Okèlè, Not Swallow: Reclaiming the True Taste of Yorùbá Language

Language is more than words. It is the vessel of our culture, the carrier of our worldview, and the keeper of our history. Every word we speak is a piece of our identity. When we begin to abandon our own words for foreign or borrowed ones—especially when we already have the right word in our mother tongue—we slowly erase ourselves.

In today’s Nigeria, it has become common to hear Yorùbá people adopt words from other ethnic groups, or worse, to translate their foods and traditions into English in ways that do not capture their essence. This may seem harmless, but it weakens the authenticity of Yorùbá culture and gradually diminishes our linguistic heritage. It is time to correct this trend and proudly reclaim our true words.

A language should only borrow when there is no equivalent expression within its system. Yorùbá is one of the richest languages in Africa, with words for nearly every aspect of life. Borrowing words unnecessarily not only reduces our vocabulary, it also disrespects the ancestors who shaped the language. For example, it is not Omugwo (an Igbo word for postnatal care). The Yorùbá equivalent is Òlójójò Ọmọ. It is not Swallow (a poor English attempt to describe a food category). In Yorùbá, it is Okèlè. It is not Efo Ugu (a misapplied Igbo-English blend). In Yorùbá, it is Èfó Ìròkò. It is not Ogbono (a distorted rendering). The true Yorùbá is Obẹ Àpọn. It is not Beans cake. It is Akara. It is not Beans pudding or Moin-moin/Mai mai. It is Ólèlé or Mọ́imọ́i. It is not Pounded Yam. It is Ìyàn.

Each of these words carries cultural meaning that cannot be captured by borrowed or translated terms. When we say Swallow instead of Okèlè, we reduce a deeply cultural category of food into a mere physical action. When we say Beans cake instead of Akara, we strip away the cultural memory, the street-corner traditions, the taste of home carried in that name. Language is memory. Language is heritage. Language is power. If we do not guard our words, we allow others to define us.

The way forward is clear. Parents and elders must intentionally use the correct Yorùbá words at home. A child who grows up eating Ìyàn should not think of it as “pounded yam” but as Ìyàn. When friends or family use the wrong term, we must gently remind them of the proper Yorùbá word. Schools, cultural organizations, and even restaurants should proudly display the authentic Yorùbá names of foods and traditions. Influencers, writers, and broadcasters must avoid lazy translations and model linguistic pride.

The survival of a people is tied to the survival of their language. To lose our words is to lose our world. This is not just about food names—it is about identity. Let us correct ourselves and correct others. Let us speak Yorùbá with pride. Let us say Okèlè, not Swallow. Let us say Akara, not Beans cake. Let us say Ìyàn, not Pounded Yam.

This is more than grammar. It is cultural survival. It is heritage preservation. It is respect for who we are.

A kì í jẹun ká gbàgbé orúkọ rẹ̀. (One does not eat and forget the name of the food.)