By Sabiu Abdullahi
There is growing discontent among Hausa speakers and language professionals over what many describe as careless and culturally insensitive translations in advertisements and public communications by major Nigerian companies.
This concern resurfaced recently when Hygeia HMO, a prominent health maintenance organization, launched a campaign in Northern Nigeria using the slogan “Lafiya Ubangiji ne.”
While it may have sounded spiritual to non-native ears, it struck many Hausa speakers as bordering on blasphemy.
“The intended meaning was likely, ‘Health comes from God,’ but what people heard was ‘Health is God,’” said Habib Sani Galadima, a professional Hausa-English translator. “It wasn’t just a translation error. It was a failure to respect cultural and religious sensitivities.”
In an opinion piece published by Nigerian Tracker, Galadima criticized the use of literal translation in a language where tone, logic, and spiritual coherence matter deeply.
He pointed out that the message would have been better rendered with a familiar Hausa expression such as “Lafiya uwar jiki”, which loosely means “health is wealth.”
“Too often, translation is treated as a technical afterthought,” Galadima added. “But when it’s done carelessly, the damage is real—especially in communities where moral and religious values are central.”
The outrage is not limited to a single campaign. Another incident involved a drink advertisement that attempted to promote a non-alcoholic beverage using the phrase “Ba barasa a cikin wannan giya”, which literally means “No alcohol in this beer.”
But in Hausa, both barasa and giya mean alcohol—making the phrase sound absurd.
A better alternative, Galadima suggested, would have been “Abin sha mai daɗi kuma babu giya a cikinsa”—a clearer and culturally appropriate way to convey the same message.
Frustration is also mounting on social media, where many Hausa speakers are voicing concerns over perceived regional bias and neglect.
“How is it that companies based in Lagos are approving translations for audiences in Kano?” one user asked. “You call MTN customer care or your bank, and you’re shocked by how bad the Hausa sounds.”
Others argue that the issue goes beyond language—it’s about representation and systemic imbalance.
“Most company headquarters are in the South, and they prefer to use their own people—even when the result is subpar,” said one commentator. “Even when northern celebrities are made ambassadors, their packages don’t compare to those given to their southern counterparts.”
Some have pointed to the broader cultural implications, suggesting that the North must do more to support its own.
“We don’t promote our own talent enough, and we’re not intentional about protecting our language,” one respondent lamented.
This issue is not new in the tech and linguistic communities either. A PhD who is a Hausa NLP expert, shared how during his early involvement with Masakhane, an African language machine translation initiative, Yoruba speakers were initially translating Hausa using tools like Google Translate.
“I had to push back and reclaim that space for actual Hausa speakers,” he said.
The recurring problem, many argue, is the lack of qualified translators with a deep understanding of Hausa culture, values, and dialectal variations.
In Hausa, words are not just linguistic units—they carry rhythm, reverence, status, and deep social cues.
Professional translators and language advocates are now calling for a national conversation and policy shift.“What would change if we trained translators not just in grammar, but in cultural listening?”
Galadima asked in his piece. “This work requires more than accuracy. It requires care.”
As Hausa remains one of the most widely spoken languages in Africa, the stakes are high.
Without proper translation, messages meant to connect may instead offend, confuse, or alienate the very people they are trying to reach.
For now, voices from the North are growing louder: “This is more than bad grammar—it’s about respect.”