Taking the stage to share the story of our people, far away from home...

These senior police o?cers demonstrate their ‘tech-savvyness’ by taking a sel?e at a recent event at Harambee House, Nairobi.[PHOTO: COLLINS KWEYU/STANDARD]

In slightly over a week, two Kenyans will touch down at George Bush International Airport in Houston within minutes of each other, although they will be arriving from different continents.

One will be coming from Nairobi via London; the other will be traveling from California. While the city of Houston is known for its space centre, the two are not interested in space exploration; as a matter of fact, the closest that either of them has come to space flight was when one wrote a novel about a pack of idiots who wanted to build a tower to heaven.

The novel is Wizard of The Crow and its author, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, one of Africa’s most important writers; the man from Nairobi is yours truly.

Our final destination: the University of Houston, the largest public university in the state of Texas in the US, where we shall be hosted by the Creative Writing Programme in a joint reading.

That a serving of Kenyan writing will be offered 10,000 miles away from home attests to a number of things, key among them, the long-term consequences of past political repression that cast the brightest sons of the soil to the four directions of the wind. Budding writers were left without mentors.

And since Kenyans are in the habit of speaking well of those who have departed from our midst, let me tell you the story of Ngugi and I.

I first encountered him at the age of 15 when I read ‘Weep Not, Child’ as a high school student. The book held to rapt attention: It evoked the Romeo-Juliet duel; two youngsters sucked in the vortex of violence as their parents stand on different sides of the struggle.

The book blurb said its author had served as a journalist. When I read ‘Things Fall Apart’ the following year at the age of 16 and learnt that Chinua Achebe had also served as a journalist in Nigeria, I knew I was going to be a journalist or author. I didn’t know what either of the professions entailed; all I knew is that I wanted to write.

In 2002 when my first novel, ‘Before The Rooster Crows’ was published, I mailed a copy to Ngugi in Irvine, California. I then emailed him to explain his role in my development as a writer.

 GOOD FRIENDS

I met him the following year in December 2003. Frozen in time was the portrait of the artist as a young man, in a turtle neck, with a hint of a frown on the face; the man I met in California was elderly and he wore a subtle grin, unkempt hair and a short stubble.

Our luncheon was to last one hour but it staggered on for hours, extended from the funky hotel to his swanky residence.

We have been very good friends ever since, our social and professional ties fortified by the many shared friends made along the way.

Our joint mission in Houston, sharing the stage with Ngugi for the first time is an honour I shall relish.

“Are you writing?” Ngugi will ask occasionally when we speak on phone. “I was wondering why you have been quiet... the novel is another territory, when one is in there, it can get very quiet...”

And so it is to Houston Ngugi and I shall turn to unveil our latest creative efforts, which hints at our estrangement from the land of our birth, even though it is her story that we carry in our hearts and minds.