A Kenyan Memoir

In the House of the Interpreter – a memoir by Ngugi wa Thiongo, Pantheon Book, NY, 2012

This is the second installment of a memoir by the noted Kenyan author Ngugi wa Thiongo.  In the first book Dreams in a Time of War (reviewed on this site in May 2010) Ngugi recounted his childhood in Limuru as first WWII then the Mau Mau insurgency swept down upon his family.  In the House of the Interpreter picks up where that memoir left off. Now we find Ngugi on his way to the renown Alliance High School.  At the time the only, and perhaps still today, the most prestigious secondary school for Africans.   He explains the origins of Alliance in the 1920s as a vocational school organized by a consortium of missionary organizations designed to educate and create an elite group of African males.

By the 1950s when Ngugi enrolled, Alliance was indeed doing that. A knowledgeable reader will recognize names,  which Ngugi drops often, as those of men who went on to prominence in Kenyan society.  But to his credit Ngugi does not remark upon what these boys became, rather he elucidates what they were then – how they impressed or not – their colleagues and teachers.

For village boys like Ngugi, Alliance was another world. He was unfamiliar with European accoutrements such as eating utensils, flush toilets, hot showers, and a bed of his own.  Nonetheless, he and his fellows quickly adjusted.  Under the strict tutelage of headmaster Cary Francis, the school ran like clock work. Academics were foremost and the day was devoted to learning.  Not unsurprisingly,  Ngugi excelled. He was always near the top of his class.  The odd title of the book comes from the fact that for Kenyan youngsters (a handful of girls were enrolled), Alliance High School was the place where western knowledge – science, literature, manners and mores were interpreted for them.

Yet Alliance was more than a school, especially for the Kikuyu kids, it was a refuge from the Mau Mau nastiness going on around them in the late 1950s.  An Alliance uniform drew great respect from most Africans and indeed recognition from Europeans. It provided a sort of cloak of immunity from the harassment that was a regular part of life.  For example, on his first visit home, Ngugi found that his family home, indeed his whole village had been razed by colonial authorities.  Soon passes and passbooks were needed for all movement. Ngugi feared he would be denied these because his brother was a Mau Mau fighter.  Culminating this reign of terror,  in spite of his Alliance association Ngugi was on one occasion arbitrarily arrested and imprisoned.

Such incidents give heft to the memoir as Ngugi recalls his formative and coming of age years.  Alliance truly opened the door to a bigger world for him and for all of his cohorts.  His description of it all is a worthy read.

 

Lost Loves in Kenya and Zanzibar

Following is a review of Desertion, a novel by Abdulrazak Gurnah, Anchor Books, NY, 2005.

This intriguing novel by a Zanzibari author relates several interconnected stories that link three generations of families.  The author provides great insight into the mores and motivations of the Swahili society of the first part of the 20^th century, about what was proper, what was not and what was scandalous.   Obviously tension in the novel relates to where events and actions fell along that scale. 

 The first installment takes place in a never named town that is obviously Malindi in the early years of British colonialism.  Pearce, an exhausted European stumbles out of the bush and collapses. He is rescued by a Swahili shopkeeper and nurtured by his sister Rehena before he is taken in by the imperious British district officer.  The latter assumed that Pearce was victimized by the villagers, so treats them harshly.  Peace, however, wants to thank them for their hospitality.  Their fate unfolds gently with great insight into conflicting values. The fact that Pearce and Rehena ultimately become lovers scandalizes all communities. 

The story picks up in Zanzibar in the next generation as a family of two brothers and a sister ply their way through growing up.  Rashid, the narrator of the novel, emerges as himself, a studious, introspective intellectual. His brother Amin is a more typical youth focused on sports and friends.  Sister Farida too was self contained and ultimately became a businesswoman.  The parents were schoolteachers. They and their offspring wanted nothing more than the modest success that they might achieve in the restricted colonial system and the conservative Swahili society.   Scandal in this installment revolves around the love affair between Amin and Jamila, a widow and the illegitimate daughter of Pearce and Rehena.  Meanwhile colonialism comes to an end and with the subsequent revolution Zanzibar is thrown into chaos as are the lives of all concerned.  Rashid, ignorant in the ways of the world, goes off to London to university. 

Desertion is an apt title because  - perhaps like in life - no story  comes to a happy ending.  Someone always leaves. The constraints of society and reality prevail, yet the characters are real and they struggle even as their passion disrupts families around them.

I enjoyed this book. The writing has a lyrical quality to it that aptly evokes the time and place.  The narrator muses about the characters that he well depicts, but does not always understand. 

Africa Unveiled

Following is my review of Paul Theroux's latest book.  Theroux has a dark and cynical side that certainly comes through in this novel. 

The Lower River

By Paul Theroux

If ever you were a Peace Corps Volunteer and reminisce on your time and place of service as a golden era in your life and one that you wish to revisit, this may not be the novel for you.  Then again, you may really need to read it in order to reset your perspective.  Either way, return is the plot of The Lower River, Theroux’s latest and one of his most compelling novels set in Africa, Malawi specifically.

The tale revolves around Ellis Hock, a man in his sixties who returned from a PCV teaching stint in a small village in the backwaters of Malawi some forty years earlier.  Hock’s current life in Massachusetts falls apart, his marriage dissolves, his daughter rejects him, and his business fails.  Throughout he remembers Malawi and his time in Malabo, a small village on the lower river. There he was respected, even revered.  Life was fascinating and hopeful; the village’s prospects encouraging.  Hock’s memories also include a lost love.   Thus, with his current life in shambles, Hock decides to go back.  Certainly he knows that times have changed, but he hopes to reclaim some of that earlier magic.

The Malawi that Hock finds has indeed changed. It is busier, dirtier, filled with cynical aggressive people.   Yet Hock is sure that Malabo will be different, but of course, it is not.   The older gentler generation that Hock remembered is gone.  Hock’s school lies in ruins, the clinic abandoned, the priest no longer visits. The vestiges of courtesy and respect for elders and outsiders are a sham.  Hospitality and generosity are gratuitous, reluctantly granted in expectation of reimbursement.  Instead of welcoming him as a long lost friend, Hock is viewed as a resource, a cash cow that must be conserved and carefully milked until she runs dry.

Manyenga , the grandson of the chief Hock previously knew, presides over the village and ingratiates himself to Hock. He provides a young woman, Zizi, to look after Hock’s needs, even as he wheedles money from his ostensible guest.  Hock is struck down by malaria, lassitude and despair but soon comes to realize that he is not an honored guest but a hostage.   His efforts to come to grips with the situation and to escape constitute the plot of the novel.

Although the plot proceeds with unexpected twists and turns, the story really is about Hock, how things change,  how we think about and react to them, and how we come to see truth.  The setting is immaculate. The village is real and grungy; its inhabitants believable and their actions – for the most part – plausible.   Theroux’s dark side, however, comes through. For example, he seizes the opportunity to mock external relief efforts. He portrays characters at their worse – feral children, aggressive thugs, greedy and conniving chiefs, and defeated idealists.  He posits that on account of poverty and  hunger villagers are devoid of positive human qualities. These sorts of people may inhabit the real world and maybe even present day Malawi, but Theroux’s portrait of them is disturbing.

Nonetheless, the story is well told.  The writing is lucid, even elegant. The setting is impeccable. The interspersion of local language adds credibility. Readers who know Africa, especially returned Peace Corps Volunteers, will find this a gripping tale of a search for redemption and inner peace. 

Bridging Cultural Gaps

Following is my review of :

The Outsider(s)

By Caroline Adhiambo Jakob, Author House, Bloomington, IN, 2012
 

This fascinating first novel by a Kenyan author is based on cultural clashes, perceptions and misperceptions as experienced by several women.  Indeed the story provides some keen insight  - often amusing, but occasionally sad  - into how folks on different sides of the culture divide react.

Structurally the novel chiefly follows two women, one starting as an impoverished Kenyan living hand-to-mouth in a Nairobi slum and the other a sophisticated German who succeeded in business by cut- throat back-stabbing practices.  To add to her woes the German also comes from a dysfunctional family where the mother intimidates and castigates her daughters.   The initial descriptions of hard life in Nairobi for Philister ring true and one can understand her desperation.  Soon she escapes to Germany only to find life there almost equally austere, but complicated by her illegal status, lack of German language, and racism.  Even as Philister’s story unfolds, Irmtraut’s is also underway.  An unhappy bitter woman, she opts for a sideways promotion and gets sent to Nairobi.   Thus, the two women are both outsiders in cultures that neither understands or appreciates (hence the title).

The strength of the novel is based on how the two women struggle and adapt to their new surroundings.  Philister is struck by bleakness of European life where common courtesies, hospitality and friendships are absent.  Yet she struggles on eventually staying for some twenty years all the while coping with racism and a profound sense of not belonging.   As an ironic twist, even some of the Africans she meets along the way have adopted European selfishness and disdain.   Irmtraut too is a fish out of water in Kenya. Since her approach to life is diametrically opposite, she cannot understand why people are friendly and accommodating without ulterior motives.

Of course, eventually the two women’s lives become intertwined as they cope with life’s issues and become more attuned to their surroundings. 

There are certainly some caricatures in this novel – I thought the Germans were a bit overblown -   and the plot requires some considerable leaps in order to come to a satisfactory ending. Nonetheless, all the characters are interesting and the setting is excellent.  Readers who have lived in both worlds will nod knowingly each time someone gets frustrated or puzzled either by European or African peculiarities.

The author Caroline Adhiambo Jakob, a Kenyan national married to a German, has a foot in each camp and she writes convincingly about each. The Outsider(s) is an entertaining and enjoyable read.

Serpentine Diplomacy

Serpentine Diplomacy

By Robert Gribbin

Following is a piece that I wrote which was published in the September 2012 edition of the Foreign Service Journal.  I spent most of my diplomatic career in Africa, including two tours in the Central African Republic - first as a junior officer (1874-76) and later as ambassador (1992-95). I wrote an adventure novel set in the CAR entitled State of Decay - An Oubangui Chronicle. It is available from on line bookstores and the publisher www.infinitypress.com.

In 1993 while I was ambassador in the Central African Republic, the citizens participated in the nation’s first (and so far only) free and fair election.   Four of the fifteen candidates, including the incumbent, Andre Kolingba, led the pack.  

 The French and German ambassadors, the EU delegate, the UN resident representative and I formed a donor committee that coordinated our collective financial input and strove to preach the virtues of democracy.  The United States brought only a little money to the table, but our influence as a bulwark of democracy was impressive nonetheless.

 The campaign grew hot with slings and arrows from all camps. Much of the politicking broke out along tribal lines, and rallies, broadsides and sound trucks sought to win over voters.

 At one time or another each candidate sat on my couch and asked for America’s blessing.  I applauded their patriotism, willingness to engage and reiterated the U.S. commitment to an open process, but promised nothing concrete.  Nonetheless, when each spoke to the press upon exiting the embassy, he implied a warm endorsement.

The campaign was a festive experience, not in the least because the citizenry finally awoke to the fact that they had a say. Only late in the process did the president’s inner circle realize that he was not very popular and would probably lose.  So they began to plot disruptions.

As was my habit in this season,  I took breakfast on the terrace of the residence one day during the last phase of electioneering.  The morning was fresh, bright and clear, but held the promise of another hot and humid day. 

Looking up into the large sweet smelling frangi pangi tree that overhung part of the terrace, I spied a big, long black snake intertwined among the blossoms.  I grabbed my croissant and coffee and quickly retreated behind the sliding glass door into the house. 

When I summoned the house staff, they chattered excitedly and went to inform the gardeners.  I had to go to the chancery so left the issue in their hands. 

I arrived home for lunch to find that the staff, including the day guards, had laid out on the terrace for my inspection an eight foot long black mamba – one of Africa’s most aggressive and deadliest snakes.  I heard recitations of the battle with the beast and the bravado of the victors.

I congratulated them profusely for their bravery and prowess in keeping us safe.  Indeed, no one could have rested easy unless the snake was dealt with in this fashion.    

By late afternoon a story was circulating widely in the city to the effect that President Kolingba, angry with the U.S. ambassador’s advocacy of free elections and seeing his own impending exit, had used his black magic to send a mamba to kill the ambassador.  The snake had snuck into the garden that morning and had laid in wait to strike.

 However, the ambassador’s magic proved to be stronger. He had sensed the evil presence and had defeated the snake. Thus, as a consequence, the elections would go forward as planned and President Kolingba would lose.

One week later, that’s exactly what happened.

The Civilized World – a novel in stories by Susi Wyss,  Henry Holt and Company, New York,  2011

I am pleased to review this fine novel by Susi Wyss, certainly in part because she was a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Central African Republic. Returned volunteers like Ms. Wyss have gone on to make significant contributions to economic development and world peace through their professional lives, but some, again like Ms. Wyss, also do so by writing so that a much wider audience can better understand Africa and our common humanity.

As the sub-title indicates this book is built on a series of stand-alone stories, but tales that eventually coalesce into a whole.   It is an interesting construct for a novel, but one – at least in this case – that works quite satisfactorily.   Characters are introduced and wind their way through their first narrative only to resurface in another fashion in a later story.  The reader’s anticipation is piqued by each story, curious to see how the web will fit together.

Although there is a plot of redemption and forgiveness that comes to fruition in the last installment, the thrust of the novel is to dissect relationships.  Furthermore, the relationships scrutinized are in Africa and thus impacted by the continent.  Africa provides the cultural grist that the author uses effectively to draw her characters - both African and American – and to chronicle their interactions: Africans with Africans, Americans with Americans, and then across the cultural divide.   Wyss’ characters are real, particularly Adjoa, a Ghanian entrepreneur, and Janice, an American health expert long resident in Africa.  Through Adjoa’s eyes and thoughts, much of the African landscape of family and familial obligations is elucidated as she struggles with a secret she decided to safeguard.  Adjoa’s perspective, and life, is different from Janice’s, but Janice is at home in Africa and is much less of a jaundiced expatriate than some other characters.  Wyss’s sensitivity to the nuances of culture – the significance of a look, a gesture or phrasing is impressive.  All of the well developed characters are women and sometimes their chit chat overwhelmed this male reader, but I always returned to discover how the threads would mesh.  Indeed one of the strengths of the novel is the author’s depth of understanding of individual frailties and how Africa affects outsiders differently.   Some hyperbole pokes gentle fun at expatriate foibles. 

The stories are impeccably set in five different countries – Ivory Coast, Ghana, Central African Republic, Malawi and Ethiopia.  There is also a piece about America. Clearly the author knew the places which are accurately described. Also, her use of vernacular languages was precise.

For those who want an accurate close up look at Africa, this novel is a warm and entertaining excursion into the continent. 

 

Meditations on Kenya - a book by Binyavanga Wainaina

Following is my review of One Day I Will Write About This Place, by Binyavanga Wainaina,Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, 2011

This unconventional memoir starts with unconventional art on the cover.  Written by a Kenyan intellectual, literati, political activist and academic, the book has much to recommend it.  However, it requires patience in order to mine the kernels within. 

Binyavanga Wainaina, son of an Ugandan (Tutsi) mother (hence his first name) and a Kikuyu father was raised in Nakuru in the modern era. Although from a prominent upwardly mobile family, Binyavanga was a moody child, a bookworm, often lost in his private world.  He began to come to terms with himself in secondary school, but lost it again during the ostensible university years that he spent in South Africa. There he descended into alcoholism and listlessness, but gradually worked his way back to a more balanced approach to life. Writing was apparently his salvation and he is now a professor of that subject.

Even so, his style takes concentration. He narrates well, but slips in and out of train of consciousness. His story jerks forward and aft even though it does have a certain chronology.  What makes the book valuable and worth reading are the marvelously described insights into current Kenya.  Through Binyavanga’s eyes the reader discovers what it was like to grow up privileged, part of the new elite. Yet he was always the outsider, a puzzle to his family.    He remembers schools, religious cults, Nakuru town, brother and sisters, friends and neighbors.   He speaks eloquently from the very beginning about tribalism – about who is favored and who is not – and why.

His South African years fade into a haze of booze, and the struggle to survive in what for him was a foreign land.  However, people step forward to his aid time and again, both to enable his addictions as well as to help him conquer demons.   Finally, Binyavanga gets a better grip and returns to Kenya.  His haunting recounting of a family reunion on his mother’s side in far southwestern Uganda was perhaps the genus of the whole memoir.  However, he goes on to bisect Kenyan society of the 1990s, the role of tribalism, the plight of the cities, the burden of the rich and the foibles of all. He takes several jobs via family connections (they looked after him no matter what).  He hadn’t much ambition, but writes amusingly about how to sell goats – get the chief drunk – or grow wheat on lands hoodwinked from the Maasi. Although, Wainaina’s anti-establishment politics can easily be inferred, he does not beat any political drums in this book.   Indeed overall the book is an excellent social history of Kenya today.  

Binyavanga  Wainaina can write lyrically, both in describing situations as well as putting dialogue into the scenes.  Those sorts of passages alone make the book worthwhile.  Beyond that, however, this book is unique.  I know of no other that peers so penetratingly into modern Kenya