The Power of Language and the Call for Decolonisation
This past week, Nairobi became a hub of intellectual activity, drawing scholars, writers, and students from across Africa, Asia, the Caribbean, and the Pacific. They gathered at the University of Nairobi for the 20th ACLALS Conference, themed “Transcultural Englishes in a Multipolar World.” This event brought together voices to explore a pressing question: Can English be decolonised? Can it evolve into a discipline that reflects the cultural realities and intellectual aspirations of societies?
For many Kenyans, English is both familiar and foreign. It serves as the language of education, governance, and personal aspiration, yet it also carries the weight of colonial history. This duality raises an important question: Have we mastered English, or do we still feel it belongs to another time and place?
The answer lies not in rejecting English but in reclaiming it. Throughout history, English has been used as a tool of domination. However, it has also served as a powerful instrument of resistance. Think of figures like Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Chimamanda Adichie, Wangari Maathai, or Kwame Nkrumah—African thinkers who have used English to challenge power structures and express their truths.
Stories are more than just entertainment; they shape how communities understand themselves. When classrooms prioritize Western literature over local narratives, or when African authors are reduced to “Africans who wrote in English,” it reinforces a harmful myth—that knowledge and value reside elsewhere. This must change.
Decolonising English studies involves moving away from treating British and American literature as the gold standard. It means valuing African, Asian, and Caribbean literatures on equal footing. It also means recognising the richness of indigenous languages such as Kiswahili, Dholuo, Luhya, Giriama, Pokot, Gikuyu, and Sheng. These are not inferior languages; they are vibrant expressions of identity and culture.
This conversation is not new. In 1968, shortly after Kenya’s independence, University of Nairobi lecturers like Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Henry Owuor-Anyumba, and Taban Lo Liyong questioned why African students were studying British literature as if London were the center of the world. Their call was clear: let curricula reflect our cultures, stories, and languages.
Over five decades later, this call remains urgent. Today’s world is multipolar, with cultural influence no longer flowing from a single Western source. From Nairobi to Delhi, Port of Spain to Lagos, new Englishes are emerging—not as broken versions of the “standard” but as full expressions of local identity. Whether it’s Sheng in Nairobi or Camfranglais in Yaoundé, these are innovations, not corruptions.
Classrooms must catch up with this reality. A Kenyan student should not only read Chaucer and Orwell but also engage with Nairobi street poetry, Dholuo proverbs, or Swahili oral epics. These are not optional additions—they are central to understanding ourselves and the world around us.
However, curriculum reform alone is not enough. Institutional change is essential. Who gets hired to teach literature? Whose languages get translated, funded, and archived? How much investment is made in indigenous-language research compared to English-medium scholarship? Without real institutional shifts, the concept of “decolonisation” risks becoming a hollow term.
The ACLALS conference tackled these complex issues head-on. Panels explored curriculum design, multilingual creative writing, South-South collaboration, and racism in global publishing. These are not just academic debates—they are real-world challenges that demand action.
Change will not come from conferences alone. It requires the involvement of policymakers, publishers, educators, and parents. The Ministry of Education must rethink literature syllabi. Publishers must support multilingual works. Universities must hire scholars of indigenous languages and literatures, not just experts in Western classics.
We must also be cautious of trendy terms like “Global Englishes” or “Transcultural English.” While they sound progressive, they can sometimes mask elite cosmopolitanism, celebrating diversity without challenging existing hierarchies. If English is truly global, it must make space for all its variations, not just the polished versions acceptable to Western gatekeepers.
English is not neutral. It has never been. But it can be transformed. It can become a tool for inclusion rather than exclusion, for connection rather than erasure.
This transformation begins with ownership. We must ensure that English serves us, not the ghosts of empire. That means grounding it in our languages, histories, and realities.
English is ours too. But only if we claim it.
