Insight

The enduring spirit of Ngugi

Published

2 years ago

July 14, 2023

Ngugi wa Thiongo’s very own life itself, just like his works, continues to intrigue the silent observer. During the first week of June 2023, it was reported by Carey Baraka of The Guardian Newspaper that Africa and Kenya’s foremost literature giant, Ngũgĩ, is going through “a bitter divorce” from his second wife, Njeeri, at a time when he is also ailing in the US.

Kenyan writer and journalist, Carey Baraka, had travelled to California in October 2022 to spend some time with Ngugi. “The plan had been to write a profile, taking the measure of this legendary author, who is now 84 and entering the final phase of his life.” On the 5th of January 2023, Ngugi turned 85 with the additional great news that he was still writing. Since 2002, Ngugi has been a professor of comparative literature at the University of California, Irvine.

Carey Baraka himself is a writer from Kisumu, Kenya who writes about literary culture, food, sports, and politics, among other things.

In this recent report in question, Baraka ascribes Achebe, Soyinka and Ngugi three distinct positions in the literary scene of Africa in the 1950’s and 60’s: “If Achebe was the prime mover who captured the deep feeling of displacement that colonisation had wreaked, and Soyinka the witty, guileful intellectual who tried to make sense of the collision between African tradition and western ideas of freedom, then Ngũgĩ was the unabashed militant. His writing was direct and cutting, his books a weapon – first against the colonial state, and later against the failures and corruption of Kenya’s post-independence ruling elite…”

On getting to California Baraka finds Ngugi in a morning dress and their relationship, from the report, appears natural and friendly. As you read, it turns out that Ngugi stays alone with the aid of a health aide. Ngugi has suffered many maladies in recent years and he has gone through various major medical operations and he has had to constantly visit medical centres for routine check-ups.

Baraka makes what I think up to now is the most elaborate ever description of the great writer’s physical appearance and mannerisms: “Ngũgĩ has a slow, slightly croaky voice. He talks in a Gĩkũyũ accent mixed with traces of the English one he picked up while living in England, often stressing the last word in a sentence. He peppers his sentences with ‘oh my God’, which he uses to register incredulity at opinions he takes to be absurd. He has a way of being dismissive without being rude, taking a strong stance without quite silencing you. He is quick to laugh, and when he laughs at something he finds ridiculous, he buries his face in his hands, while shaking his head and saying, “Oh my God.” When he laughs at something he finds funny, he lifts his hand to the top of his head – bald except for grey tufts of hair above his ears – but then winces, for that movement can be painful for him. Sometimes, the laugh can descend into a hacking cough, which exacerbates the pain of the incisions he has in his belly from multiple surgeries…”

And finally the gauntlet falls: “Ngũgĩ seemed to sense that an explanation of some kind was needed because he said, unprompted, “I know I look like a bachelor, but I’m not.” He and his wife were going through a divorce. Before the two of them separated, they lived in University Hills, a part of Irvine where a lot of university faculty stay, near the beach.”

And that above is the saddest part of Baraka’s write up because it draws a picture of Ngugi as a lonely and ailing old man. Apparently Ngugi married in 1961. Over the next 17 years his first wife, Nyambura, gave birth to six children. His second wife, Njeeri wa Ngugi, he met in 1987 and they have two children.

On my own part, Ngugi has always been an immense inspiration. It was in my early high school days in Centenary District, Northern Zimbabwe when I first came into contact with the Kenyan writer through his iconic novel, The River Between. My soul was immediately touched.

Our teacher of English, may his soul rest in peace, used Ngugi’s book as supplementary reading but for me, it went beyond all that. My imagination was fired. The hills, the rivers, the elders in Ngugi’s Kenya were reminiscent of nearly everything in the northern part of my country.

My teacher held The River Between and read from it, pacing up and down the classroom. The opening chapters were especially tickling:
“The two ridges lay side by side. One was Kameno, the other was Makuyu. Between them was a valley. It was called the valley of life. Behind Kameno and Makuyu were many more valleys and ridges, lying without any discernible plan. They were like many sleeping lions which never woke. They just slept, the big deep sleep of their Creator.”

My teacher read on, excited, “A river flowed through the valley of life. If there had been no bush and no forest trees covering the slopes, you could have seen the river when you stood on top of either Kameno or Makuyu. Now you had to come down. Even then you could not see the whole extent of the river as it gracefully, and without any apparent haste, wound its way down the valley. like a snake. The river was called Honia, which meant cure, or bring back-to-life. Honia River never dried: it seemed to posses a strong will to live, scorning droughts and weather changes. And it went on in the same way, never hurrying, never hesitating. People saw this and were happy.”

When he came to the river, my teacher’s voice became deeper: “Honia was the soul of Kameno and Makuyu. It joined them. And men, cattle, wild beasts and trees, were all united by this life-stream.

When you stood in the valley, the two ridges ceased to be sleeping lions united by their common source of life. They became antagonists. You could tell this, not by anything tangible but by the way they faced each other, like two rivals ready to come to blows in a life and death struggle for the leadership of this isolated region.”

I felt like I was in that Kenyan terrain myself, seeing the similar valleys and ridges of our land through the classroom window. The familiarity was exhilarating. Listening to the African Gikuyu names; Kameno and Makuyu rang a bell because Gikuyu strangely felt like Shona, my mother tongue.

My classmates and I were mesmerised too by the proverb: “Kagutui kamucii gatihakago ageni”-the oil skin of the house is not for rubbing onto the skin of strangers. We sang out the proverb in the titillating Gikuyu in the school yard at breaktime, just for the fun of it!

We were simply happy to have discovered a writer who came from a far away place that, nevertheless, felt and smelt like ours. Little did I know that I had unconsciously been led to realise that the names of men and women in my community could also be made to appear in serious pieces of writing! I would write about my people as they are!

Apparently Ngugi looked up to Achebe. Ngugi’s actual words are, “I first met Chinua Achebe in 1961 at Makerere University in Kampala. His (Achebe’s) novel, Things Fall Apart, had come out, two years before.” More shocking is the revelation that Ngugi was then only a second year student, almost with no published work to his name, except one story, Mugumo published in Penpoint, the literary magazine of the English Department at Makerere!

In 1961, Achebe was 31 and Ngugi only 23. We often do not notice that our heroes are people, from very humble beginnings like us.

At Ngugi’s request, Achebe looked at Ngugi’s short story and Ngugi says Achebe made some encouraging remarks. What Ngugi did not tell Achebe was that he was in the middle of his first novel for a writing competition organised by the East African Literature Bureau; a novel that would later be published as The River Between.

In The River Between, Ngugi writes about the struggles of a young leader, Waiyaki, to unite the two villages of Kameno and Makuyu through sacrifice and pain. The novel is set during the colonial period, when white settlers arrived in Kenya’s “White Highlands” and has a mountainuos setting.

Ngugi says his second encounter with Achebe was a year later at the same Makerere at the now famous 1962 conference of writers of English expression. The African writers and critics who gathered at Makerere in Uganda in June 1962 at a conference called “A Conference of African Writers of English Expression” faced the fundamental question of determining who qualified as an African writer and what qualified as African writing.

Was African Literature only the literature produced in Africa or about Africa? Could African literature be on any subject, or must it have an African theme? Should it embrace the whole continent or south of the Sahara, or just black Africa? Should African Literature be only literature in indigenous African languages or should it include literature in Arabic, English, French, Portuguese, Afrikaans, and so on?

Ngugi says about this encounter, “My next encounter was more dramatic, for my part, at least, and would impact my life and literary career, profoundly.” He says that Chinua Achebe was among other literary luminaries of Africa, that included Wole Soyinka, J P Clark, the late Eski’a Mphahlele, Lewis Nkosi and Bloke Modisane and others. The East African contingent consisted of Grace Ogot, Jonathan Kariara, John Nagenda and Ngugi.

Ngugi’s invitation was on the strength of his short stories published in Penpoint and in Transition. Ngugi says Achebe was so prominent that the novel most discussed in the conference as a model of literary restraint and excellence was Things Fall Apart.

In his recent report, Carey Baraka is privileged to hear Ngugi talk about his differences with Achebe who which were based on their different sides on the language debate: “Some years later, however, the friendship between Ngũgĩ and Achebe soured as Ngũgĩ shifted towards Wali’s position on language. In Decolonising the Mind, he included Achebe among the African writers he criticised for writing in European languages. “Achebe said English was a gift. I disagreed,” Ngũgĩ told me. “But I wasn’t attacking him in a personal way, because I admired him as a person and as a writer, what he was doing with his novels. I realised he was angry at me, because in the first edition of one of his books, he had quoted me at length, but in the second he removed me completely.”

But Ngugi continues to maintain his stance on the language debate: “The question of English continues to haunt Ngũgĩ. “I can never think of my first novels without thinking of the language issue,” he told me. “How could I have these African characters and have them all speaking perfect English?

“When I wrote my first book, I wrote it in a language my mother couldn’t access. I rewarded her for taking me to school by writing in a language she can’t read or write.”
His voice went soft. “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just wrong about the language issue.” He paused. “No, I don’t think I’m wrong.”

Altogether Ngugi’s sons-Tee Ngugi, Nducu wa Ngugi, Mukoma wa Ngugi and his daughter Wanjiku wa Ngugi are all published authors, showing the father’s influence on his family.

Ngugi continues to be the talking point across the African continent even in his advanced age. His never-die spirit and endurance is the other great lesson which he is giving us.

Memory Chirere

Insight

Down in the Dump: Conclusion

Published

2 months ago

December 2, 2024

The Post

I closed last week by recording the dreadful news that trashy Trump had been elected called to mind WB Yeats’s poem “The Second Coming.” This is the poem whose opening lines gave Chinua Achebe the phrase “things fall apart.”

Yeats observes “Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

It was written in 1919 and controversially uses Christian imagery relating to the Apocalypse and the Second Coming to reflect on the atmosphere in Europe following the slaughter of the First World War and the devastating flu epidemic that followed this.

It also reflects on the Irish War of Independence against British rule.

In lines that I can now read as if applying to the recent American election, Yeats mourns: “The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity.”

And then I can visualise Trump in the poem’s closing lines: “What rough beast is this, its hour come round at last, / Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born?”

Trump is certainly a rough beast and isn’t the choice of verb, slouching, just perfect? For a non-allegorical account of the threat posed by the Dump, I can’t do better than to quote (as I often do) that fine South African political journalist, Will Shoki. In his words: “Trump’s administration simply won’t care about Palestinians, about the DRC, about the Sudanese.

It will be indifferent to the plight of the downtrodden and the oppressed, who will be portrayed as weak and pathetic. And it will give carte blanche [that is, free rein] to despotism and tyranny everywhere.

Not even social media, that once revered third-space we associated with subversion and revolution in the first quarter of the 21st century can save us because Silicon Valley is in Trump’s back pocket.”

So what follows the triumph of the Dump? We can’t just sit down and moan and bemoan. In a more recent piece of hers than the one I quoted last week, Rebecca Solnit has observed: “Authoritarians like Trump love fear, defeatism, surrender. Do not give them what they want . . . We must lay up supplies of love, care, trust, community and resolve — so we may resist the storm.”

Katt Lissard tells me that on November 7th following the confirmation of the election result, in the daytime and well into the evening in Manhattan, New York, there was a large demonstration in support of the immigrants Trump despises.

And a recent piece by Natasha Lennard gives us courage in its title “The Answer to Trump’s Victory is Radical Action.”

So, my Basotho readers, how about the peaceful bearing of some placards in front of the US Embassy in Maseru? Because the Dump doesn’t like you guys and gals one little bit.

One last morsel. I had intended to end this piece with the above call to action, but can’t resist quoting the following comment from the New York Times of November 13th on Trump’s plans to appoint his ministers.

I’m not sure a satirical gibe was intended (the clue is in the repeated use of the word “defence”), but it made me guffaw nonetheless. “Trump will nominate Pete Hegseth, a Fox News host with no government experience, as his defence secretary. Hegseth has often defended Trump on TV.” You see, it’s all about the Dump.

Chris Dunton is a former Professor of English and Dean of Humanities at the National University of Lesotho.

Insight

A question of personal gain

Published

2 months ago

November 26, 2024

The Post

Recently, an audio recording featuring the distressed MP for Thaba-Bosiu Constituency, Joseph Malebaleba, circulated on social media. The MP appears to have spent a sleepless night, struggling with the situation in which he and his associates from the Revolution for Prosperity (RFP) party were denied a school feeding tender valued at M250 million per annum.

In 2022, Lesotho’s political landscape underwent a significant shift with the emergence of the RFP led by some of the country’s wealthiest individuals. Among them was Samuel Ntsokoane Matekane, arguably one of the richest people in Lesotho, who took the helm as the party’s leader and ultimately, the Prime Minister of Lesotho.

The RFP’s victory in the general election raised eyebrows, and their subsequent actions have sparked concerns about the motivations behind their involvement in politics.

In an interview with an American broadcasting network just after he won the elections, Matekane made a striking statement, proclaiming that he would run Lesotho exactly as he runs his business.

At first glance, many thought he was joking, but as time has shown, his words were far from an idle threat. In the business world, the primary goal is to maximize profits, and it appears that the RFP is adopting a similar approach to governance.

Behind the scenes, alarming developments have been unfolding. A communication from an RFP WhatsApp group revealed a disturbing request from the Minister of Communications, Nthati Moorosi, who asked if anyone in the group had a construction business and could inbox her.

This raises questions about the RFP’s focus on using government resources to benefit their own business interests.

The government has been embroiled in a series of scandals that have raised serious concerns about the ethical conduct of its officials. Recent reports have revealed shocking incidents of misuse of public funds and conflicts of interest among key government figures.

Over the past two years, the RFP has been accused of awarding government contracts to companies affiliated with their members, further solidifying concerns about their self-serving agenda. For instance, vehicles purchased for the police were allegedly sourced from suppliers connected to a Minister’s son and MP.

The MP for Peka, Mohopoli Monokoane, was found to have hijacked fertiliser intended to support impoverished farmers, diverting crucial resources away from those in need for personal gain.

Such actions not only betray the trust of the public but also have a direct impact on the livelihoods of vulnerable communities. Monokoane appeared before the courts of law this week.

While farmers voice their concerns regarding fertiliser shortages, it seems that Bishop Teboho Ramela of St. Paul African Apostolic Church, who is also a businessman, is allegedly involved in a corrupt deal concerning a M10 million fertilizer allocation, benefiting from connections with wealthy individuals in government.

The procurement of fertiliser appears to be mired in controversy; recall that the Minister of Agriculture, Food Security and Nutrition, Thabo Mofosi, was also implicated in the M43 million tender.

The renovation of government buildings with elaborate lighting systems was contracted to a company owned by the son of an MP. The RFP’s enthusiasm for infrastructure development, specifically road construction and maintenance, is also tainted by self-interest, as they have companies capable of performing these tasks and supplying the necessary materials, such as asphalt.

Minister Moteane finds himself in a compromising situation regarding a lucrative M100 million airport tender that was awarded to his former company. Ministers have even gone so far as to award themselves ownership of diamond mines.

Meanwhile, the nation struggles with national identification and passport shortages, which according to my analysis the RFP seems hesitant to address until they can find a way to partner with an international company that will benefit their own interests.

The people of Lesotho are left wondering if their leaders are truly committed to serving the nation or simply lining their own pockets. As the RFP’s grip on power tightens, the consequences for Lesotho’s democracy and economy hang precariously in the balance.

It is imperative that citizens remain vigilant and demand transparency and accountability from their leaders, lest the nation slide further into an era of self-serving governance.

In conclusion, the RFP’s dominance has raised serious concerns about the motives behind their involvement in politics. The apparent prioritisation of personal profit over public welfare has sparked widespread disillusionment and mistrust among the population.

As Lesotho navigates this critical juncture, it is essential that its leaders are held accountable for their actions and that the nation’s best interests are placed above those of individuals.

Only through collective effort and a strong commitment to transparency and accountability can Lesotho ensure a brighter future for all its citizens.

Ramahooana Matlosa

Insight

Down in the Dump: Part One

Published

2 months ago

November 26, 2024

The Post

Attentive readers will recall that some weeks ago, I scribbled a series of pieces on elections due to be held in the UK, France, South Africa, and the USA. These elections were unusually critical for the well-being of their countries and even that of the world.

The results of the last of these elections are now with us and we are faced with the devastating news that Donald Trump is heading back to the White House.

I can hardly think of worse news to swallow or to equip the world to survive the years ahead.

The Dump, as I call him, is one of the most odious, dangerous, untrustworthy individuals currently inhabiting planet Earth. To cite a few of his demerits: he is a convicted felon; he believes climate change is a hoax; he is a sexist and a racist (one of his former military advisers has gone so far as to describe him as a fascist).

He is a snuggle buddy of the Russian dictator Vladimir Putin and will probably discontinue aid to Ukraine as it resists invasion by Russia. Western European allies such as France, Germany and the UK are dismayed at his victory, as he holds the principles of democracy and constitutionalism in contempt.

As for Africa, well, he once described it as a “shit country,” so don’t look forward to much support from him.

Readers who spent time at the NUL will remember my dear colleague Katt Lissard who is now back home in New York. She spent some years with us as a Professor specialising in Theatre studies and was the Artistic Director of our international Winter / Summer Institute for Theatre for Development.

Many activists in the USA like Katt, who don’t see themselves as part of the political mainstream, chose to campaign for the Democrats and Kamala Harris in the hope of keeping Trump and the far right out of power. Confronted with the news of Trump’s victory, she sent an email to friends noting this was “just a brief check-in from the incomprehensible USA.”

She then explained: “We’re in shock and the early days of processing, but white supremacy, misogyny and anti-immigrant bias are alive and well and driving the boat here.” So, how do Katt and millions of decent, like-minded Americans plan to weather the storm?

Katt explained: “We were deeply depressed and deeply furious as it became clear that one of the worst human beings on the planet was going back to the White House, but we are still breathing and know that we will in the days ahead begin to formulate plans and strategies—and not just for heading north across the Canadian border.”

Picking up on that last point, it may well be that many decent Americans might just up and off across the border; Canada had better prepare for an avalanche of applications for residence permits.

And not just from Americans; in, for example, the American university system alone there are many many Africans employed in high positions (Professors and such-like), who must now face the fact they are living in a country whose leader despises them and who may opt to get out.

In her email written to her friends, once the news from hell had been confirmed, Katt quoted a piece by Rebecca Solnit, one of the most exciting writers at work in the USA today (readers may remember that I have previously reviewed two of her books for this newspaper, Whose Story is This? and Recollections of My Non-Existence).

Now Solnit is a feminist and at the heart of her work is a dissection of the way women have been marginalised in the USA (let’s remember that Kamala Harris, the Presidential candidate who lost to Trump, did so partly because so many American males could not bring themselves to vote for a woman.

I am thinking of the kind of male who invaded the White House when it was announced Trump had lost the 2020 election, bare-chested and wearing cow-horn helmets on their numbskull heads).

Solnit has this to say on our response to the Trump victory: “They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them.

You are not giving up and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving.

You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in.

Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is.” And then: “A lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary.”

What is so morale-boosting about Solnit’s piece is not just her vision but also her command of language.
Her writing is so crisp and elegant. Language comes at us at its best, of course, in literature, and when I heard that the Dump was on the move back to the White House, I immediately recalled one of the most startling poems in the English language, “The Second Coming” by the Irish poet WB Yeats.

I’ll kick off with that next week.

To be concluded

Chris Dunton