July 24, 2026

I'm coming to believe that people who choose to teach language deserve a special kind of sainthood.

For six weeks now, my Mwalimu (teacher) has listened to my erroneous conjugations, corrected my switched vowels, patiently pointed out (yet again...) the lack of agreement between noun class and my choice of possessives or subject prefixes. She's patiently walked through my quizzes and tests line-by-line, highlighting the places where I've added in articles (e.g. to, for, by, at) that shouldn't be there and where I've failed to add connector words to demonstrate relationships. Honestly, I doubt she gets paid enough to make this tortuous experience worthwhile, but she does it anyways. She really deserves some kind of commendation for her service to society, and if those rewards don't arrive in this life, then hopefully they will in the next.

For me, the challenge isn't just learning new vocabulary and grammar, it's learning a new way to think. There are no word-for-word translations between Swahili and English. You must translate ideas into not only different words, but into words that are used appropriately in this culture. 

In Swahili, you don't "order" food at a restaurant, you "beg" food (verb: -omba). You don't "brush" your teeth or "pick" a guitar, you "hit" them (verb: -piga). And whatever you do, you never describe anything other than human beings as "beautiful." Baby animals, spectacular views, lush tropical foliage in a misty forest, a film that brought tears to your eyes...these are all experiences that are summed up in the single adjective -zuri (literally, "good"). It's a feature of the language that raises consternation in our class almost daily.

In English, this moment from my morning run might be gorgeous, spectacular, refreshing, or beautiful. In Swahili? It's "good."

As a Bantu-rooted language, Swahili is also fundamentally structured differently. For instance, in Swahili, you almost never communicate articles as standalone words. It is a highly agglutinative language — so much so that comparing it to algebra is perhaps more apt than comparing it to a Romance language. It is constructed of distinct parts that are "glued" together into complex strings. Your subject marker (who you're speaking to), tense (e.g. past, habitual, recent past/stative, present, future, conditional), action (verb stem), object (who the action is being done to or benefitting) and article (e.g. if the thing is being done in a place, with a tool, for a person) are all represented by short modules in one long word. 

Sometimes, this is shockingly efficient. You can say "I love them" in the single word ninawapenda. "If I help you..." becomes nikikuhitaji. You can express "I did not prepare myself" as sikujiandaa, or ask "how are you feeling?" as umesikiaje.

At other times, the agglutinative nature of the language coupled with the idea-for-idea translation is troublesome. There are simply no combinations that parallel many common English sentence structures. Something as innocuous as saying, "My dream made me happy" requires mental and verbal gymnastics: ndoto yangu inanifanya kuwa na furaha. It's often less effortful to express myself differently than to attempt a close translation. And six weeks into an eight-week program, I am finally beginning to feel like I have the tools to do this.

It's an exhilarating feeling to be out for a run or walking to the market and have passing conversations with strangers where I understand the meaning of every word. These are simple exchanges, but to actually know what is being said and how to respond rather than relying on context clues to guess at the meaning is an immense step forward.

That said, having the tools to understand and speak isn't the same as being practiced at using them. It's still really hard to parse complex word strings and get every module correct. I constantly mix up my subject prefix or tense, or forget to use prepositional form correctly, or make some other error. The redeeming thing is that most people can understand what I'm trying to say now, and they are very generous in overlooking these mistakes. 

As I look ahead to the conclusion of the program in early August, it's pretty clear I won't leave here a fluent Swahili speaker. I won't leave here an expert translator, capable of singlehandedly transcribing my own audio interviews from Swahili to English, or preparing my own interview scripts in perfect Swahili. Given where I started from, it's not realistic over a two-month program. 

But I will leave here with the skills to engage attentively in research conversations, understand a lot more of what is being said, ask relevant questions, and make a respectable attempt at transcription and translation with some expert feedback. I'll be able to travel more safely, navigate daily purchases and logistics more fluidly, and show greater respect for this country that has allowed me to pursue my research here. Perhaps most importantly, I'll have the foundation to continue learning, continue practicing, and continue getting feedback so I can grow my capabilities in all of these areas. And given the taste of success that I've already had, I'm pretty sure I'll be back for more language training in the not so distant future.

To join me on this journey, you can follow along with new posts in the Field Notes blog on this website or LinkedIn. I am in Tanzania on a Critical Language Scholarship for Summer 2026. My research is currently supported by the Center for Human-Carnivore Coexistence, a P.E.O. Scholar Award, and a Center for Collaborative Conservation Fellowship. I am actively fundraising for the next phase of my research, and welcome referrals to funders who are interested in supporting work on global challenges including human-wildlife conflict, poverty alleviation, biodiversity conservation, and the impacts of a changing climate on all of these issues.