G-Spot: Chronicles of Grammar Enforcement

A Journey Through Kenyan English and the Evolution of Language

A decade and a half ago, I was part of an email group where friends and I took great pleasure in highlighting common errors in spoken and written English among Kenyans. At the time, I worked as a newspaper sub-editor, which gave me the perfect opportunity to spot these mistakes. Sub-editors play a crucial role in refining news stories by ensuring clarity, grammar, and adherence to the publication's style. This made me an ideal participant in our little linguistic game.

Back then, we were in the golden age of long email exchanges, before WhatsApp arrived in 2009 and changed the way people communicated. Whenever we came across a glaring mistake, we would note it down and share it with the group. It was like a form of linguistic trophy hunting.

One memorable example was an email from a corporate employee to his boss that read: “I have always given it my best foot.” What he meant was “I always put my best foot forward,” but the phrasing made it sound as if he had only one foot to give and had already done so repeatedly.

Another classic was the command: “Stop catching emotions!” The intended meaning was clearly “catching feelings,” but the phrase sounded more like a warning from a rogue science teacher: “Do not attempt to capture stray emotions in a test tube, they are highly contagious.”

We were aware that English was not the first language for most Kenyans. In fact, the average Kenyan speaks at least two other languages besides English, often Kiswahili and a mother tongue. However, we were too proud of ourselves, acting like self-appointed guardians of the Queen’s English, without realizing that Her Majesty had never asked for our help.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about that email thread in light of current discussions about dismantling colonial structures, including language. On one hand, I still believe that if you speak or write a language, you should do so as clearly as possible. On the other hand, language is fluid and adapts to local needs. In Kenya, English has been reimagined creatively, sometimes to the point where even Shakespeare might be confused.

For instance, the term “politically correct” has taken on a different meaning in Kenya. While in the UK and US it refers to language and behavior designed to avoid offending others, in Kenya it came to mean someone who could get away with shocking behavior because their political godfather had their back. While Americans were debating gender-neutral pronouns, Kenyans were discussing the tenderpreneur down the road who was “politically correct” enough to land a multimillion-shilling contract.

Kenya has also contributed several words to global English. Three years ago, the Oxford Dictionary added 25 Kenyan words, mostly from Kiswahili, such as matatu, sufuria, nyama choma, chapo, githeri, mpango wa kando, and sukuma wiki. Once a word makes it into Oxford, it becomes “official.” So, somewhere in Britain today, an Englishman might confidently order nyama choma, believing he knows what it is, even if he’s never seen a goat.

A friend of mine calls this “defeating the English language.” On one level, this aligns with the academic field of Decolonising World Englishes, which studies how postcolonial societies adapt English to reflect local realities. On another, less scholarly level, it refers to direct translations from Kiswahili to English, such as “iko wapi” becoming “is where?” instead of “where is it?”

At the end of the day, the main purpose of language is communication. Speaking English well improves clarity and confidence, but perfection is not the goal. The aim is to reach a level where you can express yourself comfortably, even if occasionally your best foot goes wandering into the wrong sentence.

If I could revive that email thread today, this is exactly the message I would share with my friends, though I suspect one of them would still reply with: “Stop catching emotions.”