Kenya’s most celebrated author, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, was in town and there is no way I was going to miss the occasion of launching his newest book, Re-membering Africa. This was yet another opportunity for me to interact with the cream of Kenya’s literary society – who in their right mind would dare miss an event graced by Ngugi?
I am walking to the Alliance Francaise, where the launch is taking place, when Billy Kahora, the Kwani? editor calls me from South Africa. There are some details I wanted clarified on the second edition of Kwani? 5, I am reviewing for the Sunday Nation.
I have particularly strong views on a certain Kwani? writer, which I am including in the review. “I have no problem with what you have to say as long as it is constructive criticism,” Kahora says from the other end of the phone. Hmm…
I am a bit late for the event, as usual, and Henry Chakava, the chairman of East African Educational Publishers (EAEP), Ngugi’s local publishers, is almost halfway into his speech.
My feelings of guilt are banished by the reception I get from Lydia, who is looking particularly hot tonight. Lydia, for those who do not know, is the receptionist at EAEP’s Westlands offices.
As he finishes his speech, Chakava addresses the issue of language in the book being launched. Remember Ngugi had sworn to only write in his Gikuyu language? Is Ngugi backtracking on his vow? “Sometimes it makes sense to tell them (Mzungu) in their own language,” says Chakava as he welcomes Ngugi.
As usual Ngugi welcomes members of his family present. Of particular interest is a young man, in his early twenties, who someone whispers to me, is a product of Ngugi and a Mzungu woman in Sweden. Apparently, the young man must have been conceived in the early years of Ngugi’s exile.
Ngugi then makes a revelation that he is working on his memoirs. The first installment is titled Dreams in a Time of War, which basically talks about his early childhood. Already five publishers around the world have already bought publishing rights of the book! I told you Ngugi was big.
Publishers in the region must envy EAEP. They are automatically assured of rights for Ngugi’s works.
And to appreciate how this relationship came about Ngugi tells of how far he has come with Chakava. At some point Chakava almost had his finger severed for continuing to publish Ngugi at the time when the powers that be wanted nothing to do with him. He is also the man who had to bear with Ngugi’s experimentation in writing in Gikuyu, in spite of repeated warnings from his superiors – then Heineman Educational Publishers in the UK.
Unconfirmed reports say that Ngugi is a major shareholder at EAEP.
Re-membering Africa, is apart of a series of lectures Ngugi gave in 2002, staring with Harvard. In the book he has addressed issues of language. Well aware that his thoughts might spark off heated debates Ngugi said that when people read the book, they will agree, disagree or add onto his ideas. “Most of all, I just wanted to provoke a debate,” he said.
On the issue of language, he said that there is nothing wrong for Africans to learn foreign languages. “However, there is something fundamentally wrong when one identifies with other people’s languages and despises his own language,” he said heatedly, calling that a form of slavery.
He added that to add foreign languages to your own language is to empower oneself. Mnaskia hiyo maneno?
Check this space for a review of this book.
The book was first published early this year by Basic Civitas Books under the title Something Torn and new: An African Renaissance.
Author: Jngunjiri
The inaugural edition of the historic Storymoja Hay Festival finally opened yesterday at the Impala Grounds, along Ngong Road. The Impala Grounds have in the last 15 years increasingly grown in stature, made popular by the annual Safari Sevens rugby tournament, but that is a story for a another day.
As I was saying, The Storymoja Hay Festival kicked off yesterday, and the biggest and the best, the literary and artistic community has ever witnessed in Kenya, will be stomping the grounds, harder than the rugby maestros have ever done in a single event.
Before I embark on my story, it’s a hats off to Muthoni Garland, and her tireless team of Storymoja team, who have made sure that this event actually takes off. And I mention names here, Carol Gaithuma, Sheila Ongas, Millie Dok – she actually went to Scotland – Matin Njaga – he of the Brethren of Ng’ondu – Sitawa Namwalie – Cut off my Tongue – , Joshua Ogutu – In the Land of the Kitchen – among others.
How Storymoja managed to convince Hay to partner with them, is something Muthoni will have to tell me. What is it they have done differently? After all the Hay Festival is not your daily Migingo, Mau Forest or Hague for that matter.
So I check in a bit late – 3.30 pm – and the car park is almost full. Er, I came in a matatu, if you must know. The first vehicle I notice is Lawrence Njagi’s SUV. Njagi is the young CEO of Mountain Top Publishers, and the chairperson of the Nairobi International Book Fair. He is here to be in the panel of publishers discussing the sticky subject of whether Kenyans read. Do they?
On my way inside I notice Annette Majanja, the diminutive former Kwani? publicist. I last saw her in September last year, and try as I could I could not get her to tell me where she is working nowadays.
Once inside, the first person I notice is Moraa Gitaa. She can really tell a story, this Moraa. Her book, Crucible for Silver and Furnace for Gold, a mouthful, I must say, is on sale at the Savani’s Book Stand. She tells me that my Friend Onduko bw’ Atebe is also in the house. Atebe’s first book The Verdict of Death won the inaugural Wahome Mutahi Prize for literature in 2006, a really tight book, I must say. Why do I get the feeling that this is one writer, whom the Kenyan literary crowd is yet to appreciate? Maybe Kenyans don’t read after all.
Atebe is with John Mwazemba, the publishing manager of Macmillan Kenya limited, who is also a prolific writer in the papers. He is chairing the discussion on the reading culture. Moraa had told me she was itching to put Mwazemba on the firing line, and I made a mental note of being there when her shot goes off.
Mwazemba is on the phone talking with Tony Mochama, the Smitta. Apparently, Smitta, who is launching his book, The Road to Eldoret, at the Goethe Institut today – will I make it for the launch really – has been promising Mwazemba he is coming to the Festival for the last four hours. Cheeky Smitta.
Its rather chilly – its July anyway – and there are not that many people on the opening day, maybe due to the fact that it is a weekday. I am sure place will be teeming with humanity today and tomorrow, what with all the hype and publicity that has surrounded the event.
People look rather subdued, perhaps due to the cold, but Mburu Kimani, the movie man is just in shirt, something to do with his bodybuilder’s physique. After promising to give me an exclusive of his forthcoming TV series, Mheshimiwa, I move on to the Kenya Burning tent, where they are exhibiting images of the post election violence. I have a copy of the picture book, done by Kwani? and the Godown Arts Centre, but I can’t resist going inside.
There, the pictures, of the various events that accompanied that dark period are hung on the wall, not looking frightening at all. I could not help but notice that most of the pictures tell the story of ODM and PNU, and how its supporters set the country on fire, both literary and metaphorically.
Isn’t it interesting that barely a week ago, Kibaki and Raila, all exuding lovey dovey camaraderie, shared lunch in Raila’s Bondo home, yet their infantile quarrel over votes led to the deaths of more than a thousand Kenyans, shame on them. Oh and Raila and Ruto, his lieutenant then, are not in speaking terms, but for how long?
At the end of the room, I notice that there is an adjoining room, and I can almost guess what is in there. I hadn’t seen any frightening images. It is then that I see the notice, “Viewer Discretion” pinned at the entrance to the small room.
Inside there, I am met by some of the most foul and disturbing images I will ever set my eyes on. All of a sudden, the room gets cramped and stuffy, and I feel sick in my stomach. It’s like a morgue, and yes there is a picture of people viewing bodies inside a morgue. I can almost feel the stench. I am brought back to the present by gasps of horror from the other people watching the images from hell.
These are Kenyans who turned against their fellow Kenyans, all because politicians told them to. My mind rushes back to the day’s headlines. NO Tribunal, Hague – The Standard. Split Cabinet gives up on a special tribunal – Daily Nation. Pictures of Kibaki alongside Raila feature prominently. It is getting increasingly clear that the victims of the post election violence will not be getting any justice any time soon.
I get out of the tent feeling nauseated and angry. My “foul mood” – ala Kibaki – is soon lifted when I see Carol of Storymoja. She has been working tirelessly seeing to it that I am completely updated on the Festival and its refreshing to see her.
She is in the rather shabby looking media tent – I am comparing this with last year’s media tent which came complete with a free tea/coffee and snacks corner. To all ye journalists expect no such freebies this year.
Carol accompanies me and soon we meet Wachuka Mungai, the managing editor of Kwani? Kingwa Kamencu, the writer – To Grasp at a Star – cum literary activist is also there looking absolutely smashing. She promises to buy coffee later. Billy Kahora, the Kwani? editor too is here, and he wants to know if I still remember today’s event, where I am in the panel interviewing Malindi-based visual artiste Richard Onyango.
Around the corner we meet a harassed Muthoni Garland, she’s just been from the main stage making announcements. Surely there should be other MCs helping her out in this event.
Leaving Muthoni behind, we meet James Murua, who had been running a session on Internet dating, accompanied by my two favourite poets, Njeri Wangari, aka the Kenyanpoet and Eudia Kamonjo, They are also bloggers. They are also running their own shows at the Festival. Apart from running his social Nairobiliving.com, Murua is also a columnist with the Nairobi Star, now The Star.
I also see Oyunga Pala, the man behind the popular Man Talk column in the Saturday Nation. He has been running a session on Men Under Attack. He is a former editor of Adam magazine.
From then on my eyes get to behold the various personalities in the literary and art scene, I am somewhat overwhelmed. I can see Parsalelo Kantai, a two time Caine Prize nominee. Mukoma wa Ngugi, also nominated for Caine this year. And why is no one mentioning that he is Ngugi wa Thiong’os son? Or is it that he has come of age and can stand his own? Hmm…
I can also see Ugandan David Kaiza and his compatriot Doreen Baingana, she of Tropical Fish, Movie maker Judy Kibinge, writer Rasna Warah. I also espied Petina Gappah, the Zimbabwean lawyer whose collection of short stories An Elegy for Easterly – a wonderfully written story – is just out. Eh and Richard Onyango is also there. Why did I always conjure up images of him as a tall and muscular person? Well, he is tall alright and er, rather skinny.
Remember, there is also Hanif Kureishi, a renowned filmmaker and author, and bestselling author Vikram Seth. What more could one wish for? Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka was supposed to have come, but he didn’t. I will tell you that story another day. Our very own Nobel Laureate Wangari Maathai will be there.
Its time to get into the Whether Kenyans read forum and apart from Mwazemba, Njagi and Baingana, there is also Bibi Bakare, who runs Cassava Republic Publishing house in Nigeria. I must have missed Moraa’s firing shot as Billy Kahora calls me to the beer tent to Meet Richard Onyango.
I also meet events cum fashion show organizer Leakey odera, who is all geared up to stage a cat walk later in the evening. I later meet him, looking rather downcast and he tells me that authorities have decreed that everything should close down after 6.30 pm, the killjoys!
It is time go home and Atebe gives me a lift in his Subaru. We discuss business, and heatedly debate Michela Wrong’s controversial book Its our Turn to Eat.
I’ll be back tomorrow. Tune in for another update.
Categories
Ngugi bags Man Booker nomination
Kenya’s foremost writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o is among 14 contenders for this year’s Man Booker International Prize. Worth £60,000 to the winner, the prize is awarded every two years to a living author who has published fiction either originally in English or whose work is generally available in translation in the English language.
Ngugi is the only African writer in the list of nominees, who include Nobel winner V.S. Naipaul. The nomination alone is enough proof that Ngugi’s works are rated among the world’s best.
Other nominees for the prize are Peter Carey (Australia), Evan S. Connell (USA)
Mahasweta Devi (India), E.L. Doctorow (USA) , James Kelman (UK), Mario Vargas Llosa (Peru), Arnošt Lustig (Czechoslovakia), Alice Munro (Canada), Joyce Carol Oates (USA), Antonio Tabucchi (Italy), Dubravka Ugresic (Croatia) and Ludmila Ulitskaya (Russia).
This is the third edition of the prize, which was won, in 2005, by Albanian Writer Ismail Kadare, and Nigerian Chinua Achebe, in 2007.
“By honouring Achebe they have redressed what is seen in Africa – and beyond – as the acute injustice that he has never received the Nobel prize, allegedly because he has spent his life struggling to break the grip of western stereotypes of Africa,” said the Guardian in 2007.
The winner is chosen solely at the discretion of the judging panel; there are no submissions from publishers.
Ngugi, whose writing career started 45 years ago decided to stop writing in English when he was detained without trial in 1977. He henceforth decided that would write in Gikuyu. He wrote his latest book Wizard of the Crow (Murogi wa Kagogo) in Gikuyu and later translated it in English.
The book takes a critical look at the often hypocritical relationship between Africa and donor countries. The book appears to suggest that donor funds are actually the main contributors to corruption and dictatorship in Africa, thereby fuelling underdevelopment in the continent.
His other book The River Between is currently a literature set book studied by secondary school students in the country. Ngugi is also a renowned essayist, with Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of language in African Literature and Moving the Centre: The Struggle for Cultural Freedom, receiving international acclaim.
Ngugi was born on 5 January, 1938 in Limuru. He attended Makerere University in Uganda and Leeds University in the UK.
During his tenure as a lecturer at the University of Nairobi, Ngugi was at the center of the politics of English departments in Africa, championing the change of name from English to simply Literature to reflect world literature with African and third world literatures at the center.
The performance of I Will Marry When I Want, a play written with the late Ngugi Wa Mirii, at Kamirithu in Limuru landed him at the Kamiti Maximum prison without trial.
After his release in 1982, he fled to exile, first in Britain and then to the US and only returned to Kenya in 2004. On his return him and his wife Njeeri were attacked by gunmen at their hotel in Nairobi.
In 1992 he became a professor of Comparative Literature and Performance Studies at New York University, where he held the Erich Maria Remarque Chair. He is currently a Distinguished Professor of English and Comparative Literature as well as the Director of the International Centre for Writing and Translation at the University of California, Irvine.
The winner of this year’s Man Booker International Prize will be announced in May 2009, and the winner will be presented with their award at a ceremony in Dublin on 25 June 2009.
Categories
A short story
I wrote this short story a while back, and now want to share it with my readers. This is my small way of saying Merry Christmas. Feel free to critique it.
In the name of the church
By JOSEPH NGUNJIRI
Something in Rev Mate’s bearing that Sunday morning indicated that all was not well. After he parked his car, he headed straight for the vestry. He only acknowledged the parishioners greetings with a dismissive wave of his hand. As he rounded the corner to the vestry, his broad shoulders could be seen twitching. His slight knock-kneed gait appeared more pronounced today.
This was unlike him.
On normal days, he took time to chat with the early parishioners gathered outside the church building. On such occasions, his deep baritone, peppered with loud infectious laughter, would reverberate throughout the church compound.
Rev Mate’s strange behaviour left the people gathered at the compound baffled. An air of uncertainty fell over the church compound. The happy conversation, which had earlier on filtered out to the main highway died down, and in its place muted whispers ensued. One after the other, they silently filed into the church building.
Festo, who had, absent-mindedly, been scanning the notice-board, at the corner of the building, took it all in from where he was standing. The Reverend passed without even taking note of him.
If only he could tell what was in the pastor’s mind…
Somehow, word of Rev Mate’s unusual mood had filtered out there, for worshipers arriving at the church came with excited looks in their eyes. Some were out of breath, most likely they had come running.
Once inside the compound, their eyes darted from one end of the compound to the other, expecting to find something beyond the ordinary. They had the kind of look reserved for a yet-to-be-sighted accident scene or a house on fire.
Failing to satisfy their curiosity, they directed their anxiety inside the church, where rest of the congregation was eagerly waiting for Rev Mate to reveal the source of his mysterious mood.
Festo was still standing at the notice board when three vehicles rolled in. At the lead was Mr. Maneno’s sleek 4×4, followed by Mrs. Muthee’s Rav4. Maiko’s pick-up brought in the rear.
Maiko had recently bought his vehicle and was quite proud of it. He let everybody know how he had worked very hard to buy it, and you could not begrudge him his new-found wealth. He really had earned it.
He had earned something else too.
He had gained acceptance into the privileged company of Mr. Maneno, Mrs. Muthee, and other ‘royals’ who it was whispered, ‘owned’ Pengo Worship Church. This would not have been the case had he still been the struggling shop-keeper he was those many years ago when he first came to Pengo.
Presently, Festo observed them get out of their cars and assemble beside Mr. Maneno’s latest Range Rover model. There were a few other people who had disembarked from the three vehicles.
In all, they were about seven people.
The congregation inside the church had started singing, though the voices were subdued, probably as a result of the anxiety caused by their pastor’s strange mood.
The impromptu meeting at the car park had drawn Festo’s attention, and from where he was standing, he could sense the tension in the assembled group. The agitated gestures told it all.
Clearly, they were plotting something, if they had not already plotted it.
Then he saw Shem.
Shem was a member of the church’s youth club, which Festo also belonged. The two never got along well. Mamluki – Mercenary – was the name Festo had given him, for his tendency to do anything for the highest bidder, and it had stuck.
Mr. Maneno was whispering something to his ear. Shem was nodding at whatever he was being told, his eyes darting from side to side as if looking out for danger signs. That is when their eyes met.
Shem’s eyes had a stubborn defiance about them. He was daring Festo to do his worst. He straightened himself up to make it clear to Festo that he was actually ‘dining with the royals.’
Mr. Maneno finished with Shem and Maiko pulled the former aside. After another round of whispering, the gathering broke and they headed for the church.
Mr. Maneno led the way. He was carrying his black leather bound bible. From the explosive expression on his face, to his manner of walking, he might as well have been carrying a spear.
The body language was replicated in the rest of the group. They marched towards the church building like a band of warriors going to subdue a stubborn village.
Festo caught up with Maiko as they were entering the church. He tapped his shoulder to draw his attention.
“What are you guys up to?” he asked in a whisper, drawing level.
Maiko was slightly startled but recovered fast; “We want to clean up Pengo. Once and for all,” he whispered back, it came out as a hiss. He stressed the last statement. He branched to take a seat next to Mr. Maneno, on the left side of the church.
Festo made a mental note to seek him out after the service. Their defiant posturing must be the reason behind Rev Mate’s impossible mood, he reasoned.
The singing was temporarily disrupted as the latest group settled down in church. After the singing was over, the congregation sat down to an uncomfortable silence.
Each of the group of elders seated at the raised platform next to the church’s altar, facing the congregation, appeared lost in thought. Some were reading their bibles, or pretending to.
Clearly, Something big was in the offing.
Rev Mate, seated on his usual seat on the far right, equally cut a lonely but defiant figure. His eyes scanned the congregation, quietly taking everything in. Most people avoided his stare.
Festo followed the Reverend’s gaze as it settled on Mr. Maneno and Maiko. The two were deep in conversation, oblivious of the fact that all the eyes in the church had followed Rev Mate’s and congregated on them.
Shem, who was seated on the other side of Maiko, nudged the shop-keeper who now sat up, and for a few nervous seconds, Maiko and the Reverend eye-balled each other.
“This is bound to be interesting,” Festo told himself, settling more comfortably on his seat.
His mind drifted back to Maiko and how fast his profile had risen in the community.
Maiko, as everyone knew him, came to Pengo about ten years back, and set up his small retail shop, which people later named Kwamaiko – Maiko’s place. At first, they were hesitant to buy from his shop, until they discovered that products from his shop were slightly cheaper – always a Shilling or two less – than the other shops.
Another thing that attracted people to his shop was his friendly nature. There was this familiarity about him that made striking a conversation with him quite easy.
It was not unusual to find some of the most withdrawn people in village in an animated conversation with Maiko.
To Maiko, every young man was “man man”, and young women were “auntie”. Older women were “Mathee”, while the old men were “Mzee.” He knew almost all children by name.
The personal attention he gave his customers ensured that his shop was always full particularly in the evenings – “Rush hour”, he called it – as people came to buy provisions for the evening meal.
Maiko was also credited with “budget packs” which proved especially popular with many Pengo residents who were mostly low-income earners. At Kwamaiko, one could buy sugar, salt, cooking fat, tea leaves, and even margarine for as little as five Shillings. “One can never go to bed hungry as long as Maiko is there,” was the popular refrain in the area.
That was not all. His popularity received a further boost by the fact that he was quite generous. He was known to contribute generously to any cause particularly whenever there was a crisis.
That is how he found himself in the A-list of invited guests to any fund-raising venture in the village. That is also how, years later, he found his way into the Mr. Maneno-led committee for the construction of the multi-purpose hall at Pengo Worship Church, where he had earned front-pew membership.
As for the church hall committee, no one seemed to remember how he got appointed to it, only that it involved millions of Shillings, and many in the church gave it a wide berth for that reason alone.
By this time, his business had grown considerably, and he had taken an additional room to accommodate his expansion. Talk was rife that a building under construction, next to the matatu terminus belonged to him. Though this fact was unconfirmed, it inevitably raised questions as to the source of his sudden riches.
Festo clearly remembered that day, about six years ago, when his acquaintance with Maiko started. Then a Form Three pupil at Pengo Boys High School, he was coming home from school, when he dropped by at Maiko’s store to buy Kangumu, a hard crunchy cake.
It is then that the shop-keeper noticed the James Hardley Chase novel Festo had on his hand. Interested, Maiko asked if they the younger man would be willing to swap books with him, once he was done reading.
As time went by the two grew to be good friends. During weekends and on holidays, Maiko would send Festo on errands for which he would pay promptly.
“I will not allow this!” Rev Mate’s thunderous voice brought Festo to the present. The church’s speakers amplified his voice a hundred fold, the effect of which left the congregation cowering in their seats. Though a good natured person, the Reverend was known to possess an explosive temper. And clearly he was now possessed by the demons of his famed temper.
Festo looked up to see a really worked up Rev Mate glowering on the congregation, his hands clutching the edges of the pulpit as if for support. The last time the congregation saw him this angry was when a private developer turned an adjacent plot – which the church had eyed for expansion – into a nightclub. Needless to say, the club had closed down due to lack of business, five months down the line. Some in Pengo had said it was due to the power of prayer. A common joke among the Saturday night revelers in the club, was that they would drink the whole night and rise to repent in church the following morning.
“Some of you are using the name of the church to raise funds abroad, whose account remains secret,” Rev Mate said, his voice now calm but still full of menace. “Through my own investigations,” he continued. He now had the congregation’s undivided attention. “I managed to locate the bank holding the account, but the bank manager told me he was under orders not to disclose the signatories.”
“Members of the church hall committee have all along pretended to contribute ‘generously’ towards its construction, but all they are doing is to enrich themselves.”
Again, eyes in the church shifted to where Mr. Maneno and Maiko were seated. The two shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but they still retained their defiant looks.
“God blesses those who give generously, so the bible says,” the Reverend continued. “But in our case the Americans, and not God, are ‘blessing’ our committee members.”
“The construction of the multi-purpose hall has been going on forever, but according to records in my possession, the funds keep flowing in from abroad,” he paused to let the effect sink.
“Why,” he continued. “Don’t we see the same generosity directed towards the needy pupils, who cannot go to school for lack of fees – Why is that same generosity not going towards taking care of the ever increasing number of Aids orphans?”
“That is not all,” his voice was raised once more. “They now want to force me to sign consent forms so that ‘some members’ of the church, whom we know very well are their children, can go on ‘exchange visits’ to the US.”
A wave of murmuring swept through the church.
“Well, I have news for you. Since with or without the church consent your children will go anyway, let them go privately, but not in the name of the church.”
All was getting clear in Festo’s mind. Could this be the secret behind Maiko’s new-found wealth? Countless other questions were swimming in his mind. Could this also explain why Maiko’s son Jere, who recently cleared Form Four, was telling everyone, who cared to listen, how he was going for “further studies” in the US.
So Jere could be among those whose consent forms Rev Mate was refusing to sign? No wonder Maiko so badly wanted to “clean-up” Pengo.
Festo’s mind wondered back to the day Mlachake, the local wag, ‘rebuked’ Maiko and his ilk for what he called hypocrisy.
It was a wet afternoon, and as usual Mlachake was staggering from the effect of “too much illicit”. Mr. Maneno had stopped by Maiko’s shop, and the two were talking outside the former’s vehicle.
After falling theatrically close to their feet, Mlachake picked himself up, dusted himself with much ceremony and, assured of a captive audience, launched his diatribe; “I live off the sweat of my brow. I am not like some people, who go begging from Mzungus, and they are not ashamed to parade their big cars, showing how rich they are.”
He then twisted his mouth into a drunken sneer, “All this they do in the name of the church, Washindwe Kabisa!” he spat contemptuously and left in a more steady stagger.
On-lookers were left marveling at Mlachake’s boldness. Even more baffling was the fact that Mlachake, who had never stepped into Pengo Worship Church, or any other church for that matter, had this ‘dossier’.
At that time, he was dismissed as a case of sour grapes. What was more, Maiko had refused to extend credit facility to him, for non-payment of an “outstanding debt.”
Festo was brought back to the present by the offertory pouch, thrust in his face, by an overenthusiastic usher. He dug into his pocket and dropped a ten Shilling coin into the pouch.
More than ever before, he needed to talk to Maiko.
He was leaving the church compound when the phone in his pocket vibrated once signaling the arrival of a message. “We need to talk. Find me at Makutano filling station,” the message from Maiko read. It was as if he had read what was going on in his mind.
It nevertheless seemed strange that Maiko would ask to meet him at Mr. Maneno’s filling station. But then, after what had transpired in church, nothing seemed strange any more.
Maiko was waiting for him next to his pick-up, parked near the puncture repair stop. He was fidgeting with his phone. He appeared ill-at-ease with himself.
“Man man you need to know what is happening,” was the first thing Maiko said, pulling Festo by the hand towards the back of the building.
This was where Mr. Maneno had an office. Their host ushered them inside. Festo noticed that, Mr. Maneno, like Maiko, he had a pained look on his face.
“Sit down,” Mr. Maneno forced a smile said showing him a seat.
“What will you take?” he asked reaching for a small fridge at the back of his seat.
Festo asked for a Sprite. He could not wait to hear what they had called him for.
“You realize that things are not well in our church,” Mr. Maneno broke the silence. “We need all the help we can get to restore sanity back to our church. Maiko here, tells me that we can rely on you.”
“Yes, yes,” Maiko stammered. “With your influence among the youth in church, we need you to join our struggle to clean up Pengo.”
They did not give him a chance to respond. They did not intend to.
“You don’t have to worry, this thing has blessings from the top. The big people at the headquarters know about it. Pengo ina wenyewe,” added Mr. Maneno – Pengo has it’s owners.
“We will make it worth your while,” offered Maiko.
“Maiko tells me that you lack fees for university education, I can organize for a scholarship from my contacts in the US,” Mr. Maneno paused to let his unbelievable offer sink. “You only need to mobilize the youth into signing a petition saying we have no confidence in Rev Mate.”
Festo’s head was swimming. He had heard enough for a day.
It did not come as surprise when the two told him that Shem, who was now “working” with them, had recently resumed his parallel degree studies at the University of Nairobi, after a long break for lack of fees. All this, courtesy of Mr. Maneno and Co.
They discussed their plan further, but Festo pleaded for time to think things over.
Maiko gave him a ride home.
The tension in Pengo Church did not subside, if anything, it grew worse in the following two weeks. One could draw a line in church dividing the opposing camps. Intriguingly, the numbers in Mr. Maneno’s camp kept swelling, while that supporting the Reverend kept thinning.
On the third Sunday, following Rev. Mate’s unforgettable ‘sermon’, matters came to a head. Church faithful arrived in church to find its gates locked. There were five guards standing on the inside telling worshippers that they had “instructions” not to let anyone in.
The crowd was still gathered outside arguing with the guards when Rev Mate’s blue Toyota arrived. A sudden hush fell over them as they eagerly awaited to hear what he would tell them. Festo was following the unfolding events from the back of the crowd.
“The mercenaries amongst you have won,” he announced. “Today, I can’t access a church I have ministered for the last five years, to give a farewell sermon.”
“For those who want to know, I have been recalled to the headquarters. I leave here with my conscience clear,” he said his eyes scanning the gathered crowd. Though Festo was not in Rev Mate’s view, he cast his face downwards.
After a brief pause Rev Mate added; “I will leave it upon you to make peace with your God, and remember that I have forgiven you.” And turning to the guards he said; “You can open the gate now, I have no intention of coming back here. God bless you all.” And with that he got into his car and left.
Suddenly Festo felt cold all over his body. His thoughts raced back to the unopened envelope, lying on his bedside table, delivered by Mr. Maneno’s driver, the previous night.
It has been said that former Subukia MP Koigi wa Wamwere and controversy are inseparable. Nowhere does that come out clearly than in his new book Towards Genocide in Kenya: The Curse of Negative Ethnicity in Kenya. Actually, this is not an entirely new book. Koigi added a new chapter in his earlier book Negative Ethnicity: From Bias to Genocide, to come up with the present book.
The first book was published by Seven Stories Press in New York in 2003. It warned of what would happen in Kenya should we let the monster of negative ethnicity (tribalism) entrench itself in the country. We entertained the monster and it did not disappoint. Four years after Koigi’s book was published the country burst its seams.
Kenyans turned against Kenyans in an orgy of murderous violence previously unseen in the country history of the country. Well, we had witnessed violence inspired by negative ethnicity since 1992, at the introduction of multi party politics, and which occurred predictably, every five years, in time for general elections.
The violence that took place after the contested 2007 General Election, though said to be a “fight for democracy” was just an extension of what had been happening in 1992 and 1997. The only difference is that this time inhibitions were cast aside, and our soft underbelly was exposed. Local and international media cheered on as poor Kenyans butchered fellow poor Kenyans.
If truth be told, the 2007 elections were not about issues. It was all about tribe and hatred, and negative ethnicity was on the driver’s seat. The new chapter on Koigi’s book is aptly titled Reaping the Storm, for we surely reaped the storm. The author puts events that led to the violence into sharp perspective, and he takes no prisoners. In the book, he delves into issues that are only talked about in whispers. In short he goes where the Kenyan media chose to ignore or to cover up all together.
Koigi also takes the battle to the backyard Western powers and exposes what he thinks was their role in the whole issue. Most of all he examines the relationship between various ethnic communities in Kenya and how politicians were able to exploit that and sow seeds of enmity and hatred among the people. He also addresses the issues of the coalition government, and what he thinks are its chances of success.
Going by some of the revelations in the book, it is likely that it might rub some feathers the wrong way, and that is where Koigi excels in courting controversy. Some publishers had to turn the book down, in view of the explosive contents of the new chapter. Eventually, the book found home in Mvule Africa, a publishing venture run by Barrack Muluka, another person who does not shy away from controversy. I must also mention that the book has some pictures, whose only intention must have been to cause “shock and awe”. You only need to see some of the images to see what I mean.
The book is available at leading bookstores and is retailing at Sh1,200, which I think is a bit on the higher side. Overall, the general physical outlook of the book should have benefited from more professional input.
I must admit here that Sarah Palin, in spite of the awful things that have been said and written about her, pulled off quite a speech when she accepted her vice-presidential nomination at the Republican Convention.
She proved that just like Obama, she has what it takes to work up crowds and the Republican conservatives must really love her. While I would wish her well, as she and McCain face off with the formidable opposition of Obama-Biden, I can’t help but wonder what she has against books.
I think her speech was going on rather well until she decided to make Obama’s authorship the topic of her attacks against the Illinois Senator
“… it’s easy to forget that this is a man who has authored two memoirs but not a single major law or reform – not even in the state senate,” she charged. This was in obvious reference to Obama’s two best-selling books ‘Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance’ and ‘The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream.’
It is not hard to see that Palin is miffed by the positive publicity the two books have afforded Obama. On the contrary everywhere she turns she effortlessly attracts scandal and more scandal.
Isn’t it the height of mediocrity that any person, let alone a vice-presidential candidate, would decide to attack the very fountains of knowledge; books.
What example is the good lady setting to American children by pouring scorn on books? The saddest part in this macabre script is that those gathered actually cheered when she uttered these unfortunate words.
I can understand where she is coming from. Brawn as opposed to brains has served her well on her way to the top. When you hear that she managed to tear apart the “old boys” network in Alaska, as well as taking on oil cartels, don’t imagine she did it through the power of persuasion. Is it any wonder that the word Barracuda has liberally been used to describe her? Oh, by the way she loves guns and likes hunting.
I gather that Palin has a degree in Journalism. But pray tell, why she exhibit such contempt of knowledge and information?
In spite of everything, I still have much faith in Palin. She can redeem herself and even put her massive talents to good use by writing a book or books of her own.
Suggested titles:
Pregnancy Myths: A Working Mum’s Journey to the Top
More Guns, Less Books: My Dream for a Terrorist Free America
Good luck Palin. You really need it.
Update: I gather that sometime back in Alaska, Palin tried to get a librarian fired because the said librarian refused to remove some books, the governor found “offensive” for the library! How anti-knowledge can one get?
Good people,
I received this thought provoking piece from Mundia Mundia and I thought I would share.
Leave your comments down there.
Hi, May you kindly permit me to break into the residence of the ‘Nyama Choma Siesta’ with a few reflections on the ‘Story Moja Nyama Choma Fiesta’. First, Muthoni Garland, the stewardess of this ‘eatery’ venture deserves a warm part on the back for a job well done. The ‘Reading is Fun’, that was the thyme of the recently held event certainly would help promote social interaction with love for the book as the main course. On the flip side though does the recipe for pages and the Nyama Choma flavor equals summer, dumber and slumber? For it seems that reading a book certainly should thus leave behind a meaty, but memorable, taste now that the combined delicacy appears popular. But does the seemingly harmless fever appear imperceptible and surely infecting all, including children?
When I think of food I think of, ‘Comfort Me With Apples by Riechl; Chocolat and Five Quarters of The Orange, by Joanne Harris; Eat, Cheat and Melt the Fat, by Suzanne Somers and Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser ( Houghton Mifflin).
My friend, Perminder Suri, informed me that he could not attend the fiesta for he is a strict vegetarian though he is a religious reader of novels. He could not allow his wife, who is obese and has secondary medical complications to join other readers. He is also worried that his children, Inaara and Khaliq Singh, may be exposed to a ‘strange’ economic class and socio-cultural orientations though he is keen to witness the ‘end product’ of the fiesta. This then led us to a lengthy verbal discourse on differentiation, association, the Pavlov effect and other related habits. He wonders how Nyama Choma can readily be associated with reading. He says that his friend, Musau, always talks of ‘having a siesta after a Nyama Choma spree’ (may be due to him taking alcohol). On the other hand he recognizes the impact of the ‘crowd puller’ merger. I asked him if that wasn’t deceit but he literally swallowed his answer but this time round not with chapatti.I later joked that my taking Nyama Choma may literally overtake my reading habit due to the former’s readily and easy-to-take palatable and ingesting flavor.As I contemplated taking the fleshy pieces a bout of gout and overweight caught my mind.There is no doubt that, ‘one can safely assume that the Kenyan literary landscape is slowly coming to life’, as Joseph Ngunjiri (SN, Aug. 17, 2008) put it.The same writer also confirms that Story Moja is ‘causing ripples in the literary world, if only through their unorthodox way of doing things’. Thus, Story Moja has helped promote social interaction at the same time reading.
But is Nyama Choma a recipe and the menu on the elusive literary pages?
Mundia Mundia Jnr.
The Kwani? Literary Festival (Litfest) kicks off today in Nairobi. This is by far the most prestigious literary event in the country, which attracts celebrated international literary luminaries, who mingle with homegrown talent.
The festival starts today and runs up to August 15 in Nairobi and the coastal town of Lamu.
The festival will be in the form of a series of workshops, symposiums, book launches, discussions, retreats, travelling and networking. Participants will also have a chance of developing their creative writing skills, with an emphasis on how stories can help society to see itself more coherently.
One of the star attractions of this year’s event is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian, who has variously been described as Chinua Achebe’s literary daughter. And it is not for nothing. Chimamanda has written two highly acclaimed novels, Purple Hibiscus and Half of a Yellow Sun. The book won the Orange Prize for Literature in 2007.
Another personality who will also be coming down for the festival is Ishmael Beah, a former child soldier in Sierra Leone, whose book A Long Way Gone has caused enough controversy, in the literary world with groups of writers vigorously contesting is authenticity.
There is also Doreen Baingana, a Ugandan, whose book Tropical Fish: Stories out of Entebbe, won a Commonwealth Prize in 2006, among others. Her stories have been nominated twice for the Caine Prize.
Another Ugandan is Monica Arac de Nyeko, Winner of the 2007 Caine Prize for her story The Jambula Tree.
Aminatta Forna, will also make an appearance. She is a writer of non-fiction and fiction. Her critically acclaimed memoir of her political dissident father and her country Sierra Leone, The Devil that Danced on the Water was runner-up for the Samuel Johnson Prize 2003.
Dayo Forster, a Gambian based in Kenya will also be there. Her book Reading the Ceiling, was short-listed for the 2008 Commonwealth Writer’s Prize Best First Book for the Africa Region.
Most of these foreign authors will be conducting a series of writing workshops
The festival will also be teeming with local talent, ranging from journalists, poets, writers to movie-makers. Toping the list of local stars is the other rebel, the mercurial Tony Mochama, otherwise known as Smitta Smitten.
Now, Mochama is not your everyday journalist. He is a gossip columnist extraordinaire. He also likes calling himself a vodka connoisseur, for his well-publicised escapades with the demon drink. He is also a poet and a trained lawyer.
Late last year he wrote his poetry anthology titled What if I am a Literary Gangster? which earned him the moniker literary gangster.
There is also Muthoni Garland, the founder of Storymoja, which has taken Nairobi by storm with its stimulating storytelling sessions. Muthoni is also the author of Tracking the Scent of my Mother, which was nominated for the Caine Prize for African Writing in 2006.
Another Kenyan in the faculty is filmmaker and writer, Simiyu Barasa. He wrote and directed of the Feature film Toto Millionaire (2007) and has written for numerous Kenyan dramas like Makutano Junction, Tahidi High and Wingu la Moto.
Going the example of the Litfest, there can be no denying the fact members Kwani? Trust has what it takes to keep the literary flame ablaze in Kenya for a long time to come. Ever since they happened on the scene about six years ago, they have been growing bolder and better. And lovers of the written word have been taking notice.
It all started when Binyavanga Wainaina, then virtually unknown in the country, won the prestigious Caine Prize for African Writing with his short story Discovering Home in 2002. He chose to invest his prize money in promoting writing in his country.
This came at a time when the Kenyan literary landscape was experiencing a fallow period, still smarting from the effects of Prof Taban Lo Liyong rebuke that East Africa was a literary wasteland.
Binyavanga had a plan for reigniting the now cold literary fires, and he had to do it his own way. For one he broke with conventions, and embraced individuals who conventional literary types would not have touched with a ten-foot pole.
Binya, as he is fondly known, took in his wing the Ukoo Flani Mau Mau, a hip-hop community based in the slums of Dandora. And to cap it all, he founded the Kwani? Journal, which even featured graffiti art. And to ruffle the establishement types even further he celebrated Sheng, that bastard street language, that is much reviled for its corrosive effects on proper English and Kiswahili.
In the Third edition of Kwani? there was a short story written in Sheng! The conservative types were not prepared to take Binya’s, brave and different style lying down. They called him all manner of names and he gave back as much as he got.
To cut the long short, Kwani? has today become a movement. Even those initially opposed to them today find themselves honored to appear in their functions.
Form the Open Mic, monthly poetry reading sessions, to Sunday Salon, monthly prose reading sessions, the Kwani? gospel is slowly but surely winning followers.
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A group of 20 girls from disadvantaged backgrounds across Kenya have embarked on a unique weeklong training, on video and movie-making skills, organised by Longman Kenya Limited in collaboration with The Pierson Foundation.
The training started on Friday July 25 and ends on Friday August I. A graduation ceremony will take place on the last day.
The girls have been drawn from Marsabit, Nyeri, Nakuru, Kakamega, Nairobi and Mombasa. They have been chosen by the participating partners namely Kenya Girl Guides Association (KGGA) and Fawe Kenya.
Dubbed The Sara Digital Arts Programme (SADAP), the project aims at harnessing the power of popular entertainment to promote youth issues and empower young people in a provocative and appealing manner. It is based on the popular Sara comics, readers and videos.
SADAP is a project of the Sara Communication Initiative (SCI), a multi-media communication initiative developed by UNICEF in 1994 to promote adolescent issues in Africa.
The character of Sara is modeled on the typical African girl child who faces several challenges, including Female Genital Mutilation, child labour, early marriages, sexual exploitation, HIV/Aids among others.
The only difference is that Sara is able to confront her various challenges and turn them into opportunities. Like Sara, these girls have undergone similar experiences. During the training the girls used Sara’s storylines make movies based on their personal life experiences.
SADAP project works with girls who have limited access to resources and helps them develop lifeskills in communications, and hence build their confidence.
The girls were taught using Adobe Premier editing software, which professional moviemakers use to make documentaries and short films.
Apart from Kenya, the other countries participating in the project are Tanzania, Ethiopia, Botswana and Ghana.
Their next phase, which will take place next year, will see them work with girls in Zambia, Nigeria and Uganda. Mr Kakai Karani, Longman Kenya’s general manager says that in order to make the project locally sustainable, they have donated a mobile media lab, which will be used to train other girls.
The media lab consists of Laptops, and cameras. “Ideally we target an organisation like the Kenya Girl Guides Association, which works with girls and has the desired network around the country,” explains Mr Karani.
The first phase saw 20 girls undergo the same training in May this year. The girls who participated in Phase One are now deemed digital arts mentors. Some of them were invited back to help facilitate Phase Two.
Ten students from the Second phase, were trained as student mentors on how to run programs on their own.
Judy Akinyi, or Saga MacOdongo, if you like, is the latest sensation in the Kenyan literary scene. Every one now seems to want a piece of her. Well, I will not deny her the right to be feted by literary enthusiasts. She has earned it. Her book Deadly Money Maker is currently the talk of town. The book was written while she was serving a jail term at the Langata Women’s Prison, for drug trafficking.
A former lecturer at the Kenya Polytechnic, Akinyi fell to the lure of quick money and plunged into the underworld. Her dream of overnight riches evaporated into thin air when on coming back from her maiden trip as a mule, she was arrested at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport.
The drug queen, who had introduced her into the illegal business left her to her own devices, and that is how she found herself cooling her heels at Langata. It seems odd and cruel that she would be arrested even before she tasted the fruits of her “work”. Well, word on the ground has it that, she had been set up as a pawn. She was earmarked to be a sacrificial lamb. This theory goes on to further suggest that drug lords and drug enforcement officials sometimes work in collusion.
The plan, it is said, is to have an unfortunate mule arrested, after a certain period of time, so as to show the public the war against drugs is alive and well. Thus, poor Akinyi found herself in the middle of a complex web and suffered the consequences
As fate would have it, it was not long before she got her chance to exact revenge. The drug queen, who sold her short, was finally arrested and was to be tried in the US. Akinyi was only too willing to testify against her. Akinyi’s testimony was all the justice system in the US needed to finally put the other woman behind bars.
Akinyi had not finished her sentence when she was released courtesy of a presidential pardon. Shortly after her release, Kwani? featured her in their monthly prose reading sessions, the Sunday Salon in June. Storymoja were waitinng in the wings and no sooner had Kwani? finished with her, they snapped her up with an even bigger and more elaborate schedule.
The readings kicked off on July 5 at the Wheels Restaurant along Ngong Road, followed by another one at the Das Restaurant in Westlands, the following day. On Saturday July 12, they were at Choma Vision along Thika Road. Their next event takes place on Sunday, July 27 at Tea Pot Restaurant, along Koinange Street from 2p.m. to 6p.m. The host will be radio personality Valentine Njoroge.
This is on top of the numerous TV interviews she has made in the intervening period. And Maisha Yetu reveals that a movie project, based on the book is in the works. Watch this space for developments. All this hype will definitely do a lot of good to the book, which might boost its sales. Hopefully then, she might not be tempted to go back into crime.
One thing though, all this hype risks getting into her head. Before you accuse me of sour grapes let me explain; Soon after her release, a journalist with one of the leading papers in Kenya called her seeking for an interview. After taking him round in circles postponing the interview, she finally asked him if he would pay her! To cut the long story short, the interview eventually did not materialise.
And how come her publishers, Paulines Publications are not getting any mentions? Could it be that they are just content to have their book marketed for them?