A heartfelt Facebook post by Wanjiku wa Ngũgĩ, daughter of the late literary icon Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, stirred a wave of reflection. As a long-time admirer of Ngũgĩ’s work; first introduced to him through The River Between, our high school set book at Friends School Kamusinga; I found myself revisiting his biography. What I discovered left me in awe, but also deeply unsettled. Ngũgĩ has received numerous international accolades and honorary doctorates from globally esteemed institutions. Yet, in stark contrast to this global acclaim, Kenya his homeland has offered almost nothing of comparable stature.
That one of Africa’s greatest literary minds could pass away without receiving Kenya’s highest national honour is not merely an oversight but a national disgrace. Despite a lifetime dedicated to elevating Kenya on the global literary stage, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o died without the recognition his own country owes him. His story now joins those of other world-renowned figures forgotten by their motherlands. Kenya must do better and posthumously honour Ngũgĩ with the dignity and national gratitude he so richly deserves.
Professor Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s rise from a rural village in Limuru to global literary prominence is a testament to his brilliance, courage, and conviction. Born in 1938 during colonial Kenya, his early novels; Weep Not, Child (1964), The River Between (1965), and A Grain of Wheat (1967) explored the trauma of colonization and the complexities of independence. In the 1970s, Ngũgĩ co-founded the Kamiriithu Community Education and Cultural Centre, where he pioneered political theatre in Gikuyu to educate and mobilize the public.
The staging of Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), co-written with Ngũgĩ wa Mĩriĩ, attracted huge crowds and alarmed the Moi regime. He was arrested in 1977 and detained without trial. While in prison, he wrote Caitaani Mũtharaba-Inĩ (Devil on the Cross) on toilet paper demonstrating a defiant act against state repression. By the late 1970s, Ngũgĩ made the radical decision to abandon English and write exclusively in Gikuyu, reclaiming language as a tool of resistance.
His 1986 novel Matigari ma Njirũũngi was so politically charged it was banned. Facing continued harassment, Ngũgĩ fled into exile in the early 1980s, first to the United Kingdom and then to the United States, where he continued his activism through literature and public lectures. His bold linguistic shift and political courage inspired a global movement for cultural decolonisation. Ngũgĩ’s legacy endures not just in his literary genius but in his unrelenting fight for justice, dignity, and the liberation of African voices.
While Kenya hesitated to fully honour Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, the global community celebrated him as a towering intellectual and literary icon. He received numerous global accolades, including the UNESCO First Prize at the 1966 World Festival of Black Arts in Dakar for Weep Not, Child, the Lotus Prize for Literature in 1973, and the Paul Robeson Award in 1992 for artistic excellence and political conscience. He was also a recipient of the PEN Award for Freedom of Expression and was frequently shortlisted for the Nobel Prize in Literature. Prestigious universities conferred honorary degrees upon him, including Yale University (2017), the University of Edinburgh (2019), New York University, Leeds, and Bayreuth University, affirming his stature in global academia.
In contrast, Kenya offered minimal recognition, with the only confirmed local accolade being an honorary doctorate from KCA University in 2016. Even the reported conferral of the Order of the Elder of the Burning Spear (EBS) in 2008 remains ambiguous.
Other countries have treated their literary giants with greater dignity. Nigeria, for example, honoured Wole Soyinka with the Commander of the Federal Republic (CFR) for his literary achievements. Though Chinua Achebe declined the CFR in both 2004 and 2011, it was offered nonetheless; an acknowledgment of his influence. Kenya’s failure to visibly and officially honour Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o during his lifetime, despite his global acclaim, reveals a troubling indifference to intellectual legacy and cultural heritage.
Honouring Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o posthumously is not just about celebrating a literary giant; it is a symbolic act of national self-respect. Ngũgĩ courageously spoke truth to power, challenging injustice through the written word and inspiring generations to think critically about language, identity, and freedom. Recognizing him affirms the value of intellectuals and artists who dare to question authority, even at great personal cost. For Kenya’s young writers, thinkers, and activists, it would send a powerful message: that principled dissent and cultural contribution are not only tolerated but celebrated.
Failing to honour Ngũgĩ perpetuates a painful trend where the nation distances itself from its most courageous voices, only to claim them long after the world has done so. In acknowledging Ngũgĩ’s legacy, Kenya has a chance to redefine its relationship with its dissidents, not as enemies of the state, but as architects of its moral and cultural imagination.
The Kenyan government must act decisively to posthumously honour Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o with the country’s highest national award, rectifying a long-standing oversight. As a towering figure in global literature and a fearless advocate for cultural identity, Ngũgĩ deserves more than silence; he deserves a state funeral befitting his legacy.
The President, in collaboration with the Ministry of Culture and the National Honours and Awards Committee, should not only bestow this recognition but also establish a National Literary Award in Ngũgĩ’s name, celebrating excellence in African writing and Indigenous languages. Parliament must take the lead in legislating an annual National Day for Local Languages, reflecting Ngũgĩ’s lifelong struggle to preserve linguistic heritage. Furthermore, his works should be made central in Kenya’s school curricula to inspire future generations. Posthumous recognition would not only honour a national treasure but also affirm Kenya’s commitment to intellectual freedom, cultural pride, and historical justice.
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s voice endures bold, unyielding, and deeply rooted in the conscience of Africa. His life was a testament to the power of words in confronting tyranny, reclaiming identity, and uplifting the human spirit. To honour Ngũgĩ is to honour the ideals he stood for: justice, truth, culture, and the fearless defence of the oppressed.
This moment is not just about one man; it is a moral reckoning for Kenya. Recognizing Ngũgĩ posthumously affirms our national values and signals to future generations that this country cherishes those who challenge it to be better. If we fail to honour our icons in life or death, we risk eroding the very soul of our nation. Let Ngũgĩ’s recognition mark a turning point, a national commitment to celebrating those who elevate Kenya’s global voice and conscience before more of our giants pass unacknowledged. The time to act is now.
