Many East Africans use the word ‘Jaluo’ almost pejoratively and without any regard for grammar
My moral and intellectual upbringing restrains me from hurling an epithet like “fools” at a whole tribe, nation or race, especially should these be part of my country (Kenya) or my region (East Africa).
However, I refuse to condemn the Ugandan president because I do not believe that the same Yoweri Kaguta Museveni I knew in Dar es Salaam is capable of such chauvinism.
At any rate, he must enjoy the benefit of the doubt because he has denied he ever described “Jaluo” as Wajinga.
Nevertheless, the alleged statement contains a perennial mistake about the Luo that it is high time we corrected.
As members of the same family – brought together by historical happenstance we had no power over — we just must learn to refer to one another with respect and correctly.
The Luo deserve it if only because, in some way, they occupy a central place in the geo-politics of the region.
Not only does their tribal land sprawl into all the three major East African countries but also, as individuals, they are to be found in almost every village in the region.
For this reason alone, even if you hold the view that the Luo are fools, at least you should express it in a manner that is both logical and respects their rules of speech. Of course, this responsibility must, in turn, be discharged by the Luo themselves when referring to other ethnic groups.
Yet many East Africans use the word “Jaluo” almost pejoratively and without any regard for grammar.
It is used to refer to the whole ethnic community. This is what leads to the embarrassment of referring to “Jaluo” as Wajinga, which is grammatically impossible.
Why? Because Jaluo is a singular (Dholuo) noun, whereas Wajinga is a plural (Kiswahili) attribute.
No, there is no harm in mixing the languages. The harm occurs only in the daily — almost contemptuous — refusal to observe grammatical agreements.
Let me repeat it. Jaluo cannot be Wajinga. JALUO can only be Mjinga (or Mwerevu).
For the word Jaluo refers strictly to an individual.
“Ja” is the equivalent of the Bantu “M” or “MW”, as in Mganda (a Ugandan) and Mwangola (an Angolan).
Thus the term “Mjaluo” — used habitually by East Africa’s Bantu — is tautological.
For the elements “M” (or “Mw”) and “Ja” mean exactly the same thing, “person of.”
“Ja” has given rise to “Jal” (an individual), “Jalni” (“this one”), “Jalno” (“that one”) and, perhaps, “Ojal” (the the name of a permanent secretary in Mzee Kenyatta’s first government). The feminine form of “Ja” is “Nya” (“woman of”), plural “Nyi,” which has spawned “Nyako” (girl), plural “Nyiri.”
Correctly, then, a Bantu should refer to a Luo individual as Mluo — in line with, say, Mdigo, Mzaramo and Mtoro. The correct plural form is Waluo, not Wajaluo, which, though equally common, is even more fatuous than Mjaluo.
For it contains not only the same tautology but also the same grating contradiction between two grammatical persons — the Bantu “Wa,” which is plural, and the Luo “Ja,” which is singular.
Between parentheses, I should comment that, concerning peoples, the plural “Wa” is used only by what linguistic anthropologists used to call the “Younger Bantu” (especially, on the eastern side of the Rift Valley).
What the anthropologists used to call “Older Bantu” — found only on the other side of the valley and all the way to the Atlantic Ocean — prefer the prefix “ba” or “aba,” as Banyankole, Bakongo, Baluhya or Abaluhya, Abagusii and Basuba or Abasuba.
The last group — to whom I belong — were originally Bantu but have been swallowed by Jokowiny (the Kenya Luo).
The generic term Bantu itself (Luhya Abandu) belongs to Older Bantu. Younger Bantu (Kiswahili Watu) prefer the “wa” form. These words are plural. It is superfluous to speak of “Bantus.”
In Dholuo, the plural form of Jaluo is Joluo.
“Jo” means “people of” (a place or walk of life) and can be prefixed to a location (Jorusinga and Jokisumo), a tribe (Jokikuyu and Jonyakyusa), a nation (Jochina and Joingresa, a religion (Jokristo and Joislam) and a race (Jorachar, whites, and Jorateng’, blacks).
We also have Jopuonj (teachers), Jotugo (players), Josiasa (politicians), Jopur (farmers), Jolupo (fishermen), Jojuogi (witchdoctors), Joneko (lunatics), Jolweny (warriors), Jobura (members of a council), Josomo (the educated ones), etc.
But “Jo” changes to “Ji” to refer to any collective of individuals: like Ji Apar (10 people). The singular form of “Ji” is no longer “Ja” but “Ng’ato” (an indefinite person), related to “Ng’a” or “Ng’ano” (“who”), Ng’ane (“thingamabob”), Ang’o (“what”) and the Kalenjin “Ng’o.”
If he were writing in Dholuo, “Ng’ato” is the word that my tormentor would have used when he claimed that Raila Odinga was “my man.” He would have said that Agwambo is “Ng’at Ochieng” (“Ochieng’s person”), which, given the lopsidedness of our respective fortunes, is difficult to imagine.
But JaOchieng simply does not exist as a construction. However, the genitive Ng’at (“man of”) has a pejorative lacing. It implies servility and sycophancy. A Moi hanger-on (and there were a legion and a half) was Ng’at Moi.
Moreover, Ja (“man of”), Nya (“woman of”) and Ng’ato (what the poet E.E. Cummings would have referred to as “anyone”) must be distinguished from “Dhano.” This is always singular and always neuter because it refers to mankind as a whole, namely, the species Homo Sapiens Sapiens.
A number of things, then, become clear. Being individuals, Jaluo, Ji Apar and Ng’at Moi can be arrant fools. But Joluo (being ethnic) and Dhano (being taxonomic) just cannot be fools. In any case, the rules of living together in order to maximise the production of our wherewithal should ban such epithets.
Thus, if he said it, there are at least two reasons I would demand an apology from my old friend — (a) because I am Jaluo and (b) because he owes me exemplary behaviour as one of my three East African leaders.
