
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o — 5 things you should know about one of Africa's greatest writers
The late Kenyan author committed to giving voice to the decolonial moment and vowed, in the late 1970s, to write only in his home language.
One of Africa's most celebrated authors, Kenyan writer and academic Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, has died at 87. Having published his first novel – Weep Not, Child – in 1964, Ngũgĩ pursued a rich and acclaimed career as a writer, teacher and decolonial thinker. His last creative effort was Kenda Muiyuru (The Perfect Nine), a Gikuyu epic that was longlisted for the 2021 International Man Booker Prize.
Kenyan academic and writer Peter Kimani sets out five things you should know about this legendary African writer.
He understood the politics of his time
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o is regarded as one of Africa's greatest writers of all time. He grew up in what became known as Kenya's White Highlands at the height of British colonialism. Unsurprisingly, his writing examines the legacy of colonialism and the intricate relationships between locals seeking economic and cultural emancipation and the local elites serving as agents of neo-colonisers.
The great expectations for the new country, as captured in his seminal play, The Black Hermit, anticipated the disillusionment that followed. His fiction, from the foundational trilogy of Weep Not, Child, The River Between and A Grain of Wheat, amplify those expectations, before the optimism is replaced by disillusionment in Petals of Blood.
He shaped a new African story
African fiction is fairly young. Ngũgĩ stands in the continent's pantheon of writers who started writing when Africa's decolonisation gained momentum. In a certain sense, the writers were involved in constructing new narratives that would define their people. But Ngũgĩ's recognition goes beyond his pioneering role at home: his writing resonates with many across the continent.
One could also recognise his consistency at churning out high-quality stories about Africa's contemporary society. This he always did in a way that illustrates his complete commitment to equality and social justice.
He has done much more, through scholarship. His treatise, Decolonising the Mind, now a foundational text in postcolonial studies, illustrates his versatility. His ability to spin the yarns while commenting on the politics that goes into literary production of marginal literature is a very rare combination indeed.
Finally, one could talk about Ngũgĩ's cultural and political activism. This precipitated his year-long detention without trial in 1977. He attributed his detention to his rejection of English and embracing his Gikuyu language as his vehicle of expression.
Critics are divided on his greatest works
It's hard to pick a favourite from Ngũgĩ's more than two dozen texts. But there is concurrence among critics that A Grain of Wheat, which was voted among Africa's best 100 novels at the turn of the last century, stands out for its stylistic experimentation and complexity of characters.
Others consider the novel as the last signpost before Ngũgĩ's work became overly political. For other critics, it's Wizard of the Crow – which came out in 2004, after nearly two decades of waiting – that encapsulates his creative finesse. It utilises many literary tropes, including magical realism, and addresses the politics of African development and the shenanigans by the political elite to maintain the status quo.
His work has been translated into more than 30 languages around the world.
He stopped writing in English in 1977
Without a doubt, Africa would be poorer without the efforts of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o and other pioneering writers to tell the African story. He was an important figure in postcolonial studies. His constant questioning of the privileging of the English language and culture in Kenya's national discourse saw him lead a movement that led to the scrapping of the Department of English at the University of Nairobi – replaced by a Department of Literature that placed African literature and its diasporas at the centre of scholarship.
He never stopped writing
Ngũgĩ remained active in writing, even in old age. Among his later offerings was the third instalment of his memoir, Birth of a Dreamweaver, that looks back on his years at Makerere University in Uganda. This is the period when he published his novels Weep Not, Child and The River Between, while still an undergraduate. Also at this time he wrote the play The Black Hermit, which was performed as part of Uganda's independence celebrations in 1962.
In later years he was busy restoring his early works into Gikuyu, from English.
Ngũgĩ appeared on the list of favourites to win the Nobel Prize in Literature for a number of years. Since the workings of the Nobel award committee remain secret – the committee's deliberations are kept secret for 50 years – it will be decades before we know why he was overlooked when so many felt he deserved the prize. DM
Peter Kimani is professor of practice at Aga Khan University Graduate School of Media and Communications in Karachi, Pakistan.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


The Citizen
4 hours ago
- The Citizen
Lowvelders sip and savour on local selections at Unwined
Lowvelders sip and savour on local selections at Unwined Lowvelders sipped away on SA's best wines at Mbombela Golf Club on Saturday. This was the biggest Unwined event yet with over 600 people attending and 27 South African wineries from the Cape represented. Attendees were welcomed with a complimentary wine glass and a bottle of water from one of the main sponsors, Valpré. Small tables and chairs invited the guests to sit and enjoy the beautiful view over the mountains and fill their glasses with new and unknown flavours. Big names like Jakkalsvlei, Beyerskloof, Nederburg and Durbanville Hills were among the wineries the guests tasted from. ALSO READ: Music and wine under the African night sky with Kruger Untamed The atmosphere was vibrant with live music from local band, Havanna, and people enjoying the afternoon with family and friends. Food stalls like Halloumi Hub, Johnny's Fries and Prego House paired well with the wines and kept guests wanting more. ALSO READ: IN PHOTOS: Sipping and savouring at the Unwined Wine and Food Show in Mbombela The organisers, Toiné and Joe Schoeman, and GT and Lizelle Lundie, are passionate about wine and host this event twice a year in hopes of establishing a wine culture collective in the Lowveld. 'Even if you don't drink wine, you can learn to appreciate it, since your palate changes as you get older,' Tioné shared. This event is a great opportunity for wineries to showcase their latest wines and get discovered by new potential customers. If you missed this event, you can join in ast the next Unwined on September 27. At Caxton, we employ humans to generate daily fresh news, not AI intervention. Happy reading! Stay in the know. Download the Caxton Local News Network App Stay in the know. Download the Caxton Local News Network App here

TimesLIVE
5 hours ago
- TimesLIVE
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o: A voice of fire, a mind of freedom
In the corridors of postcolonial thought and the vast terrain of African letters, one name echoes with the clarity of resistance and the depth of conviction: Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. To speak of Ngũgĩ is to speak not only of literature but of struggle, not only of art but of liberation. His words have long outgrown the pages they were written on. They have become weapons against forgetting, monuments to dignity and blueprints for cultural self-reclamation. Born into a Kenya ravaged by British imperialism, Ngũgĩ's life was shaped by the brutality and disorientation of colonial rule. The soil of his childhood was soaked in the blood of the Mau Mau Rebellion and the shadows of empire loomed large over every classroom, every church sermon and every official document. The colonial legacy, as he would later argue, was not only political but deeply epistemic. It had dismembered the African mind, made us strangers to our own histories, and taught us to mistrust our languages, customs, and gods. Ngũgĩ did not take this betrayal lying down. Instead, he turned his life into a mission of re-membering what had been dismembered. His early novels, including The River Between, A Grain of Wheat, and Petals of Blood, captured with devastating beauty the psychic toll of colonialism and the ambiguities of independence. These works did not flatter, they interrogated. They held both the coloniser and the complicit postcolonial elites to account. Through them, Ngũgĩ laid bare the reality that political freedom without cultural sovereignty is no freedom at all. His resistance was not merely theoretical. It crystallised in acts of profound courage. One of the most emblematic of these was his collaboration with Ngũgĩ wa Mĩriĩ on the searing play I Will Marry When I Want. This was art not written for the academy or for foreign publishers, but for peasants and workers. It was performed in Gikuyu, staged in villages, and filled with the raw anger of the dispossessed. The play dissected class exploitation, cultural alienation and religious hypocrisy. It exposed the spiritual residue of empire that lingered long after flags changed hands. The state responded with repression. Ngũgĩ was arrested and imprisoned without trial. He witnessed the machinery of authoritarianism turn its sights on artists and thinkers. Yet, even in a maximum-security prison, he wrote. He used toilet paper, working in secret. For Ngũgĩ, the pen has always been more than a tool. It is a flame. And fire, once lit, cannot be imprisoned. He emerged from prison not broken but more radicalised. He rejected English as his language of literary expression and deliberately embraced Gikuyu. This was not merely a linguistic shift; it was an intellectual revolution. By choosing to write in his mother tongue, Ngũgĩ defied the colonial assumption that knowledge must pass through Western filters to be legitimate. He insisted that African stories, philosophies, and epistemologies were complete in themselves and must be told in the languages of their birth. The exploitation of African labour continues under new names. The erasure of African languages continues in global curricula. The theft of African futures is repackaged as foreign direct investment and foreign aid In doing so, Ngũgĩ offered a profound lesson to all of us. The true struggle is not only political but also cognitive. The colonisation of the mind is perhaps the most enduring of empires. It is only through cultural self-knowledge that we begin to dismantle it. He became a fierce advocate for the decolonisation of education, challenging African institutions to stop reproducing the logic of empire and to begin producing knowledge grounded in African realities, cosmologies and aspirations. He called on Africa to shape its own future. His work remains painfully relevant. In the face of contemporary struggles such as neocolonial economic dependency, cultural commodification, migration crises and state repression, Ngũgĩ's voice reminds us that these are not isolated events. They are echoes of a past never fully confronted. The exploitation of African labour continues under new names. The erasure of African languages continues in global curricula. The theft of African futures is repackaged as foreign direct investment and foreign aid. He stood with Africans who demanded the nationalisation of the banks, the gold mines and the land. These were people who sought to strike a fatal blow at the financial and gold-mining monopolies, and at the farming interests that have, for centuries, plundered the continent and condemned its people to servitude. Such a step is not only necessary but also imperative. The realisation of the continent's goals is inconceivable, indeed impossible, unless and until these monopolies are dismantled and the wealth of the continent is returned to its people. The democratisation and breaking up of these monopolies will open new fields for the development of a prosperous non-European bourgeois class. For the first time in the continent's history, this class will have the opportunity to own, in its own name and right, mines and factories. Trade and private enterprise will grow and flourish as never before. His life and work teach us the following truth: to be African is not a passive identity but an active resistance. We must speak our truth in our own tongues. We must love ourselves deeply enough to fight for our histories, our knowledge systems, and our collective future And yet, Ngũgĩ does not leave us in despair. He is, at his core, a writer of hope. His belief in the power of ordinary people to resist, to imagine, and to transform is unshakeable. He believes in the strength of solidarity among workers and intellectuals, women and men, Africans and diasporic communities. He believes, deeply, in the power of the word to awaken, to mobilise and to heal. His life and work teach us the following truth: to be African is not a passive identity but an active resistance. We must speak our truth in our own tongues. We must love ourselves deeply enough to fight for our histories, our knowledge systems, and our collective future. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o is not simply a writer. He is a compass. He is a map-maker for generations seeking direction in a postcolonial maze. He is a sower of intellectual seeds that bloom in classrooms, prisons, fields and stages across the continent. We honour him not just for what he has written, but for what he has ignited: the right to be fully African, unapologetically human, and radically free. We will forever salute Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, a pan-Africanist of note. Your pen is not only mighty; it is immortal. Andile Lungisa is an ANC national executive committee member and former president of the Pan African Youth Union.


Daily Maverick
6 hours ago
- Daily Maverick
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o — 5 things you should know about one of Africa's greatest writers
The late Kenyan author committed to giving voice to the decolonial moment and vowed, in the late 1970s, to write only in his home language. One of Africa's most celebrated authors, Kenyan writer and academic Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, has died at 87. Having published his first novel – Weep Not, Child – in 1964, Ngũgĩ pursued a rich and acclaimed career as a writer, teacher and decolonial thinker. His last creative effort was Kenda Muiyuru (The Perfect Nine), a Gikuyu epic that was longlisted for the 2021 International Man Booker Prize. Kenyan academic and writer Peter Kimani sets out five things you should know about this legendary African writer. He understood the politics of his time Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o is regarded as one of Africa's greatest writers of all time. He grew up in what became known as Kenya's White Highlands at the height of British colonialism. Unsurprisingly, his writing examines the legacy of colonialism and the intricate relationships between locals seeking economic and cultural emancipation and the local elites serving as agents of neo-colonisers. The great expectations for the new country, as captured in his seminal play, The Black Hermit, anticipated the disillusionment that followed. His fiction, from the foundational trilogy of Weep Not, Child, The River Between and A Grain of Wheat, amplify those expectations, before the optimism is replaced by disillusionment in Petals of Blood. He shaped a new African story African fiction is fairly young. Ngũgĩ stands in the continent's pantheon of writers who started writing when Africa's decolonisation gained momentum. In a certain sense, the writers were involved in constructing new narratives that would define their people. But Ngũgĩ's recognition goes beyond his pioneering role at home: his writing resonates with many across the continent. One could also recognise his consistency at churning out high-quality stories about Africa's contemporary society. This he always did in a way that illustrates his complete commitment to equality and social justice. He has done much more, through scholarship. His treatise, Decolonising the Mind, now a foundational text in postcolonial studies, illustrates his versatility. His ability to spin the yarns while commenting on the politics that goes into literary production of marginal literature is a very rare combination indeed. Finally, one could talk about Ngũgĩ's cultural and political activism. This precipitated his year-long detention without trial in 1977. He attributed his detention to his rejection of English and embracing his Gikuyu language as his vehicle of expression. Critics are divided on his greatest works It's hard to pick a favourite from Ngũgĩ's more than two dozen texts. But there is concurrence among critics that A Grain of Wheat, which was voted among Africa's best 100 novels at the turn of the last century, stands out for its stylistic experimentation and complexity of characters. Others consider the novel as the last signpost before Ngũgĩ's work became overly political. For other critics, it's Wizard of the Crow – which came out in 2004, after nearly two decades of waiting – that encapsulates his creative finesse. It utilises many literary tropes, including magical realism, and addresses the politics of African development and the shenanigans by the political elite to maintain the status quo. His work has been translated into more than 30 languages around the world. He stopped writing in English in 1977 Without a doubt, Africa would be poorer without the efforts of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o and other pioneering writers to tell the African story. He was an important figure in postcolonial studies. His constant questioning of the privileging of the English language and culture in Kenya's national discourse saw him lead a movement that led to the scrapping of the Department of English at the University of Nairobi – replaced by a Department of Literature that placed African literature and its diasporas at the centre of scholarship. He never stopped writing Ngũgĩ remained active in writing, even in old age. Among his later offerings was the third instalment of his memoir, Birth of a Dreamweaver, that looks back on his years at Makerere University in Uganda. This is the period when he published his novels Weep Not, Child and The River Between, while still an undergraduate. Also at this time he wrote the play The Black Hermit, which was performed as part of Uganda's independence celebrations in 1962. In later years he was busy restoring his early works into Gikuyu, from English. Ngũgĩ appeared on the list of favourites to win the Nobel Prize in Literature for a number of years. Since the workings of the Nobel award committee remain secret – the committee's deliberations are kept secret for 50 years – it will be decades before we know why he was overlooked when so many felt he deserved the prize. DM Peter Kimani is professor of practice at Aga Khan University Graduate School of Media and Communications in Karachi, Pakistan.