally to eat, but most of all to drink cold beer and to enjoy the sounds of Congolese music. The nganda is a place of encounter, “a space with different levels and multiple uses of intense sociability” (Gondola 1999: 40), where a dreamlike identity is forged and where the adventure of appearance takes place unhindered. Hand in hand with the forging of new identities is language use. The atmosphere brought about by the bar induces speakers into ambiance. Ngandas play a role, as such, in the production of new urban identities. It is in establishments of this kind that, since before independence, gangs have gathered to discuss their aspirations and frustrations. Denied access to adulthood, the older youths, in search of alternatives and

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prestige, still find refuge today in the nganda. Ngandas are “meaningful sites” that should be read “not only as geographical, visible and palpable urban realities but also, and primarily so, as a mundus imaginalis [imaginary world], a local mental landscape, a topography and historiography of the local Congolese imagination that is no less real than its physical counterpart” (De Boeck and Plissart 2004: 56). Outside the world of the nganda, but still in the spirit of ambiance, the individual re-invents himself through the use of language practices in flux. It is by speaking Kindoubil, and thus by embodying the attributes that are carried by this language, that the identity of the individual is altered. Just as sundown transforms the restaurant into a nganda, Kindoubil too, metaphorically, transforms the individual into a Yankee. At daytime, the nganda is a restaurant where food is served. At nighttime, the nganda turns into a mundus imaginalis of pleasure, delight and consumerism: there is beer, there is music and there are women. Through light and music the transformation from restaurant to bar becomes tangible. Likewise, when speaking Kindoubil, i.e. through language practices and transitions among different registers, from Lingala to Kindoubil, the individual is transformed: he becomes a Yankee. Yankees are the prototypical speakers of Kindoubil. Yankees also speak Kindoubil as a tool for distinguishing themselves from others. By using Kindoubil the Yankee continually informs and shapes this UYL. As such, the Yankee uses an element that is already authenticated, Kindoubil, onto which he then “graft[s] an egotistical discourse” (Gondola 1999: 35). Kindoubil authenticates the Yankee as Yankee because it allows him to embody the prestige of this language. While the Yankees have a common and shared identity because they speak Kindoubil, they do not, however, constitute a clear and unified unity. The Yankee is more of a lone ranger – he does not belong to a well-defined group. Similar to MacGaffey’s traders, the Yankees “do not constitute a ‘class for itself’. They are rather part of the unorganized broader category of a “class in itself” (MacGaffey and Bazenguissa-Ganga 2000: 170, present author’s emphasis). Anyone who is able to speak Kindoubil can subscribe to the tools available to the Yankees, such as street wisdom, assertiveness and resourcefulness. These tools allow the city dweller to transcend boundaries, to make a living in an urban jungle and to project himself on the desired path of social becoming. Kindoubil is the result of far-reaching linguistic manipulations. In the eyes of its speakers, Kindoubil is an enhanced and improved version of Lingala, its base language, and it carries without doubt more (covert) prestige than Lingala. The Lingala onto which Kindoubil is grafted mirrors itself in Kinois Lingala, the variant spoken in the capital. Due to Kinshasa’s superior position in the

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Congolese psyche, Kinois Lingala emanates modernity, urbanity and civilization. The youth of Kisangani define their Lingala, and thus their Kindoubil, by the standards of Kinshasa, in an attempt to embody modernity, urbanity and civilization. Because young people look up to Kinshasa, they allow the capital to partly shape Kisangani. Yet the opposite is not less true: while Kisangani’s youth interpret and consume Kinshasa and Kinois Lingala in emic terms, they simultaneously give meaning to Kinshasa and Kinois Lingala, as they know it in their minds. Parallel to Gondola’s mikiliste,5 “who first experiences Europe, his Europe, in Africa”, by using what they regard as being Kinois Lingala, the Boyomais youth first experience Kinshasa, their Kinshasa, in Kisangani (Gondola 1999: 28, original emphasis). The linguistic manipulations that make up Kindoubil include manipulations in form, such as: metathesis (syllable inversion), dummy affixation (addition of a final vowel) and truncation (cutting down the number of syllables). For instance: (1)

lar Truncated [l’argent] ‘Money’

One could argue that the above example incorporates elements from French. However, the inclusion of and switching between different languages should be understood as part of Blommaert’s and Meeuwis’ (1998) “monolectal codeswitching”, i.e. as a code in its own right. The use of lar in Kindoubil does not require proficiency in French. Just like other UYLs, Kindoubil too finds its “way into the dominant language of the outside world” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 314), i.e. to English. In the morphological manipulation below, the verb ‘to die’ becomes the root of the verb in Kindoubil with the same meaning. Its phonology and conjugation follow the Lingala norms. (2)

Na-ling-áká na-day-é. 1SG S-want-PAST 2 1SG -die-SUBJ ‘I wanted to die.’

5 “The expression mikiliste designates the young Congolese who live in Europe and, to a lesser extent, in North America. [. . .] One must listen to the potential-mikiliste speak to realize the extent to which European cities are endowed with a magical quality, an aura that is reinforced by the stories related by those who return home.” (Gondola 1999: 28)

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The use of English in Kindoubil should not be understood as a switch to English, with its implication of knowledge of the language, but needs to be seen as “a common feature of style of the youth culture [which] is preoccup [ied] with international culture and, in particular, American culture; hence, [. . .] the incorporation of English words, even in Francophone countries” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 317). African youth, in contrast to the resistance-based cultural communities in Europe, do not take a defensive stance towards globalization, but rather towards tradition and rurality (Kießling and Mous 2004: 332–333). This “reaction towards globalization” implies, according to Kießling and Mous, that African urban youth is “seeking access to and partaking in the possibilities and prospects of globalization and utilizing and incorporating elements, such as rap music and American English, that have become increasingly accessible in the course of developments caused by globalization” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 333). Next to phonotactic and morphological manipulations, the most representative type of manipulations in Kindoubil are the ones that alters meaning, i.e. semantic manipulations. They comprise the use of metaphors, metonymies, synecdoche, inflation of synonyms and polysemy, and are often applied “to the extreme” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 324). Kodamé, for instance, is said to be derived from the game of checkers (jeu de dames in French). If one wins, it entails one has “checked” or “eaten” the opponent. The meaning is therefore extended to ‘to eat’: (3)

ko-damé INF-metaphor [to eat] ‘to eat’

Semantic domains that are emblematic of the urban youth culture witness an inflation of synonyms; this is the case for the “smoking” domain. Through semantic manipulation, the word ‘cigarette’ has at least five equivalents in Kindoubil: ʃimboke, meteo, ʃol, tumbako, pembe. Other words that designate parts of the cigarette can be added to the list too: mego meaning ‘a bit of a cigarette’ or lisoko, literally ‘buttocks’, used to indicate the cigarette butt. When a Yankee does not wish to be understood, he will make use of dummy words that can take up any meaning; this allows him to code the language on the spot. Bɔr can be translated as ‘cigarette’, too, and is often used in songs to refer to the ‘male sex organ’, but it can also generally be used for ‘thing’ and thus absorb any meaning. To avoid misunderstandings, there needs to be a lot of affinity among the speakers, or at least with the surrounding situation. This type of dummy word is context-bounded and underlines, once again, the importance of contextualizing social practices, including fluid language practices.

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Cardinal numbers are also employed as morphemes. The number 12 (pronounced as ‘douze’ in French) is one of the many examples of how new linguistic forms are created on the spot, spontaneously and playfully. In the example below, 12 is used to exchange information that bystanders are not to understand. As such, within one utterance it can take up more than one meaning: it acts as a noun, as in ‘fellow’, or as a verbal morpheme, as in ‘to trick’. (4)

Ba-duzes

wâná ba-ling-í dem 3PL S-want-PRF ‘Those fellows want to trick us.’

CL 2-fellow

ba-duz-é 3PL S-trick-SBJ

bísó. 1PL O

This example illustrates what Chia and Gerbault meant by the raison d’être of UYLs, “the desire to have a secret code that excludes outsiders, and at the same time the desire to laugh and have some fun” (Chia and Gerbault, 1991: 274, in Kießling and Mous 2004: 306). Linguistic manipulations are “attractive because they add an element of competition, when used productively. One can gain extra prestige if one can produce them quickly” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 324). Consider the following example:6 Tu prends Papy, tu le mets devant Américain, il peut même pas placer trois mots parce que Américain en a déjà placé cent, . . . celui-là aura tendance à prendre tout pour lui, et c’est celui qui aura raison. [You take Papy and you place him in front of Américain, before he even utters three words, Américain has already said a hundred, . . . the latter will tend to take everything for himself, and he will be the one who’s always right.]

Speed matters. Those speakers who are able to produce the language quickly, are prone to win the arguments they enter and, at the end, to gain advantage over the other speaker, at least in terms of (covert) prestige. Competition and play are important characteristics in human behavior, and in line with Rojek’s view on leisure, they are “something that human beings need just as they need food, shelter, warmth, security and production” (Rojek 1995: 175). “To speak the youth language well means to be aware of the latest norms” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 314). To speak Kindoubil one has to incorporate these fluid practices (lyrics of the latest songs, neologisms, and others) and be up to date by reproducing them at an increasingly quick tempo. A Kindoubil speaker must know the latest tunes and lyrics in order to pick words and phrases to then enrich his own vocabulary and, ultimately, impress those around him. In the following example, a Kindoubil speaker explains how he needs to know the

6 Interview with Bijou held on 17 January 2010.

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latest lyrics to prove that he masters the UYL. Interestingly, this example links up again with the world of the nganda, the mundus imaginalis of the bar. Thus a Yankee:7 Il peut pas connaître tout, mais aza na temps, comme l’exemple que mon frère a dit que non pour les boissons, les autres peuvent dire ‘boke’ mais maintenant les gens d’ici n’appellent plus ‘boke’ ils disent alors ‘mbenda,’ mais c’est la chanson qui vient de sortir maintenant, tu vois, ah ‘mbenda’, l’autre fois ils s’étonnaient, ah mon cher yela biso ‘mbenda’ tobeta! [He might not know everything, but he is up to date, like the example my friend here said that not in relation to beverages, others can say ‘boke’ [beer] but now people here don’t say ‘boke’ anylonger, they say ‘mbenda’ [beer], but it is the song that just came out now, you see, ah ‘mbenda’, the last time they were surprised, ah my friend bring us ‘mbenda’, let’s drink!]

But speaking Kindoubil does not only entail the use of the newest language forms. To be a Yankee, the individual has to encompass other “metasigns” such as clothing, hairstyle, style of walking and other characteristic movements and ways of life (Kießling and Mous 2004: 316). A Yankee will be recognized by the way he nonchalantly tilts his shoulders slightly forward and lowers his chin towards his torso in order to utter a row of eyebrow-raising synonyms, while swallowing consonants and exaggerating high pitches and low tones. One night, as we were walking back home with some friends, one of them started to spontaneously enact the Yankee style by making use of Kindoubil; he was on a roll and no force could stop him talking. His way of walking and speaking drastically changed. In the following quote, we are discussing whether a common friend is a Yankee or not. The speaker makes reference to urbanity as an asset of the Yankee. Kinshasa, accordingly, becomes the world and the word ‘world’ itself becomes mondo, spontaneously, in flux and on the spot:8 Ta mosusu terme ya Mbiaka, soki otuni nini akoyeba yango té, akoyebela yango ndenge nini? Âbougea té, ville ya monene nde Kisangani, oyo ye amoni. Omoni likambo yango nazoyebisa yo sikoyo que non babiloko mosusu otuna ye. Ah, oyo ya monde, Kinshasa eza monde? Eehh ozocomprendre. Wana eza mondo mosusu, donc Kinshasa wana eza mondo. Le monde na terme ya biso topesaka yango ‘mondo,’ donc mondo mystique.] [Maybe the term Mbiaka, if you ask him, he will not know it, how will he know it? He has not moved [traveled], [for him] the big city is Kisangani, of those he has seen. You see that is the problem I am telling you about now, other things you can ask him. Ah, that of the world, Kinshasa is the world? Eehh, you are beginning to understand. That is another world, thus Kinshasa is the world. The world in our [Yankees’] words we call it ‘mondo,’ thus mystical world.] 7 Focus group discussion group B held on November 16 2009. 8 Transcription ‘Kongo is on a roll’ recorded on December 1st 2009. My question in the quote is in italics.

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As mentioned in the introduction to this volume, beyond words, other domains like music, clothing and hair style, political attitudes, movies, street knowledge, way of life, ways of walking, dancing styles and many more aspects have to be taken into consideration in order to draw a more coherent and holistic picture of the Kindoubil linguistic practice in its social and cultural context (cf. Hollington and Nassenstein, this volume). Performance can be added to the list of domains because, while being delicately intertwined with Kindoubil’s covert prestige, performance boosts and amplifies the practice of UYLs. Both the language and its performance are important constituents in the process of building the identity of its speakers, which is much needed in order to redefine their position in a fast changing city. Youth language practices in flux can thus also be read as language performance. Even if no particular code is intrinsically imbued with honor and prestige, the use of Kindoubil, with its allusions to Kinshasa and modernity, places its speakers firmly in society. Those who speak Kindoubil speak it to impress others and to gain prestige in the eyes of others. The prestige of Kindoubil is not only recognized – and used – by those who speak it, but also, even if reluctantly, by those who do not speak it. While the former are sometimes overly conscious about their language use (it is often a topic of conversation), the latter cannot but recognize Kindoubil’s prestige and value. Thus, even if Kindoubil is not understood by all, those who do not understand it will at least recognize that it is spoken. The recognition of the prestige inherent in Kindoubil acts similarly to Bourdieu’s symbolic power: it [the prestige or the symbolic power] can only be applied if recognized, i.e. if recognized it is not arbitrary (see Bourdieu 2001: 210).9 It is the belief in the legitimacy of the words and in the one who pronounces them that grants power, honor and prestige to these words (see Bourdieu 2001: 210).10 This belief is not produced by the words themselves, but is socially embedded. Thus, beyond its link to urbanity, modernity, street wisdom and shrewdness, Kindoubil gains its symbolic power, first and foremost because it is recognized by those who do not speak it as something special, not completely intelligible but not foreign to the ear either. Kindoubil is, as such, a semiotic system that has a double nature: one that lies between in-groupness and ordinariness. With regards to the former, Kindoubil is an exclusive system because the in-group who speak it “share a 9 The author’s translation from French: “Le pouvoir symbolique [. . .] ne s’exerce que s’il est reconnu, c’est-à-dire méconnu comme arbitraire.” 10 Translated by the present author from French “Ce qui fait le pouvoir des mots [. . .] c’est la croyance dans la légitimité des mots et de celui qui les prononce, croyance qu’il n’appartient pas aux mots de produire” (Bourdieu 2001: 210).

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fresh and creative set of practices” (cf. Hollington and Nassenstein this volume). Yet the need to be recognized as not arbitrary places Kindoubil “at permanent risk of losing its exclusive character and becoming ‘ordinary’” (Hollington and Nassenstein this volume). This risk is the result of “the strong desire for novelty of non-initiated youths (who wish to acquaint themselves with the in-group’s encoded social and linguistic parameters),” as Hollington and Nassenstein point out in their introduction; but, in the case of Kindoubil, it is also the result of the reluctance of those who disdain this language practice to accept its prestige. It is then up to the Kindoubil speaker himself to exploit and make profit out of this recognition. The Yankee uses Kindoubil to be different and to create differences. Kindoubil is thus not spoken “by chance” but with a purpose: its speakers “use the emblematic nature of their new code to ‘build a new identity that redefines their position in society’” (Castells 1997: 8, cited by Kießling and Mous 2004: 313). In an attempt to survive the urban jungle, the Yankee wants to stand out above the rest.

4 Urban youth language (2): inverted Kindoubil The second type of UYL that will be discussed in this paper confusingly carries a similar name to the first, Kindoubil ya kozongela or, literally, “Inverted Kindoubil”. This is the emic term that the youths use to describe their language practice. In contrast to Kindoubil, Inverted Kindoubil is not spoken in the center of Kisangani but at its very outskirts, in the volatile Mangobo district. Mangobo is characterized by a high rate of unemployment, a young population, a high degree of rural immigration and a lack of infrastructure (there is not always electricity, many houses are made of clay, streets are rarely paved and those that are paved are not maintained). Add a high number of unemployed youth to this deficient infrastructure and it will result in gang formation and violence, but also in new creations such as Inverted Kindoubil. Mangobo’s stigmatized youngsters speak Inverted Kindoubil. The Bana Mangobo (‘children of Mangobo’), as they are called, are known to be tearaways and troublemakers. The district counts five, currently peaceful, but still easily ignitable, gangs: États-Unis, Ligue Arabe, Chine Populaire, Katamoto and Bourgeois. With respect to its form, the main characteristic of Inverted Kindoubil is, as its name suggests, inversion. Inverted Kindoubil is a language that “inverts the things we say in Lingala”, as a fluent speaker puts it. Inversion or metathesis amounts to the “well-known process of syllable swopping” (Kießling and Mous

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2004: 324). This is not atypical of urban Africa (nor is it limited to Africa for that matter); other examples are Camfranglais in Yaoundé and Douala and Nouchi in Abidjan. Inverted Kindoubil, however, involves a lot more than just this type of automatic inversion. It is the result of continuous, conscious and far-reaching linguistic manipulations of which metathesis is only the starting point. The examples below illustrate the extent of these manipulations. (5)

O-ndiv-aka 2SG S-inverted[fa-nda]-HAB ‘Where do you live?’

pi-wa? inverted[wa-pi]

Ondivaka piwa? is translated as ‘Where do you (usually) live?’ While the subject prefix o- and aspect suffix -aka remain in place on the verb, the root of the verb is inverted. It consists of two syllables va and nd(a). The root vanda, with the voiced labio-dental fricative, is an alternative to the more common fanda. In the inverted form this alternative is preferred. The -i- in the root uncovers the underlying thinking procedure: the speakers invert the present perfect form o-vand-i into o-ndiv-a and only then add the habitualis (recurrent present) suffix -aka. The -i- also facilitates the pronunciation of a row of consonants. The syllables of wapi are swopped to give piwa. Monosyllabic or disyllabic roots that, when inverted, are still too obvious, undergo more than one linguistic manipulation. In the following example, the Lingala base verb kokende ‘to go’ is subjected to more than one manipulation, resulting in an incomprehensible form for the non-initiated: (6)

Na-ʒebu 1SG S-inverted root[bou-ger] ‘I’m going to the market.’

na PREP

rʃe-ma. inverted [ma-rché]

Naʒebu, Kindoubil for nakeyi, is translated as ‘I am gone’, or ‘I am going’. The stem ʒebu is the inverted form of bujé, derived from the French verb bouger (‘to move’). Metathesis is not the only linguistic manipulation here. The meaning of bouger also shifts from ‘to move’ to ‘to go’. Marché, the equivalent of ‘market’ in French, is inverted according to the Bantu syllable structure, whereby the initial /r/ should be read as a nasalized or vocalized rhotic consonant. The result is rʃe-ma. As the language evolves – and in order to keep its secretiveness – more manipulations can be applied to already altered forms. It is in this sense that the inverted root ʒebu is consequently truncated to give ʒe, resulting in:

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O-ʒe 2SG S-truncated[inverted root[bou-ger]] ‘Where are you going?’

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pi-wa? inverted [wa-pi]

The trajectory from the Lingala verb kokende to the Inverted Kindoubil ko-ʒe is long and full of far-reaching, conscious, linguistic manipulations. Inverted Kindoubil deviates to such an extent from its base languages, urban Lingala and Kindoubil, that “the outcome is incomprehensible for the uninitiated” (Kießling and Mous 2004: 303). Once again, speed matters. Just like other African UYLs, Inverted Kindoubil is characterized by rapid change, new additions and shifting meanings in order to keep its secretiveness. Rapidity relates not only to change, but is also found in the language use itself and even in the thinking process preceding the words:11 Sikoyo tomona pé na rapidité ata eloko oyo ôloba nano té, mais ozozongela yango, donc na rapidité moko boye [. . .] Automatisme moko ekota na kati, ozozongela kaka mots. [Now there is also speed even when you haven’t spoken yet, but you are inverting [in your head], thus so quickly [. . .] Automatism becomes part of it, you are just inverting words.]

Speaking Inverted Kindoubil reflects the desire to have a secret code that excludes outsiders (Kießling and Mous 2004: 306), while creating a group identity that marks difference from the dominant group (Hodge and Kress 1997: 53, in Kießling and Mous 2004: 313). Yet a secret code is by no means a static practice, but is rather fluid and in constant change. The dominant group may be the older generations, the rural population, who tend to live a more traditional way of life, the upper social classes or, generally speaking, the rest of society (Kießling and Mous 2004: 313). Speakers of this particular UYL, Inverted Kindoubil, identify themselves with the Mangobo district in Kisangani. Outside of Mangobo, Inverted Kindoubil is heard around the Salon Victoire, a prestigious hairdresser in downtown Kisangani, whose owner is known to be a (former) inhabitant of Mangobo and whose workers mostly originate from Mangobo. Thus, even if spoken outside of the district, the starting point in understanding the contextualized practices of Inverted Kindoubil is the context of Mangobo, with all its pecularities. Alongside processes of identity building, Inverted Kindoubil has a very concrete side to it too: it can be used at the market to gain a price advantage, to signal a cover lie that pops up in a conversation, or even to give a good impression to someone. The wittiest and most amusing examples I came across involved flirting and women. Sami, a speaker of Inverted Kindoubil, describes it with such grace that the anecdote below does not need further explanation. 11 Interview with Sami held on 18 January 2010.

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Utterances in Kindoubil are typed in capital case. I hope in this way to render Sami’s words as vivid as possible:12 Sikoyo soki ayokaka té, ngai nalobelaka nde Stommy ta mosusu na Kindoubil. Neti yo boye, Stommy ayebaka Kindoubil, namoni kaka bino na baStommy, bon naye na ngai, par example place Stommy asalaka na ye na momy, nalobi na Stommy “AH MWA FILLE OYO ATAKO INGA,” donc moyen ya kolobela ye “akoti ngai,” “SAPE INGA MBOKO NA YÉ,” “pesa ngai kombo na yé.” Donc yo wana okofanda, ozoyoka tozolobana mais ozoyoka té, mais ye akopesa ngai “MBOKO NA YE TIKA,” donc “Kati” “TIKA” yo pe okokamwa nakoya na Kati comment? Mutu oyo ayebi kombo na ngai ndenge nini? . . . Heure moko nakolobela Stommy “yo tika nano,” nakosignalé na Kindoubil “bima nano, tikela biso temps.” Omona que heure moko Stommy alobi “nazoya”, oyo akoloba kaka nazoya c’est que nalobelaki ye déjà “MABI NANO KEMU KATI INGA, INGA NA ENA” wana nakobetela “yo bima nano muke, tika ngai na ye tosolola.” Omona kaka Stommy heure moko alobaki “Nazoya, nasomba nano eloko.” [Now if she doesn’t understand [Kindoubil], then I will talk to Stommy in Kindoubil. Just like you here, Stommy understands Kindoubil, I see both of you, well I come and, for instance, Stommy is with the girl, I will tell Stommy: “THAT GIRL APPEALS TO ME.” There is no way I can tell him “I like her,” “GIVE ME HER NAME,” “give me her name.” Thus you will sit in between, you hear us speak, but you don’t understand what we are saying, but he will give me “HER NAME IS TIKA” thus “Kati” “TIKA,” you will be astonished, “how can he know Kati?” . . . Then I will tell Stommy to leave us alone, I will tell him in Kindoubil to go, “just go, give us some time”. You will see that Stommy will suddenly say “I’ll be back,” he says I’ll be back just because I already told him “GO FOR A BIT, LEAVE HER AND ME” there I told him “you go for a while, leave the two of us alone so we can talk.” You will just see that Stommy suddenly says “I’m coming, I have to buy something.”]

Does this example then entail that women do not speak Inverted Kindoubil at all? Not necessarily. A girl who grows up in Mangobo will pick up and understand Inverted Kindoubil just like her male siblings and friends do. It cannot be denied that in UYLs “the role of boys is clearly more prominent than that of girls,” supposedly because girls “are more inclined to keep to the societal norm” (Kiessling & Mous 2004: 317). Yet, as pointed out during the first international workshop on Youth Languages and Urban Languages in Africa, as well as in the introduction (Hollington and Nassenstein) to this volume, gender is one of the aspects and domains that should be taken more seriously in future research of UYLs and youth language practices.

5 Conclusion Located where the East and the West meet, Kisangani has two vernacular languages, Swahili and Lingala. In this (at least) bilingual city, Lingala is said to 12 Interview with Sami held on 18 January 2010.

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be “taking the upper hand”, especially among the young population. Young people tend to speak Lingala above Swahili because the former, in contrast to the latter, carries connotations of urbanity, knowledge and shrewdness. Lingala, however, falls short when youngsters try to distinguish themselves from society and to challenge the established social order. They then prefer to turn towards urban youth languages instead. In the case of Kisangani, there are at least two types: Kindoubil and Kindoubil ya kozongela (literally “Inverted Kindoubil”). Kindoubil and Inverted Kindoubil share, on the one hand, some similarities. Both UYLs find their basis in urban Lingala and both are characterized by fluidity and rapidly changing linguistic manipulations. In this article I have discussed some of the phonotactic as well as morphological and semantic manipulations to which the base language is subjected. The constant change and play that characterize the changes in form are mirrored in the need to stand out from the rest. Play and creativity herein act as “a vital channel for expressing sociality and identity” (Rojek 1995: 187). On the other hand, Kindoubil and Inverted Kindoubil are not interchangeable. Each of these UYLs is located in a specific geographic area and each fills a different social role. Their difference, thus, transcends the mere form, the latter being more extreme than the former, and relates to their degree of prestige, of secretiveness and degree of in-groupness. Because Inverted Kindoubil is the language of the youth in a very specific location, the Mangobo district in Kisangani, its scope, compared to that of Kindoubil, is much more restricted. In Bourdieu’s terms, the former fails to be recognized as not arbitrary, which implies that it is not recognized at all, or simply not understood by the uninitiated. Because it is not understood at all, the degree of secretiveness of Inverted Kindoubil is higher than that of Kindoubil. Thus, even if speakers of the latter are able to talk in “code” about something so that not everybody understands them, those who cannot partake in the conversation will at least recognize that Kindoubil is being spoken. This recognition grants Kindoubil prestige and symbolic power, i.e. the “invisible” power that is “unrecognized” as such [as being invisible] and therefore “recognized” as being legitimate (Thompson’s preface to Bourdieu’s Langage et pouvoir symbolique [Language and symbolic power] 2001: 39–40).13 Even though both types of Kindoubil are used to talk in secret codes so as to exclude outsiders, secretiveness alone does not account for Kindoubil. This is because speakers of Kindoubil, who purposefully choose to differentiate themselves from others by speech, cannot afford to make themselves completely unintelligible inasmuch as their status not only exists in contrast to non-Kindoubil 13 The author’s translation from French, quotation marks in the original: pouvoir “invisible” qui est “méconnu” en tant que tel et dès lors “reconnu” comme légitime.

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speakers, but depends on the acknowledgement of these outsiders. It is a delicate balance between the degree of differentiation needed to gain as much prestige as possible, on the one hand, and the deadly eradication of the self in society by too much secretiveness, on the other. Here is where Kindoubil particularly differs from Inverted Kindoubil: Kindoubil is not (only) about secretiveness, nor gang membership, but plays an important role in the building of prestigious urban identities that need to be recognized by others in society. Even though Inverted Kindoubil and Kindoubil are closely linked to processes of identification and identity building, the identity they want to embody is different. While Inverted Kindoubil embodies the identity of a concrete, welldefined group, the group to which Kindoubil refers is far less clear. Speakers of Kindoubil, unlike those in Mangobo, do not speak a secretive language that only they can understand, but speak a language that is partly understood, but also partly misunderstood by others. The class of Kindoubil speakers, or Yankees, is an imaginary class of city dwellers over which there is no consensus. The meaning of this group is filled in by individual interpretations. What these individuals do share is a certain language usage and, with it, a desire to progress as social beings.

References Blommaert, Jan & Michael Meeuwis. 1998. A monolectal view of code-switching: Layered codeswitching among Zairians in Belgium. In Peter Auer (ed.), Code-switching in conversation: language, interaction and identity, 76–98. London: Routledge. Bourdieu, Pierre. 2001. Langage et pouvoir symbolique. Paris: Fayard. Bokula, Moiso. 2005. Langues, langages et sociétés au Congo. Kisangani: Centre de Recherches de Langues et Cultures Africaines. De Boeck, Filip & Marie-Françoise Plissart. 2004. Kinshasa: Tales of the invisible city. Ghent, Amsterdam: Ludion. De Swaan, Abram. 2001. Words of the world: The global language system. Cambridge: Polity. Gondola, Charles Didier. 1997. Villes miroirs: Migrations et identités urbaines à Kinshasa et Brazzaville. Paris: L’Harmattan. Gondola, Charles Didier. 1999. Dreams and drama: The search for elegance among Congolese youth. African Studies Review 42(1). 23–48. Honwana, Alcinda. 2012. The time of youth: work, social change, and politics in Africa. Sterling: Kumarian Press. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341 MacGaffey, Janet & Remy Bazenguissa-Ganga. 2000. Congo-Paris: Transnational traders on the margins of the law. Oxford: James Currey. Mbembe, Achille. 2004. Variations on the beautiful in the Congolese world of sounds. Cape Town: Chimurenga.

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Myers-Scotton, Carol. 2006. Multiple voices: An introduction to bilingualism. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Omasombo Tshonda, Jean. 2005. Kisangani: A city at its lowest ebb. Urban Africa: changing contours of survival in the city. London: Zed Books. Rojek, Chris. 1995. Decentring leisure: Rethinking leisure theory. London: Sage Trefon, Theodore (ed.). 2004. Introduction: Reinventing order. In Reinventing order in the Congo, How people respond to state failure in Kinshasa, 1–19. London: Zed. Vigh, Henrik E. 2006. Social death and violent life chances. In Navigating youth, generating adulthood: Social being in an African context, 31-60 Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet. Wilson, Catherina. 2012. The Congolese Yankee. Leiden: Leiden University MA thesis.

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15 Linguistic strategies in Luyaaye: word play and conscious language manipulation Abstract: Luyaaye is one of the urban youth language practices predominantly spoken in Kampala, Uganda. Most speakers are youths and young adults between the ages of 15 and 45. However, it is now gaining greater presence and legitimacy beyond urban settings and is slowly penetrating rural areas. It is used in schools (mainly outside classrooms), on television and radio, in the entertainment and advertisement industries, in the print media and in the political arena for campaign slogans. Despite its widespread influence on standard Luganda, from which it is derived, it has received very limited attention from linguists, either on the local or global scenes. This paper, therefore, highlights some of the linguistic strategies that speakers of Luyaaye employ to expand its lexicon in a constant process of rapid reinventions.

1 Introduction Urban centers in most African countries have seen an influx of youths from the countryside in search of economic opportunities and social amenities. Consequently, there are exponential growths of urban youth speech varieties which have taken on different labels. For example, Kießling and Mous (2004) refer to urban language practices as “urban youth languages” while Makoni et al. (2007) describe them as “urban vernaculars”. In other instances, they have been referred to as “youth languages” (Nassenstein 2011). In Uganda, a youth language practice known as Luyaaye is widely spoken in most of Kampala’s urban spaces. Luyaaye, as discussed later in this paper, is thought to have begun in the early 1970s at a time when Uganda was experiencing social, political and economic turmoil. This period was characterized by “a breakdown of social order in which values and norms were lost in search for survival,” (Nsimbi 1983: 57). Because of this, Luyaaye has been described as a language of criminals and uncultured youths who have lost the traditional values and norms of a larger community. These views continue to be debated in Uganda’s social media. In these debates, adults see the linguistic styles and

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practices among youths as language corruption, while youths look at these varieties simply as a form of “styling up”. Despite the negative attitudes towards Luyaaye, it holds “strong connections with notions of ‘modern urban life’ in contrast to ‘traditional rural life’” (Spitulnik 1999: 32). This is reflected in the choice of words they use to describe those who hail from the capital city (ow’omu kinene) in comparison to those from the rural community (ow’omu sakala). Thus, Luyaaye denotes “a playful youth subculture; that is characterized by a sophisticated, cosmopolitan lifestyle; or simply, the generic urban orientation” (Spitulnik 1999: 32). The chaos, disorder and the discursive practices that characterize the daily experiences of the urban dwellers seem to spill over into Luyaaye. This is manifested in terms of its fluidity, especially its lexicon, which is constantly manipulated in order to fulfil the youths’ “lifelong projects of self-construction and differentiation” (cf. Eckert 2012: 97). As observed by Eckert (2012), Luyaaye speakers are in a constant struggle to get rid of their old selves by creating new linguistic styles that match their new social identities. In this sense, they are seen as being active and ever-changing carriers of informal language practices rather than as “passive and stable carriers of the dialect” (Eckert 2012: 97–98). They achieve this by employing different linguistic strategies to expand Luyaaye’s lexicon in a constant process of quick reinventions. As observed earlier, Luyaaye as a language practice is not a stable language code, nor is it the same in terms of its vocabulary across its speakers or users. Namyalo and Nakayiza (2014) explains that Luyaaye varies in terms of complexity and is thus multilayered. There is what can be considered as “deep Luyaaye”, normally used as a secret code by criminals, “street Luyaaye”, which is used by the street youths, especially those involved in petty trade, and Luyaaye for the general public, i.e. Luyaaye used by individuals who do not necessary belong to the community of practice. In addition to these layers, the geographical space determines the nature or type of Luyaaye spoken there. In this respect, Luyaaye speakers make use of the administrative divisions of the city to form Luyaaye-speaking territories. Kampala district is divided into five administrative divisions, namely Kawempe, Lubaga, Central, Makindye and Nakawa. Each of these divisions has a main ghetto area with a different variety of Luyaaye. Thus, Luyaaye spoken by the residents of Kawempe ghetto is different from that which is spoken in the Central. Despite the variations, Luyaaye speakers use similar morphological strategies to build a unique code, which differentiates them from the rest of the people who live in the same urban space. The data analyzed in this paper is based on a corpus of 1300 words and idiomatic expressions that were collected between June and September 2012, mainly in Kampala, the capital city of Uganda. The corpus was largely gathered

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through transcription and analysis of popular music, plays, dramas, comedy TV, radio and television talk shows, and recorded political rallies. Extracts from Munnakibuga Omuyaaye1 were also used, and supplemented with sociolinguistic interviews (in the sense of Labov (1972)) with Luyaaye speakers in the urban space. These aimed to explore the lexical items used in different semantic domains as well as the linguistic strategies frequently employed to expand the lexicon. The data is analyzed within the sociolinguistic variationist approach which Eckert (2012: 97) describes as the “third wave of variation studies”. Eckert (2012) argues that speakers of a given dialect should not be seen as passive and stable carriers of the dialect but rather as “stylistic agents tailoring styles in on-going and lifelong projects of self-construction and differentiation.” She states that patterns of variation do not simply unfold from the speaker’s structural position in a “system of production” of “social differentiation” (Eckert 2012: 97–98). The paper is divided into five sections. The first section provides a brief synopsis of the paper; it outlines the methods of data collection and provides the theoretical framework used for data analysis. The second section briefly provides an overview of the linguistic situation in Uganda in general and Kampala in particular. The third section gives a brief overview of the emergence and development of Luyaaye from the 1970s until today. The fourth part discusses the linguistic strategies employed by Luyaaye speakers to constantly generate and reinvent their vocabulary in a manner that displays a high degree of creativity. Finally, the paper provides an illustrative textual analysis and evaluation of the rate of utilization of the strategies identified.

1.1 The language situation in Uganda There is no up-to-date survey on the language situation in Uganda. The most reliable one was carried out by Ladefoged, Glick and Griper in 1972. Even the most recent publications, which should have highlighted the current language situation in Uganda, still draw on this outdated material (see Wald 1994, Walusimbi 1994, Mukama and Ndoleriire 1997). Ladefoged et al. (1972: 31) managed to trace 63 languages and dialects, 30 of which are considered to be languages rather than dialects. Twenty-four of those classified as languages were considered to be major languages. However, according to Gordon (2005), there are 43 living

1 Munnakibuga Omuyaaye is a weekly news column that runs in Bukedde newspaper. It started in 2000. It is exclusively written in Luyaaye, following the standard orthography of Luganda. It provides a rich lexicon for linguistic analysis as well as highlighting the social life of Luyaaye speakers.

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languages in Uganda and two extinct ones. In addition to the “indigenous” languages, English serves as the official language and Kiswahili is proposed to become a second official language.2 English is used in administration and is the major language of instruction at all levels of education. Ugandan languages are divided into four major groups: Bantu, Sudanic, Eastern Nilotic and Western Nilotic. According to Ladefoged (1972), the first three language groups are as different as English and Chinese or Chinese and Arabic. Eastern and Western Nilotic groups, on the other hand, differ from each other maybe as much as English and French. This demonstrates that Uganda is a linguistically heterogeneous country with very many different languages used in a relatively small space. Consequently, the complex multilingual nature of Uganda gave rise to multilingual urban areas. For example, Kampala is home to several Ugandan “indigenous” languages, as well as to the languages of migrants and refugees from Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, Congo, Rwanda and Burundi (see Namyalo 2010; Nakayiza 2012). The complexity of this multilingual setting, coupled with the heterogeneous language situation in Kampala, may have partly contributed to the rise of Luyaaye in the early 1970s.

1.2 A brief overview of the emergence and development of Luyaaye The genesis of the name Luyaaye is uncertain. Earlier researchers who have contributed to the documentation and description of Luyaaye (e.g. Nsimbi 1983, Naluwooza 1995 and Namugala 2009) did not attempt to analyze its etymology. However, Ssekirembeko, a retired businessperson, says that the word Luyaaye derives from a common Luganda expression yaaye that symbolizes ‘danger’ and ‘despair’. When a businessperson was arrested dealing in illegal trade during the mid-1970s, he would make this exclamation out of despair and from the pain caused by Amin’s security forces. Since arrests and on the spot killings were the order of the day, the word yaaye became common to the urban residents in Kampala, meaning ‘danger, hide, we are in trouble’. It later evolved into a secret code among the business community that speakers used to alert one another that danger was lurking among them. Later, the word yaaye evolved into

2 On 6th July 2005, the Parliament of Uganda amended Clause 5 of the 1995 Constitution recognizing Kiswahili as the second official language of Uganda. The application of the amendment is subject to the enactment of an enabling law by Parliament. Unfortunately, the law has never been enacted; therefore, Kiswahili is not legally an official language of Uganda as commonly stated in literature.

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Luyaaye – a word which symbolizes a street code or youth language practice in Kampala. Other related words were later derived from Luyaaye; for example, omuyaaye/bayaaye, which means a person who speaks Luyaaye, but also a person whose behavior and personality is contrary to what society endorses as the standard norms, values and practices. However, in an interview with Mulemi, a senior lecturer of social anthropology at the Catholic University of Eastern Africa (Kenya), he says that the term Luyaaye appears to have its origin from the Luhya language. Luhya, also called Luyia, or Abaluhya, is an ethnolinguistic cluster of several closely related Bantu-speaking peoples including the Bukusu, Tadjoni, Wanga, Marama, Tsotso, Tiriki, Nyala, Kabras, Hayo, Marachi, Holo, Maragoli, Dakho, Isukha, Kisa, Nyole, and Samia of the Western Province in Kenya. Mulemi claims that “the word Luyaaye is similar to ruyaye or luyai, an adjective that describes someone who is young-looking but with deviating social behaviours from those which society considers to be ideal.” He adds that a male youth in Luhya is called muyai or mayayi and a female youth is called mukhaana. However, a male or female can be called ruyaye if (s)he behaves in a manner that defies the community’s set traditions and values. For example, a youth who dresses in a “deviant” way or who shaves off all his/her hair is referred to as a ruyaye (field interviews July 2012). Mulemi’s observation is similar to attitudes and perceptions towards Luyaaye and the people who speak it. We observe that in Kampala Luyaaye is not only a youth language practice but it also indexes someone who is uncultured and anti-traditional, or an adult who wants to be young or youth-like. Given the increased mobility of youths and intertrade between Kenya and Uganda, there is a likelihood that Luhya speakers used this term to describe the youths and young adults who had declared the street as their territory for survival in the early 1970s. These were mainly illiterate young boys who came from underprivileged families within and outside Kampala. Since Luganda does not have the sound /r/, it can be hypothezised that the word ruyaye was indigenized as Luyaaye, whereby /r/ was replaced by /l/ with a lengthened syllable [ja:] to fit into the tonal structure of Luganda. There are various opinions on the factors that led to the emergence and development of Luyaaye in Kampala and a consensus has not yet been reached. The most prominent view is that Luyaaye emerged in the early 1970s in the wake of the much-publicized atrocities of Idi Amin Dada and the civil war that continued into the mid-1980s. The gross human rights abuse, political repression, ethnic persecution, extrajudicial killings, nepotism, corruption and gross economic mismanagement contributed to the rise of Luyaaye (see Naluwooza 1995, Namugala 2009, Nsimbi 1983). As observed by Naluwooza, changes on the socio-economic and political fronts may have contributed to the emergence of

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this seemingly new, mysterious and interesting “dialect”. Therefore, when the game of the “hunters” and the “hunted” culminated in the need for “exclusion” and “inclusion”, the informal trade community started coining words that were only known to them. The underlying aim was to exclude Amin’s security agents, who are historically remembered as having been brutal. Nsimbi (1983: 54) provides the earliest words that were used, for instance okussamula ffege (‘to sell cigarettes’), alume (‘police’), enjaaye (‘marijuana’), kabalaasi (‘cigarette’) and others. We note, therefore, that in its early stages of development, Luyaaye was primarily a language for the business community, who were mainly illiterate young adults who stepped in to replace the Asians who had been expelled by Amin’s regime in 1972. The influx of rural-urban migrants and the complex multilingual nature of Uganda has been another factor promoting the emergence of Luyaaye. As already observed, Uganda is a linguistically heterogeneous country. The multilingual setting and perhaps the language situation in Kampala may have partly contributed to the rise of Luyaaye in the early 1970s. One might argue that Luyaaye at this time was inevitable because there was a need for a language to serve the urban dwellers, who spoke different languages and practiced different cultures but needed to communicate in order to transact business. However, this is only hypothetical because this view cannot be supported with empirical linguistic data. A preliminary analysis of the Luyaaye lexicon indicates that besides the interregional lingua francas, there are no words that have been borrowed from Uganda’s so-called “indigenous” languages. The majority of words are Luganda words that have been semantically manipulated, along with numerous loans from Kiswahili, English and Sheng, an urban youth language predominantly spoken in Nairobi. The trade between Kiswahili-speaking countries, especially with Kenya, has played a significant role in the emergence and development of Luyaaye. Apart from Luganda, on which it is based, Luyaaye draws more from English, Kiswahili and Sheng for its lexical expansion than from other Ugandan languages. This may confirm the view that Luyaaye originated from Busia, a busy trading center at the border of Kenya and Uganda, and later took root in Kampala. Proponents of this view argue that, due to increasing levels of illegal trade at the Kenya-Uganda border in the 1970s, there was the need for a language that would ease communication between those who did not speak Kiswahili on the one hand and those who did not speak Luganda or any other Ugandan language on the other hand. The widespread use of Kiswahili loans and Sheng words in Luyaaye may support this view. Another dominant view is that Luyaaye began as a street code for urban youths who were socially underprivileged. It is argued that the urban youths

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who started this code were mainly criminals who engaged in unlawful activities like selling and using drugs, stealing and murder. They mainly lived in congested areas known as ghettoes or slums. These suburbs included places like Kamwokya, Bwaise, Kawempe, Makerere-Kivvulu and others. In the mid-1990s and early 2000s, however, Luyaaye had spread beyond the street youths and was by then also being used by taxi drivers in parks, meat sellers and among schoolgoing youths, mainly those who were in day schools. Silvano Kibuuka, a columnist of Munnakibuga Omuyaaye, says that “I was introduced to this language during my secondary school days. I was a day student and often heard some people using a language that I did not understand. I picked up interest in it and started learning it. I am now very fluent and I find no trouble speaking or writing it even in formal registers like the media.” Since 2003, Luyaaye has become very popular, and has gained greater presence and legitimacy in urban settings. It is now informally used in schools, especially outside of the classrooms, on television and radio, in the entertainment and advertisement industries and also in print and political slogans. From the media we note the widespread use of commonplace words like potential, stamina, style, swag, equalizer, kiwaani, which have acquired “kiyaaye” meanings. For instance, potential means someone who is financially well off or having sexual prowess, stamina means someone who is hardworking, and equalizer means ‘beautiful young woman’. Through the liberalized airwaves in Uganda, Luyaaye is now spreading beyond its original socio-economic class boundaries and is being used by many youths, irrespective of social class, gender, educational background or ethnic composition. It is also gradually spreading to rural trading centers. Singers and comedians who take their shows to rural areas, constant movements of youths from the villages to the towns and vice versa, and the media have facilitated the spread of Luyaaye. Luyaaye is now synonymous with the urban youth, a style that indexes the social identity of being urban and trendy.

2 Linguistic strategies in Luyaaye The basic grammatical construction of Luyaaye is derived from Luganda. This means that Luganda serves as the base language and thus full competence in Luganda is essential for one’s creativity and proficiency in Luyaaye. Despite this observation, noticeable deviations from standard Luganda in terms of Luyaaye’s lexicon and its idiomatic expressions are evident. It uses new forms of coinage, borrowed lexical items and semantically manipulated words, which differ from those of standard Luganda and English. These strategies indicate a

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deliberate manipulation of the existing lexical items. The creation of words is done in a constant process of quick reinvention, a situation that has led to the creation of many synonyms and polysemous words. The strategies of lexical expansion include lexical borrowing, semantic manipulations and the creation of new lexical expressions.

2.1 Lexical borrowing Like many other Ugandan languages (see Namyalo 2010, Walusimbi 1994), Luyaaye depends to a great extent on borrowing to develop its lexicon. Luyaaye primarily borrows from English and Kiswahili. Yet there is also considerable evidence that Luyaaye borrows from Sheng and some Sudanese languages. Linguistic data to support the view that Luyaaye borrows from Ugandan “indigenous” languages is still not available (at least as far as the data collected suggests). Robins (1971) argues that whenever there are cultural contacts of any sort between the speakers of different languages – and this means virtually everywhere – speakers will make use of words from other languages to refer to things, processes, and ways of behavior, organization or thinking for which words or phrases are hitherto not available or convenient in their own language. Indeed there is demonstrable evidence that Luyaaye largely depends on borrowing because of its contact with other languages and its need to express certain concepts.

2.1.1 Loanwords from English As earlier mentioned, Luyaaye borrows extensively from English. This may be attributed to the fact that for the last 50 years English has enjoyed its status as the official language in Uganda. Its use in administration and education inevitably influences the lexical expansion of Luyaaye. The increasing number of educated youths who speak Luyaaye has therefore been a major factor influencing the massive recent borrowing from English into Luyaaye. In an interview with Silvano Kibuuka, a newspaper columnist of Bukedde newspaper, and the author of the famous Munnakibuga Omuyaaye column, he observed that since the early 2000s, Luyaaye has been progressively drawing more and more from English, unlike in the 1970s and 1980s. This might be attributed to the special or prestigious status that English enjoys in Uganda and beyond. Therefore, Luyaaye speakers borrow from English to associate with a particular class of Ugandans. Abby Mukiibi, a radio presenter from CBS Radio, shares the same

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opinion. He argues that the increasing use of English words has significantly changed the Luyaaye lexicon. It is now more “polished” and “corporate” (field interviews, August 2012). To put the pattern of borrowing from English into Luyaaye in perspective, I present a recorded dialogue in Luyaaye between Ganja and Radio (field interviews, 2012). 1 – Ganja

2 – Radio

Masitede ki mmaani wange 6-steady what man 1SG :POSS ‘What is new my friend?/what is up my friend?’ Nedda

kawee ndi cowboy 1SG .be.PRES ‘Nothing, I am fine cowboy.’

NEG

vvere Very

3 – Ganja

Buddoogo bu-li wa? te-bw-a-som-ye 13-dog 3PL-be where NEG -3PL -past-study-PERF ‘Where are the children, didn’t they study?’ (‘attend school’)

4 – Radio

Mw-ana ba-genze ne machine 1-child 3PL-go.PERF CONJ.with machine ‘My friend, they have left with my wife.’ N-twal-a kazende-gaalo e-bi-wuka IV-8-insect 1SG -take-PRES old.girl ‘I am taking my mother, she is ill.’

5 – Ganja

Jjimba Jjajja-goodi arrest/touch Grand-God ‘Pray to God!’

ku LOC

yange 1SG : POSS by-a-mu-zinzee-ko 3PL-PAST-OBJ-fold-ko

ka-lenge 11-leg (of a goat)

6 – Radio Twegweeko ku ma-tayimu g’omunaana tu-ly-e mmeto POSS .eight 1PL-eat-IMP metal 1PL-FUT-fall-RESP LOC 6-time ‘We meet at 2 p.m. for weightlifting.’ The dialogue above underlines some of the key features that characterize lexical borrowing in Luyaaye. We note that semantic change in borrowed words, especially those from English, is a common phenomenon (doogo (‘dog’) = ‘child’, mmeto (‘metal’) = ‘weightlifting’). In relation to this development, Nassenstein (2011) observes that in many African youth languages the meaning of lexemes

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is steadily “relexified” or modified due to the new implementation of words and speakers’ creativity in using them in new contexts. The adoption and adaptation of borrowed words into Luyaaye, where semantic change in borrowed lexical items seems to be the norm, violates the widespread and well-known patterns of borrowing, whereby a concept from the lending language or culture is maintained in the receptor language (Kashoki 1978). Most borrowed lexical items in Luyaaye, especially those from English, get semantically changed or shifted. A few borrowed words, however, maintain the concept they denote in the source language (e.g. ffiiti ‘fit’, ggeemu ‘game’, waleti ‘wallet’). Semantic change in borrowed English words is one of the most effective strategies of achieving the Luyaaye speakers’ goal of inclusion and exclusion (cf. Kerswill 2010, Kießling and Mous 2004). The game of inclusion and exclusion and the need to style up appear to be the major underlying factors in using Luyaaye in Kampala and other emerging urban centers in Uganda. In an interview with Omuyaaye Ganja, he highlights the relevance of changing the meaning of borrowed words. “It serves the speakers well and excludes other people who may understand the meaning of that word in English.” According to him, changing the meaning of words works very well where the speaker has failed to coin an appropriate word in Luyaaye. Ganja adds “The speaker quickly resorts to using a word in English and assigns it a different meaning” (field interviews, August 2012). Another noticeable feature of borrowing in Luyaaye is the tendency to maintain the linguistic forms of the borrowed lexical items. This is typical of educated urban youths who want to appeal and associate themselves with the prestige that is accorded to speaking English. In the above dialogue, Radio in line (4) refers to his wife as machine. Despite the fact that it is semantically changed, the linguistic form in the source language is maintained. However, we note that other Luyaaye speakers who do not speak English may use the same term. In this case, the sounds and syllable structures that are alien to Luyaaye are assimilated to fit into its grammatical structure, which as earlier mentioned is dependent on that of standard Luganda. Therefore, they tend to phonetically preserve the consonants that are similar to those of Luganda. Foreign sounds are assimilated to those that are closely related in terms of articulation. For example, /ʃ/ is replaced with /s/, and almost all English vowels are reduced to the five vowels of Luganda. However, there is a tendency to fitting auto-segments from the source language into the auto-segmental patterns of Luganda. This mainly involves the insertion of the high tone and lengthening of the vowel. The trend either to keep the linguistic forms of the donor language or to nativize them is further exemplified in examples (1–2).

Linguistic strategies in Luyaaye

(1) Luyaaye

English

front page housing fresh dairy cable chemical turbo

‘forehead’ ‘skin (of human beings)’ ‘big breast (of a woman)’ ‘a man’s private parts’ ‘witchcraft’ ‘nose’

(2) Luyaaye

English

ddooni ddeyile ssite ddoogo ssitoole

‘don’ → ‘rich person’ ‘daily’ ‘city’ ‘dog’ → ‘child’ ‘story’ → ‘news’

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Another interesting feature of lexical borrowing in Luyaaye is the tendency to combine two lexical stems from different languages to form a new linguistic form denoting one concept. For example, the word for ‘God’ in Luyaaye is Jjajjaggoodi, which is a combination of jjajja, which means ‘grandfather/-mother’ in standard Luganda and goodi, a borrowed item from the English word ‘God’. The same process is adopted for ‘mother’. ‘Mother’ is derived from the combination of kazende, which seems to be a new form in Luyaaye or a modified form of mzee which means ‘old/respected person’ in Kiswahili, and girl from English. Another example is pakalast which means ‘always’, ‘here to stay’ or ‘twenty-four hours throughout the week (24/7)’, which is also a combination of paka from Kiswahili (mpaka) meaning ‘till’ and the English form last. This phenomenon is perhaps not peculiar to Luyaaye. In his discussion of Indian English varieties, Kachru (1983) elaborates on hybrid innovations as one of the strategies for nativizing English in India. He states that, “a hybridized (or mixed) formation comprises two or more lexical items, in which at least one is from an Indian language and one from English” (1983: 82). He asserts that the development of hybridization in the South Asian English lexicon needs to be understood from the point of view of language acculturation and cultural contact. Indeed, this is true for Luyaaye, too. Unlike in its early stages of growth, today many Luyaaye speakers are bilingual or even multilingual and their use of mixed hybrids signifies that language and cultural contact account for the emergence of youth language practices within urban spaces.

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We further note that loanwords from English are sometimes assigned to different noun classes in a seemingly arbitrary manner and occasionally deviate from standard Luganda norms. Table 15.1 below summarizes this notion. Table 15.1: NCs assigned to borrowed lexemes Borrowed lexeme

Regular NC for borrowed noun

Assigned NC in singular & plural

liwalet (‘wallet’) liselula (‘cellular’) liffooni (‘phone’) makava (‘cover’) malaale (‘rally’)

9/10 N 9/10 N 9/10 N 9/10 N 9/10 N -

5 li5 li5 li6 ma6 ma-

6 6 6 6 6

mamamamama-

The assignment of noun classes as in Table 15.1 deviates from the known Luganda standard noun system. Borrowed lexemes in standard Luganda are normally assigned to class 9/10, e.g. ssaati (‘shirt’), kkooti (‘coat’), eggaali (‘bicycle’), bbulangati (‘blanket’), etc. A few others, like ssooda (‘soda’), bbiya (‘beer’), sukaali (‘sugar’), yogati (‘yoghurt’), cokoleeti (‘chocolate’), caayi (‘tea’) and kaawa (‘coffee’), take on class 1 mu-. However, borrowed words in Luyaaye tend to take on class 5 or 6 markers. This may be attributed to the notion of semantic shift and the use of augmentation to create the desired effect. Assigning classes 5 or 6 to nouns that do not belong to this class elevates these nouns and exhibits them as high status items which Luyaaye speakers consider as “classy”, hence trendy and urban. In some instances, the use of the generic plural ma- can be compared to borrowed words in Luganda like masaati (‘shirts’), maleediyo (‘radios’) or mabokisi (‘boxes’), which not only semantically denote number but also argumentation, collectivity and status. However, unlike Luyaaye, Luganda uses the noun class 6 marker in borrowed words that enjoy a wide usage or which are fully integrated into its vocabulary and have been in use for a long time. It is also used in standard Luganda to mark number, for example ssaati – masaati, ggaali – magaali (Sg. – Pl.) etc., or for exaggerations such as galubindi – magalubindi (‘sunglasses’ vs. ‘large sunglasses’). 2.1.2 Loanwords from Kiswahili and Sudanese Languages As previously noted, not all loan words in Luyaaye are from English. Other Luyaaye words are borrowed from Kiswahili, Sheng and some Sudanese languages, as illustrated in Table 15.2 and 15.3 below.

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Table 15.2: Loans from Kiswahili Luyaaye

Kiswahili

English equivalent

Meaning in Luyaaye

balidi kaazi kalasi asubu adiisi jama ssanda alaali

baridi kazi kalasi asubuhi hadithi jamaa sanda halali

‘cold’ ‘work’ ‘dead’ ‘morning’ ‘story’ ‘friend’ ‘cloth used to bury the dead’ ‘truth’

‘cold’ ‘work’ ‘dead’ ‘morning’ ‘story/conversion’ ‘friend’ ‘death’ ‘truth’

Table 15.3: Loans from Sudanese languages Loan ara meya galupa

Source language language3

Sudanese Sudanese language Sudanese language

Meaning in Luyaaye ‘to go’ ‘God’ ‘big’

Unlike in English, borrowed expressions from Kiswahili and Sudanese languages hardly undergo any semantic change. The words refer to more or less the same concept they designate in the source language. However, in a few instances the meaning is slightly changed. For example, adiisi ‘story’ may mean ‘empty lies’ in certain contexts; siasa, which means ‘politics’ in Kiswahili, may also mean ‘to tell lies’ in Luyaaye. On the other hand, with regard to the words borrowed from Sudanese languages, the original concept is usually maintained from the source languages.

2.1.3 Loans from Sheng The analysis of the Luyaaye lexicon indicates that it also borrows some words from Sheng. This trend, which seems to date back to the early 1970s, may be attributed to trade between Kampala and Nairobi, as well as to the number of Ugandan youths who study in Kenya and vice versa. Other forms of social interaction pertaining to games and music exhibited between youths in Nairobi and

3 The specific languages or dialects from which these words are borrowed could not be established. However, the informants note that they were borrowed from languages or dialects spoken in Sudan.

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those in Uganda may also have contributed to borrowing from Sheng. Some of the loan words from Sheng are indicated in Table 15.4 below. Table 15.4: Sheng loans Sheng

Luyaaye

Gloss

bonga so fala fegi bomb pakalast

bonga sso ffala ffege bbomu pakalast

‘talk/How are you?’ ‘one hundred’ ‘stupid person’ ‘cigarette’ ‘marijuana’ ‘here to stay, 24/7’

We note that loans from Sheng are not changed semantically. The concept as provided in Sheng is retained. However, we note that a few spelling deviations sometimes occur, as in the case of fegi in Sheng and ffege ‘cigarette’ in Luyaaye. Empirical evidence from the corpus so far collected shows that Luyaaye does not borrow from Ugandan “indigenous” languages apart from Luganda, on which it is based. The fact that there are no lexical items from other Ugandan languages underscores the general belief that many youth languages arose because of the multilingual setting found in African countries and their urban centers. In the Ugandan case, the emergence of Luyaaye may only be remotely associated with multilingualism. In a sample of 1300 words collected, no single word of Luyaaye is from Ugandan “indigenous” languages except, as earlier mentioned, the semantically manipulated words from Luganda. The bulk of the words are semantically manipulated Luganda words, which are supplemented mainly by English, Kiswahili and Sheng loan words. Despite English being the official language of Uganda and Kiswahili being the proposed second official language, neither language is indigenous to any ethnic group in Uganda. More significantly, neither of them enjoys wide usage in day-to-day informal discourses among Ugandans.

2.2 Morphological manipulation Morphological manipulation is a common linguistic strategy in Luyaaye and takes on various forms. For example, cases of borrowed affixes are common in Luyaaye. This is a new innovation in Luyaaye compared to the situation in standard Luganda. The most outstanding evidence lies in the use of the English suffix -ing (gerund), which is realized as -inga in Luyaaye. Other examples

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include the Luganda suffix -ika, which normally denotes potentiality or a potential mood (‘-able/-ible’) and the use of the generic plural marker ma- on English borrowed stems. The suffix -inga is normally indexed on borrowed English adjectival and nominal bases in order to derive verbs such as the following. Table 15.5: Morphological manipulation English

Luyaaye

Gloss

late

oku-leet-ing-a [INF -late-PRES / ASPECT- FV ]

‘to be late’

smart

okw-esimaat-ing-a [INF -smart-PRES / ASPECT- FV ]

‘to dress smartly’

time

oku-tayim-ing-a [INF -time-PRES / ASPECT- FV ]

‘to time’

The derived verbs are inflected for tense, person, aspect and mood following Luganda grammatical structures, e.g. yeesimaatinze [3SG S-PAST-smart-PERF ] (‘s/he is smartly dressed). Sometimes, especially among certain Luyaaye slangs, the syllables of the new linguistic form are reversed in a style locally know as oludikya. In this case, yeesimatinze will become nzetimaasiyee. This is to make the whole process appear to be a mere language game, a characteristic of most youth language practices in Africa. On the other hand, Luyaaye also draws from Luganda for morphemic hybridization. The suffix -ika, which denotes potentiality (‘-able’, ‘-ible’) in standard Luganda, is also commonly suffixed on English nominal or adverbial stems to derive verbs, for example okulayinika [INF ‑line‑POT ] ‘to become rich’. We note that the -ika form, which is attested in Luganda, is used differently since it does not denote potentiality in this case. In Luganda, it can only be suffixed on verbs to denote potentiality in cases like tendeka-tendekeka (‘coach-coachable’), soma-someka (‘read-legible’). In the same way, Luyaaye often uses the prefix ma-, which it attaches to English nominal and adjectival stems to derive nouns. In Luyaaye, it does not denote pluralism nor augmentation but a case of morphological manipulation, which aims at giving the words a feel of an urbanized lexicon and sophistication. As in the case with borrowed words from English, the derived forms are semantically changed as shown in Table 15.6.

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Table 15.6: Derived Luyaaye forms English stems

Derived Luyaaye form

New meaning

wire steady smart gap side target

mawaya [ma-wire] masitede [ma-steady] masimaati [ma-smart] magaapu [ma-gap] masayidi [ma-side] matageti [ma-target]

‘mad person’ ‘news’ ‘clothes’ ‘one’s territory’ ‘home’ ‘mission’

Lastly, Luyaaye employs the suffixes aka- and obu- to derive nouns, especially those that refer to body parts. The prefix aka- or its plural form obu- are attached to verbal stems to derive nouns that designate body parts (see Table 15.7). Table 15.7: Prefixes aka- and obuLuyaaye

English equivalent

obulya (obu-‘eat’) obulaba (obu-‘see’) akassa (aka-‘breath’) akeetikka (aka-‘carry’) obulenge (obu-‘goats legs’) obukwata (obu-‘catch’)

‘teeth’ ‘eyes (sunglasses)’ ‘nose’ ‘head’ ‘legs’ ‘fingers’

Whereas the resultant forms are built on Luganda verbal stems, their meanings are very abstract and opaque to those who are not initiated into the Luyaaye community of practice.

2.3 Semantic manipulation Luyaaye is systematically enriched through various types of semantic manipulations. In comparison to other linguistic strategies, semantic manipulation is the most dominant linguistic strategy in creating and expanding the lexicon of Luyaaye. As noted by Kießling and Mous (2004), “semantic manipulations reveal much of the youths’ inherent creativity”, a feature that is inherent in Luyaaye. Semantic manipulation refers to the process of modifying the meaning of the existing word. It involves various forms of modifications such as semantic restriction, metaphorical expansion, dysphemism, metonymic changes and euphemism. In a more detailed analysis of semantic change in African languages, Dimmendaal (2011: 117) observes that “reinterpretation as manifestations of

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semantic change involve either a narrowing (specialisation, restriction) or widening (broadening, or less precise, generalisation) of meanings”. Dimmendaal further highlights that these manifestations generally occur at either metaphorical or metonymic levels. Below, we examine some of the most frequent types of semantic manipulation attested in Luyaaye.

2.3.1 Metaphorical Expansion Metaphorical expansion refers to the process of endowing an already existing word in question over and above its existing semantic value with a specific meaning in another field (Namyalo 2010). According to Dubuc (1997), metaphorical expansion refers to processes by which words are given new meanings using analogy with their established meanings. However, Kittay (1987) observes that metaphors, like other forms of semantic manipulation, are conceptual and provide members of a linguistic community with structures for perceiving and understanding the world. In order to identify metaphorical expansion, attention is normally drawn to the similarities in terms of the meaning of the word being manipulated and the characteristics of the concept being expressed. In relation to this, Bonvillain (1993) emphasizes that metaphors are based on unstated comparisons between entities or events that share certain similar referential features while ignoring those of contrast. Dimmendaal (2011) divides metaphorical change into two categories, namely “interfield metaphorical change” and “intrafield change”. He notes that “intrafield changes involve changes belonging to the same semantic field (mapping of perception and cognition); interfield changes, on the hand, involve changes in meaning of different semantic fields” (2011: 119). Intrafield changes are not common in Luyaaye. However, interfield metaphorical changes are frequently employed as a way of concealing meaning from non-speakers of Luyaaye, which can be considered as the game of excluding the uninitiated. Some of the examples are summarized in the following. Metaphors in Luyaaye as observed in Tables 15.8 and 15.9 can occur at word level (see examples like kataala, kutuula, enkoko etc.) as well as at phrase level (see okusuna jjita, mazzi mawanvu etc.). In some circumstances, they also occur as phraseologisms. A phraseologism is the co-occurrence of a form or a lemma of a lexical item and one or more additional linguistic elements of various kinds, which function as one semantic unit in a clause or sentence. Phraseological units in Luyaaye are normally verbs that are semantically changed and combined with another word to form an expression which denotes a single concept.

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Table 15.8: Interfield metaphorical expansion in Luyaaye Luyaaye metaphors Meaning in and their literal Luyaaye meaning

Meaning in standard Luganda

Figurative usage based on resemblance

okunyoola enkata

‘to drive’

‘to twist in a circular manner’

The action resembles intertwining a banana leaf in a circular manner.

okusunagitta

‘to scratch/rub’

‘to play a guitar’

The action of playing a guitar resembles that of scratching your body when it itches.

okujjako ettaala

‘to sleep’

‘to switch off lights’ Turning off lights resembles the action of closing your eyes.

enkoko

‘marijuana’

‘chicken’

This alludes to the sweetness and cultural importance attached to chicken.

okunyeenyaa akalevu

‘to eat’

‘to shake the chin’

The expression connotes the movement of the chin while eating.

mmasiini

‘wife’

‘machine’

The cultural label associated with wives in the home, they “work like a machine”.

okuluma

‘to cheat sb.’

‘to bite’

A painful experience of being bitten by a deadly insect.

okubatiza

‘to register’

‘to be baptized’

To become known in a given community through the act of initiation.

In Luyaaye, phraseologisms are a common practice used for idiomatic expressions that denote humor. They also demonstrate that the user is a modern-urban person who is up to date with the new sociocultural life of the youth in Kampala. Some of the verbs that feature most productively to form phraseologisms are shown in the following examples: kusala – ‘to cut’ oku-sala e-n-dogo okw-e-sala o-bu-wero oku-sala e-zzike INF-cut IV-9-guitar INF-REFL-cut IV-11-torn pieces INF-cut IV-5.chimpanzee of cloth ‘to dance’ ‘to dress smartly/expensively’ ‘to go to the bathroom’

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Table 15.9: Other interfield metaphoric changes in Luyaaye Luganda

English equivalent

Manipulated meaning in Luyaaye

okuligita okwesala obuwero obulenge ebbaati okutuukayo okwemakula okubojja mazzi mawanvu abaana kupika kulya omuggo kuyiiya kukaaba okunyeenya kataala okukwata akati kutaayiza kutandika kutuula

‘to play’ ‘to cut’ ‘torn pieces of cloth’ ‘legs of a goat’ ‘iron sheet’ ‘to reach’ ‘to steal’ ‘to bite’ ‘deep water’ ‘children’ ‘to pump’ ‘to eat’ ‘stick/cane’ ‘to be creative’ ‘to cry’ ‘to shake’ ‘a small lantern’ ‘to catch/grab hold of’ ‘to fence off’ ‘to start’ ‘to sit’

‘to fight’ ‘to be in love’ ‘good/expensive clothes’ ‘legs of a human being’ ‘airplane’ ‘to steal/to take from sb.’ ‘to go’ ‘to kiss’ ‘rich person’ ‘social group’ ‘to cook’ ‘to arrest/to be arrested’ ‘10,000 shillings’ ‘to steal’ ‘to sell/to make a deal’ ‘to be paid’ ‘a villager /semi-mad’ ‘to be common/to become important’ ‘to try’ ‘to get tired/to run’ ‘to make things hard/impossible’

kulya – ‘to eat’ oku-lya kkaasi INF-eat cash ‘to enjoy life’

oku-lya

obulamu life ‘to enjoy life’ INF-eat

oku-lya

ama-lawundi 6-round ‘to relax/to take a walk’ INF-eat

okuba/okulina – ‘to have/to be with’ oku-ba ma-waya oku-ba ow’essakala INF-be 6-wire INF-be village ‘to be mad’ ‘to be a villager/non-urban’

oku-ba

pulo professor ‘to be smart/sharp/creative’

INF-be

okutema – ‘to cut’ oku-tema amasala okw-etema ssipeeya balidi okutema muagatuli INF-cut food INF-cut spare coldness INF-cut holes ‘to eat’ ‘to sell your body/to change ‘to feel cold’ appearance (to undress)’

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okusuula – ‘to drop/loss’ oku-suula akasaanikira oku-suula ssiteepu INF-drop cap INF- drop step ‘not to be attentive/stare’ ‘to miss a point/behave irresponsibly’

oku-suula o-bu-ziga INF-drop IV-14-see ‘not to keep an eye on someone/something’

Besides using the most frequent verbs in phraseologisms, as discussed above, Luyaaye uses syntactic units or expressions that denote a single concept. This linguistic manipulation is very productive in Luyaaye and constitues one of the smartest ways of being excluded from the Luyaaye speaking community. See examples below: (3)

okugwa mu miguwa – ‘to be married’ (marital act/sex) Eyo ddeemu nze ngugwa mu mi-guwa. DEM woman 1SG 1SG .fall LOC CL 4-rope ‘I am married to that lady/woman (I am the one who makes love to that girl).’

(4)

okugenda e Jjuba – ‘to smoke marijuana’ Ganja y-a-genz-e Jjuba. Ganja 2SG -PAST-go-PFV Jjuba (place where they smoke marijuana from) ‘Ganja went to smoke marijuana.’

2.3.2 Metonymy Another common semantic manipulation in Luyaaye is the use of metonymy. Gibbs (1999: 61), as quoted by Nassenstein (2011), defines metonymies as concepts of speech in which the concrete depiction of some object or person stands for or represents larger objects or domains of experience. Closely related to this perception, Bonvillain (1993) views metonymy as a type of semantic transfer in which one entity is taken to stand for another on the basis of contextual relationship. Lakoff and Johnson (1980), on the other hand, argue that this transfer quite often allows us to make reference by association as well as to conceptualize one thing by relating it to something else, i.e. two domains are linked together. Dimmendaal (2011) divides metonymies into “intrafield metonymic changes” on the one hand and “interfield metonymic change” on the other. He notes that “within intrafield metonymic changes, semantic extensions stand in a contiguity relationship with the original term” (Dimmendaal 2011: 119). Like “intrafield metaphoric changes”, “intrafield metonymic changes” are not common in Luyaaye. However, interfield metonymic changes are attested in Luyaaye and

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generally relate to lexemes referring to power, money and wealth, as exemplified in Table 15.10. Table 15.10: Interfield metonymic changes in Luyaaye Luyaaye

Mutual association

Gloss

pulo (short form for professor)

‘intelligent/smart person’

‘professor, highly educated person’

dooni

‘rich person’

‘don/university lecturer’

mayinja

‘person with power and respect’

‘high rank army/police officer’

ropa (short form for ropaleria)

‘rich person’

‘Ropaleria (a name of a rich Asian businessman in Kampala)’

tumbuto (tumbo) from Kiswahili

‘rich person’

‘a person with a big belly especially those in politics’

As indicated in Table 15.10 above, a person who is rich is normally referred to as ddooni, ropa or tumbuto. Historically, educated people in Uganda were usually rich, especially during the colonial era. Despite the fact that this status might have changed, society perceives dons as rich people, thus all those who are financially well-off, whether university dons or not, are referred to by this label. This applies to the concept attested in the use of pulo in Luyaaye. Society considers all professors to be intelligent and a symbol of intellectualism. Therefore, any person who is smart or sharp is a professor regardless of his or her academic background. For example, a street boy who can smartly avoid being arrested by police is a pulo. 2.3.3 Antonymic strategies The use of antonyms in Luyaaye is another strategy for creating or expanding the lexicon. There is a tendency to say the opposite of what is meant in a rather playful manner. For example, okugenda ku yunivasite (‘to go to the university’) meaning ‘to be sentenced to jail’ is a common expression among Luyaaye speakers. Similarly, okugenda, which means ‘to go’ in standard Luganda means ‘to come’ in Luyaaye. Okwesala obuwero, which literally means ‘to be dressed in torn old clothes’ means in Luyaaye ‘to be dressed smartly and expensively’. 2.3.4 Onomastic synecdoche Onomastic synecdoche normally involves onomatopoetic tendencies, a situation that has been referred to as “onomastic substitute” (Nassenstein 2011). Words

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are normally formulated based on the sound, appearance, behavior or character they resemble. Onomastic synecdoches are not very common in Luyaaye; however, a few examples are attested. The word endere, which refers to a ‘flute’, is used to mean someone who talks a lot, in most cases nonsense. The noun zoliga, on the other hand, is a Luyaaye word for a ‘mad person’ and is also used to refer to a person with a fluctuating mood or unstable character.

2.3.5 Euphemism and dysphemisms Euphemism is the substitution of an impolite, offensive or taboo word with another word which is agreeable or inoffensive, especially among speakers of a given language who also share common values and norms. Allan and Burridge (2006) consider euphemisms to be words which serve as substitutes for dispreferred expressions in order to avoid possible loss of face, either one’s own face or, through giving offence, that of the audience or of some third party. Euphemisms are normally used for words which relate to sex and sexual organs, and express the speaker’s attitude towards the entity in question. Taboo concepts and taboo avoidance strategies are deeply rooted in Luganda, from which Luyaaye derives some of its social identity. Undisclosed codes are normally used to exclude the young ones from what is culturally referred to as the “the sweet talk of the old buddies”. Luyaaye also borrows from these strategies to structure euphemisms which are comprehensible to their community. For example, ‘to go to bed with a woman/man’ is referred to as okugenda e Kawolongojjo/ Nnabuddo (‘to go to Kawolongojjo/Nnabuddo’). (5)

(6)

o-ku-genda AUGM - INF- go ‘to have sex’ o-ku-genda AUGM - INF- go ‘to have sex’

e LOC

e LOC

Kawolongojjo Kawolongojjo (name of a place)

Nna-buddo FEM -Buddo (name of a place)

Other euphemisms include injury (a loan from English) for ‘menstruation’, maganda (‘tangerine’) or cable (a loan from English) for the male organ (‘penis’), okusala ezzike (‘to cut a chimpanzee’) for ‘to go to the bathroom’, okubojja for ‘kissing in public’ (considered a taboo in the context of Luyaaye and Luganda) and okusuula ennyiriri (‘to drop lines’) for ‘having diarrhoea’.

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However, speakers of some Luyaaye slangs also use dysphemisms. According to one of the respondents, Mukasa Jeremiah, some Luyaaye speakers use a very derogatory language. This is a choice for a few individuals that should not be generalized to encompass the entire community of Luyaaye speakers. Some of the dysphemistic terms are shown in Table 15.11. Table 15.11: Dysphemisms in Luyaaye Luyaaye

Literal Translation

Gloss

okusuula obusa

‘to drop animal droppings’

‘to go to the toilet’

nnabunya

‘the female hole’

‘woman’s private part/the female organ’

enfumisi

‘that which penetrates’

‘man’s private part/the male organ’

okuyingira ekizaala

‘to enter that which produces/gives birth’

‘to make love/have sex’

2.3.6 Hyperbole Nassenstein (2011) notes that exaggeration in speech is a normal part of human behavior and is common to all languages. Hyperbole is the use of exaggeration to create emphasis or sometimes to create a strong impression. The use of hyperbole in Luyaaye is often manipulated by the use of noun class five prefix on words that speakers want to exaggerate. For example, liwaleti eriri hape ‘a wallet that is happy’ is an exaggeration to create an impression that someone has enough cash on him. Other forms of hyperbole are indicated in Table 15.12. Table 15.12: Luyaaye hyperboles Luyaaye

Standard Luganda meaning

English equivalent

kabi wambwa landiloodi embooko

‘dangerous’ ‘he/she is like a dog’ ‘owner of land/house(s), landlord’ ‘stick, whip’

‘expensive/good looking’ ‘poor, not presentable/low class/nobody’ ‘powerful and rich’ ‘young beautiful girl’

2.4 Phonotactic manipulation Phonotactic manipulations are not very common in Luyaaye; however, there are a few examples. Cases of truncation in words like pulezido ‘president’, satto ‘Saturday’, misho ‘mission’, kawi ‘cowboy’, popi ‘police’ and faz ‘father’ are becoming more common. Other examples are from Luganda, such as

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ddo-ddondolo ‘cheap’, swame kuswama ‘to take cover/to lay in waiting’, omungere-omungereza ‘a British, white folk’ and bijjo-bijjooto ‘rich person’. Dummy affixation is also a common practice. Dummy affixation refers to a practice of assigning semantically empty affixes, mainly to non-truncated stems. The affixes -o and -i are the most common dummies in Luyaaye and they are suffixed mainly to English loans that have been nativized, for example besito ‘best friend’, bagi/bbaaga ‘bag’ and ssooti ‘short’.

2.5 New coinages in Luyaaye Luyaaye speakers creatively coin new linguistic forms by intuition. Some of these coinages find their way into Luyaaye and in a matter of days all Luyaaye users take them on. However, some are rejected and new ones are coined. The basis for acceptance or rejection depends solely on the speakers’ attitudes or feelings towards the new coinage as well as on his/her status. In an interview with Abbey Mukiibi, it became evident that many words are coined on a daily basis in Luyaaye. Certainly, over the course of several months or even a few weeks, certain expressions may fall out of use and new ones are being created to replace them. He notes that “few of them get accepted by their social community. You hear them say ekyo tekinkubye, ‘that word does not strike me’ or tekirya swagger ‘it is not very classy’”. Some of the new forms in Luyaaye are highlighted in Table 15.13. Table 15.13: New linguistic forms in Luyaaye Luyaaye

Meaning

Example sentence

olubeyu [IV -11-beyu]

‘street’

Kati nkasiba ku lubeyu wansi. ‘I now stay/work in the street.’

naku

‘punch’

Yamufumise naku n’akolakalasi. ‘He punched him to death.’

ettiizi [IV-5-tiizi]

‘training’

Ngenda kuziga ttiizi ya Cranes. ‘I am going to watch the Cranes as they train.’

kalodiya

‘rich person’

Kalodiya wange anvuddemu. ‘My boss/rich person has given up on me/ let me down.’

okumanga [INF -manga]

‘to eat’

Mpaayo akaasa mange seeziga ffiiti. ‘Assist me with 1000 shillings/I am feeling hungry.’

okutwanga [INF -twanga]

‘to be in control’

Twanga vvere bupoppi tebukulyawo. ‘Be in control, otherwise you may be arrested.’

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kiyungwe [7-yungwe]

‘mad person’

Kiyungwe aluleese zonna. ‘The mad person has created problems.’

omugeto [IV -3-geto]

‘wedding party’

Omuraasi waffe yakoze omugeto mawa. ‘The Rastafarian threw a wonderful wedding party.’

topido

‘heartbeat/ pressure’

Topido zimbojja, seezigaffiiti. ‘I have high palpitations, I don’t feel okay.’

bunkologo [13-nkologo]

‘local defense officers’

Pulezido yayiye obunkologo mu site. ‘The President brought many local defense officers in the city.’

kanuyo [kanuyo]

‘free of charge’

Mwana ngenda kuziga landiloodi anti byakanuyo. ‘I am going to see the Kabaka, entrance is free.’

kanyoso [12-nyoso ]

‘small’

Leero ddiiru zakanyoso. ‘There are few people to steal from.’

omudingusi [IV-3-dingusi]

‘luggage’

Ddeemu bamuyiyiizza omudingusi nasala waya. ‘They stole luggage from a woman and she became angry.’

okubaaka [INF -baaka]

‘to bury a dead person’

Chali enzirusi yamulyawo netumubaaka. ‘Our friend was knocked down by a car and we buried him.’

2.6 A synopsis of the linguistic strategies used in a “formal Luyaaye” written text In order to give an overview of the linguistic strategies used in Luyaaye, the following analysis of a sample text, written in Luyaaye by Rasta Farai, is presented. This is a news article from Bukedde newspaper (2nd June 2011). The objective is to identify the different linguistic manipulations exhibited in a single text and their frequency. Example: Munnakibuga Omuyaaye (by Rasta Farai, 2nd June 2011) Bboyi wange bu nkologo ne bu Popi tayimu y’okulamaga omwaka guno bwagikubye ebipali abaana abasinga ne baviiramu awo. ‘My friend, the military men and the police have spelt doom on our pilgrimage this year round; they have been overstrict so that many of our colleagues have virtually gone empty handed.’ Omanyi bwagenze ne butoowa woda mbu teri kubulaaza mu mbali nga bulijjo abalamazi bwe bazogana era obwedda buli mu kwechaatinga ne bulemesa abaana okujanta.

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‘You know they passed an order that there was to be no late night dancing by the pilgrims, yet this has been the case since time immemorial. They patrolled the place and thus made it hard for us to steal/pickpocket.’ Basoose kulemesa abapika obusala mu bu woteeri bwaffe obw’echati ku bbala ate nga eyo gye tuyiiyiza naffe abalamazi ne basika ku zzigi ne babaawo. ‘The police actually began by obstructing our cheap roadside food vendors from selling food to the pilgrims, yet it is in these makeshift eating places that we also set up to sell our drugs to the pilgrims.’ Waliwo ba chali abaabadde babazizza ga zzigi naye bu kologo ne bujiimba abaabadde beeyokya ne bulookeera mpaka lwe bwabaguddeko ne bubalya. ‘There were some smart-ass guys who braved the tide and brought drugs along, but alas, the police apprehended and arrested those that they caught smoking drugs/cannabis.’ Ba chali emmaali baagitadde mwana nga nabwo bwagala kugyezza ne bulyoka bubata ate nga basoose kwenunula nga bw’okitegeera bboyi wange. ‘Our colleagues had to let go of their drugs because the policemen too wanted the drugs badly, but at long last they were set free after paying a bribe to the policemen.’ Nze ekyanyambye bboyi kwesereka nga ropa nga nkasibira mu bukoosi bw’abalamazi nga tebalina wasiwaasi. ‘I escaped being arrested by dressing up well and staying closer to groups of pilgrims who were calm and minding their own business, that way I was able to avoid being arrested.’ Eyo gye nabalizza li waleti lya jjama ng’alobye mwana era akadiilu olwayingidde ne ntikka ku li bbooda mpaka Kireka era nagenze okulisaachinga mwana nga liri lodedi n’emiggo 20 nebu alubbaaki. ‘I was so lucky that after spending some time with the pilgrims, I was able to pick pocket an absent minded guy, took his wallet and hopped onto a motor bike to Kireka town. While searching the wallet, I found two hundred thousand shillings and some change that I pocketed there and then.’ Ddeemu eyabadde mwenye yabadde ava TZ mwana ndowooza yabadde mu kikoosi ekyalamaze ne ddeemu w’omugenzi Dr. Mwalimu Nyerere. ‘My victim was an important lady from Tanzania (TZ). I think she was among those who had escorted the wife of the former Tanzanian president, the late Dr. Mwalimu Julius Nyerere.’

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Kati bboyi ndi mu kulya malaawundi e Namboole ku ng’oma ya Cranes ne Guinea Bissau. ‘My friend, I am now having fun at Namboole stadium watching a football match between Uganda Cranes and Guinea Bissau.’ Ndi mijjulo era sigenda kulookeera kisima kyonna okujjako nga bbatiso eneebeera kkiriya eyo sigireka nga bw’okitegeera bboyi wange. ‘I have enough money on me and I am not going to look for any more luck unless it presents itself in a clear and straight forward manner, then I will definitely go for it. Hope you know what I am saying.’ Wabula Cranes bw’eneerya eng’oma laazima abatuuze bagenda kucacayika awo ku tayimu y’akawungeezi nja kuziga awanabeera abangi nkole ku swaame nga bwe tulinda ebya wiiki ejja bboyi. ‘But if the Cranes win, I am sure Ugandans will be jubilant and will celebrate the victory in the evening. I will look for crowded areas, hang around as I wait for what luck brings next week.’ From the above text we note the various linguistic manipulations that are utilized to form different lexical items in Luyaaye. These are summarized below: a) Lexical borrowing Table 15.14: Lexical borrowing Luyaaye

Source Language

English equivalent

bboyi wange/(< ‘my friend’) jjama (< ‘man’) wallet ddiilu wasiwasi mpaka kutowa tayimu kupika

English Kiswahili English English Kiswahili Kiswahili Kiswahili English Kiswahili

‘boy’ ‘Muslim brotherhood’ ‘wallet’ ‘deal’ ‘unsettled’ ‘till’ ‘to order, give a command’ ‘time’ ‘to cook’

From the list of borrowed words above, we note that out of the 227 words used in the article, only eight words are borrowed. This gives a total of 3.5%. Four of the borrowed words are from English, four are from Kiswahili. We further observe that, whereas earlier on in section 2.1, we observed that many of the borrowed words are semantically changed, in this randomly selected article, the case is slightly different. Out of the eight borrowed words only two have undergone a semantic shift, i.e. bboyi and jjama.

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b) Semantic manipulation Table 15.15: Semantic manipulation Luyaaye

English equivalent

Primary sense in standard Luganda

okwesereka emmaali okulya okukuba okuziga abaana okupika okubaawo okweyokya okulookera okukasiba okuyiiya

‘to dress’ ‘stolen goods’ ‘to arrest’ ‘to interfere’ ‘to see/watch out’ ‘thieves’ ‘to cook’ ‘to survive through stealing’ ‘to smoke marijuana’ ‘to be on the alert’ ‘to stay, to sit’ ‘to steal’

‘to roof’ ‘money/goods’ ‘to eat’ ‘to steal/cheat’ ‘to lay a trap’ ‘children’ ‘to pump’ ‘to survive’ ‘to burn oneself’ ‘to anxiously await/look for something’ ‘to tie’ ‘to be creative’

Semantic manipulation accounts for 5.2% of the total words used in the article. The words are mainly verbs, with only two nouns. Other word classes are not represented in this sample. c) New coinages Table 15.16: New coinages Luyaaye

English equivalent

okuloba okubivaaza okuzogana okujimba kipali okujanta obusala ziggi kologo kikoosi ddeemu mbali

‘to be absentminded’ ‘to dress well’ ‘to keep watch/move up and down’ ‘to arrest’ ‘bad luck’ ‘to steal’ ‘food’ ‘drugs’ ‘military’ ‘group of people’ ‘woman’ ‘disco, dancing’

New coinages constitute 5.7% of the total words in the article, which makes this the leading linguistic strategy of lexical expansion in that text. We note that the stems of new coinages are totally alien to Luganda or other source languages. However, the morphological and phonological constructions do not deviate from those of standard Luganda.

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d) Phonotactic manipulation Table 15.17: Phonotactic manipulation Luyaaye

English equivalent

popi bbala/bbalaza ropa swame (okuswama)

‘police’ ‘veranda of the house’ ‘Ropaleria’ ‘to wait patiently’

Cases of phonotactic manipulation were also found in the article. This linguistic strategy was used in only four words, representing a total of 1.8% of the total lexicon in the article. These were mainly truncated word forms from English, Kiswahili and Luganda. e) Morphological manipulation Table 15.18: Morphological manipulation Luyaaye

English equivalent

okwechatinga okusaachinga

‘to watch over/to look after someone’ ‘to search/to check’

Two words affected by morphological manipulation were identified in the text. This represents 0.008% of the total lexicon from the article sampled. The two words were derived using the -ing suffix borrowed from English, rendered in Luyaaye as -inga. Okwechatinga is based on the English stem ‘chat’ while okwesaachinga is derived from the English stem ‘search’.

3 Conclusion In conclusion, therefore, this paper has attempted to discuss some of the most common linguistic strategies used in creating Luyaaye words. We have noted that most words are formed from already existing ones through borrowing, semantic manipulation, phonological or morphological hybridization. We also noted that many Luyaaye words are derived from Luganda. However, the in clination to borrow loanwords, especially from English, is steadily increasing. Finally, we saw that Luyaaye also creates new forms which hitherto did not exist in Luganda or other known languages in the context. Some of the words are accepted while others are rejected. As observed by Dimmendaal (2011), “the lexicon does not only simply consist of a list of lexemes or words. What we find

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instead is a listing organized in a network with lexical relations” (Dimmendaal 2011: 117). In Luyaaye, this is achieved through employing different linguistic strategies as the article demonstrates.

References Allan, Keith & Kate Burridge. 2006. Forbidden words. Taboo and the censoring of language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bonvillain, Nancy. 1993. Language, culture and communication: The meaning of message. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Dubuc, Robert. 1997. Terminology: A practical approach.. Quebec: Linguatech. Eckert, Penelope. 2012. Three waves of variation study: The emergence of meaning in the study of variation. Annual Review of Anthropology 41. 87–100. Dimmendaal, Gerrit J. 2011. Historical linguistics and the comparative study of African languages. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Gibbs, Raymond W. Jr. 1999. The poetics of mind: Figurative thought, language, and understanding. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gordon, Raymond G., Jr. (ed.). 2005. Ethnologue: Languages of the world. Dallas: SIL International. Kashoki, Mubanga E. 1978. Lexical innovation in four Zambian languages. African Languages/ Langues Africaines 4. 80–95. Kerswill, Paul. 2010. Youth languages in Africa and Europe: Linguistic subversion or emerging vernaculars? Lancaster: Department of Linguistics and English language, Lancaster University, African Studies Group. Ms. Kießling, Roland & Marten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa, Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341. Kittay, Eva F. 1987. Metaphor: Its cognitive force and linguistic structure. New York: Oxford University Press. Labov, William. 1972. Some principles of linguistic methodology. Language in Society 1(1). 97– 120. Ladefoged, Peter, Ruth Glick & Clive Criper. 1972. Language in Uganda. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lakoff, George & Mark Johnson. 1980. Metaphors we live by. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Mukama, Ruth & Oswald Ndoleriire. 1997. The quest for a national language in a multilingual setting. Journal of Linguistics 12. 15–24. Nakayiza, Judith. 2012. Language education policy in Uganda: Realities of mother tongue language policy. London: School of Oriental and African Studies dissertation. Naluwooza, Viola. 1995. Luyaaye: A social dialect of the underprivileged? Kampala: Makerere University MA thesis. Namugala, Samuel. 2009. Oluyaaye nnamagalow’ oluganda [Luyaaye, a dialect of Luganda]. Kampala: Makerere University BA thesis. Namyalo, Saudah. 2010. Terminological modernization of Luganda in the field of linguistics. Kampala: Makerere University PhD thesis.

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Namyalo, Saudah and Judith Nakayiza. 2014. Dilemmas in implementing language rights in multilingual Uganda, Current Issues in Language Planning 15,4. (online version). Nassenstein, Nico. 2011. The Lingala-based youth language Yanké. Cologne: Institute for African Studies, University of Cologne MA thesis. Nsimbi, Michael B. 1983. Kulya nyingi sikuggwa maddu [Eating a lot does not stop one becoming hungry again]. Kampala: Cranes Publishers Ltd. Makoni, Sinfree, Janina Brutt-Griffler & Pedzisai Mashiri. 2007. The use of “indigenous” and urban vernaculars in Zimbabwe, Language in Society 36. 25–49. Robins, Robert H. 1971. General linguistics: An introductory survey (Second edition). London: Longman. Spitulnik, Debra. 1999. The language of the city: Town Bemba as urban hybridity. Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 8(1). 30–59. Wald, Bwnji. 1994. Sub-Saharan Africa. In Christopher Moseley & R.E. Asher (eds.), Atlas of the world’s languages, 287–346.. London: Routledge. Walusimbi, Livingstone. 1994. Amateekag’ oluganda amafuuzi [Luganda transformation rules]. Kampala: Makerere University Publishers.

Abbreviations 1 2 3 AUG AUGM CONJ DEM FUT FV IMP INDIC INF IV LOC N NC / CL NEG NS PFV / PERF PL POSS POT PRES REFL SG

first person second person third person augmentative augment conjunction demonstrative pronoun future final vowel imperative indicative/mood infinitive initial vowel locative nasal noun class negation nominal suffix perfective/perfect aspect plural possessive potentiality present reflexive singular

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16 Conclusion and outlook: taking new directions in the study of youth language practices The current volume on youth language as spoken by young Africans in various urban settings from Cape Town to Addis Ababa has tried to draw a realistic and exemplified sketch of the social and linguistic practices that youths invent and shape in strong relation to their urban (resistance) identities. In particular, it has shown that the emerging (linguistic) practices triggered by changing social landscapes in urban Africa and their sociological parameters are based on complex repertoires that are both sociolinguistically diverse yet typologically similar in their morphophonological framework. New urban identities are constructed and performed all over the continent, as portrayed by scholars who were permitted access to the communities of practice described. While only few settings have been analyzed in any depth as to the sociological dimension of the youths’ practices (e.g. Nairobi, Kinshasa, Cape Town, Addis Ababa etc.), some others have been explored analytically to a minor extent (e.g. Kigali, Bangui, Harare etc.) while most cities have not yet been considered at all (e.g. Luanda, Lagos, Lomé, Maputo and many more). This lack of information on existing diverging repertoires as realized by youths leaves white spots across the linguistic map of Africa, which must be filled with linguistic evidence as well as sociolinguistic background information in order to come to a reliable overall picture of youth language practices as manifestations of ideologies and identity in urban Africa. Though we have established certain similarities and tried to look at youth languages through the prism of current sociolinguistic approaches that reveal what these languages share in terms of usage, function, communities of practice, networks and leadership, the various chapters have also contributed to our understanding of youth language practices in terms of their diversity and salient characteristics in their respective contexts. While the negotiation and expression of identity appears to be central to African youth languages, the actual arrangement of communities of practice and their cohesive strategies may vary due to the fact that they are embedded in the linguistic contexts of their wider societies or communities. This includes for instance the multilingual setup of the environment, local practices of code-switching, language ideologies and meta-linguistic discourses as well as language policies (exoglossic vs. endoglossic) that also have an impact on young people’s choices and repertoires (which, as linguistic practices based on urban reality, usually change much faster than those of constructed normative or “standardized” language).

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Despite the scholarly work that has already been carried out on African youth language practices, which has shed light on important foundations of sociolinguistic variation in urban Africa, there are still numerous blanks to fill in order to understand to what extent and depending upon what parameters youths construct their linguistic identities in African cities. Both the first conference on African urban youth language, organized in Cologne, Germany (2012), as well as its successor in Cape Town, South Africa (2013), and the academic follow-up to take place in Nairobi, Kenya (2015), have and will contribute to a better understanding of how youths deal with language in Africa, offering insights through case studies carried out by colleagues in the field. The study of youth language in Africa has also been taken up in a special issue of Sociolinguistic Studies edited by Eyo Mensah (forthcoming). This increasing academic interest in youth language practices – not only in the African, but equally in the global context (cf. Nortier and Svendsen 2015) – will contribute to a better understanding of youths’ struggles and strategies of coping with a socio-cultural world that is changing at an incredible pace and with enormous complexity in urban centers all around the world. In terms of further research, central topics such as the role incorporated by the diaspora – suggested by Rémi Armand Tchokothé (2014, personal communication) – could be treated in a separate workshop. This would lead to an exchange on how “home” as well as its inherent social and linguistic practices can be transported by speakers from the metropole to the diaspora. This would help to understand how young Africans in the diaspora view their peers “back home” and how they construct identities in a very diverging multilingual context, also taking into account how language attitudes and the patterns of language use of young speakers of youth languages differ in the metropole and diaspora(s). Do youths construct similar identities due to a globalized superdiversity in urban spaces worldwide? Thus, do they listen to the same music, follow the same interests, watch the same movies and do their networks operate in similar ways? In which ways do connections between diaspora and home extend these networks? While one option for young migrants would be to continue with similar strategies and practices in the new contexts and settings, another option would be that they shift from their youth language practices to other languages of broader communication, i.e. lingua francas, that are spoken in the multilingual diaspora, motivated by a too limited community of other young speakers with the same practices. Yanké speakers who have moved to Brussels, Belgium, and who have become part of similarly structured youth gangs in the Belgian capital to those they were affiliated to back in the metropole Kinshasa, tend to keep up their language for quite some time. By doing so, several have

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even become leaders of linguistic innovation within their new French- (and more standardized Lingala-) speaking groups (due to the covert prestige that their language use evokes), providing other members with the latest terminology that was in vogue in Kinshasa at their hour of departure. Yet, after a certain time during which they attempt to use (and introduce) Yanké lexemes and manipulations in their new community of practice, the Yanké basis usually vanishes. This has much less to do with negative attitudes or a lack of “proficiency” among other group members, and much more to do with diverging social practices. The use of Yanké as an in-group medium does not constitute a linguistic practice typically associated with the other social activities, rites and practices that form the group identity in question. These other social practices would for instance include nocturnal confrontations with Arabic-speaking Moroccan gangs in Brussels, the consumption of cheap Belgian strong beer and an engagement with French hip hop. All these pillars of orientation within the youths’ social practices diverge to a great extent from the respective Yanké practices, namely practices carried out by so-called Kolúna gangsters who assault passersby at night, smoke marihuana or drink locally distilled liquor (lotóko), and who prefer local Soukous music and/or Lingala hip hop over French hip hop à la parisienne. Thus, due to the degree of deviation in the youths’ range of practices, Yanké linguistic practices also do not fit into that framework any longer. Sooner or later the migrants tend to adopt terms of the French Verlan (going back to processes of metathesis) and will quickly acquire a similar density of terms in spoken interaction with other Lingala speakers of that very group. Young speakers of Kirundi Slang (Bujumbura, Burundi) or Imvugo y’Umuhanda (Kigali, Rwanda) in the diaspora are not likely to even practice their youth language in the diaspora as their communicative practices simply would not be understood by a great number of their Rwandan or Burundian peers, who communicate in French and Kinyarwanda or Kirundi in their communities. While these examples refer to youths who have migrated and thus became part of diaspora communities abroad, other important players in those communities are those youths who were born in the diaspora. Little research has been undertaken to investigate whether or not the practices of diaspora-born African youths reveal any similarities to youth language practices in Africa in terms of how their communities of practice work, which networks they involve and which linguistic and semiotic strategies they make use of. “Zimbos” (Zimbabweans who live abroad) in the UK appear to be strongly connected to their homeland and the (linguistic) practices at home and abroad seem to influence each other back and forth. This is also strongly evident in the practices of youths and musicians, as seen in the lyrics

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and performances of young artists (see also Veit-Wild 2009, Hollington and Makwabarara, this volume). It is not only the locality (metropole vs. diaspora) where youth language is practiced which needs to be redefined and taken into account, but also the changing patterns of inclusion and exclusion. Urban youth language in Africa becomes, as articulated by speakers in various cities, more and more present in public discourse, in politicians’ campaign speeches and on advertising billboards. Thus, youth language is no longer attached to a “street guy” image nor bound to the marginalized urban identities of prostitutes and gangsters. More than ever, youth language practices have shifted from stigmatized domains of usage towards new contexts that reveal less resistance but more conformity and the inclusion of former outsiders. We increasingly deal with “boundless identities” (Rémi Armand Tchokothé, personal communication) in youth language practices, which become more fluid and less attached to specific communities and their regulating in-group boundaries. This means that language rights are more easily conveyed to outsiders and that these outsiders may choose to deliberately integrate terms coined within a youth language framework into their daily life language and thereby “occupy” them. To youths themselves these terms then often lose their exclusiveness due to a changing ownership and integration into outsiders’ speech. This creates less resistance but more inclusion (of the excluded). Among the best examples is Sheng, where this process is already at an advanced level. For several decades, Sheng has been expanding and spreading, thus, it can no longer be considered a “youth language” in the strict sense, but rather a “new national language”. Slightly similar situations can be attested for Kinshasa (DR Congo) with Yanké and many other African youth languages. These new “boundless identities” of youth language speakers come along with more fluid and more accessible communities of practice that redefine the contexts of use of “youth language” as such. In Kinshasa, politicians during campaigns, teachers in schools, as well as “good patresfamilias” when joking at the dinner table, tend to use Yanké as a linguistic practice to pass a message to a specific group. This “infiltration” of new domains goes together with deviating ideologies of speakers as well as new identity constructions. The range of approaches to youth language phenomena (mostly from a sociolinguistic or typological point of view, underlining the social constructions and/or linguistic manipulations and deviations from the norm) have to be enriched with other approaches, too. A pragmatic approach, viewing “youth language” as a phenomenon that is insolubly bound to context in language use, could broaden the frameworth within which youth language practices are classified. So far it has primarily been typological features that have been in the focus of analysis, such as linguistic manipulations by speakers, as well as

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their identity constructions (see Jørgensen 2010), while pragmatics have only been taken into account by a few scholars (e.g. Androutsopoulos & Georgakopoulou 2003, Stenström 1995, 2006, 2014). We therefore suggest that youths’ linguistic and social practices are mainly determined by resistance identities that are based on deliberate pragmatic choices such as the violation of politeness (see Brown and Levinson 1987), politeness maxims (see Leech 2014) and a re-adaption of Grice’s maxims (1975), the re-contextualization of linguistic taboos (see Allan and Burridge 2006, Stenström 1995, 2006)1 and the emergence of new modes of interaction when expressing compliments and apologies, as well as strategies of approval or refusal. The pragmatic use of fluid multilingual repertoires should also be included in the focus of analysis, due to the fact that code-switching, translanguaging and language crossing may be used as attenuating, redressive actions (of negative politeness) in order to prevent loss of face. Yet speakers also tend to deliberately use positive face-threatening acts (FTAs, see Brown and Levinson 1987) such as insults, exaggerated direct requests and criticism in order to create group face loss as an esoterogenist strategy. These notions of “impoliteness” have been described by Culpeper (2011), among others. These pragmatic parameters seem to lead to unique patterns which recur in various youth language practices. When describing the pragmatic intentions of youth languages to establish new politeness patterns, play with existing taboos and create new ones (see Allan & Burridge 2006) as well as to initiate new ways of expressing consensus or disagreement, it becomes obvious that the context in which youths remodel language is more important to the discovery of youth’s minds than speakers’ linguistic manipulations themselves. Youth language practices such as Yanké (Kinshasa, DR Congo) and Imvugo y’Umuhanda (Kigali, Rwanda), for instance, display very diverging underlying pragmatic principles. The focus on pragmatic approaches to the analysis of youth language practices may open up a new perspective on both spoken interaction (real-life situations/phone calls) as well as on written interactions through “delivered texts” (see Paris 2011) in virtual communication (i.e. new social media). This leads us to another large and exciting domain, namely public digital spaces including social media like Facebook, Twitter, Viber or WhatsApp, which

1 Taboos constitute an especially under-researched field of study in the analysis of youth languages (see Stenström 1995). Yet taboos “drive the renewal of language” (Allan and Burridge 2006: 236), which is among the most salient underlying intentions of youth. Moreover, techniques of swearing reveal a lot about speakers’ ideologies. Swearing patterns have not yet been cross-linguistically analyzed for youth language practices either, apart from a very few studies (e.g. Danbolt Drange, Hasund and Stenström 2014).

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have barely been taken into account when talking about youth identity and language (but see Buckingham 2008). Social media such as Facebook already host impressive communities of users interested in (or acquainted with) youth languages. A public group which is free to join and entitled “Tsotsitaal” (South Africa) has more than 100 members; another group “Luyaaye” (Kampala, Uganda) has more than 500 users, and “Langila” (Kinshasa, DR Congo) more than 800,2 incorporating the slogan “parlez uniquement le langila pas d’autres langues” [speak only Langila, no other languages]. Twitter also offers a broad variety of highly frequented and popular Twitter users and groups such as “Sheng Nation, Wika Uskike”, which is followed by several thousand users and tweets with the aim of “the preservation and demystification of the Sheng language and culture” (see Figure 16.1).

Figure 16.1: The Twitter user “Sheng Nation” and its numbers of tweets and followers (from Twitter, December 2014)

These digital spaces open up new and dynamic domains which are characterized by the constant constructions and negotiations of identity and by fluid newly emerging linguistic practices. An investigation of these spaces across social media will also yield new insights into the concept of a “community of practice”, as the dynamic networks created through international digital connections go beyond the scope of “traditional” communities of practice as described by Eckert for Belten High (2000). These communities are more fluid, transnational, global 2 These numbers of members relate to December 2014 and can vary to a great extent.

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Figure 16.2: A Langila-speaking WhatsApp group “Langila Plus” (December 2014)3

3 The language sample presented from WhatsApp (with phone numbers and family names concealed) reads approximately as follows. Cedrick (5:55): “Amen father.” / Justin (5:55): “(In French:) End of the year prayer. Oh father, you who is with us father, we thank you for your

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and ever-changing, and digital spaces add the aspect of a certain anonymity. Moreover, these spaces extend the scope of the phenomenon under investigation as writing practices constitute an important aspect of the linguistic practices exercised by these communities. Youth language practices in digital spaces are still largely unstudied and thus comprise a huge new field that offers a broad range of possible research projects. Discourse in and about a range of youth languages has, due to the enormous spread of internet-compatible mobile devices, as well as more stable internet providers that often offer bundles of prepaid airtime, been shifting from local or regional “live” domains to virtual spaces where most of the parameters that are typical of a “traditional” community have changed. Langila can be mentioned as one example that has taken up the social media WhatsApp and is been elaborated, taught and discussed in multinational virtual groups with several hundred participants (see Figure 16.2) who do not share any social practices apart from the linguistic core practice or practices of meta-discourse. In the example in Figure 16.2, Langila speakers exchange prayers held in Langila which are modified versions of common (Christian) prayers such as the “Lord’s Prayer”. Thus, very intimate and ritualized linguistic acts such as praying are now transferred to a public, anonymous virtual space where the community usually does not share “ways of doing things, ways of talking, beliefs, values, power relations – in short, practices – [which] emerge in the course of this mutual endeavor”, as McConnell-Ginet and Eckert (1992: 464) put it, simply due to the fact that the community happens to be shaped anonymously (names are either freely chosen or only displayed as phone numbers) and arbitrarily on the basis of a common core interest in the same language. Whether and how administrators of these groups are also to be considered linguistic leaders or not, still remains to be analyzed. These groups reveal, when analyzed in terms of matters of leadership, longevity of linguistic innovations and multimedia input, very complex patterns that go beyond the idea that a group of speakers in a shared endeavor of social practices must share the same locality4 and possibly the same cultural orientacomfort. If we are here today, it is not due to our strength. Father, take all evil from us and receive us. You are above [meaning: in heaven] us and with each of us in this group. We started with you till the end, therefore protect us [. . .], let’s say amen!” / Alex (6:08): “Prayer of the end of the year 2014. Thank you Lord for how you protected us in this year 2014; Lord, no one is enlightened [lit.: burns] like you; Lord, do to us how you do to others [. . .] in this year, it may be all good. Amen.” 4 In the present example, all three speakers, even though they share the very intimate practice of praying together in Langila in virtual space, are located in different countries, as the country codes reveal. Yet these speakers do not know each other in person due to the mixed character of the group, which was originally formed out of a Facebook group of speakers who were interested in Langila (amongst them the present authors) and who were then added to the WhatsApp group by sharing their mobile phone numbers.

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tions as well as similar linguistic ties. The above-mentioned Langila groups have emerged as de-localized and unrooted global communities that discuss issues of membership and language rights on a very different level – thus, a truly challenging setting in the study of “youth language”. Moreover, it is more questionable than ever whether a language practice like Langila, which is no longer limited to a certain age group when used in digital space, still constitutes a “youth language” in the true sense of the term. The inclusion of former outsiders in the group of the speakers in virtual spaces cannot be controlled or sanctioned anymore, due to the fact that these spaces are almost without rival claims for the sovereignty of a specific in-group. Speakers of Langila themselves increasingly designate Langila as the “new global Congolese language”, whereby the number of speakers as well as its domains of use throughout the Congolese capital Kinshasa have apparently been growing exponentially between 2012–2014.5 Similar observations can be made for Jamaican Patwa, its slang practices and Rasta Talk, as certain aspects of these linguistic practices have evolved into global registers, triggered mainly by the popularity of Reggae and Dancehall music. These linguistic practices feature prominently in Facebook groups, on Twitter and in other public digital spaces such as online dictionaries and forums. Such digital practices illustrate that the transformation and globalization of the communities of practice and their access to the linguistic resources is no longer bound to Jamaica. In this context it is also observable how linguistic practices, and in particular writing practices, defy (Western) language ideologies of “standard language”, or in this regard, “standard orthography” (see Hollington 2014). Moreover, the study of “linguistic landscapes” in urban Africa needs to delve deeper into the question of portraying how youth language practices are taking over public spaces and how youth ideologies are becoming linguistically manifest on billboards, in restaurant menus, on buses (expressed in Sheng on Kenyan matatus, in Yanké on Congolese minibus and in Luyaaye on Ugandan taxis) and in newspapers. Identities are negotiated through a range of social practices and are always bound to performance. These performances as identificatory processes take place in public spaces, through discussions, nonverbal behaviors, through personalized expressions of identity written on walls as graffiti, written on shops, bags and clothes, as well as on billboards and posters and in 5 This also becomes evident when looking up the language name “Langila” itself. An impressive number of YouTube videos with titles such as “Une école de Langila à Kinshasa” [a Langila school in Kinshasa], “L’université du Langila à Kinshasa” [the Langila university in Kinshasa] or “Le journal TV en Langila difficile” [the TV broadcast in complex Langila] are just a few (found in December 2014).

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digital spaces. All these constitute linguistic topoi of identity negotiations, through which youths try to redefine, shape and (re)conquer. Figure 16.3 shows a Ugandan prepaid scratch airtime slip, used to load credit onto the mobile phone and extremely popular as the main credit option among millions of mobile phone users. The picture shows the use of the words paka last which stands for ‘till the end, endlessly, 24/7’, coined from Swahili mpaka ‘until’ and English last (see also Namyalo this volume). The city of Kampala reveals rich and diverse visual manifestations of youth culture and youths’ artistic expressions (Nassenstein forthcoming). The visual analysis of urban culture and urban life as part of youths’ contextualization of space can help us to understand further why we are witnessing such a radiant and multiplex emergence of vibrant youth culture in many cities all over the continent.

Figure 16.3: Youth language use in public linguistic landscapes – the Luyaaye term pakalast

Despite the pioneer overview provided by Kießling and Mous (2004), several in-depth studies that also include broader observations on youth language in Africa, as well as selected papers in the present volume which contribute to a general theoretical framework of African youth languages (e.g. Hollington and Nassenstein this volume, Beyer this volume), a concrete theory of African youth languages still constitutes a desideratum. However, it may be a matter for discussion whether such a (single) theory could account for the complex and diverse phenomena of African youth language practices, especially in view of

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the fluidity and variability of these practices, as well as their particular linguistic, pragmatic and social contexts, which turn the whole into a large thematic complex that requires a highly dynamic and flexible approach. In this regard, it may be desirable to develop a more dynamic theoretic framework which leaves room for the various aspects that play an important role within the frame of linguistic practices of youths in Africa. This theoretic output could result in a monograph or handbook that shifts from a localist view (on separate youth language practices in their narrow context) to a more comparative study of “African youth language practices”. Altogether, the present volume makes evident that “youth language practices” are not a new phenomenon to urban Africa and that various urban spaces have become grounds for the development and elaboration of youths’ complex communities that are dominated by diverging social and linguistic practices. It would thus potentially be of interest to expand the view from the African focus and also take into account youths’ identity constructions and practices that have emerged worldwide. Frameworks already accomplished in this respect, such as Nortier and Svendsen (2015), Stenström et al. (2002), Stenström and Jørgensen (2009) and Stenström (2014) for a mostly European context, would help to contribute to a transcontinental and global perspective. This global focus could then help to work out similarities between linguistic practices in urban spaces of the so-called “Global South” and “Global North”. Adolescents, after all, regardless of their set of linguistic or social practices, their larger communities or sociocultural background, still have to struggle with generational conflicts, societal expectations, debatable values and norms as well as with the process of growing up itself (in terms of their agency and responsibility). In the end, young adults and their linguistic practices in African urban spaces may not even be too dissimilar from young adults elsewhere in the world.

References Allan, Keith & Kate Burridge. 2006. Forbidden words. Taboo and the censoring of language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Androutsopoulos, Jannis & Alexandra Georgakopoulou (eds.). 2003. Discourse constructions of youth identities. Pragmatics & Beyond new series, 110. Amsterdam / Philadelphia: Benjamins. Brown, Penelope & Stephen C. Levinson. 1987. Politeness. Some universals in language use. Studies in Interactional Sociolinguistics 4. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Buckingham, David (ed.). 2008. Youth, identity and digital media. Cambridge: The MIT Press. Culpeper, Jonathan. 2011. Impoliteness. Using language to cause offence. Studies in Interactional Sociolinguistics 28. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Danbolt Drange, Eli-Marie, Ingrid Kristine Hasund & Anna-Brita Stenström. 2014. “Your Mum!” Teenagers’ swearing by mother in English, Spanish and Norwegian. International Journal of Corpus Linguistics 19(1). 29–59. Eckert, Penelope. 2000. Linguistic variation as social practice. Oxford: Blackwell. McConnell-Ginet, Sally & Penelope Eckert. 1992. Think practically and look locally: Language and gender as community-based practice. Annual Review of Anthropology 21. 461–490. Grice, Paul. 1975. Logic and conversation. In P. Cole & J. Morgan (eds.), Syntax and Semantics. Vol. 3. 41–58. Hollington, Andrea. 2014. Writing practices and discourses as a challenge to establish norms and standards: Jamaican in public digital spaces. Paper presented at the symposium Colonial Linguistics: Knowledges and Epistemes, University of Cape Town, October 2014. Jørgensen, J. Normann (ed.). 2010. Love ya hate ya: the sociolinguistic study of youth language and youth identities. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kießling, Roland & Maarten Mous. 2004. Urban youth languages in Africa. Anthropological Linguistics 46(3). 303–341. Leech, Geoffrey. 2014. The pragmatics of politeness. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mensah, Eyo (ed.). forthcoming. The dynamics of youth language in Africa. Special issue of Sociolinguistic Studies 9(3). Nassenstein, Nico. forthcoming. Linguistic emblems of the youth language Luyaaye (Kampala, Uganda) in urban and virtual spaces. Nortier, Jacomine & Bente A. Svendsen (eds.). 2015. Language, youth and identity in the 21st century. Linguistic practices across urban spaces. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Paris, Django. 2011. Language across difference: ethnicity, communication, and youth identities in changing urban schools. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stenström, Anna-Brita. 1995. Taboos in teenage talk. In G. Melchers & B. Warren (eds.), Studies in Anglistics, 71–80. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International. Stenström, Anna-Brita. 2006. Taboo words in teenage talk: London and Madrid girls’ conversations compared. Spanish in Context 3. 116–138. Stenström, Anna-Brita. 2014. Teenage talk: from general characteristics to the use of pragmatic markers in a constrastive perspective. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Stenström, Anna-Brita, Gisle Andersen & Ingrid Kristine Hasund. 2002. Trends in teenage talk: corpus compilation, analysis and findings. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins. Stenström, Anna-Brita & Annette Myre Jørgensen (eds.). 2009. Youngspeak in a multilingual perspective. Pragmatics & Beyond New Series, 184. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: Benjamins.

Language index Afrikaans 170, 175, 178, 180, 184 Amharic 149–155, 157, 159, 163, 165, 273 Arabic 63, 99–100, 104–115, 117, 206, 210, 212, 217, 237, 347 Baulé 37 Bété 37 Camfranglais 7, 34–36, 153, 169, 171, 228, 242, 258, 306 Ciluba 7 Dholuo 52, 64, 142, 145, 231, 284 English 12, 25, 35, 37, 52, 55, 66, 90, 99, 105, 117, 120, 121, 123, 124, 126, 128, 132, 142, 146, 153, 155, 165, 175, 178, 187, 193–194, 201, 206, 231, 257, 259– 260, 262, 267, 273, 275, 278, 289, 301, 318, 320, 322, 323, 354 Engsh 85, 120, 122, 127, 129, 130–132, 133– 135, 136, 139, 146 French 12, 24–25, 35–37, 91, 185, 193–195, 202, 206, 210, 212, 213, 215, 218, 223, 296, 316, 347

Kiezdeutsch 34–35, 39 Kindoubil 12–13, 16–17, 18, 293 Kindoubil ya kozongela 18, 305, 309 Kindubile 7, 16, 71 Kinyabwisha 186–187 Kinyarwanda 185–190, 193–196, 198, 200– 202, 347 Kirundi 186, 347 Kirundi Slang 196, 347 Kituba 205 Langila 9–10, 16, 81, 153, 188, 247, 350–353 Lingala 9, 12–13, 16–18, 38, 71, 81–82, 85, 90, 96, 201–202, 205, 206, 212, 214, 293–294, 296, 298–300, 305–309, 347 Luganda 199, 202, 313, 315–319, 322–324, 326–328, 330, 333–335, 341, Luhya 52, 60, 64, 317 Luyaaye 13, 90, 190, 313, 350, 353–354 Ndebele (Isindebele) 12, 257–263, 265, 267 Ngbandi 205 Northern Sotho (Sesotho sa Lebowa) 169, 177, 179 Nouchi 7, 24, 34, 36–37, 42, 44, 71, 90, 153, 169, 171, 258, 306 Pedi (Sepedi) 169–170, 179–180

German 34, 37, 39, 121, 228 Gikuyu 52, 57, 60, 64, 229, 284 Hausa 212 Hebrew 282 Imvugo y’Umuhanda 11, 18, 185, 347, 349 Indoubil (/Hindoubill) 7, 16, 38, 71 Iscamtho 7, 71, 170, 258 Jamaican Creole 132, 231, 233, 271, 290 Jula 37 Kalenjin 142, 145 Kikamba 10, 122, 142, 143, 284 Shengnized 119, 121, 128, 129, 143, 144, 146

Randuk 7, 10, 18, 90, 99 Rasta Talk 12, 166, 271, 353 Rufumbira 187, 196, 202 Sango 11, 205–208, 210–221 Sango Godobé 11, 205 Sotho (Sesotho) 178, 260 Sheng 7, 9–10, 12, 14–15, 34, 36, 44, 51, 85–87, 91, 96, 119, 152, 153, 156, 169, 171, 190–191, 201, 227, 258, 283–284, 288–289, 318, 320, 324–326, 348, 350, 353 Shona (Chishona) 12, 55, 257, 259–265 Sudanese Arabic 109, 112, 212 Swahili (Kiswahili) 12–13, 16–18, 36, 38, 51– 55, 57, 60–61, 63–67, 69–71, 120–121,

358

Language index

123, 126, 129, 145, 193, 201–202, 229, 231, 239, 240, 284, 294–296, 298, 309, 316, 318, 325, 339, 354

Xhosa (Isixhosa) 169–171, 175, 180–181

Tsotsitaal 7, 11, 17, 38, 42, 44, 71, 91, 153, 169, 350 Tswana (Setswana) 169–170, 177–178 Turkish 274, 282

Yabacrâne 16–17 Yakoma 205–206 Yanké 7, 9, 17, 35, 82–87, 90–91, 96–97, 153, 190–191, 198, 201–202, 346–349, 353 Yarada K’wank’wa 7, 10, 149

Venda (Tshivenda) 169, 175–176, 180, 260 Verlan 217, 264, 347

Zulu (Isizulu) 36, 38, 169–171, 176, 179–181, 260–262

Wolof 33, 44, 52

Author index Abdulaziz, Mohamed H. 7, 19, 52, 54–55, 120, 123, 129, 130, 240–241 Abu Manga, Al-Amin 100 Aitchinson, Jean 93, 95 Alidou, Hassana 26 Allan, Keith 8, 199, 334, 349 Anderson, Benedict 27 Androutsopoulos, Jannis 1, 93, 227–228, 230, 233, 235, 349 Antoine, Philippe 23, 41 Ashton, Ethel O. 27, 59 Attridge, Derek 238 Auer, Peter 85 Aycard, Pierre 33–34, 184, 266 Backus, Ad 5, 6, 27, 29, 160 Bagemihl, Bruce 87, 96, 187 Bahlo, Nils 33, 39 Bälachäw, Makwännən 150 Barkley, Divinity Lashelle 250–251 Barthes, Roland G. 3 Bazenguissa-Ganga, Remy 295 Bearth, Thomas 60 Beaugrande, Robert de 57 Beck, Rose Marie 9, 15, 51, 53, 66 Bender, Lionel M. 152–153, 157 Benson, T. G. 64 Beyer, Klaus 9, 30, 36, 40–41, 165, 174, 354 Bhabha, Homi. K. 70, 210 Bigo, Didier 210 Biloa, Edmond 7 Blench, Roger 2, 192 Blommaert, Jan 5, 6, 13, 27–29, 31, 56, 159– 160, 173–174, 227–229, 231, 300 Bokula, Moiso 297 Bonvillain, Nancy 329, 332 Bosire, Mokaya 7, 53, 57, 60, 66, 124 Bouquiaux, Luc 212–213, 217–218, 222 Bourdieu, Pierre 304, 309 Brischke, Elvira 7, 266 Brookes, Heather 170, 196 Brown, Penelope 8, 201, 349 Bucholtz, M. 174 Buckingham, David 362 Burridge, Kate 8, 159, 334, 349, 175

Büscher, K. 175 Buthelezi, Mthuli 170 Caitucoli, Claude 7 Cassidy, Frederic 231, 276 Castells, Manuel 2, 33–34, 85, 305 Chaudenson, Robert 23, 26 Cheshire, J. 173 Childs, G. Tucker 7, 33, 258 Claudi, Ulrike 243 Cook, Susan E. 177 Corbett, Greville G. 66, 78 Coupland, N. 174 Cruse, Alan 197 Cukor-Avila, Patricia 32 Culpeper, Jonathan 349 D’hondt, Sigurd 175 Däbbäbä, Fasil 150 Danbolt Drange, Eli-Marie 349 De Boeck, Filip 40, 299 De Swaan, Abram 296 Demisse, Teshome 152–153, 157 Deppermann, Arnulf 69 Derive, Marie-Josée 26 Deumert, Ana 176 Diki-Kidiri, Marcel 205–206, 211 Dimmendaal, Gerrit J. 36, 96, 185, 328–329, 332, 342 Dittmer, Norbert 33, 37, 39 Dorleijn, Margreet 172–173 Dubuc, Robert 329 Dumestre, Gérard 7 Dumont, Pierre 26 Dürscheid, Christa 37 Dushimimana, Jado 186 Echu, George 7 Eckert, Penelope 4, 5, 14, 27–28, 82–83, 100–101, 121, 152, 165, 173–175, 186– 188, 210, 257–258, 314–315, 350, 352 Edwards, John 7 Fabian, Johannes 234 Fagge, Usman U. 259

360

Author index

Fasold, Ralph 213 Féral, Carole de 7, 35, 39, 55 Ferrari, Aurélia 4, 7, 14, 34, 54 Fought, C. 174 Fox, Sue 173 Freedman, Sarah W. 194 Freywald, Ulrike 33 Garrett, Peter 7, 84, 189–190 Georgakopoulou, Alexandra 1 Gibbs, Raymond W. Jr. 198, 332 Githinji, Peter 7, 52, 54, 66, 71, 128, 239 Githiora, Chege 7, 53, 120, 123, 244 Glick, Ruth 315 Gondola, Charles Didier 296, 298–300 Gordon, Raymond G., Jr. 315 Goyvaerts, Didier L. 7, 38 Greven, Katharina 229, 245, 251–254 Grice, Paul 349 Gumperz, J. 29, 174 Günthner, Susanne 69 Guthrie, Malcolm 57 Halliday, Michael A. K. 3, 15, 32, 86, 100, 103, 245–247 Harries, Patrick 55 Hattiger, Jean-Louis 24 Hebdige, Dick 5, 209 Heine, Bernd 62, 66, 243 Heller, Monica 55 Hewitt, Roger 33 Hollington, Andrea 1, 10, 12, 15, 18, 86, 149, 257, 353, 354 Homiak, John P. 271–272 Honwana, Alcinda 40, 297 Hornberger, Nancy 83 Huizinga, Johan 246–247 Hünnemeyer, Friederike 243 Hurst, Ellen 7, 11, 15, 38, 41, 43–44, 71, 160, 169, 228, 261, 266 Imo, Wolfgang 69 Irvine, Judith 174 Jakobson, Roman 227, 239–240, 242–243, 245, 247 Johnson, Mark 243

Jørgensen, Annette Myre 1, 355 Jørgensen, J. Normann 266, 349 Joseph, John E. 160, 163 K’Akumu, Owiti A. 41 Kang’ethe-Iraki, Frederick 53 Kashoki, Mubanga E. 322 Katamba, Francis 67 Katz, Elihu 14 Kayigema, Lwaboshi Jacques 193–194 Keller, Rudi 93–94 Kerswill, Paul 173, 322 Kießling, Roland 1–2, 7, 15, 32–33, 36–37, 51, 54–55, 71, 85, 87, 99, 102–103, 120, 150, 152–153, 155–156, 158–162, 192, 197, 200, 228–231, 235, 238–239, 242, 244–246, 258–259, 263, 266–267, 294, 300, 301–303, 305, 307–308, 313, 322, 328, 354 Kioko, Eric M. 2, 10, 15, 52, 54, 85, 119, 156, 172, 192 Kittay, Eva F. 329 Kluge, Friedrich 25 Köhler, Reinhard 57 Koji, Mochizuki 7, 150–154, 156–158, 163– 165 Kouega, Jean-Paul 7, 242 Kress, Gunther 2, 36, 38, 174, 307 Kube-Barth, Sabine 7 Labov, William 1, 4–5, 12, 14, 25, 27, 29, 32, 35–36, 83–84, 86, 93, 95, 101, 186, 188, 203, 235, 258, 315 Ladefoged, Peter 315–316 Lafage, Suzanne 24 Lakoff, George 243, 332 Landi, Germain 11, 205–208, 211–212 Lave, Jean 4, 210 Laycock, Don 211 Lazarsfeld, Paul F. 14 Le Page, Robert B. 40 Leech, Geoffrey 349 Lekgoro, Tshepiso 170 Leslau, Wolf 149, 152–153, 157, 163, 165 Levinson, Stephen C. 201, 349 Lewis, M. Paul 142–143 Lodge, R. Anthony 33

Author index

361

Lüpke, Friederike 5–6, 28, 31, 42, 156, 159, 259

Muysken, Pieter 264 Myers-Scotton, Carol 7, 52, 295

MacGaffey, Janet 299 Maillu, David G. 54 Makhudu, K. Dennis Papi 7 Makoni, Sinfree 56, 313 Makwabarara, Tafadzwa 12, 257, 348 Manessy, Gabriel 23–24, 26 Manfredi, Stefano 103, 105, 115 Marshall, Jonathan 4 Matras, Yaron 3, 5, 13, 31, 56, 159–160, 218 May, Stephen 5 Mazrui, Alamin M. 7, 52, 229, 244, 253 Mbembe, Achille 298 McConnell-Ginet, Sally 4, 152, 187, 210, 352 McLaughlin, Fiona 33, 44, 52, 55, 71 Meade, Rocky R. 276, 277 Meeussen, Archille E. 64 Meeuwis, Michael 175, 300 Mela, Vivienne 217 Mendoza-Denton, Norma 9 Mensah, Eyo 346 Mesthrie, Rajend 7, 44, 169–170, 175–178, 180–181 Miller, Catherine 100 Miller, D. Gary 93, 95 Milroy, James 4, 27, 29, 93–95 Milroy, Lesley 4, 27, 83, 85, 93–95, 101, 188, 192 Mokwana, Mokwana 179–180 Molamu, Louis 170, 184 Momanyi, Clara 7, 52, 120, 123, 124, 127 Morgan, Marcyliena 253 Mous, Maarten 1–2, 15, 32–33, 36–37, 51, 53–55, 71, 85, 87, 99, 102–103, 120, 125, 150, 153, 155–156, 158–161, 172– 173, 192, 197, 229–230, 235, 238–239, 244, 246, 258, 260, 266–267, 294, 300–303, 305, 307–308, 314, 319, 328, 354 Mugaddam, Abdelrahim H. 7, 10, 15, 18, 90, 99, 100, 104, 105, 107, 111, 113, Mukama, Ruth 315 Mulaudzi, Phalandwa A. 175–176 Müller-Thurau, Claus P. 25 Mulumbwa Mutambwa, Georges 7

Nakayiza, Judith 316 Naluwooza, Viola 317 Namugala, Samuel 316–317 Namyalo, Saudah 13, 190, 313, 316, 320, 329, 354 Nassenstein, Nico 4, 7, 9, 11, 15, 17, 26, 36– 38, 43, 82, 86, 153, 188, 198, 201, 214, 247, 261, 264, 266, 304, 308, 321, 332, 335 Ndoleriire Oswald 315 Neuland, Eva 24–25, 37 Newell, Sasha 71 Newman, Michael 174 Nkosi, Dolphina M. 177–178, 184 Nortier, Jacomine 1, 172–173, 346, 355 Nsimbi, Michael B. 313, 316, 318 Ntshangase, Dumisani K. 38 Ntsobé, André M. 7 Ogechi, Nathan O. 7, 52, 54, 120, 239, 242, 253, 283–284 Olima, Washington H. A. 41 Omasombo Tshonda, Jean 294 Osinde, Ken 7, 52, 55, 120, 123, 129–130, 241 Otsuji, Emi 56 Paris, Django 349 Pasch, Helma 11, 66, 205–206, 211 Patrick, Peter 271–272 Pennycook, Alastair 56 Plissart, Marie-Françoise 299 Ploog, Katja 33, 43 Pollard, Velma 271–272 Poulos, George 175–176, 184 Powelton, Frédéric 213 Rampton, Ben 13–14, 27, 31, 34, 56, 173 Reich, Uli 43 Reuster-Jahn, Uta 7, 200, 228, 235, 242, 246 Reynolds, Dennis 273 Richardson, Elaine 231–232 Robins, Robert H. 320 Rojek, Chris 302, 309

362

Author index

Rosendal, Tove 187 Rudd, Philip W. 7, 14, 34, 120, 124 Rudwick, Stephanie 179, 184 Rüsch, Maren 212 Salami, L. Oladipo 40–41 Samarin, William J. 205–206 Samper, David A. 54 Samuelson, Beth Lewis 194 Schadeberg, Thilo 57–58, 64, 79 Schieffelin, Bambi B. 28 Schreiber, Henning 40–41 Schrenk, Havenol M. 12, 166 Sekere, Ntaoleng B. 178, 184 Seme, Aimé Sylvestre 207 Sesep, N’Sial Bal-Nsien 7, 16 Sharma, Devyani 174 Shinagawa, Daisuke 53–54, 57, 62, 64, 70 Shokhenmayer, Evgeny 212 Silverstein, Michael J. 175 Slabbert, Sarah 7 Southall, Aidan 41 Spitulnik, Debra 70–71, 314 Stenström, Anna-Brita 1, 349, 355 Storch, Anne 1, 5–6, 28, 31, 42, 156, 159, 161, 216, 224, 259 Strauch, Christiane 66 Stroud, Christopher 173 Stubbs, Michael 57 Sturtevant, Edgar H. 93 Sure, Kembo 7 Svendsen, Bente A. 1, 346, 355 Swann, Joan 259 Sylv 208

Tabouret-Keller, Andrée 40 Thornell, Christina 206 Tiewa Ngninzégha, Kathrin 7, 51, 150, 266 Torgersen, Eivind 173 Trefon, Theodore 298 Van Pelt, Frank 7 Veit-Wild, Flora 258, 265, 268, 348 Vertovec, Steven 13, 26–27 Vierke, Clarissa 12, 15, 228, 231, 237–238, 240, 243, 245, 247 Vigh, Henrik E. 297 Voeltz, Erhard 211 Vold Lexander, Kristin 44 Wa Mũngai, Mbugua 232, 234 Wairungu, Michael 229–230, 234–236 Waithira, C. 284 Wald, Bwnji 315 Waldburger, Daniela 56 Walusimbi, Livingstone 315, 320 Wenger, Etienne 4, 210 Wiese, Heike 34–35, 59 Wilson, Catherina 7, 12–13, 15–16, 38, 88, 294 Winford, Donald 218 Woolard, Kathryn A., 28 Yawney, Carole D. 272 Yilma, Aklilu 159 Zongo, Bernard 7 Zuckermann, Ghil’ad 271–272, 274, 282, 283, 285

Subject index aesthetics 10, 12 age 4, 5, 7, 8, 12, 15, 27, 29, 33, 34, 44, 82, 83, 85, 164, 189, 208, 209, 214, 297, 353 agency 4, 14, 15, 16, 19, 31, 47, 154, 227, 247, 355 antilanguage 3, 20, 32, 46, 86, 97, 118, 160, 162, 239, 242, 245, 249 arts 84–86, 120, 233, attitudes 2, 7, 11, 12, 14, 15, 24, 44, 52, 72, 81, 84, 85, 97, 112, 145, 187, 189, 190, 194, 203, 304, 314, 317, 336, 346, 347 antonym 283, 333 awareness 1, 3, 12, 25, 32, 95, 182 Bangassou 206, 207 base language 170, 172, 175, 181, 299, 307, 309, 319 bilingualism 295 Bokassa 210 borrowing 14, 18, 52, 57, 63, 66, 67, 96, 99, 100,102, 104, 113, 127, 131, 143, 153, 154, 162, 170, 172, 179, 185, 190, 201, 202, 214, 218, 225, 259, 260, 262, 264, 290, 293, 320–323, 326, 339, 342 Boyomais 294, 295, 207, 300 Central African Republic 11, 205 calquing 14 code 23, 25, 33, 34, 37–39, 41, 61, 82, 84– 86, 91, 94, 121–123, 129, 175, 179, 186, 187, 190, 192, 201, 229, 244–247, 264, 272, 273, 289, 296, 300–302, 304, 305, 307, 309, 314, 316–319 code-mixing 11, 54, 56, 213, 264, 268 code-switching 2, 6, 14, 18, 21, 22, 48, 52, 57, 97, 124, 165, 170, 171, 173, 183, 202, 249, 259, 260, 262, 264,265, 268, 293, 300, 310, 345, 349 coinage/neologism 2, 99, 104, 107, 109, 117, 125, 126, 146, 181, 185, 198, 245, 262, 266, 319, 336 colonialism 123, 259, 265, 273, 281, 289

community of practice 1, 2, 5, 9–11, 14, 16– 18, 29, 35, 38, 39, 41, 42, 81–83, 86, 93, 95, 96, 99, 100, 102, 149–151, 186, 187, 210, 224, 314, 328, 347, 350 competition 120, 146, 211, 245, 302 convergence 225 covert prestige 15, 84, 150, 151, 166, 167, 185, 187, 299, 302, 304, 347 creativity 1,3, 11, 13, 15, 31, 70, 84, 85, 119, 156, 157, 162, 166, 173, 235, 257, 309, 319, 322, 328 creolization 205 culture 2, 5, 20, 21, 35, 40, 44, 48, 71, 72, 74, 81, 82, 85, 90, 128, 161, 165, 166, 168, 171, 173, 182, 183, 191, 200–203, 209, 225, 226, 228–232, 234–236, 241, 248–250, 258, 259, 262, 265, 267, 268, 272, 281, 301, 310, 313, 314, 317, 318, 322, 342, 350, 354 Democratic Republic of Congo 38, 261, 293 dialect 20,25,31, 33, 39, 72, 95, 98, 101, 118, 121, 128, 142, 143, 146, 161, 174, 179, 183, 184, 187, 205, 249, 260, 314, 315, 318, 325, 343 drug(s) 108, 109, 112, 114, 124, 134, 137, 185, 190, 191, 195, 207, 221, 252, 255, 319, 338, 340 dysphemism 2, 3, 99, 112, 113, 118, 153, 162, 199, 203, 231, 263, 328, 334, 335 esoterogeny 96 Ethiopia 7, 10, 18, 149, 273 euphemism 2, 154, 162, 196, 199, 203, 222, 263, 334 flow 35, 236, 239 fluidity 5, 6, 10, 14, 16, 17, 19, 70, 162, 165, 167, 309, 314, 355 function, indexical 228 function, interpersonal 227, 244, 248 function, poetic 227, 236, 239–241, 244– 249

364

Subject index

gender 4, 5, 7, 20, 36, 48, 53, 66, 67, 70–72, 78, 82, 83, 93, 97, 98, 150, 156, 167, 171, 172, 203, 210, 225, 266, 294, 308, 319, 356 globalization 19, 167, 182, 248, 301 hip hop 12, 17, 34, 83, 121, 124, 125, 128, 130, 131, 133–138, 165, 166, 177, 185– 187, 191, 202, 227, 228–238, 240, 243, 245–251, 253, 256, 258, 262, 345, 347, 353 – rap 185–188, 190, 191, 229, 232, 235, 238, 239, 241, 244, 263, 301 hyperbole 87, 335 identity 1–4, 6–8, 10, 12–14, 16, 18–20, 22, 27, 28, 30, 33, 34, 38, 44, 47, 48, 60– 62, 72, 73, 76, 77, 79, 81–87, 96, 97, 99–105, 107–109, 11, 113, 115, 117, 119, 122, 128, 145, 146, 149–151, 153, 155– 157, 159–168, 171, 175, 181–183, 185, 187, 189, 190, 191, 194, 202–204, 227, 228, 230, 231, 237, 244, 247–249, 257, 259, 266–268, 272, 273, 289, 289, 293, 297–299, 305, 307, 309, 310, 319, 334, 345, 347–350, 353, 356 identity marker 28, 145, 160, 228 ideology 18, 25, 27, 175, 183, 233, 249, 271, 273–275, 277, 278, 289, 348 indexicality 5, 30, 33, 40, 159, 175, 228–229 in-group 1, 3, 5, 10, 13, 18, 19, 22, 28, 73, 82, 86, 101, 103, 151, 156, 161, 163, 185, 192, 202, 210, 211, 244, 258, 259, 264, 265, 267, 293, 298, 304, 309, 342, 347, 348, 353 interethnic bridge 15, 191, 194 Jamaica 166, 231, 271, 353 Kenya 7, 9, 12, 15, 34, 51, 119, 202, 228, 231, 233, 245, 283, 289, 317, 325, 346 language crossing 22, 349 language planning language policy 11, 125, 145, 172, 185, 192, 194, 202, 204, 343 lifestyle 33, 234

loan translation 254 ludic aspect/ludling 157, 246, 247 manipulation 1, 2, 11–13, 16, 17, 22, 33, 36, 72, 73, 82, 85, 87, 88, 90, 95, 99–103, 105, 109, 11, 113, 115, 117, 119–123, 126– 131, 143–145, 149, 150, 152–154, 156, 157, 161, 162, 168, 170, 172, 186–188, 190, 195, 200, 202–204, 211, 216, 217, 223, 224, 226, 227, 243, 245, 258, 259, 262, 267, 277, 293, 293, 299, 300, 301, 302, 306, 307, 309, 313, 320, 332, 337, 339, 347–349 – manipulation, conscious 13, 36, 91, 96, 188, 289, 293, 306, 307, 313 – manipulation, morphological 2, 83, 91, 105, 107, 155, 195, 211, 222, 224, 273, 289, 300, 301, 326, 327, 341 – manipulation, phonotactic 2, 155, 195, 238, 259, 293, 335, 341 – manipulation, phonological 87, 88, 103, 185, 195, 211, 222 – manipulation, playful 216 – manipulation, semantic 2, 3, 63, 66, 87, 108, 153–155, 162, 172, 181, 185, 187, 197, 199, 259, 262, 267, 272, 273, 287, 289, 293, 301, 309, 320, 328, 329, 332, 340, 342 media 8, 13, 14, 32, 43, 44, 48, 49, 52, 85, 86, 105, 115, 117, 121, 124, 125, 146, 160, 166, 170, 173, 175, 191, 192, 198, 227–229, 235, 236, 241, 248, 262, 290, 313, 319, 349, 350, 352, 355 – media, social 13, 86, 125, 236, 313, 349, 350, 352 metaphor 2, 3, 37, 99, 100, 108, 109, 110, 115, 118, 153, 154, 162, 169, 172, 185, 197, 214, 219, 221, 222, 232, 236, 242– 245, 247, 249, 252, 253, 255, 259, 263, 299, 301, 329, 330–333, 342, 343 metathesis 2, 37, 90, 99, 100, 103, 104, 155, 162, 187, 195, 216, 217, 235, 237, 241, 255, 259, 261, 262–264, 268, 300, 305, 306, 347 metonymy 2, 109, 153, 154, 162, 198, 203, 242, 254, 256, 259, 263, 332 migration 26, 27, 32, 41, 43, 48, 305, 310

Subject index

mobility 10, 11, 15–17, 19, 29, 44, 109, 143, 317 morphological hybridization 153, 162, 231, 259, 262, 264, 342 multilingualism 5, 7, 11, 12, 14, 25, 30, 73, 173, 174, 192, 194, 204, 297, 326 music 2, 8, 9, 12, 14, 16, 17, 54, 81, 82, 84, 86, 87, 89, 95, 121, 122, 124, 128, 130, 131, 136, 139–141, 144, 152, 154, 160, 161, 164, 166, 171, 174, 185–188, 190– 192, 206, 209, 228, 229, 232, 234, 235, 248, 253, 258–260, 262, 265, 267, 273, 293, 296, 298, 299, 301, 304, 315, 325, 346, 347, 353 neighborhood 11, 18, 35, 157, 229, 230, 245 network 3–5, 21, 29, 35, 36, 40–43, 48, 81, 83, 85, 86, 98, 101, 102, 118, 121, 122, 125, 188, 189, 192, 203, 207, 342, 345– 347, 350 norm development 31, 39, 40, 42, 345 official language 124, 149, 169, 185, 193, 204, 206, 259, 316, 320, 326 onomastic substitute 91, 333 onomastic synecdoche 10, 87, 99, 111, 112, 118, 242, 243, 251, 333 overlexicalization 242–245 phono-semantic matching 12, 271, 273–275, 277, 279, 281–284, 287–291 phraseologism 200, 329, 330, 332 poetics/poetic 8, 12, 22, 54, 108, 204, 227– 229, 231, 233, 235, 236–241, 243–249, 251, 253, 255, 269 politeness 8, 17, 20, 201, 203, 246, 296, 297, 349, 355, 356 poverty 208–210 pragmatics 17, 63, 185, 201, 246, 275, 348– 349 prestige 15, 33, 52, 84, 86, 150, 151, 166, 167, 180, 185, 187, 189, 190, 193, 206, 235, 296–299, 302, 304, 305, 309, 310, 322, 347 radio 124, 135, 138, 146, 185, 187, 188, 191, 192, 313, 315, 319–322, 324

365

Rastafari 12, 152, 166, 232, 271–281, 287, 298, 337 reggae 130, 152, 165–166, 231, 232, 244, 258, 353 resistance (identity) 15, 33, 85–86, 124, 125, 191, 209, 227, 233, 237, 281, 345, 348– 349 Rwanda 11, 18, 185, 316, 347, 349 rhyme 235–242, 256 saccadic leaders 5, 12, 35, 36, 40, 86, 95, 186, 188, 234, 235, 258 secrecy 2, 6, 10, 100, 104, 107, 115, 152, 160, 167, 234, 244, 267, 293 secret language(s) 100, 103, 161, 206, 211, 224, 273, 302, 307, 310, 314 semantic change 170, 195, 197, 200, 263, 321–322, 325, 326, 328, 329, 332, 340 semantic extension 87, 103, 151, 263, 332 semiotic 3, 5, 30, 38, 40, 42, 83, 173, 174, 188, 189, 227, 230, 233, 234, 246, 304, 347 sexuality 127, 191, 222 slang 12, 44, 55, 93, 124, 130, 150, 159–160, 165, 171, 244, 258–259, 262, 327, 353 social class 4, 82, 84–85, 101, 146, 162, 166, 299, 319 social network(s) 3, 5, 29, 35–36, 40, 42, 81, 83, 85, 101–102, 121, 188, 192, 207, 346 sociolect 1, 11, 85, 189, 192, 203, 205, 206, 210, 259, 297 South Africa (/Republic of South Africa) 7, 11, 15, 17, 38, 41, 43, 169, 258, 261, 268, 346, 350 speech community 28–30, 56, 85, 95–96, 101, 165, 174 standard language 4, 6, 25, 37, 40, 52, 101, 170, 173, 175, 177, 179, 181, 185–186, 187, 189, 353 status 18, 24, 39, 44, 52, 130, 146, 152, 162, 166, 188, 194, 201, 210, 258, 293, 309, 333, 336 street children 35, 82, 83, 162, 186, 191, 205–208, 297 style 2, 10–11, 18, 24, 27–28, 38–39, 42, 95, 101, 122, 145, 151, 160–161, 164–165,

366

Subject index

166, 169–170, 172–175, 176, 181, 190, 209–210, 224, 230, 232, 234, 235, 236, 256, 258, 267, 301, 303, 304, 313–314, 319, 327 stylect 50, 160 stylization 228–230, 239 Sudan 7, 10, 18, 99, 212, 316 superdiversity 9, 26–27, 29, 31–32, 41

urbanity 7, 11, 15, 52, 70–71, 172, 191–192, 296, 300, 303, 304, 309 variation 5, 10–11, 18, 25, 27–28, 30, 71, 83, 87, 101, 122, 156, 173–174, 177–179, 188–190, 261, 314–315, 346 violence 125, 190, 207, 232, 305 word play 313

taboo 8, 17, 191, 199, 334, 349 translanguaging 2, 14, 18, 349 Uganda 13, 188, 199, 202, 314, 350, 354

Zimbabwe 12, 257, 347