"Kimbunga:" A Swahili Poem With My English Translation

Swahili, a major African language spoken mostly in Eastern Africa, boasts a written poetic tradition going back several centuries. Evolving on the northern Kenya coast, Swahili spread down the coast and adjacent islands as far as Mozambique, the Comoros, and Madagascar.

Among the greatest Swahili poets are Ali Koti, Bwana Mwengo, Muyaka bin Haji, Mwana Kupona, Shaaban Robert, Ahmed Sheikh Nabhany, Amiri Sudi Andanenga, Abdilatif Abdalla, and Haji Gora Haji, one of whose poems, "Kimbunga," I am presenting here, with my English translation.

A prolific writer, Haji Gora Haji has published poetry, fiction, a dictionary of the Tumbatu dialect of Swahili, and other works. I was privileged to interview him in Zanzibar. This poem, one of Haji Gora Haji's best known, appears in Kimbunga, his first poetry anthology.

Translating works of literature is a challenging and humbling experience. However, it is also rewarding, sharpening one's understanding and appreciation of language, poetics, and aesthetics.

"Kimbunga" is a moving but intriguing poem. It strikes me as an apocalyptic vision reminiscent of W.B. Yeats's "The Second Coming," while exemplifying perfectly Cleanth Brooks's characterization of the language of poetry as "the language of paradox." I hope someday to write about it and my experience of translating it.

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                               Kimbunga

1.     Kimbunga mji wa Siyu, kilichowahi kufika
       Si kwa yule wala huyu, ilikuwa patashika
       Kimeing'owa mibuyu, minazi kunusurika
       Nyoyo zilifadhaika.

2.     Yalizuka majabali, yakabirukabiruka
       Zikadidimia meli, ngarawa zikaokoka
       Kimbunga hicho kikali, mavumbi hayakuruka
       Nyoyo zilifadhaika.

3.     Nyumba kubwa za ghorofa, siku hiyo zimeruka
       Zikenenda kwa masafa, kufikia kwa kufika
       Vibanda vyao malofa, vyote vikasalimika
       Nyoyo zikafadhaika.

4.     Chura kakausha mto, maji yakamalizika
       Pwani kulikuwa moto, mawimbi yaliyowaka
       Usufi nusu kipeto, rikwama limevunjika
       Nyoyo zikafadhaika.

5.     Kuna kikongwe ajuza, viumbe kimewateka
       Hicho kinamiujiza, kila rangi hugeuka
       Wataokiendekeza, hilaki zitawafika
       Nyoyo zikafadhaika.


                                 A Hurricane

1.     A hurricane once arrived in Siyu town
       Sparing neither that one nor this one, it was sheer mayhem
       It uprooted baobab trees, the coconut trees surviving
       Hearts went panicking.

2.    Big rocks turned up, tumbling over and over
       Ships were sinking, while mere boats survived
       Fearsome as the hurricane was, it raised no dust
       Hearts went panicking

3.     Great storied houses were blown away that day
       They flew quite a distance, landing wherever they landed
       The huts of the lowly, all survived intact
       And hearts went panicking

4.     The frog drained the river, the water all dried up
       On the shore was conflagration, of the waves flaming
       Half a container of kapok, broke the coolie's cart
       And hearts went panicking

5.     A wizened hag there was, who held beings captive
       She is given to magical powers, changing hues at will
       Those who let her be, perdition will be their lot
       And hearts will go panicking.

My Writing Course

For years, I never thought I would enjoy teaching the writing course. From one semester to the next, as I laboured through this course, my spirit seemed to steadily die, like a candle flame in its final minutes. I saw the teaching of writing as a chore.

A few years ago, however, a new awareness dawned on me. I began writing columns for newspapers, and that forced me to see writing in a way I had not done before. I used to write mostly academic papers, but writing short articles for newspapers forced me to pay attention to language in a truly special way, to see and appreciate the uniqueness of every word.

A little over ten years ago, I developed a deep interest in Hemingway as a writer and a theorist of writing. Everything Hemingway wrote about writing has inspired me greatly. In my writing classes, I invoke Hemingway the same way a preacher invokes the sacred texts. Hemingway has taught me to love my writing course.

I want my students to experience the joy I experience in revising something I wrote, progressively making it good, or very good. Above all, I want them to experience the joy of touching other human beings through writing.

My First Book in Swahili

The year 2009 will remain special in my life as a writer. I published my first book in Swahili, a collection of articles I wrote for a Tanzanian weekly newspaper.


I accepted the invitation to write these articles with some trepidation, even though I found the challenge alluring. I did not have the experience of sustained writing in Swahili. I knew that I had to discipline myself and write in formal Swahili, devoid of code switching.

To sharpen my Swahili and build my confidence, I read the writings of Shaaban Robert, the doyen of Swahili writing in our era. I read his Maisha Yangu na Baada ya Miaka Hamsini, Adili na Nduguze, and Kusadikika, all available from Mkuki na Nyota Publishers.

The choice of topics was entirely mine. I wrote about political, economic, educational and cultural issues pertaining to Tanzania, with constant references to the differences between Tanzanian and American realities.

Now Changamoto is out, in both printed and e-book formats. To call it a labour of love would be somewhat disingenuous and an understatement. Semantics aside, the experience of writing has been both purgatorial and humbling.

I rarely read my own publications. I prefer to be writing something else. However, even though this little book is far more modest than my other writings, I return to it again and again, reading parts of it, hearing my own voice, still wondering how I managed to write a book in Swahili.