You Don’t Need to Be Fluent to Begin: Reflections on a Translation Mentorship

In this personal reflection, JC Niala explores her journey through the FA Theatre Translator Mentorship programme, reconnecting with their heritage language and considering the role of translation in bringing African theatre to wider audiences.

I’ve always written in more than one language—even in languages that I am not necessarily fluent in. It seems to me a strange contradiction that, while we recognize it takes practice to develop language skills, we often discourage ourselves or criticize others when language is used imperfectly. We never do this with children; instead, we celebrate every new word and sentence they throw together, knowing that precisely this encouragement will lead them to fluency.

This kind of encouragement is at the heart of the Foreign Affairs mentorship. I first reached out to Camila and Trine because of my ‘Shakespeare in Swahili’ project, which, as its name suggests, involves (slowly) translating several of Shakespeare’s plays into Swahili. Why Shakespeare? Because his work has been a constant source of strength and comfort throughout my life. Why Swahili? Because it’s one of my four mother tongues, yet due to my upbringing in a post-colonial context spread across continents, my fluency has always felt somewhat fragmented.

Initially, when Camila and Trine described their mentorship programme, I hesitated. I had hoped for guidance translating from English into Swahili, yet they were offering mentorship for translations into English. Ultimately, it was the theatrical foundation of the mentorship that convinced me. Theatre in translation felt like the perfect entry point to explore working multilingually. As an African theatre-maker, multilingualism is inherent. The continent boasts around 2,300 languages even before considering the colonial languages—Arabic, Dutch, English, French, Spanish, and Portuguese—that became official languages in many African countries.

Working from Swahili into English also allowed me to deeply engage with Kenyan playwrights, which, given my diaspora experience, was particularly meaningful. Practically, it advanced my lifelong process of language reclamation by enriching my Swahili theatre vocabulary.

The first in-person gathering at the Foreign Affairs studio immediately confirmed my choice. We played with language. I found myself among people who loved language(s) just as deeply as I do. Idioms and expressions flew around freely, and playful word games sparked joy. The delicious pizza provided for lunch was just the cherry on top.

I found myself among people who loved language(s) just as deeply as I do. Idioms and expressions flew around freely, and playful word games sparked joy.

As the mentorship progressed, the politics of language increasingly occupied my thoughts. It became evident that the mentorship was unfolding at what Stuart Hall might call a ‘particular conjuncture’. We live in an increasingly homogenized world where dominant languages flatten the subtlety and complexity inherent in diverse tongues. Each time we gathered, at least half a dozen languages filled the room, transporting me back to my cosmopolitan childhood when I eagerly learned words and phrases from everyone around me. The profound curiosity and mutual understanding within our mentorship group reminded me of the beautiful complexities that different languages hold.

Swahili, like African theatre itself, often lives vaguely in people’s minds—a language and a cultural form they know exist but might not truly access or know how to engage with. The Disney film The Lion King popularized the phrase ‘Hakuna Matata’, yet ironically, this wasn’t something Swahili speakers commonly said before. Instead, they adopted it playfully in response to its global fame. My goal, however, is to bring forward a different kind of African theatre—one deeply rooted in contemporary concerns, embracing the richness of our similarities and differences. After one showcase performance, an audience member shared that watching the reading finally helped her understand a boarding school experience her Kenyan friend had described. This moment made my heart sing—not because theatre should function as a sociological lesson, but because the words had opened a window into her friend’s life, deepening their relationship and illuminating experiences she hadn’t personally lived.

The monthly check-ins became an anchor, thoughtfully accommodating the reality that most of us juggling translation also had other jobs. Evening and weekend sessions and flexible deadlines meant the programme recognized our various life commitments.

The meticulous care woven into every aspect of the mentorship stood out to me most vividly. We engaged with numerous experienced translators, each generously sharing their practice, and, somewhat magically, we each translated a full play without ever feeling overwhelmed. The mentorship structure allowed each step to naturally lead to the next, making the ambitious goal of translating a full stage play feel manageable rather than daunting.

In these fractured times, translation work feels more urgent than ever. Choosing to translate a text—especially for performance, to illuminate worlds unfamiliar to the audience—is a radical act. Even when I struggled with finding the right words, it was precisely these community-supported challenges that reinforced why we strive to build bridges across languages.

In these fractured times, translation work feels more urgent than ever. Choosing to translate a text—especially for performance, to illuminate worlds unfamiliar to the audience—is a radical act.

Translating from Swahili into English represented a significant step in my personal language reclamation and directly informed my ‘Shakespeare in Swahili’ project. If one lesson stood out from the mentorship, it was learning to embrace hesitancy. Often, fear of mistakes stops us from fully engaging with languages that are not our own. However, the mentorship reframed hesitancy as a valuable and necessary step toward accuracy and respect. I began viewing hesitancy not as insecurity but as a form of care—respectful exploration of meaning.

This perspective was especially meaningful when translating the play into Black British English, sometimes called Multicultural London English. My mentors pushed and supported me to be deeply reflective about this overarching choice and the nuanced decisions embedded within it.

Theatre in translation thrives in a beautifully liminal space. Yes, you work closely with text, but you also lean heavily into interpretation. The non-verbal exercises we undertook highlighted how gestures and expressions could deeply enrich translation, embedding multiple layers of meaning into a single phrase.

While the sold-out showcases at Jermyn Street Theatre in London’s West End at the mentorship’s conclusion provided immense satisfaction—a chance to share our hard work with industry professionals, friends, and family—what remains most memorable are the quieter moments of holding each other’s work gently, learning new techniques, enjoying delightful meals, and celebrating small breakthroughs. The final destination was always different from what we initially imagined, proving that fluency needn’t precede translation—indeed, it is often through translating that fluency and understanding are truly found.