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Decolonising minds, reimagining literature
Decolonising minds, reimagining literature

Hindustan Times

time8 hours ago

  • Politics
  • Hindustan Times

Decolonising minds, reimagining literature

Every year, a ritual precedes the announcement of the Nobel Prize in Literature. Several names of possible winners dominate discussions on the web. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o invariably featured in these conversations, but never won. Let us not equate awards with literary greatness, though. At the same time, it must also be acknowledged that the lack of the award did not prevent us from reading Thiong'o. We gravitated to the author and his ideas for his radical politics and theorisation on the use of language especially in post-colonial nations such as his own Kenya and India in our case. Ideas can travel without the patronage and fanfare of big awards. Thiong'o and the enduring popularity of his seminal text, Decolonising the Mind, is a case in point. Thiong'o spoke about decolonisation before it became a symposia favourite across university departments. He was a torchbearer in every sense. Much like Frantz Fanon, his intellectual mentor in some ways. Thiong'o was a lifelong advocate for an exploration of our own languages, stories, writers and a steadfast critic of Eurocentrism and linguistic imperialism. For those who may not know, he even shed his birth name James and chose Ngũgĩ in his native Gikuyu — Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o meaning Ngũgĩ, son of Thiong'o. He has written extensively and expansively about the country of his birth and the birth of a writer in his memoir series — Dreams in a Time of War, In the House of the Interpreter and Birth of a Dream Weaver. It is in the last and final instalment of his memoirs where Thiong'o begins to reminisce about the birth of an author and the stories that he formed while studying at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda. It is also here that he first met Chinua Achebe. In obituaries that have appeared since the announcement of his death, he is often referred to as an African writer. There's no debating his place of origin but Thiong'o is also a world writer who inspired and shaped thinking, writing, reading, and critical analysis in many corners of the world. Thiong'o did many radical things as a writer but the most important is his decision to quit writing in English around 1977 and switch to writing in his mother tongue, Gikuyu. This happened following his year-long stint in a Kenyan prison after the staging of his controversial play which highlighted inequities in Kenyan society. In Detained: A Writer's Prison Diary (1981) he recounts the time spent as a political prisoner. Though recounting a personal experience, Thiong'o connects it to the larger political situation in Kenya by accusing the then government of being controlled by 'foreign capital' and 'foreign economic interests'. He said the Kenyan elites behaved as neo-colonialists. He was finally exiled from Kenya and lived in the UK and the US for the rest of his life. Not enough is often said or written about his fiction. Several of his novels are astonishing such as Weep Not, Child, A Grain of Wheat, Petals of Blood amongst others. To many of us in South Asia, his non-fiction is more popular owing to the strong anti-colonial ideas they helped to develop. Having said that, one must also acknowledge that Thiong'o was a very different fiction writer from Chinua Achebe or Wole Soyinka, the other two luminaries of 20th century African literature. Both Achebe and Soyinka focused extensively on the tension between tradition and the modern in African societies. Thiong'o, on the other hand, used every opportunity to unravel the pitfalls of colonialism and capitalism rather explicitly in his fiction. The three writers even openly argued in public during a conference in Uganda in 1962. Thiong'o argued that literature written in indigenous African languages should be called African Literature. Achebe and Soyinka opposed this idea and found Thiong'o's position flawed. It is not surprising that Thiong'o helped us to understand the virtues of translation through his speeches, essays, commentaries on the role of translation in a globalised world. Translation helps cultures to be in conversation with each other. He equated translation with democracy where everyone has a voice and representation or ought to have one. Translation provides that opportunity to all languages and writers of the world. He also self-translated his last novel, Wizard of the Crow, to English (from Gikuyu). Thiong'o's writings will continue to shape debates and discussions about the use of language and our reading of literature. His work provokes many questions. What constitutes the practice of decolonisation in current times? Is decolonisation being held hostage by academic lobbies in the West? Shouldn't decolonisation lead to new forms of storytelling in a multilingual nation like ours? Thiong'o created his own path. As readers, critics, students, and followers of his work, we should create ours. That's the best tribute for a writer you admire. Kunal Ray teaches literature at FLAME University, Pune. The views expressed are personal.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, 1938–2025: The writer who redefined African literature
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, 1938–2025: The writer who redefined African literature

Indian Express

time2 days ago

  • Entertainment
  • Indian Express

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, 1938–2025: The writer who redefined African literature

The literary world mourns the loss of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, the Kenyan novelist, playwright, and essayist whose revolutionary vision reshaped African literature. He died on May 28, 2025, at the age of 87. Few writers have wielded the pen with such political urgency or linguistic daring. From his early, searing portraits of colonial Kenya to his later, sprawling satires of dictatorship, Ngũgĩ's work was a lifelong act of defiance—against empire, against oppression, and against the very language in which he first wrote. Born in 1938 in Limuru, Kenya, under British rule, Ngũgĩ came of age amid the Mau Mau rebellion, an experience that seared itself into his fiction. His debut, Weep Not, Child (1964)—written while he was a student at Makerere University—was a landmark, the first English-language novel published by an East African. Its lyrical yet unflinching depiction of a boy's shattered dreams in a war-torn land announced a major new voice. But by the 1970s, Ngũgĩ had begun to question the language in which that voice spoke. His 1977 play Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), written in Gikuyu with Ngũgĩ wa Mirii, marked a turning point. A scathing critique of Kenya's neocolonial elite, it led to his imprisonment without trial. In detention, he composed Devil on the Cross (1980) on prison-issued toilet paper—an act of literary resistance that would become legend. Upon release, he fled Kenya, living in exile for over two decades. Yet his literary output never slowed. Works such as Matigari (1986) and Wizard of the Crow (2006)—a magisterial, genre-defying satire of dictatorship—proved that African-language literature could be as ambitious, as experimental, and as globally resonant as any written in English or French. His 1986 manifesto, Decolonising the Mind, remains essential reading in several countries, including India, is a blistering indictment of the 'cultural bomb' of colonialism and a rallying cry for linguistic sovereignty. 'Language,' he wrote, 'is the most important vehicle through which that power fascinates, holds, and blinds the African.' Though often tipped for the Nobel, he never received it—an omission that speaks less to his stature than to the biases of literary prestige. His influence, however, is immeasurable. Writers from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie to Binyavanga Wainaina have cited him as a beacon. Ngũgĩ's life was not without controversy—allegations of domestic strife shadowed his later years—but his literary legacy is unassailable. He was a writer who dared to imagine a world where African stories were told in African tongues, where the novel could be a weapon, and where art was inseparable from justice. In an era when African literature too often caters to Western expectations, Ngũgĩ's work reminds us that power can also lie in the untranslatable—the stories only he could tell, in the language only his people could claim. Aishwarya Khosla is a journalist currently serving as Deputy Copy Editor at The Indian Express. Her writings examine the interplay of culture, identity, and politics. She began her career at the Hindustan Times, where she covered books, theatre, culture, and the Punjabi diaspora. Her editorial expertise spans the Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, Chandigarh, Punjab and Online desks. She was the recipient of the The Nehru Fellowship in Politics and Elections, where she studied political campaigns, policy research, political strategy and communications for a year. She pens The Indian Express newsletter, Meanwhile, Back Home. Write to her at or You can follow her on Instagram: @ink_and_ideology, and X: @KhoslaAishwarya. ... Read More

Giant of African literature Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies aged 87
Giant of African literature Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies aged 87

Saudi Gazette

time3 days ago

  • General
  • Saudi Gazette

Giant of African literature Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies aged 87

NAIROBI — Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, who has died aged 87, was a titan of modern African literature — a storyteller who refused to be bound by jail, exile and illness. His work spanned roughly six decades, primarily documenting the transformation of his country — Kenya — from a colonial subject to a democracy. Ngũgĩ was tipped to win the Nobel Prize for Literature countless times, leaving fans dismayed each time the medal slipped through his fingers. He will be remembered not only as a Nobel-worthy writer, but also as a fierce proponent of literature written in native African languages. Ngũgĩ was born James Thiong'o Ngũgĩ in 1938, when Kenya was under British colonial rule. He grew up in the town of Limuru among a large family of low-income agricultural workers. His parents scrimped and saved to pay for his tuition at Alliance, a boarding school run by British missionaries. In an interview, Ngũgĩ recalled returning home from Alliance at the end of term to find his entire village had been razed by the colonial authorities. His family members were among the hundreds and thousands forced to live in detention camps during a crackdown on the Mau Mau, a movement of independence fighters. The Mau Mau uprising, which lasted from 1952 to 1960, touched Ngũgĩ's life in numerous, devastating ways. In one of the most crushing, Ngũgĩ's brother, Gitogo, was fatally shot in the back for refusing to comply with a British soldier's command. Gitogo had not heard the command because he was deaf. In 1959, as the British struggled to maintain their grip on Kenya, Ngũgĩ left to study in Uganda. He enrolled at Makerere University, which remains one of Africa's most prestigious universities. During a writers' conference at Makerere, Ngũgĩ shared the manuscript for his debut novel with revered Nigerian author Chinua Achebe. Achebe forwarded the manuscript to his publisher in the UK and the book, named Weep Not, Child, was released to critical acclaim in 1964. It was the first major English-language novel to be written by an East African. Ngũgĩ swiftly followed up with two more popular novels, A Grain of Wheat and The River Between. In 1972, the UK's Times newspaper said Ngũgĩ, then aged 33, was "accepted as one of Africa's outstanding contemporary writers". Then came 1977 — a period that marked a huge change in Ngũgĩ's life and career. For starters, this was the year he became Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o and shed his birth name, James. Ngũgĩ made the change as he wanted a name free of colonial influence. He also dropped English as the primary language for his literature and vowed to only write in his mother tongue, Kikuyu. He published his last English language novel, Petals of Blood, in 1977. Ngũgĩ's previous books had been critical of the colonial state, but Petals of Blood attacked the new leaders of independent Kenya, portraying them as an elite class who had betrayed ordinary Kenyans. Ngũgĩ didn't stop there. The same year, he co-wrote the play Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), which was a searing look at Kenya's class struggle. Its theatre run was shut down by the government of then President Jomo Kenyatta and Ngũgĩ was locked up in a maximum security jail for a year without trial. It was a fruitful 12 months, however — as Ngũgĩ wrote his first Kikuyu novel, Devil on the Cross, while in prison. It is said he used toilet paper to write the entire book, as he did not have access to a notebook. Ngũgĩ was released after Daniel arap Moi replaced Kenyatta as president. Ngũgĩ said that four years later, while in London for a book launch, he learned there was a plot to kill him on his return to Kenya. Ngũgĩ began self-imposed exile in the UK and then the US. He did not return to Kenya for 22 years. When he finally did return, he received a hero's welcome — thousands of Kenyans turned out to greet him. But the homecoming was marred when assailants broke into Ngũgĩ's apartment, brutally attacking the author and raping his wife. Ngũgĩ insisted the assault was "political". He returned to the US, where he had held professorships at universities including Yale, New York and California Irvine. In academia and beyond, Ngũgĩ became known as one of the foremost advocates of literature written in African languages. Throughout his career — and to this day — African literature was dominated by books written in English or French, official languages in most countries on the continent. "What is the difference between a politician who says Africa cannot do without imperialism and the writer who says Africa cannot do without European languages?" Ngũgĩ asked in a seminal, fiery essay collection, named Decolonising the Mind. In one section, Ngũgĩ called out Chinua Achebe — the author who helped to launch his career — for writing in English. Their friendship soured as a result. Away from his literary career, Ngũgĩ was married — and divorced — twice. He had nine children, four of whom are published authors. "My own family has become one of my literary rivals," Ngũgĩ joked in a 2020 LA Times interview. His son, Mukoma wa Ngũgĩ, has alleged that his mother was physically abused by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. "Some of my earliest memories are me going to visit her at my grandmother's where she would seek refuge," his son wrote in a social media post, which Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o did not respond to. Later in his life, Ngũgĩ's health deteriorated. He had triple heart bypass surgery in 2019 and began to struggle with kidney failure. In 1995, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and given three months to live. Ngũgĩ recovered, however, adding cancer to the lengthy list of struggles he had overcome. But now one of African literature's guiding lights — as Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once called him — is gone, leaving the world of words a little darker. — BBC

Kenyan literary giant Ngugi wa Thiong'o dies at 87 – DW – 05/28/2025
Kenyan literary giant Ngugi wa Thiong'o dies at 87 – DW – 05/28/2025

DW

time3 days ago

  • General
  • DW

Kenyan literary giant Ngugi wa Thiong'o dies at 87 – DW – 05/28/2025

With novels like "The Devil on the Cross" and "Matigari" writer Ngugi wa Thiong'o sheds light on the failings of post-colonial Kenya. This cost Ngugi his home. Africa has lost a pioneering author and visionary. Throughout his life, Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiong'o advocated for the African continent and his home country to free itself from Western cultural dominance. Baptized James Ngugi, he was born on January 5, 1938, in the central Kenyanregion of Limuru. He died Wednesday at the age of 87. "It is with a heavy heart that we announce the passing of our dad, Ngugi wa Thiong'o this Wednesday morning," wrote Wanjiku Wa Ngugi. "He lived a full life, fought a good fight," she added. Ngugi studied at the renowned Makerere College (now Makerere University) in Kampala, Uganda, in the early 1960s, and the University of Leeds in the United Kingdom. By the age of 30, he had established a writing career, making literary history in the process. Ngugi's drama "The Black Hermit" was performed during Uganda's 1962 independence celebrations. His 1964 work "Weep Not, Child" was the first published novel from East Africa. More English language novels would follow. After Ngugi's time in the United Kingdom, he renounced Christianity and shed his Christian name, because he believed it was a sign of Anglo-American neocolonialism. He took the name Ngugi wa Thiong'o in 1967, the same year he began teaching English literature at the University of Nairobi. Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiong'o eventually settled in California, where he was a professor of English and comparative literature at the University of California, Irvine Image: UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA/EPA/picture alliance The power of native language A key moment in Ngugi wa Thiong'o's life came in 1977 when he was asked to write a play with fellow writer Ngugi wa Mirii for a theater near Kenya's capital, Nairobi. The pair wondered which language would be most appropriate. Ngugi wa Thiong'o later reflected: "The very fact that we had to ask ourselves in what language we were going to write the play is in itself a telling point about how far gone we were, because the answer should have been obvious." The writers decided on the local language Gikuyu, which was also their own mother tongue. The theater piece "Ngaahika Ndeenda" ("I marry when I like") was a success. It attracted audiences from the entire Kikuyu region. The play hit home partly because it was written in the language of laborers and farmers, who also contributed to the play's production. But it also attracted unwanted attention: the prospect of Ngugi's influence as an independent thinker alarmed the Kenyan government. After just the 9th performance, "Ngaahika Ndeenda" was banned and Ngugi was detained for a year. But detention did little to discourage Ngugi. In fact, it cemented his conviction to write in his mother tongue, Gikuyu. Ngugi wrote his first Kikuyu novel "Devil on the Cross" on toilet paper while in prison. "Toilet paper in prison is meant to punish prisoners, so it is very coarse," the author explained years later. "But what is bad for the body, can sometimes be very good writing material." Colonial legacy Literature in African languages barely existed before Ngugi's time. When Ngugi turned his back on writing in English, he stoked a heated debate. Writers like Nigerian icon Chinua Achebe believed in appropriating the colonial language and adapting it for local realities. But for Ngugi, colonial languages in Africa symbolized neocolonial oppression beyond political independence. In an essay published in 1986, Ngugi wrote that after "psychological violence in the classroom" followed physical violence on the battlefield. By then, Ngugi lived in exile in England after hearing that President Daniel arap Moi's government planned to have Ngugi killed. Ngugi's writing continued to ruffle feathers with the Kenyan government. His heroic protagonist Matigari, in the eponymously named 1987 novel, is a returning independence war veteran whose enthusiasm for victory is soon stifled when he realizes the liberated country is turning into a police state where the old colonialists had simply been replaced by a new elite. Though Ngugi remarked that the setting and era was arbitrary, many interpreted this work as a thinly veiled commentary on Kenya's political system. No future in Kenya Ngugi lived in exile for 22 years, only returning to Kenya in 2004 when Daniel arap Moi was no longer president. But just two weeks later, intruders broke into Ngugi's apartment, torturing the writer and raping his wife. Three of the accused were sentenced to death for rape and theft. But Ngugi believed there were political motives behind the attack. His home country had become too dangerous. In 1989, the United States had become his haven. He taught at US universities, including Yale, New York University, and the University of California. Ngugi's novels have been translated into over 30 languages. He often translated his works into English himself. He has held on to the vision that literature written in African languages such as Luo or Yoruba would be translated directly into other African languages without using English as an intermediary. "That would allow our languages to communicate directly with each other," he reasoned. In 2022, his son, Mukoma wa Ngugi, alleged that he had physically abused his first wife, Nyambura, who died in 1996. Ngugi wa Thiong'o denied the accusations. Ngugi's 2006 novel "Wizard of the Crow" — an award-winning satire about corrupt leaders — gained international acclaim. Since then, he has been in the conversation for the Nobel Prize in Literature, earned honorary degrees from universities worldwide, including Yale University. "Ngugi had shown us the potential of literature to incite change and promote justice," according to Yale. Ngugi's most recent work, "The Perfect Nine", published and written in Gikuyu, became the first work written in an indigenous African language to be nominated for the International Booker Prize. This article was originally written in German.

Giant of African literature Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies aged 87
Giant of African literature Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies aged 87

Yahoo

time3 days ago

  • Health
  • Yahoo

Giant of African literature Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies aged 87

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, who has died aged 87, was a titan of modern African literature - a storyteller who refused to be bound by jail, exile and illness. His work spanned roughly six decades, primarily documenting the transformation of his country - Kenya - from a colonial subject to a democracy. Ngũgĩ was tipped to win the Nobel Prize for Literature countless times, leaving fans dismayed each time the medal slipped through his fingers. He will be remembered not only as a Nobel-worthy writer, but also as a fierce proponent of literature written in native African languages. Ngũgĩ was born James Thiong'o Ngũgĩ in 1938, when Kenya was under British colonial rule. He grew up in the town of Limuru among a large family of low-income agricultural workers. His parents scrimped and saved to pay for his tuition at Alliance, a boarding school run by British missionaries. In an interview, Ngũgĩ recalled returning home from Alliance at the end of term to find his entire village had been razed by the colonial authorities. His family members were among the hundreds and thousands forced to live in detention camps during a crackdown on the Mau Mau, a movement of independence fighters. The Mau Mau uprising, which lasted from 1952 to 1960, touched Ngũgĩ's life in numerous, devastating ways. In one of the most crushing, Ngũgĩ's brother, Gitogo, was fatally shot in the back for refusing to comply with a British soldier's command. Gitogo had not heard the command because he was deaf. In 1959, as the British struggled to maintain their grip on Kenya, Ngũgĩ left to study in Uganda. He enrolled at Makerere University, which remains one of Africa's most prestigious universities. During a writers' conference at Makerere, Ngũgĩ shared the manuscript for his debut novel with revered Nigerian author Chinua Achebe. Achebe forwarded the manuscript to his publisher in the UK and the book, named Weep Not, Child, was released to critical acclaim in 1964. It was the first major English-language novel to be written by an East African. Ngũgĩ swiftly followed up with two more popular novels, A Grain of Wheat and The River Between. In 1972, the UK's Times newspaper said Ngũgĩ, then aged 33, was "accepted as one of Africa's outstanding contemporary writers". Then came 1977 - a period that marked a huge change in Ngũgĩ's life and career. For starters, this was the year he became Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o and shed his birth name, James. Ngũgĩ made the change as he wanted a name free of colonial influence. He also dropped English as the primary language for his literature and vowed to only write in his mother tongue, Kikuyu. He published his last English language novel, Petals of Blood, in 1977. Ngũgĩ's previous books had been critical of the colonial state, but Petals of Blood attacked the new leaders of independent Kenya, portraying them as an elite class who had betrayed ordinary Kenyans. Ngũgĩ didn't stop there. The same year, he co-wrote the play Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), which was a searing look at Kenya's class struggle. Its theatre run was shut down by the government of then President Jomo Kenyatta and Ngũgĩ was locked up in a maximum security jail for a year without trial. It was a fruitful 12 months, however - as Ngũgĩ wrote his first Kikuyu novel, Devil on the Cross, while in prison. It is said he used toilet paper to write the entire book, as he did not have access to a notebook. Ngũgĩ was released after Daniel arap Moi replaced Mr Kenyatta as president. Ngũgĩ said that four years later, while in London for a book launch, he learnt there was a plot to kill him on his return to Kenya. Ngũgĩ began self-imposed exile in the UK and then the US. He did not return to Kenya for 22 years. When he finally did return, he received a hero's welcome - thousands of Kenyans turned out to greet him. But the homecoming was marred when assailants broke into Ngũgĩ's apartment, brutally attacking the author and raping his wife. Ngũgĩ insisted the assault was "political". He returned to the US, where he had held professorships at universities including Yale, New York and California Irvine. In academia and beyond, Ngũgĩ became known as one of the foremost advocates of literature written in African languages. Throughout his career - and to this day - African literature was dominated by books written in English or French, official languages in most countries on the continent. "What is the difference between a politician who says Africa cannot do without imperialism and the writer who says Africa cannot do without European languages?" Ngũgĩ asked in a seminal, fiery essay collection, named Decolonising the Mind. In one section, Ngũgĩ called out Chinua Achebe - the author who helped to launch his career - for writing in English. Their friendship soured as a result. Away from his literary career, Ngũgĩ was married - and divorced - twice. He had nine children, four of whom are published authors. "My own family has become one of my literary rivals," Ngũgĩ joked in a 2020 LA Times interview. His son, Mukoma wa Ngũgĩ, has alleged that his mother was physically abused by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. "Some of my earliest memories are me going to visit her at my grandmother's where she would seek refuge," his son wrote in a social media post, which Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o did not respond to. Later in his life, Ngũgĩ's health deteriorated. He had triple heart bypass surgery in 2019 and began to struggle with kidney failure. In 1995, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and given three months to live. Ngũgĩ recovered, however, adding cancer to the lengthy list of struggles he had overcome. But now one of African literature's guiding lights - as Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once called him - is gone, leaving the world of words a little darker. Ngugi wa Thiong'o and his son discuss family and writing Why Tanzanian Nobel laureate Abdulrazak Gurnah is hardly known back home Africa's lost languages: How English can fuel an identity crisis Go to for more news from the African continent. Follow us on Twitter @BBCAfrica, on Facebook at BBC Africa or on Instagram at bbcafrica Africa Daily Focus on Africa

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