Chichewa is becoming truly international – thanks to trade
I recently travelled by road to South Africa on a trip organised by a choir. On a two thousand kilometre trip, you have ample opportunity to learn many new things. I first travelled on that route in or around 1992, soon after the hostilities between Frelimo and Renamo had ceased in Mozambique. The route was, however, still considered to be unsafe and we had to travel through Mozambique on a convoy, with a military vehicle in front and another at the back.
Getting to Cuchamano, the Mozambican exit port into Zimbabwe, was like the miracle of miracles. We got there at night after the border post had closed and so had to spend a night there. It was tough. There were no toilets around. People could not go into the nearby bush to relieve themselves for fear of landmines. Everybody was confined to the bus.
One thing I noticed that time was that hardly anybody spoke Chichewa. Those that did were almost certainly Malawian. It was different this time round. An army of hawking youths greeted us at Cuchamano, offering to sell us nsima, among other edibles. And all the bargaining was in pure Chichewa.
“Ndikubweretsereni nsima ya nkhuku?” (“Can I bring you nsima served with chicken?”) was an offer one heard a hundred times. One of the boys jokingly said, “Kapena ndibweretse nsima ya khwangwala” (Or should I perhaps bring nsima served with raven meat?”).
Crossing over into Zimbabwe, I was even more surprised when the vending women sold their food items in Chichewa, and with an almost perfect accent.
“Mukhoza kutenga zakumwa pa ngongole,” (“you may get the drinks on credit”) a number of women offered. I never quite figured out what arrangement would be made for the vendors to get their money back if indeed some purchaser got some stuff on credit. That notwithstanding, hearing the Zimbabwean women speak perfect Chichewa was pure delight.
I had my greatest surprise when we got to the South African side of Beit Bridge border post. Even here, vendors sold their wares in Chichewa, a far cry from the 1992 situation.
“Mukhoza kupeza sim card yaulere komanso kugula ma units” (You may want to get a free sim card besides buying some airtime) was a ubiquitous offer at Beit Bridge. I ended up getting a Cell C sim card and some Cell C airtime, thanks to the efforts of the Chichewa speaking vendors.
It all comes down to one thing: aggressiveness in business.
The numbers of Malawians that cross the borders en route to South Africa these days are alarming. They have become a niche market to some aggressive vendors in Mozambique, Zimbabwe and South Africa. In their aggressiveness, the vendors have been ready do anything practicable to try and reach out to their niche market. They have not allowed language to be a barrier.
In Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, one monkey is alleged to have said, “If the mountain cannot come to me, I will go to the mountain.” That is the level of commitment that these vendors have to serving their Chichewa speaking clientele. If the clients cannot speak Shona or Zulu or Portuguese, they (the vendors, that is) would rather learn some Chichewa themselves.
On both the outward bound and inward bound trips, a gentleman got on the bus in Mozambique, laden with slippers in all colours. He too was a fluent Chichewa speaker and on both occasions managed to offload all the slippers within a short space of time. I asked him where the slippers were made. In Mozambique, he said.
At Dedza border post I saw a Malawian vendor selling a variety of shoes. None of them was made in Malawi. We need to conduct a diligent search within ourselves and see if we can be so aggressive as to learn a different language in order to serve a niche market and indeed if we can meaningfully contribute to the growth of our economy by producing local goods and marketing them.
