Uganda, will this year, celebrate its 50th birthday as an independent nation. However, as the euphoria of this celebration gathers momentum, a number of issues which the country has grappled with for some time now, such as the need to have a national language as a conduit of national unity, remain unresolved. Stephen Ssenkaaba explores the subject
To have or not to have a national language; that has been the question in Uganda for the last 50 or so years. And yet, several years of debating have come to naught. Today, the national language issue remains unresolved and to some people, irrelevant.
Having been independent for the last 50 years, the absence of a language that defines its people, uniting all beyond ethnic and religious lines, leaves many unsettling questions. Why has this question lingered this long?
For a country that is so ethnically diverse, where over 40 languages are spoken, there has always been a sentimental attachment to individual vernaculars among indigenous peoples, which the largely sporadic calls for a national language have failed to transcend.
The Banyankole for instance are only too happy and proud to speak their tongue without contemplating ever having another language imposed on them. Yet, many of the Baganda feel that as one of the widely spoken and understood languages, theirs perhaps best qualifies to be the national language. For those that do not care for Luganda, let alone understand and use it, having to adopt the language is unthinkable. And herein lies the problem.
“Any attempts to elevate one of 65 indigenous Ugandan languages to the level of national language threatens to divide rather than unite Ugandans,” says Dr. Yasin Olum, an associate professor of political science and public administration at Makerere University. Olum argues that elevating a single indigenous language above the rest will enhance feelings of supremacy among the owners of the chosen language and resentment from others. “Our best bet then would be to use a neutral language, which no single ethnic tribe identifies with.”
A case for Luganda?
In this ongoing but largely sterile debate, Luganda has often been fronted as an appropriate choice for a national language. Since the protectorate days when Christian missionaries favoured Luganda (regarded as progressive over Swahili) the reasons for its elevation have remained the same. As a widely spoken language, Luganda has always been considered to enable cohesion in Uganda. Today, as in the 1800s, this argument remains popular among Luganda apologists.
“Apart from some parts of northern Uganda, Luganda, used as the medium of trade, business and instruction in some schools, has over the years become entrenched in the social fabric of many areas in our country,” says Livingstone Walusimbi, a retired professor of linguistics and African languages.
“From Mbarara in western Uganda to Busoga in the east and beyond, it has been the glue that held many societies together.”
He argues that as a language that is widely spoken and whose literature is abundantly available, Luganda will easily spread to other parts of the country. But, just like in the past, similar sentiments against the language abound.
While it is true that it is widely spoken, Luganda plays more of a dividing than uniting role. There remains today, as ever before, strong feelings that its elevation to national language status would only stir up feelings of superiority among its owners and resentment among non-Baganda.
It is no secret that while a number of people know and speak Luganda, they are not particularly fond of the language – for political and historical reasons.
Sentiments run high among many sections of society which view Luganda as a symbol of Ganda hegemony. From that perspective, adopting it to national language status has very often rendered it highly unfeasible.
The Swahili factor
Swahili has also been a favourite choice for national language. Indeed, in 1973, when President Amin convened a meeting of district representatives to deliberate on the national language, Swahili, picked by 12 districts was preferred over Luganda chosen by eight districts.
On August 7, that year, Amin declared it the national language by decree. In the protectorate days, some sections of society and European traders preferred Swahili over Luganda. Obote’s regime also toyed with the idea of popularising it. It was seen as neutral and easier to learn. Yet all these did not result into decisive action.
The Luganda-Swahili debate in the protectorate days was not resolved. The 1973 decree was never implemented. And while they did not repeal it, successive governments did not try to implement it. It subsequently died off.
Since its coming into power in 1986, the sitting government seems to only have paid lip service to the national language issue. The President has spoken about it and met experts to discuss language development, but in the words of one linguist “it all ends there.”
Dr. Ruth Mukama, a Makerere University professor of linguistics, attributes such stalemates to lack of a coherent government policy on national language issues over the years. “There has never been political will to implement a national language for this country,” she says.
Mukama argues that absence of concrete support programmes and sound investment into national language development has affected progress.
Various attempts at both regional and national level to form language councils which would come up with concrete ideas have all not registered much success while the recent ongoing attempts by the National Curriculum Development Centre (NCDC) to implement Swahili teaching in primary schools have been, according to Connie Kateeba, the NCDC director, geared more towards regional integration than national identity.
This points towards the shifting trends in national development and perhaps lends weight to views of scholars like Golooba Mutebi who think that a national language is not necessarily crucial for national unity.
“Uganda does not need a national language to foster unity. It needs leaders who go out of their way to lead wisely in ways that do not divide countrymen and women,” Mutebi says.