Categories
Books Personalities

The Ngugi I knew

Ngugi (centre) with his wife Njeeri (Right) and PLO Lumumba (left) during the book launch at the National Museums of Kenya

Today I have the single unenviable task of writing about Ngugi when everyone has written what is to be written about Kenya’s foremost writer, who went to join his ancestors on Wednesday last week.

So where do I start?

Well, I will start from the very beginning. Growing up, I didn’t encounter much of Ngugi; my elder siblings were studying texts like Ayi Kwei Armah’s The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born and Peter Abrahams’ Mine Boy.

However, towards the end of the 1980s, as I was about to clear my primary school education, the Moi government started a ‘big fight’ with ‘dissidents’, who included Koigi wa Wamwere, writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o, among others. The dissidents were said to be members of group called Mwakenya, and that they wanted to overthrow the government and ‘destabilise’ the country.

That is the first time I encountered Ngugi. It is also the first time the word effigy entered my dictionary. To prove their loyalty to the government, politicians would make effigies, which would then be burnt in public, or thrown to the sea, in the case of Mombasa.

Then, Nakuru, my hometown, was home to many rabid politicians, who would come up with the nastiest things to do or say, just to be seen to be on the side of the government. We had Kariuki Chotara, who was the Nakuru Kanu branch chairman then – being a district Kanu branch chairman was a very powerful position.

There was also Kihika Kimani, father of the current Nakuru governor, and later Wilson Leitich, who inherited Chotara’s seat.

This bunch of politicians from Nakuru had to be extra ‘active’ since Koigi, one of the dissidents, hailed from Nakuru. In fact, Koigi had at one point represented our constituency (Nakuru North) in Parliament.

Alongside dissident and effigy, two other words also found prominence of place in my growing dictionary; exile and subversive.

Newspapers reported that the dissidents were planning subversive activities and that they were in exile. Koigi was in Norway and Ngugi was in the UK, before he went to the US.

One of my elder brothers had recently been posted as primary school teacher and he religiously bought newspapers, which I enthusiastically dug in. The editors and journalists provided background information on the dissidents and that is how I learned that Ngugi was a writer, that he had taught at the University of Nairobi. He was detained without trial, just like Koigi and that while in detention, he wrote a whole book on toilet paper.

I was fascinated and impressed.

Then I learned that as part of his ‘subversive’ activities, Ngugi had written a play in Gikuyu and staged it in his Kamirithu village in Nakuru. People from all over the country, who spoke Gikuyu, would be ferried in lorries and buses, to go and watch, Ngaahika Ndeeda (I will Marry when I want).

To my young mind, after watching the play, the people would come back home angry with the government and wanting to overthrow it.

Ngugi, to me, was like a book and movie character; I found it hard to believe that a human being could do the things he was said to have done. Yaani the man was not even afraid of Moi and Kanu!

Ngugi was, for me, a mythical figure; defying all odds to do what he did.

Then I read that the man had written another book titled Devil on the Cross. I knew, through Christianity, that the Cross was associated with Jesus but now Ngugi was putting the devil there as well – What was this man not capable of?

As if that was not enough, I read that Ngugi had written yet another book, where a character known as Matigari was going around villages inciting people by asking them very difficult questions. It got so bad that policemen and detectives were despatched to go and arrest this Matigari man; a mere character in a book!

I told you, this Ngugi man was something else.

Whenever newspapers wrote about Ngugi, they used a black and white photo of the man wearing a full neck sweater, taken from a sideways angle.

This iconic photo was burned in my memory, much like one where the imprisoned Nelson Mandela was pictured with a stylish cut running through his hair.

In the early nineties, when the country was agitating for Multi-party politics, and I had just joined high school, matters to do with Ngugi had somewhat cooled down.

This coincided with Ngugi’s fallow period when he didn’t write much, but I kept tucked his memory somewhere in my archives.

The man that properly reintroduced me to Ngugi and his works, now on an intellectual level, was US based scholar, Prof Evan Mwangi. I really looked forward to his delightful articles published on the Literary Forum, in the Sunday Standard. By then, I had just joined The Standard as a newbie features correspondent.

That is about the time that I appreciated how big Ngugi was; his name had become a cottage industry among people who wished to remain relevant in the literary domain.

Many, including university professors, wrote to praise Ngugi, others wrote to criticise him; some on very flimsy grounds, like one who wrote that Ngugi was the ‘father of Mungiki’, simply because he wrote on aspects of Gikuyu culture,

How demented!

At around 2003, we heard that Ngugi was about to release his newest book, Múrogi wa Kagogo, which he would later translate into Wizard of the Crow.

I had really polish my written Gikuyu in order to be able to read the book, which came out in instalments, published locally by East African Educational Publishers (EAEP).

Unlike Kikuyus who were born and educated in the Mount Kenya region, I did not have the benefit of learning to read and write Gikuyu up to Standard Four. But I coped.

It was then announced that Ngugi would be coming back to Kenya, after 22 years in exile. This piece of information got me excited and sad at the same time.

I was excited that I would somehow see the subject of my intense fascination and hear his voice in close quarters. I was however sad that I was in between jobs – having been retrenched at the Standard at the age of 28! – and as budding literary journalist, I would not enjoy a ringside seat in the whole Ngugi homecoming business.

Then came the horrible news that Ngugi and his wife had been attacked and his wife raped. I could not wrap the news around my head. I shut it down altogether.

One day, while the case was being investigated, I had gone for lunch at the Central Police Station canteen, when I saw Ngugi with a number of plain clothes police officers in tow. I reckoned he had probably gone to identify some suspects.

I was struck by how fragile and frail he looked, with his signature shaggy hair; he an oversized coat a pair of baggy trousers and open shoes. He looked sad and tired.

I tried to figure out what was going inside his mind at that moment and I again shut it down.

This was not the fire-eating Ngugi I had stored in my mind all those years; just like the equally frail Mandela who came out of prison after 27 years.

A certain John Kiragu, a cousin of Ngugi’s first wife, the late Nyambura, was tried in court for planning and financing the attack.

For context, Kiragu, the current Limuru MP, is suspected to have planned and financed the attack on Rigathi Gachagua, when he attended a funeral in Limuru, shortly after he was impeached.

Make of that what you will.

In one of his subsequent returns to the country to attend the court case, I got the opportunity to interview Ngugi. I had joined Sunday Nation as a literary correspondent, when I got in touch with EAEP and they set up the interview.

That evening, I got a call asking me to get downstairs, where I got into a vehicle which would take me to where Ngugi was. That time, his location was top secret and he was being guarded round the clock.

We arrived at a house in Westlands, where I found Ngugi and his wife Njeeri. The owner of the house, a matronly woman fixed me a severe gaze and warned me of unspecified consequences should I misquote Ngugi in my story.

Her warnings did not register much as I was too preoccupied, to finally meet and sit down with my literary hero. Although I remember asking some questions, I must have been too star-struck I quietly drank in every word the man said.

I was however struck by how humble and down-to-earth he was. Was this the man, with his stuttering voice, that had given Kenyatta and Moi’s governments walking nightmares?

Well, that is the power of the pen for you; and our Ngugi knew how to wield it.

I had more opportunities to interview Ngugi and on one occasion, I asked him who, in his view, would inherit his giant literary shoes. It turned out to be a fascinating encounter, but that is a story for another day.

Fare thee well Ngugi, you will never be forgotten.

Categories
Books Fiction Issues Play

Home in a casket: the sad tale of migrant workers

TITLE: Jeneza Kutoka Saurabia

AUTHOR: Kithaka wa Mberia

PUBLISHER: Marimba Publications Limited

REVIEWER: Mbugua Ngunjiri

Kenya appears to be stumbling from one crisis to the other; such is the fatigue from these unfortunate occurrences that the people don’t seem to remember what we went through a month ago.

Still, the crises follow each other like clockwork; it becomes a vicious cycle.

There was a time when the Nation would be gripped with news of untold suffering of women who travelled to work as domestic servants in the Gulf states, more so Saudi Arabia. In extreme cases, our girls would come back in caskets.

Every time such a tragedy occurred, there would be nationwide uproar with heated demands for action. Every time such a thing happened, government officials, including those in the Foreign Affairs Ministry and embassy staff would issue forgettable statements; hollow on action points.

Once the victims are buried, the matter would be conveniently forgotten until another death occurred and the same charade would be re-enacted. In the meantime, desperate girls would flock the agencies that ferry them to work in the same Gulf nations to work under similar if not worse conditions.

This brings us to Jeneza Kutoka Saurabia, a newly released play by Prof Kithaka wa Mberia. When I first laid hands on this book, I was struck by the name Saurabia. And while I knew exactly what the author was referring to, I had to ask. You see, modern-day Kiswahili language practitioners are notorious with ‘inventing’ new ‘vocabulary’ and telling us they are part of the language.

The author assured me that Saurabia was his own artistic creation just like I encountered a country known as Nyake (no prizes for guessing where that is) and a city known as Rukuna. Artists employ such tools so that they can freely talk about issues they consider controversial and for plausible deniability.

In this case Wa Mberia is hiding the truth in plain sight.

The play opens on a sad note with the chief paying a visit to Nyatio’s homestead to tell her that her daughter, Nambi, who went to work in Saurabia is dead. Prior to this, Nyatio had been telling her grandson (Nambi’s son) about how hopeful she is that Nambi will send some money, which would alleviate the biting poverty in the home.

Now, Nambi fits the typical profile of girls who go to seek employment opportunities in the Gulf states. An overwhelming majority of them are jobless single mothers, who want to do good by their children.

All the cases we hear about employers mistreating their servants is borne out of impunity, on the part of employers, and desperation, the part of the servants. These employers know that no matter how badly they treat the servants, the slanted laws lean on their side and that nothing will be done to them. The servants, on the other hand, are so desperate, they will do anything to go to the Gulf states and will tolerate any form of ill-treatment since they need the money since they have nowhere else to turn to.

Back to the story.

After the first scene where we learn of Nambi’s death, the rest of the play, apart from the final scene is based on flashbacks. We see Nambi arrive in Saurabia in the company of a compatriot called Halima. We also learn that Nambi had set out to go to Dubai and not Saurabia.

While at the airport, she calls her agent back at home enquiring what necessitated the change of plan. The agent is curt, ‘there is nothing much I can do, besides, you wanted a job and you have one’. This is the desperation we are talking about. Still, what much else can she do, seeing as the employer has taken hold of her passport.

A casual glance at the terms and conditions – once the girl lands in the gulf – is proof enough that they were written by sadists, keen on mistreating, even enslaving the servants. How else would you explain the idea of the employer confiscating their servants travel documents, simply because they paid money to have the servant?

And the fact that one cannot change employers, no matter how abusive they are, is geared towards enabling those sadistic employers.

Nambi goes to work in a homestead where the woman of the house is openly racist and targets Nambi’s African roots to unleash horrendous racist abuse. She goes a step further to start physically assaulting the servant. As if the racist and physical abuse is not enough, Nambi is not paid a dime the entire period of five months she works in that house.

The husband is somewhat measured compared to the wife but is no better. Anwar, for that is his name, makes sexual passes at Nambi, behind his wife’s back. He is somewhat culpable for what befalls Nambi at the end.

You only need to read to the book to know what transpired.

When news of Nambi’s death is broken to the family at home, it comes with the explanation, from the government, that she took her own life. Hmmm, sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Seriously though, what sort of training do the people in charge of government communication undergo? I am asking this in reference to the death, in police custody, of Albert Ojwang’.

When Nambi’s body is finally brought home for burial, Nambi’s mother, in a moment of anger, calls for the halting of the ceremony and urges fellow mourners to take the casket and deposit it at government offices, as a way of seeking justice for her daughter. This is after Halima, who is privy to what happened, divulged what might have Transpired.

Nyatio is prevailed upon to let the burial continue with the promise that she will be assisted to pursue justice for her slain daughter once government offices are reopened after the weekend, then curtains close.

That the play should end on that note is symbolic of the way grieving families like that of Nambi and Ojwang’ are given lofty promises during the funeral but after flowers are placed on the grave, that marks the end of that chapter.

Categories
Books Issues Non-Fiction Reviews

Fistula: how a medical couple is bringing relief to victims of silent epidemic

TITLE: Fistula Diaries

AUTHORS: Dr Weston Khisa with Dr Sabina Wakasiaka

PUBLISHER: Moran (EA) Publishers

REVIEWER: Mbugua Ngunjiri

The image of a mother suckling her, while seated under a tree, is a common occurrence, particularly in rural settings, is one that evokes warm feelings to whomever beholds it. However, the image we are about to encounter has a very disturbing aspect to it.

It is the stuff hallucinations are made of. Tied around the woman’s neck is a noose, fastened to a branch, high up in the tree.

Let that sink in for a moment.

The woman was in the process of ending her life, when the toddler she is presently nursing, interrupted the process. She had been asleep and when she woke up, she went out in search of the mother.

Her deadly mission ‘postponed’, the mother’s maternal instinct kicked in and she started nursing the child who was crying out in hunger. This is a temporary setback, she told herself; determined to finish her mission, after she took the child back to the house.

That is the disturbing image that met the woman’s mother when she happened onto the scene.

Now that we have recovered from the initial shock, let us examine the facts behind the woman’s attempted suicide. You, by now, know that every suicide has a story behind it, and that ‘story; is what we shall discuss today.

You also notice the woman under discussion is anonymous; there’s a reason behind it, as we shall soon discover.

The explanation comes in the form of Obstetric fistula. Fistula is a debilitating medical condition associated with child birth. It mostly occurs in situations where labour is prolonged and childbirth delayed.

Such a situation results in a tear of the birth canal, compromising the mother’s ability to hold urine or stool.

The unfortunate inevitability of this condition is the foul smell that accompanies these poor women wherever they go. What follows is the ostracism by society, friends and even close family members.

For the suicidal mother above, the husband wanted nothing to do with her and kicked her. She sought refuge in her parent’s home.

This brings us to Fistula Diaries, a book written by Dr Westone Khisa and Dr Sabina Wakasiaka. It gives case studies of women who suffered from Fistula and how they got medical intervention.

The book is a joint venture between Moran (EA) Publishers and Applewood Medical Centre. The overall goal here is to ensure that motherhood is safe for all.

Dr Khisa has operated on about 4,000 cases of mothers who suffered from the scourge, restoring they dignity and therefore motherhood.

It is estimated that 2 million women in Sub-Saharan Africa, Asia, the Arab region and Latin America, suffer from Fistula, with 75,000 new cases developing each year.

Known as the silent epidemic, because of the shame and stigma attached to it, Obstetric Fistula, which occurs in cases of delayed and complicated childbirth, manifests itself in the inability to control urine and faecal matter.

Almost all cases of fistula end up in separation of the woman from her husband, a separation initiated by husbands, with subtle and not-so-subtle encouragement of their families.

This other story in the book perfectly illustrates how the stigma associated with fistula, brings about the breakdown of the institution of marriage.

When this woman – let us call her Stella – suffered fistula, after giving birth, the husband, due to the complications we discussed above, knew he would chase her away. However, being the coward that he was, he could not bring himself to do it openly.

He therefore conspired with his equally wicked parents to lure Stella to their rural home, on the pretext that he would construct a house in the village, where he would later join her.

The moment she landed in the village, her in-laws started mistreating her; they clearly intended for her to ‘eject’ herself from the family, yaani; akufukuzae, hakuambii toka.

When she could not endure the humiliation anymore, she decided to go back to her husband in the city, where more humiliation and misery lay in wait.

Unknown to her, the moment she left for the village, the cowardly husband moved out of the house they rented and even got himself another wife.

Would he have married another woman without the connivance of his parents? No need to answer this question; it is blindingly obvious.

From the above, it is now clear why the women, whose stories are told in the book, remain anonymous; the stigma associated with the condition. The anonymity afforded to them enabled them to freely tell their stories, including the most embarrassing.

Away from the gloom and doom brought about by these case studies, the good news is that all them received corrective surgery, which completely healed them and were able to resume their normal lives.

The authors must be commended for writing the book. It is one thing to do the good work of attending to these mothers, it is equally important to create awareness about the condition and to assure the victims that there is help out there.

The message from Fistula Diaries to people with friends and relatives suffering from this condition is quite simple really; do not keep them hidden. Talk about them; do not tire of knocking on doors; help is out there waiting for them.

Let us go back to the suicidal mother.

After her mother rescued her, she contacted a childhood friend who was a pastor and who agreed to host the poor mother. You can imagine her relief, when the host family treated her with care and understanding, notwithstanding her embarrassing condition.

That was not all, the pastor revealed to her that his wife had been a past victim of that condition. Perhaps that explained their empathy. It is through this couple that she got the help she sorely needed.

The authors however caution that even with surgery and treatment, more needs to be done. Due to the prolonged periods of stigma, most victims suffered irreparable psychological trauma, which makes them withdraw from society.

Even after getting healed, these women to need to be pulled out of psychological wilderness their condition plunged them. This can only be done through sustained counselling, which will serve to reintegrate them back to society.

Categories
Arts Books Events Issues Personalities

Generations apart: when literary art meets visual art

For purposes of this story, I will start by going down memory lane, where we meet Ancent Soi, who was employed as a shop assistant at a curio store belonging to former Kamukunji MP, George Nthenge, at the City Market.

Now curio shops are filled with, among other things, colourful artefacts meant for the tourist market.

Soi, who had a keen but supressed artistic mind, was fascinated by colours and during his spare time, would doodle his own sketches. His employer was impressed by those sketches and would encourage him to do more.

This was in 1972, when the world was gearing for the Munich Olympic Games in Germany. That same Michael Soi, his son was born.

More on him later.

Through Nthenge, the elder Soi came across a circular seeking artistic submissions, to be considered for use as the official poster for the Munich Games.

Soi thought to himself, “I can do this…” and went to work. Nthenge, being a busy man, soon forgot about that competition, only to be jolted by an agent who came to collect the artwork.

Nthenge was about to start scratching his head, knowing he did not follow up on the matter (well, I am imagining this is what happened at the shop), when Soi fished out the piece of artwork he did and gave it to the agent.

Soi’s piece won the competition and it became the official poster for the Munich Olympic Games. That win came with fully-paid trip to the games and prize money that enabled him to move his family from Eastleigh to a swanky new estate called Buruburu.

It also marked the beginning of a successful career in visual art for Soi. For a man with no formal training in art, that was quite a feat.

At around the same time, in Jericho, the writer’s bug was tormenting David Maillu, who like Soi, was self-taught. Maillu’s formal education stopped at Standard Eight.

Maillu knew that to be a successful writer, one had to write something that people would identify with; in the course of his research, he delved into the question of what people liked talking about.

Maillu’s research yielded six broad topics that people can never get enough of. I will list them here in no particular order.

1. Battle of the sexes.

2. God, religion and spirituality.

3. Money.

4. Alcohol.

5. Work place relations.

6. Politics.

Though he is a teetotaller, Maillu frequented pubs, where he keenly observed what happened in those joints.

With his research done, he went to work and let his imagination and creativity do the rest. The result was After 4.30, a book, rendered in poetic flow, that took a critical look at what urban folks do after the official working hours.

This book, did wonderfully well in the market; it was literally flying off the shelves. His print run of 10,000 copies was cleared off the shelves within a year.

To put these numbers into perspective, today, a book (fiction) that sells 5,000 in five years, in Kenya, is considered a bestseller.

Perhaps driven by fear and jealousy, the gatekeepers (not good people) at the time, closed ranks and started fear-mongering: oh, ati Maillu’s books are unfit for human consumption (he has a book by that title BTW) that they are full of sex and will lead to moral degradation.

In spite of this moral posturing, brothels and other dens of iniquity were operating at full capacity; frequented by the same moralists. That explained why Maillu’s books were consumed in secrecy.

51 years on, Michael Soi, who grew up watching his father paint, is a big artist on his own. When Mvua Press acquired the rights to publish the third edition of After 4.30, fate connected them with the younger Soi, who was more than willing to do the book’s cover.

And that is how I found myself at the GoDown Arts Centre, in Kilimani, on Monday, where Soi has a studio.

Now, Soi is quite selective in who he gives media interviews and is very strict with time (“time is a very important asset, guard it jealously,” he told me after I arrived 15 minutes late.)

He said that he agreed to do the cover since he identifies with Maillu’s works and philosophy. “Maillu focuses a lot on human behaviour, their interactions and psychology, which is also a prominent feature of my work,” explains Soi.

Like Maillu, Soi’s work centers on places where ‘forbidden’ things happen; he regularly frequents strip joints, just to observe human interactions there. These interactions are regular staple on his canvases.

To illustrate this, he walks to a corner in his studio, where he retrieves a big rectangular painting that depicts a strip joint scene.

In the painting, a number of men are drooling over a thong-clad woman on stilletos. The men include, a suited office executive, a pastor, a policeman, a turbaned muhindi; all respectable men in society.

“I get constant accusations of painting boobies and butts, but no one talks about, that accountant, that CEO, that pastor or that cop in the picture,” he adds.

Soi paints the reality of what happens in these joints but society, or rather those who patronise them, would wish they were kept a secret. It also explains why he gets accusations of sexually commodifying women.

If you check closely, these accusations – reverse psychology – most likely come from the men who frequent these joints, through proxies – to dissuade Soi from ‘exposing’ their activities.

That is the same fate that befell Maillu, those many years ago, for daring write about what influential people do behind closed doors, like the boss, a married man, in After 4.30, who pesters Lili, his secretary, to have a secret sexual affair with him.

The fact that Soi did the cover of After 4.30, celebrates the rare intersection (at least here in Kenya), when two artistic disciplines – literary art and visual art – come together.

“We should have more of these artistic collaborations, if our creative industry is to go places,” says Soi.

After 4.30 is the fourth book, whose cover Soi has illustrated. Locally, he has done the cover of Stanley Gazemba’s novel, Forbidden Fruit.

He has also done the cover of Ethno-erotic Economies: Sexuality, Money and Belonging in Kenya, by George Paul Meiu.

The other one is Yellow Perils: China Narratives in the Contemporary World. The book, edited by Franck Bille and Sorren Urbansky, arose from a popular ‘China Loves Africa’ series, Soi did from between, 2009 and 2017, at the peak of China’s ‘involvement’ in Africa affairs.

So ‘effective’ was these series that when the Chinese President visited Kenya, in 2014, Soi received surprise guests from the Chinese delegation, in his studio and who proceeded to give him a tongue lashing for not being ‘appreciative enough’ of the ‘good things’ China was doing for Africa.

Soi’s earliest interaction with After 4.30 was when he was in high school. “Our English teacher caught me reading the book in class and advised me to read it in the dorms; not in class,” adds Soi.

His teacher was lenient; other would confiscate the book, punish the student caught with the book and then go read it in the staffroom.

The new edition of After 4.30 will be officially launched at an action packed event at the Sarakasi Dome, in Ngara, on Saturday, June 28. It will also feature a stage adaptation of the book, featuring, among others, Nice Githinji, Dedan Juma aka Zeze among others.

The play is directed by Mwaniki Njache.

Entry to the launch event, which will also feature performances by various DJs, in a street dance party, is a copy of the book, which goes for Ksh1,200.

Categories
Books Culture Education Issues News publishing

Irony of few libraries in a country with high literacy rates

Towards the end of May, I could not help but eavesdrop on the excited chatter of two workers of the Kisii County Library as they awaited the official handover of books donated to the institution.

Just like excited toddlers that had just received brand new toys from a visiting relative, the two workers could hardly contain their joy.

I finally appreciated their excitement when I stepped into the reference section of the library; it was surviving on the bare minimum. The few books on the shelves were threadbare and I repeat, very few books.

It was a sorry sight.

It is at this juncture that the true nature of the gesture by the Kenya Publishers Association (KPA), truly downed on me.

As part of their Corporate Social Responsibility, KPA, who were in the town for the regional edition of their book fair, donated books worthy Ksh5 million to the library.

At this point, kindly allow me to take a nostalgic personal detour.

I first visited the Kisii Library in December 1987, as an impressionable 13-year-old. It was my first ever visit to a library. I had just done my Standard Eight exams and was in the town to visit my sister who was working in the town.

Her husband, who was civil servant, was member of the library. My sister, a teacher, assured me that through her husband’s membership, I could borrow books to read at home.

You can imagine my excitement when I laid my eyes on the Moses adventure series, authored by Barbara Kimenye and published by Oxford. I could hardly believe that I was going to have three Moses books, all by myself, for a whole week…

Coming from the rural areas of the then Nakuru district, accessing story books was quite rare; our school did not have a library. Somehow, I did not lack something to read.

If for the two weeks I spent in Kisii, I derived so much joy from visiting the public library, you can imagine how beneficial the institution was to the countless school children that lived around the municipality and had regular access to it.

Coincidentally, while in Kisii for the book fair, I bumped into Bitugi Matundura, a former colleague at Nation Media Group, who has done Kiswahili translation for the entire Moses Series. Bitugi, who hails from Kisii, teaches Kiswahili at the Chuka University.

Now, the memory of the Kisii Library was triggered after I read a UNESCO document titled The African Book Industry: Trends, challenges and opportunities for growth.

The document that seeks to take audit of the book sector in the continent, contains some rather sobering statistics.

Chief among those statistics is availability of books. Two of the most important sources of books are bookshops and public libraries.

According to that UNESCO document, the African continent is doing badly in terms of access to books. For a continent with an estimated population of close to 1.4 billion people, there are only 8,000 public libraries, meaning that a single public library serves about 189,000 people.

I can state here, without the fear of contradiction, that a huge percentage of the existing public libraries in Africa were constructed during colonial period or in the early post-colonial era. At least that is true of the Kenya situation.

I highly doubt that the many district headquarters our successive presidents dished out, for political expedience, had provisions for public libraries.

I would be happy to be contradicted on this point.

It is a shame that 62 years after Kenya gained independence, we only have 64 public libraries, meaning that each library serves a population of 860,000 people.

On this basis alone, our leaders should forever hide their heads, in shame, whenever they are out of the country on international engagements. Had our government committed itself building a public library, a year, since independence, we would at least have double the number of libraries in Kenya.

As if the tragedy of few public libraries is not enough, those that are there, were recently placed under the management of county governments.

Let us ponder over this point for a moment.

The most consistent piece of information that comes out our counties is how poorly county governments manage public hospitals; they are chronically short of essential drugs and equipment.

Now, if county governments can mismanage hospitals, under their care so badly, who tells you they will do any better with libraries – who bothers with books anyway – do the leaders even read?

This explains how the Kisii library was so badly lacking in terms of books. It is perhaps in recognition of this need that the management of KPA, under current chairman, Kiarie Kamau, decided to be donating books to public libraries, whenever they go out for the regional book fairs.

Last year, the publishers’ body also donated books to the Mombasa County Library.

However, welcome this venture by KPA is, it is not enough. County governments need to set aside budget lines for acquisition of books. If they wait for publishers to donate books to their libraries, it will take 45 years to equip them; not sustainable at all.

While Kenya might be doing poorly in terms of distribution of public libraries – we are not even in the top ten list of countries with favourable ratio of libraries per capita – we are doing extremely well in terms of access to bookshops.

The UNESCO report says that at 4,000 bookstores, Kenya leads Africa on that score. It should however be noted that the distribution of these bookstores is purely as a result of private effort; nothing to do with government.

It thus can be said that this impressive number of bookstores have contributed to easy access of books for Kenyans.

Did I say that the high number of bookstores has nothing to do with government? Well, I take that back; though not entirely.

Let me explain: the liberalisation of the text book market has seen the government significantly reduce its involvement in production of course books. That task is currently being undertaken up to the tune of 80 per cent, by privately owned publishers.

The fact that the Kenyan government funds free education, means that money goes to publishers, who produce the books and which are disbursed to schools through bookstores, in the case of private schools, as publishers are required to deliver books directly to public schools.

Categories
Books Culture Events Fiction Issues News Personalities

Maillu’s After 4.30 still relevant 50 years on

There is something about Mathemboni that makes you want to keep going back.

Last Saturday was my third time, since November last year, and it definitely will not be the last. There is a certain aura of peace that pervades the place. Situated on a hilly place, Mathemboni, to those who have never been there, is full of all manner of exotic trees. This is the perfect place for meditation, to be one with nature, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Mathemboni, in Kikamba, means the place of shrines. That is precisely what writer David Maillu had in mind when he developed the place that sits on a ten-acre piece of land. It is a shrine of knowledge.

When you consider that Maillu, who is now 86, has been at the writing game since the early seventies – his inkpot is still brimming full – then you know that you are walking into a museum of sorts.

A visit to Mathemboni, which is at the border of Machakos and Makueni counties, near a town called Kola, is not complete without the host taking you on a tour of the place. For example, the main houses are built in the shape of medieval castles, using material collected from various places. What you see is a castle, but Maillu will tell you that the storied building was inspired by the Akamba Kiondo.

The main compound is dotted with sculptures, ranging from the Ankh, an ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic symbol, representing life, to a sculpture of Syokimau, the Kamba prophetess, who foresaw the coming of the colonialists to Kenya as well as the railway. The latest addition is the giant President Donald Trump Shithole, which basically houses toilets.

Listening to Maillu explaining things, from African spirituality to philosophy and writing, is like flipping through the pages of an encyclopaedia; you just want to listen and listen some more.

On the second floor of the main building is an open-air conference hall, which on this particular day hosted a one of a kind book club meeting. I am not a member of the Not Nerdy Book Club, but when I saw their poster announcing that their March, 2025 session would be held at Mathemboni, I was determined not to miss.

I had met Cheryl Kamy, the founder of Net Nerdy, at a book event at the Alliance Française, in February, and expressed interest in attending one of their sessions. Turns out that Not Nerdy have an arrangement with Mvua Press, the newest and coolest publisher in town, to feature some of their books in their sessions. What a novel way of marketing books!

What made this particular book club session even more attractive was the fact that they were featuring one of Maillu’s classics After 4.30. Now, anyone who has read some of Maillu’s earlier books, knows that they are full of fireworks, right from the use of language to the imagery employed.

Older generations, from GenX upwards, have hilarious recollections of their encounters with Maillu’s books. Almost all confess that they consumed the books in secret and very few read the complete text. There were bits and pieces of the books doing rounds in the villages/estates and schools. This is testament to how sinfully popular these books were.

In a previous interview, Maillu summed up the who whole experience of his books among the masses then. “I knew of households that, at any one time, had three copies of my book,” he explains. “The husband had a copy, the wife had a copy and the children had theirs too. None of the three parties knew the rest had the book.”

Now the membership of Not Nerdy is entirely made up of millennials and the occasional GenZees. Seeing as After 4.30 was written in 1974, way before each one of them were born, I was curious to know what their take on the book is.

All of them were unanimous that the issues raised in the book are as relevant, if not more relevant than they were at the time of its publication. “When I started reading the book, I was shocked and I asked myself, ‘who is this beautiful woman who is speaking for me?’ and then I turned back to the cover to confirm that it was written by a man and not a woman, as I had thought,” Maya Suleiman told Maisha Yetu.

She added that it was eye-opening for her that a man would so accurately tell a woman’s experience. “It is amazing that the book was written in the early seventies and can I relate to it in 2025.” she added. “For raising issues so close to the hearts of women, I would say that Maillu was feminist and not of the toxic variety.”

Peter Karuga, a banker, was impressed by the diverse themes raised in the book. “Despite the fact that the book was written over 50 years ago, we are still experiencing the same problems encountered then. The poverty that was prevalent at the turn of independence and attendant issues like the gender-based violence are still the same problems we are grappling with in today’s world.”

June Jose noted the finesse with which the author raised the sensitive issue of gender-based violence, which is still as prevalent as it was back then when the book was written. “It is amazing how despite the difference in time, the issues remain the same. The book is highly recommendable especially with us people of the younger generations.”

Maureen Wairimu was especially fascinated by how Maillu raises the issue of religion and spirituality. “This book really spoke to me because lately I have been deconstructing some long-held religious beliefs,” she explained. “I identified with a character in the book called Emily, who questions the whole concept of confessing her sins to a pastor. Why bestow so much power on a fellow human being to determine how your sins would be absolved? There is more to religion than we are taught.”

What about the language?

“I loved the rawness of language used in the book; that is what attracted me to it,” added Wairimu. “There are people who might be shocked by the language used and might call it vulgar; it is because they don’t want to call a spade a spade. I am not at all shocked by the language; on the contrary, I loved it.”

While Jose acknowledged that the language used is ‘strong’, she said it is necessary when it comes to dealing with difficult issues like Gender-based violence.

As a Muslim woman, Suleiman is not offended by the language used and themes explored in the book. “The issue of violence against women, which features prominently in the book, cuts across religions,” she said.

Kamy started Not Nerdy in October 2022 because she wanted to be in a community of readers. “Through our online activities, we got to meet with the people at Mvua Press, which is an imprint of eKitabu, and we quickly discovered that we shared common ideals like the love of books. They also wanted us to help popularise the books they publish and distribute,” she explained.

Isaac Mwangi, the managing editor of Mvua Press says that they work with a wide range of stakeholders in the publishing industry to advance the interests of authors, publishers and book lovers. “One of our strategies is to work with book clubs such as Not Nerdy. We are happy to see book clubs mushrooming around the country as they play an important role in enhancing critical reading skills,” he explains.

Mvua Press does a number of activities aimed at encouraging a reading and writing culture, especially among students and young people. “These include the annual Digital Essay Competition as well as short poetry and fiction submissions from young writers across the country. Hopefully, these activities and book clubs will assist in the emergence of not only future authors, but also avid readers and spoken word artists,’’ adds Mwangi.

Categories
Books Events Featured Fiction Issues Personalities publishing

Kombani reflects on 20-year journey with Villains of Molo

  • Maisha Yetu: Congratulations on your book turning 20. What does this milestone mean to you?

    Kinyanjui Kombani: Wueh! How time flies!

    First, it is an opportunity to reflect on my own writing and publishing journey. Life moves so quickly that we forget about how far we have come. When I wrote the book, all I wanted was to see it on a shelf at a bookshop — specifically, at the now-closed Bookpoint, on Kenyatta Avenue. They had book dummies displayed as you passed by the shop, and I couldn’t wait to have mine up there, with the rest. To have ‘The Last Villains of Molo’ become part of a national conversation – mentioned as one of the top Kenyan books of all time and studied in schools and universities – that was not part of the plan!

    Secondly, it grants us, as Kenyans, the opportunity to think harder about our future. 20 years is a long time to rethink our national politics and the accumulated impact of the politics of division. For me, this milestone means giving a lot more reflection to where our country is heading. Most of the issues I addressed in the book – tribalism, poverty, mob justice, extra-judicial killings, politically instigated ethnic strife, and more – remain constants. How long shall we allow our leaders to sow the seeds of discord among us?

    • Your dream of becoming a published author with The Last Villains of Molo was almost thwarted despite it being ‘published’ with glowing reviews in the papers; tell us more about this trying episode for you…

    Yes. Although the book was released in 2005, it was not made available until 2008 when we had a formal book launch at the Alliance Francaise. It was missing from the bookshelves years later and, frustrated at seeing my dreams shattered, I started shopping for a new publisher. Luckily, my first publisher did not resist the withdrawal request, only insisting that I buy all the books in stock. The book was re-released by Longhorn Publishers under a new cover. And the rest is history.

    Like I said, I never thought my book was going to be as big as it became. It was my first publisher who suggested that it had the potential to be a school text. When he asked me what I would do if I got  millions in royalties, my dream of a LandCruiser VX was born!

    • When you wrote the manuscript for this book you were a university student, with no access to a computer, let alone a typewriter, what was it that kept your dream alive when others would have thrown in the towel?

    I lived with my brothers in Ngando, a sprawling estate behind Ngong Road in a single roomed house (this was the setting of ‘Villains’). We didn’t have most of the resources that are available to us now – cyber café charges were 10 shillings a minute!

    I got help from my neighbours and friends – the Mudola family. They had a cyber café in Langata and would allow me to use their computer when there were no clients. In fact, the bulk of the manuscript was typed by Dorothy Mudola. She believed in the story and wanted to see it come to life.

    I also had great encouragement from my mentor David Mulwa. He had read the initial handwritten manuscript and wrote “This is a masterpiece! Have it typed and submitted for publishing.” He kept asking about the progress, so I had to keep at it. The late Gachanja Kiai, one of my other lecturers who read my initial stories, and who introduced me to the publisher, was also following up on progress. 

    The publisher accepted the manuscript on condition that I rewrite a huge part of it. We had to get rid of about a third of it (which explains why a part of the book felt rushed – spoiler alert “Stella”). But by this time the cyber café at Langata had been closed and I was about to lose the publishing opportunity. I managed to slide past the then Kenyatta University Vice Chancellor Prof George Eshiwani’s security and told him of my plight. He turned to his personal assistant and instructed her to let me have all the support I needed. From that day, I had access to three secretaries – I would write the manuscript at night and submit it to them in the morning for typing. That is how I managed to beat the deadline. 

    • You were probably the very first Kenyan writer to address the thorny issue of ethnically instigated clashes, what fired this zeal?

    We lived in Molo until 1995 when I went to boarding school in Form 1 and then moved to our ancestral home in Njoro. We were to later meet the family of Mzee Joseph Mbure who had been displaced from Kamwaura in the 1997 clashes. My grandmother had given them a house and some land to till until they could move back. I heard the old man’s recollections about the clashes. Later on, I went to the Nation Centre Library where I discovered, to my horror, that his stories were factual.  The Last Villains of Molo started out as a short story but grew into a full length novel.

    We lived in Molo town during the 1992 clashes. One of my brothers was walking in town with my sister when he was hauled into a lorry to go fight in the forest. I was at the Molo hospital when a man was brought in with an arrow lodged in his forehead. One of our teachers, a Kalenjin, asked one of my brothers to take care of his house while he left town when the situation became untenable. All these are incidents  that made it into the novel.

    When I went to university, I discovered that my roommate had also experienced the clashes in Molo. He gave me harrowing descriptions about surviving the clashes by sleeping in fields of napier grass.

    I felt that these were stories that needed to be told, fictionally. And nobody was telling them.

    • We are two and half years to the 2027 General Elections and we’re already hearing inciteful ethnic rhetoric from politicians, are Kenyans that forgetful, despite the outcome of the 2007 election, that landed some politicians at the International Criminal Court?

    I don’t think Kenyans are forgetful. We all remember our collective suffering – not only from the 1992 clashes, but from all clashes that have happened every election period. The problem is that we have allowed our politicians to continue to use us for political expediency. We have allowed them to keep using the same tribal rhetoric, spiced with words like ‘murima’ and ‘madoadoa.’  And the resurgence of the Mungiki, spurred on by obvious political patronage by our leadership, spells even more danger. 

    But then, we have a more enlightened youth who have no more allegiance to tribe. Conversations on social media are mostly about issues. I quoted David Mulwa in the novel: “The young refuse the bonds of the past, the bonds of hate.” And I think this is going to be true in the coming years. Gone are the days when we allow ourselves to see the enemy as tribe X or Y. And people are quick to call out politicians.

    I think we have a better-informed electorate, and in the future, we will be able to vote in leaders who do not preach violence. I will be surprised if these war mongers come back to power.

    • What are some of the milestones this book has enjoyed and what it has done to you as an author?

    Man! Where do I start?

    I constantly receive messages on social media from people who have read and being impacted by the book. This for me is a huge motivator to keep writing.

    The book has also been studied in schools and at university level. I receive may queries from people who are studied it and who are stuck in one way or the other. I am not of much help, sadly, what with topics such as “Literary Historiographical Analysis of Kinyanjui Kombani’s The Last Villains of Molo’! See – when I write I just want to tell a story. Historiographical analysis – whatever that means – is not part of the plan!

    The book was mentioned in The Guardian as one of the top 10 books about Kenya. It has been mentioned in other Top-Something lists. We have optioned the book for film production. However, it has yet to gain a commitment for a film budget. We keep looking!

    As a writer, I must confess that it was a hard act to follow. I had put my heart and soul into it, and I didn’t think I had any other story in me. It was more than five years later that I could attempt a second novel – Den of Inequities – which also did well.

    Early success in my career meant that I could experiment with different ideas, hence the shift to faster-paced, simpler and definitely not darker books like ‘Of Pawns and Players’ and ‘Hawkers-Pokers’. My writing style is now much more different.

    • You recently took to Facebook to shop for ideas on how to celebrate this 20-year milestone, you must have received plenty of them by now…

    Yes, I reached out to my connections on social media for ideas on how to commemorate the milestone – because the book is a success thanks to them. I received dozens of ideas within a few hours.

    Some of the ideas we are going with is a release of a reading of an excerpt of the book by my friend and mentor, the legendary John Sibi-Okumu, OGW. JSO will also be reading other excerpts live in March.

    On 21 February 2025. we will be having a Readers’ Special Space on X / Twitter featuring appearances by people who have been part of the novel – from those who inspired it to those who have taught it at high school/university level, to those who have read it for fun. We will also have a slew of other X Spaces to reflect on Kenya’s tumultuous history, and the challenges ahead of us.

    Additionally, there are commemorative articles to be published across the media houses and two special radio shows. We will have virtual panel conversations with other writers who have handled ethnic conflict in Kenya, in addition to live Ask-Me-Anything sessions on Tiktok, Facebook and Instagram. I am excited at the lineup of people who have raised their hands to be part of this conversation.

    We are also working on exciting giveaways in collaboration with Nuria Books and Longhorn Publishers.

    • You are also known as the ‘banker who writes’, how do you combine the two roles?

    First, I am glad to work with a company that allows me to use my talent as a writer. This is not a luxury enjoyed by most creatives. There are lots of interdependencies between the two careers – I believe I am a better writer because I am a banker, and a better banker because I am a writer. In my role as a Learning & Development specialist, I get to use my creativity to design, develop and deploy learning solutions. And when it comes to building my brand as a writer, I borrow a leaf from the bank, especially with the need to have a greater purpose. Finding my ‘why’ helps to refine my ‘what’ and ‘how’, and helps me to prioritise what is of greatest impact to my purpose. I constantly ask, as our head of Strategy and Talent does, “What is this in service of”?

    Secondly, I do not want to pretend that it is easy. Working in a global role in an international bank means that I must make a lot of sacrifices so as not to drop the ball. You also don’t want anyone to think that any ball is dropping because of my other activities.

    I see it as priorities management rather than time management. For me, this means that when I am working in the bank, I give it 150%, and when I can make time for writing I get rid of other distractions. I have to choose what I am saying yes to, more carefully, because it means saying not to conflicting agendas.

    • Ever since the publication of The Last Villains of Molo, you have enjoyed quite the ride as a writer, winning literary awards in the process; take us through that…

    I was shortlisted for the 2005 Rhodes Scholarship and won the ‘Outstanding Young Alumni Award’ by Kenyatta University in 2014. In 2015, I was named in the Top 40 Under 40 Business Daily Africa Award and a ‘Top 5 Under 35 Award’ at Standard Chartered Bank (an award to recognize the most outstanding colleague under 35 years).

    In 2017, I was shortlisted CODE Burt Award for African Young Adult Fiction for Finding Columbia, which went on to win the 2018 African edition and is now a school text for Grade 7. I was also a national finalist for my books Do or Do and Eve’s Invention. This is the first time a writer had been a double finalist in the national edition of the Burt awards.

    In 2019 my book Of Pawns and Players won the Wahome Mutahi Literary Award. In the same year, ‘Do or Do’ won the Jomo Kenyatta Prize for Literature, Youth Category. These are considered Kenya’s most prestigious literary awards, and this has been great for me.

    I have also been invited to be part of Nairobi Noir – an anthology excavating the history of Nairobi, as seen through the eyes of its dwellers. I was also involved in ‘Toto Tales/Fabulous Four’ a children’s series, The Kenya Yearbook Editorial Board-commissioned project to create a children’s version of their popular Kenya Yearbook.

    1. Emerging writers moan about limited opportunities for getting published, hence the rise of self-publishing in Kenya, what are your thoughts on this phenomenon?

    Upcoming writers have always had a challenge getting published by traditional publishers. I blame this on the way the publishing industry is set up, with majority of sales coming through school texts. The result of this is that publishers go for writers and books that are most likely to make it through to the school curriculum, with little to no investment in books for leisure reading. Those of us who manage to crack through the brick wall are the exception rather than the rule. And even then, we have to wait years for publishing diaries to align.

    The good news is that there more opportunities for self-publishing. A lot of professionals have emerged to offer services such as editorial consulting (John Sibi-Okumu, Euniah Mbabazi, Mwende Kyalo and Jennie Marima to name a few) previously the preserve of employees from publishing houses. Distribution challenges, which have limited the growth of self-publishing, are being addressed by player such as the indefatigable Nuria Store.

    I strongly say that the future of Kenyan publishing is in self-publishing. Gone are the days when one had to wait for the gatekeeping publishing executives to get your work out there. Writers like Charles Chanchori, Scholar Akinyi, Lesalon Kasaine, Vera Omwocha, Ciku Kimani, Munira Hussein are good examples of writers who have built audiences of eager readers who want to read for enjoyment and are thriving. And The Book bunk, Kenya Readathon, Storymoja, Macondo Litfest, Lexa Lubanga, and Soma Nami are creating a buzz around the industry. I think the industry is in good hands.

    1. Your last book, Hawkers Pokers came out two years ago, what are you currently working on?

    I wrote another humorous (hopefully) book called Fools Day in 2021, and spent most of 2024 rewriting it based on feedback from my usual group of ‘beta readers’. It is now under review for publication. I hope to have it published in time for the next Wahome Mutahi Prize consideration.

    This year I am also restarting work on a more serious novel that talks about state capture and false flag terrorism in an unnamed African country. Let’s see how that goes!

    1. There was a period you used to be quite active, promoting writing on social media, not so much today…

    Is that true? I didn’t think so, personally. But if I am, I blame it on work pressure – the last few years have been busier for me as I settled into a new role and new environment. I do not believe in hiring someone to manage my social media accounts – nobody is able to replicate my voice, and I want my readers to know they are talking to me directly when they do.

    Secondly, working in a time zone five hours ahead of me robs me of the opportunity to engage in real time with my fans. My visibility across social media was because I used to respond to as many messages as I could, something I no longer have the capacity to do. But I will continue make every effort to engage with my fan base. 

    1. By now you must be fully settled in Singapore, both career-wise and socially, what would Kenyans learn from that country and how has the move shaped your writing?

    There is a lot to learn. I hear a lot of our politicians comparing Kenya to Singapore and calling it the Singapore of Africa. This makes me sad, because Kenyan leaders want Kenya to be like Singapore, without doing the things that Singapore did to be where it is. The government of Singapore thinks of creating a perfect world for the future, decades ahead.

    Our leaders do not think beyond their current terms. A lot of them come to Singapore for ‘benchmarking’, which is disappointing because a simple thing as having dustbins available in the city is a tall order. While it rains heavily in Singapore, the drainage system ensures that the flood waters are drained off in a few hours. Tap water is safe to drink in Singapore. Every bus stop in Singapore has a dustbin. What the leadership here has, and what we lack, is Intention.

    I am exactly 5 years in Singapore this month, and we can learn a lot about vision, and leadership from Singapore. . Perhaps, one of these days, I will write something longer about this disconnect and what Kenya must do to be the true Singapore of Africa.

    I am yet to see how this experience shapes my writing. Who knows? Maybe my next character will come to stay in Singapore. Or will be Singaporean. Or a Kenyan who goes to Singapore and falls in love with a Singaporean girl who is herself a mix between Chinese and Malay. I am already brainstorming!

    1. What is your advice to budding writers looking up to you as a role model?

    The same advice that my mentor David Mulwa has kept giving me, over the years:  And that is: “Keep Writing!” Every time I have delivered a copy of my latest book to Mwalimu Mulwa, he has taken it, blessed it and asked me, “So what are you writing next?”  The more you write, the more you find your own voice and, consequently, the more confident and assured you should become, just like any other serious undertaking: “Practice makes perfect.”

    I’d also urge writers to take a lot of time and energy to build their platform on social media. Apart from allowing you to interact directly with your readers and other stakeholders, and letting you know what is happening “kwa ground”, it allows you to build your brand as a writer. Some of the successes I have had, for example, selling out Of Pawns and Players were aided by great social media presence.

    Related to this is the importance of building relationships – both virtual and physical. Readers, festival organisers, publishing executives, editors, printers, book sellers, media practitioners, bloggers – all these have been responsible for my success. Seek to build symbiotic relationships with people (not just what you can get from them, but what to add value to them). Seek out coaches, mentors and accountability partners. You will never regret it.

    Categories
    Books Culture Non-Fiction Personalities Releases Reviews

    Africa in the eyes of a retired Swiss diplomat

    TITLE: In and Outside Africa: A Story of the Human Condition in Africa and the West

    AUTHOR: Dominik Langenbacher

    PUBLISHER: Mystery Publishers

    REVIEWER: Mbugua Ngunjiri

    In the course of his long and eventful diplomatic service, Langenbacher worked in many places around the globe, but it would appear that Africa had the most profound effect on him, probably due to the fact that his first posting was in Zaire, present day Democratic Republic of Congo, in the 1981.

    Although the book contains details of his life and work experiences, and should ideally fall into the category of a memoir; it is much more than that. It is at the same time less than that.

    The book opens with a narrative on crocodiles, or rather the evolution of that reptile. “My smallest crocodile is golden and only 13 millimetres long,” writes the author. “It is actually a pin on the head of a Zairean fetish, holding together a piece of real leopard skin with a synthetic ancillary… “

    With such a dramatic introduction, rest assured that you are now embarking on a wild ride across Africa, parts of Europe and the US, but mostly Africa.

    Then there is the humour, of the gallows variety, injected liberally throughout the narrative. Sometimes it hits you out of nowhere and so you must be prepared for the abruptness of it.

    For example, in the course of his research on crocodiles, he discovered that some female crocodiles could develop embryos from an unfertilised egg, without the input of the male species. “This rare natural phenomenon is called parthenogenesis, virgin birth or asexual reproduction. No sex,” he writes.

    Now, diplomats, when not in their stifling suits and ties, conducting sometimes boring official chores, are pretty interesting chaps. They can hold their own in a discussion on almost any topic on earth. They’ve been to many different places and interacted with a wide variety of people. They will wine and dine with corrupt dictators, in castles built in the middle of jungles.

    They will also share a humble meal with pygmies who have been uprooted from forests, where they have co-existed with nature since time immemorial.

    Do you start to see the contradiction and unfairness of it all? A dictator will destroy natural habitat, to build unsightly castles in the jungle, whereas people who have taken care of jungles and forests, living harmoniously with other forms of life, are thrown out and forced to beg for cigarettes in the concrete jungle.

    In short, diplomats, have seen things and know things.

    The author writes his book the best way he knows how. While the common practice infor memoirs, the author starts from the beginning, say when they were born, or slightly before that – their parents’ existence – Langenbacher opts to start from the VERY beginning; the evolution of man. The reader should thus prepare themselves for history lessons on early man, the homo erectus, homo habilis and homo sapiens.

    Not a chapter ends without reference to those.

    Oh, and if you thought that these are just idle musings of a diplomat with so much time on his hands, you would do well to know that he has actually visited the area, north of Kenya and South of Ethiopia, which are known as the Cradle of Humanity.

    These are places that archaeologists discovered the earliest known human remains, Lucy in Ethiopia and Turkana Boy in Kenya.

    And speaking about Lucy, the author provides an interesting anecdote about how that particular fossil got its name. “The name was derived from the Beatles’ song Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, which the excavation team played repeatedly during her unearthing,” he writes.

    If you thought that diplomats spend all their time in the diplomatic districts of Muthaiga and Gigiri – this is somewhat true of the time they spend in Nairobi – you would be surprised to learn that they have probably been more places in your village than you do.

    The other thing you will have to contend with while reading this book is the amount of geography you will have to absorb. Here we are talking about the terminology your geography teacher struggled to hammer into your head during hot afternoon lessons, when you were having a real battle keeping your eyes open.

    You get to know the countries that lie in the Equator, Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn. The author also takes a historical detour and lets us reflect on the Berlin Conference of 1884/5, where European imperialists divided the African continent, amongst themselves, like a piece of pizza.

    The effects of those boundaries were communities that were torn apart, forced to live in different countries, despite shared heritage. He gives the example of the wildlife ecosystem that straddles Kenya and Tanzania – known as Maasai Mara National in Kenya and Serengeti in Tanzania. While there used to be a border post for tourists to cross to either side of the border, it has since been shut down, effectively ensuring that human traffic can’t cross to the other side of the border.

    “Fortunately, the wildebeests, gazelles and zebras that cross the border between Tanzania and Kenya, every year, during their great migration remain unburdened by the imaginary line on a map and the machinations of the human brain around it,” observes the author ruefully.

    Another thing that features prominently in the book, is the diverse cuisine of various African communities. A case in point is conversation Langenbacher had while in Ivory Coast and where he was given the definition of meat. Meat, he was informed, was ‘everything that moves but is not one of us’

    As an aside, and with a twinkle in his eye, the host told him that cannibalistic communities use the same definition for humans that are not ‘one of us’.

    East Africans, on the other hand are picky in what they eat; wild animals for Maasai pastoralists are off the menu. Donkeys ‘move and are not one us’, but are off limits.

    Oh, and there is something for Rastafarians, who consider Ethiopia their spiritual home and Haille Selassie, their spiritual head.

    In his visit to the Shashamane village in Ethiopia, which has a sizeable number of Jamaican immigrants/pilgrims, he tells the anecdote of how the former Ethiopian emperor, traces his roots to King Solomon, he of 700 wives and 300 concubines.

    The story goes that when Queen of Sheba visited King Solomon, she somehow found herself on the King’s bed, a liaison that resulted in the birth of Menelik, whom King Solomon made the king of Ethiopia. Haille Selassie comes from the lineage of Menelik.

    Due to the sheer amount of information packed in this book, be advised that this is not the kind of book you read in one sitting. You read a chapter at a time, let the knowledge sink in, before tackling another chapter.

    That said, I would have wished to read of more human interactions, particularly where he interacted with political leaders in the countries he served as an ambassador. I would give anything to know how our politicians behave when in the company of European ambassadors.

    Still, I got the distinct feeling that Dominik Langenbacher enjoyed himself immensely when writing this book.

    Ngunjiri is the curator of Maisha Yetu, a digital Arts and Books media platform mbugua5ngunjiri@gmail.com

    Categories
    Books Fiction Issues publishing Short Stories

    Text addresses vices that bedevil the African continent

    TITLE: A Body Made for Sin

    AUTHOR: Alexander Nderitu

    PUBLISHER: Self

    REVIEWER: Scholastica Moraa

    AVAILABILITY: Nuria Bookstore

    Real is how I would describe this collection. A Body Made for Sin is a carefully put together collection of ten stories based in Africa. Although most of the stories are based in Kenya, they would have well been from any African country.  They address several vices that Africa as a continent deals with; from terrorism, rogue politicians, immorality to violence.

    For readers looking for simple stories that are informative and not mind taxing, this is the book for you. A Body Made for Sin addresses terrorism events that have affected the country such as the Garissa and Westgate Mall terrorist attacks. It addresses the abuse Africans go through working in the Middle East and many more struggles. The stories are informational and entertaining and would be a great treasure for future generations who would have an easier time picturing what the current generation has gone through. Alexander Nderitu takes violent stories that would normally make headlines and weaves his words around them, thereby immortalising the stories in words just as they are imprinted in the victims’ minds and in the people who watched the horror of terrorism scar the country.

    Throughout the book, the author has placed maps to help guide the readers and give them a clear picture of where the events are taking place. This gives life to the stories and reminds the reader that they might as well be reading an actual account of events that happened, rather than just the author’s imagination. They are also a brutal reminder of the violent world we live in and how evil minds are forever plotting the peril of peace loving citizens.

    For readers who dislike complicated plots and surprise endings, this is for you. For parents who sift through books to filter what their children are reading, this may be an ideal book for young readers because the language used is palatable for fairly advanced readers, title of the book aside. It is also a well of knowledge and reminder of what our nation has gone through and keeps going through.

    Moraa is a young woman navigating life. Author of Beautiful Mess… Co Author of Dreams and Demons and I’m Listening 2021 edition. She is also the winner of Kendeka Prize of African Literature-2022. She can be found with a book or two. When she’s not fighting to stay afloat, she is daydreaming, writing poetry or reading.

    Categories
    Books Issues Non-Fiction publishing Reviews

    You will need a handkerchief to read this book

    TITLE:  Best Before ‘09

    AUTHOR: Sharon Gwada

    PUBLISHER: Self

    REVIEWER: Scholastica Moraa

    AVAILIBITY: Nuria Bookstore

    ‘There are two endings in life…; the ending you want and the ending you get’

    Grief is that thing people tell you to handle. That time will heal all wounds. Grief is that thing we all experience at some point and for some people it is just easier to not talk about it. Hoping that with time you will feel numb enough not to feel how painfully heart wrenching the pain was. Still is.

    Sharon Gwada starts her story lightly. She is just a normal girl from a normal family. A happy family. Worrying about friends, homework, her siblings, stealing mangoes and trying to stay out of getting a lashing from her parents. You can feel how laughter dances in her walls. The dreams they have. The joy. The hopes. And then tragedy strikes.

    The family learns about hospitals, kidney failures, complicated names for drugs, and mobilising family and friends to contribute to help medical bills. Through it all, you cannot help but keep your fingers crossed. Hoping against all hope that they get the ending they want. The ending you hope for them. When they get these unhappy endings, your heart breaks too.

    Fiction gives readers a reprieve. You can console yourself that the story is just something an insane writer came up with. Not with Best before ’09. There is no such comfort. Someone once said that death feels painful when it is someone you know or love. When a stranger is carried away in a coffin, you feel nothing. You are just glad it is not someone you know.  But through this book, we know the brothers.  As we heave our way through the book, we are sad that they did not make it.

    Research shows that one in three of all adults suffer from chronic conditions. This book is just a drop in the ocean of what families are going through. The love, the pain and the dedication of mothers and caregivers is felt in this book. You also cannot help but marvel at the strength it took the author to pen this story.

    For readers looking for amazing Kenyan stories, this comes highly recommended. It is emotional but unputdownable. For criers, plenty of tissues will be recommended too. May those who left before us rest in peace. And may those who loved them breathe easier.

    Moraa is a young woman navigating life. Author of Beautiful Mess… Co Author of Dreams and Demons and I’m Listening 2021 edition. She is also the winner of Kendeka Prize of African Literature-2022. She can be found with a book or two. When she’s not fighting to stay afloat, she is daydreaming, writing poetry or reading.