I have just finished watching Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s interview on YouTube, a practice I often follow after reading books or articles by my favorite authors and personalities. Ngugi’s soft and soothing yet assertive voice captivates me, especially when he is explaining concepts such as identity and Pan-Africanism. In this particular interview, while answering a question from the audience on “the burning desire” that compelled him to write under extremely bothersome conditions in prison, he used an analogy of when a kid learns how to walk or talk for the first time; they do it for as long as they possibly can – walks to the furthest possible end and calls “mama” as many times as they can, provided the mother responds.
Ngugi’s books are great. I read Weep Not, Child in 2024 – his first published book – and I deeply enjoyed it. I have so far bought A Grain of Wheat, Dreams in a Time of War, Petals of Blood, and Birth of a Dream Weaver. In addition to his books, the wisdom he oozes in interviews captivates me. I have always wanted to possess or at least have unlimited access to the resources concerning my heroes, especially books and interviews (podcasts, videos, etc). Unfortunately, most of them are dead.
Sadly, I will never watch interviews of Benjamin Franklin. Ngugi wa Thiong’o, albeit in his old age, has done a lot of interviews and has written more than a dozen books. And this is a good thing – at least for me! What pains me is when I see published interviews of my heroes rushed because of the time limitations imposed by event schedules. I have always felt that when these rare figures have volunteered to share their knowledge and experiences, they should be allowed to do so for as long as they want, but I understand that this is not realistic.
The most recent encounter was during The African Leadership University’s Reimagine Education event that had Nhlanhla Thwala, the Provost and Vice-Chancellor of the institution, as a panelist. As a fan of the Provost, I strongly believe that he was greatly restricted by time to share his knowledge and experience with us. Furthermore, Nhlanhla’s case is worse because his online footprint – interviews, podcasts, articles, etc – is very scarce.
Upon finishing watching Ngugi’s interview on YouTube, I asked myself if, as a nation, we are doing enough to cultivate the new literary giants who will fill the gaps that the likes of Ngugi wa Thiong’o would one day leave devoid. I quickly drew a comparison to Nigeria, noting that Chimamanda Ngozi has closely followed the footsteps of Chinua Achebe, albeit not directly – or rather thematically. Probably there are other exports apart from Chimamanda, but the mentioned personality tops the list. How about Kenya?
The late Margaret Ogolla’s The River and the Source, which I read as a set book in high school, epitomizes contemporary classic literature – in composition and depth. I have heard great commentaries about Yvonne Adhiambo Owuor’s Dust, Okwiri Oduor’s Things They Lost, and Wanjiru Koinange’s The Havoc of Choice. But they haven’t yet attracted and caught the international market. (Of course, Kenya’s literature cannot be discussed without mentioning the late Ken Walibora, whose Kidagaa Kimemwozea I also read as a set book in high school.)
Is it just too early (and therefore unfair) to compare them to established acts like Chimamanda? Even more fundamentally, is Chimamanda the best yardstick for comparison in this particular scenario?
Comparisons aside, are we doing our best to nurture those who would inherit the baton from Ngugi wa Thiong’o and our other literary giants who have pushed Kenyan literature to newer heights? If not, what are some of the things that can be introduced or improved to achieve this?
