Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, the legendary Kenyan author, scholar, and revolutionary thinker, has passed away at the age of 87. In 2022, he won the African Genius Award alongside Wole Soyinka.
For over six decades, Ngũgĩ chronicled the soul of a nation and a continent in transformation, from the brutal era of British colonial rule to the hard-won, often disillusioning dawn of independence. He was more than a writer; he was a literary warrior who chose resistance over comfort and mother tongue over empire.
Despite being long-rumoured to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, a prize he deserved many times over, Ngũgĩ will be remembered not for the awards he didn’t receive, but for the legacy he built. He stood as a fearless advocate for African languages, arguing passionately that true decolonization must begin with the word, with the language of the people.
Born James Thiong’o Ngũgĩ in 1938 in Limuru, Kenya, Ngũgĩ grew up in a family of poor farmers under the iron grip of British colonial rule. His early education at the missionary-run Alliance High School introduced him to English literature, but his reality was shaped by the violent crackdown on the Mau Mau resistance.
That violence was personal. Ngũgĩ’s brother, Gitogo, who was deaf, was shot in the back by a British soldier for failing to obey a command he could not hear. His village was razed, and family members detained in camps, acts of colonial terror that would leave a permanent imprint on his writing.
In 1959, Ngũgĩ left Kenya for Makerere University in Uganda. It was there that his destiny began to take shape. At a writers’ conference, he shared the manuscript of his first novel, Weep Not, Child, with Nigerian literary giant Chinua Achebe. Achebe recognized the brilliance and helped publish the work, marking the arrival of the first major English-language novel by an East African author.
He followed with The River Between and A Grain of Wheat, cementing his place as a powerful new voice in African storytelling. But it was in 1977 that Ngũgĩ would make a bold and irreversible pivot, rejecting colonial identity and embracing full cultural emancipation.
He changed his name to Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, discarding his Christian, colonial-given names. More than that, he made the radical decision to stop writing in English altogether. From then on, he would write exclusively in Kikuyu, his mother tongue, a revolutionary act in a literary world still dominated by European languages.
That same year, he co-wrote the play Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), a searing critique of class inequality in post-independence Kenya. The government shut it down. Ngũgĩ was imprisoned for a year without trial in a maximum-security prison.
But even behind bars, the pen never stopped. Denied basic writing materials, Ngũgĩ wrote his first Kikuyu novel, Devil on the Cross, on prison-issued toilet paper. It was an act of defiance and artistic brilliance.
When Daniel arap Moi came to power, Ngũgĩ was released. But freedom remained elusive. In 1982, while abroad promoting his work, Ngũgĩ learned of a plot to assassinate him if he returned to Kenya. He entered into self-imposed exile, first in the UK, then in the United States — and would not return home for 22 years.
When he finally did, thousands greeted him as a hero. But tragedy struck again, intruders attacked him and raped his wife in a horrifying assault that Ngũgĩ believed was politically motivated. He returned to the U.S., where he continued his academic and literary work at institutions like Yale, New York University, and the University of California, Irvine.
Throughout his career, Ngũgĩ challenged the very foundations of post-colonial African identity. In his seminal essay collection Decolonising the Mind, he asked: “What is the difference between a politician who says Africa cannot do without imperialism and the writer who says Africa cannot do without European languages?”
That question shook African literature to its core, even straining his friendship with Chinua Achebe. But Ngũgĩ stood firm. For him, language was more than a tool; it was the key to liberation.
Beyond literature, Ngũgĩ’s life was complex. He was married twice, fathered nine children, four of whom became writers themselves. His son, Mukoma wa Ngũgĩ, has spoken publicly about allegations of abuse within the family, a reminder that even icons have deeply human flaws.
In his later years, Ngũgĩ battled health challenges, including triple bypass surgery, kidney failure, and a near-fatal cancer diagnosis. Still, he fought on, defying death as he had defied oppression.
Today, we mourn the passing of a literary ancestor, a decolonial visionary, and a revolutionary whose pen rattled empires. As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once said, Ngũgĩ was one of African literature’s guiding lights. Now that light has dimmed, but the fire he lit will never be extinguished.
Rest in power, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. The struggle continues, and your words remain weapons.
Kenyan legendary author Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o dies at age 87
