At the turn of the 20th Century when the ‘natives’ of Siaya first encountered British civility, many were captivated by their snotty speech mannerisms.
Illiterate
The Brits were the ruling authority, and those who learnt to mimic their ways prospered in the new colonial system.
Invariably, fluency in English became such a status elevator that even illiterate grannies picked up meaningless phrases as proof that they too had read some books.
The emphasis was not so much on the content of what was said but rather on how it was said. One had to adopt a manner, head slightly corked, shoulders hunched and a pouted mouth that was barely opened to give the impression that one was speaking through their nose.
To this day, you will find village drunks who did not have the benefit of formal schooling insisting on conversing in some weird type of ‘English’ that leaves the Caucasian visitor confused.
The happy drunk will utter incomprehensible statements they imagine are English sounding. Stuff like, “How do you pede pede?”
Or in response to the greeting, “How do you do?” the reply becomes ‘fit fot, fit fot’.
Last week on Tuesday the 16th April, the Supreme Court published a ruling on the contested general elections that featured such legal verbosity that it might as well have been written in Amharic. I felt very much like an illiterate villager trying to make sense of the ruling.
Jargon
For a man who is not averse to reading long text, 113 pages of legal jargon was an intimidating prospect. I quickly called my lawyer friends for a summary. I understand that the rule of law has to rise above personal feelings but the basis of the judgment was lost in translation.
The joke is that a lawyer would never say anything in a straightforward manner, if they can throw in some Latin for twice the price.
