Yansh, Nigeria’s Most Famous Linguistic Export, Now in the Dictionary

 By Farooq Kperogi I started writing a short, casual article on yansh (the Nigerian Pidgin English word for a woman’s posterior, which prob...

 By Farooq Kperogi

I started writing a short, casual article on yansh (the Nigerian Pidgin English word for a woman’s posterior, which probably first emerged as a humorous mimicry of the crude English word ass or arse) a few weeks ago but stopped midway because the prurience of the subject matter is inconsistent with my public persona as a high-minded prude who is not given to lascivious frivolities (more on this misperception later).

News of the inclusion of nyash, among other Nigerian words, in the Oxford English Dictionary has given me the perfect excuse to resuscitate the article without any feeling of guilt or fear of being misunderstood.

I am neither puritanical nor licentious. As I will show shortly, like everyone else, I have my guilty pleasures. But my interest in the word is purely sociolinguistic and was sparked by my observation that in Anglophone African social media spaces (by which I mean the digital arenas of such countries as Ghana, Sierra Leone, The Gambia, Liberia, southern Cameroon, Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Rwanda, South Sudan, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Malawi, Botswana, Lesotho, Eswatini and Namibia), yansh has emerged as the preferred term for the female backside.

The remarkably enthusiastic adoption of this uniquely Nigerian English word across English-speaking Africa in the last few years has led me to conclude that it is far and away Nigeria’s most famous linguistic export in modern times, comparable to American English’s “OK,” which started life as a playful, slangy and jocular abbreviation of the humorous phrase “oll korrect,” but which every single variety of English on earth now uses without thinking twice.

Of course, Afrobeats takes the credit for popularizing yansh in Anglophone and, increasingly, Francophone and Lusophone Africa. Several continent-wide Nigerian hit songs have yansh in them, the latest being the playfully provocative “Water Water Yansh” by Muripounds, OBA DDJ45 and Emmyblaqcfr_, released in 2025, which has taken the continent by storm and has probably done more for posterior diplomacy than any cultural exchange program ever could.

However, as with all words powerful enough to transcend their immediate linguistic environment, yansh has acquired a variety of spelling variants outside Nigeria, the most famous being nyash. Other variants include yanshi, nyashi, yanch and yanchi. There may be more.

From my informal and non-systematic observation, which may well be inaccurate, the transformation of yansh to nyash appears to have first emerged among East and Southern Africans. The digraph “ny,” used to represent the voiced palatal nasal consonant, is common in Nilotic and Bantu languages. There are no Bantu or Nilotic languages in all of Nigeria, although Tiv is a Bantoid language and Kanuri is a Saharan language, which is often grouped with Nilotic languages in the Nilo-Saharan language family.

Now, although the nasal consonant digraph “ny” is not common in Nigeria, Nigerians, especially younger Nigerians, appear to have enthusiastically embraced the Nilotic-Bantu rendering of yansh as nyash. That is why Chella’s 2024 sensational song “Nyash Na Nyash” adopts the Nilotic-Bantu spelling. The lexicographers at the Oxford English Dictionary predictably followed suit and adopted nyash as the preferred spelling.

Chinua Achebe once said that any language that has the temerity to transgress its immediate environment and encroach on the territory of other people should learn to come to terms with the inevitable reality that it will be domesticated. Yansh left Nigeria, became nyash in eastern and southern Africa and returned to Nigeria as nyash, a fully naturalized linguistic citizen with a foreign accent.

Talking of yansh, a perfectly well-bred gentleman with whom I have had a polite and dignified relationship for years unintentionally sent me a mildly raunchy photo on WhatsApp of a woman with an exaggeratedly protuberant hindquarters and a naughty accompanying text sometime in mid-2025.

Although I was taken a little aback, I knew straight away that I was not the intended recipient because of the nature of our relationship. He is a highly cultured, well-mannered, religious and unctuous gentleman with whom I engage only in elevated, highfalutin conversations about transparency, honesty, probity, good governance, moral decay and related matters of civilizational urgency.

He was utterly mortified when he discovered that it was to me he had sent the photo along with the naughty text. He apologized profusely and pleaded that I should not misjudge his moral character because of it.

I assured him that I did not think any less of him because of his misadventure and that every human being has both a private and a public script in relational encounters. I added, for good measure, that we all have guilty pleasures we are not proud to announce publicly.

But days later, he returned with even more elaborate apologies. It was then that I decided to tell him that I shared the same guilty pleasures as he did and that I actually liked the photo.

Like him, I said, I share and receive such photos with only a few trusted friends. I routinely call one such friend, who is probably reading this and who is a well-regarded title holder in a historic northern Nigerian emirate, an unrepentant “yanshist,” our lexical invention for a man who has an outsized fondness for well-sculpted feminine hindquarters. 

When he is in the mood for high-octane mischief, he retaliates against my calling him a “yanshist” by calling me a “Professor of Yanshology.”

This self-disclosure gave my prim and proper acquaintance tremendous peace and comfort. He no longer apologized, although he never sent me another yansh photo, either.

From dance floors to dictionaries, yansh has completed a remarkable linguistic journey. It is proof that Nigerian Pidgin English, long disdained as street slang, is exporting vocabulary, humor and cultural swagger across the continent and back again. Not bad for a word that started life as a joke about anatomy and ended up as a global African idiom.