Wife battering claims cannot stop Ngugi wa Thiong'o from winning coveted prize

Author Ngugi wa Thiong'o. [Beverlyne Musili, Standard]

Early last week, Mukoma wa Ngugi, writer, professor at Cornell University, and Ngugi wa Thiong'o's son, wrote online about the grief that he feels at having his mother's memory erased and her voice silenced. This was a sentiment that he had shared with the world before.

However, this time around he also alleged that some of his earliest memories were of his mother seeking refuge away from home because of his father's physical abuse of her. Seemingly out of nowhere, he was revealing that Prof Ngugi, arguably Kenya's most prolific author and intellectual, had repeatedly beaten his (Mukoma's) mother Nyambura.

Reactions to this revelation were varied with some, like South African author Zakes Mda commiserating and revealing how shocked he was after he saw Nelson Mandela casually slapping his first wife, Evelyn.

Many others were disappointed with Mukoma for sharing this family secret, arguing that not only was he sullying his father's legacy, but diminishing his chances of being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. As well, they felt that it was unnecessary for Mukoma to share this piece of information from a time so long gone by.

That Kenyans and people of some other nationalities rally each year for Ngugi to be awarded the Nobel each year is trite. But speaking of the award at a time when Ngugi's alleged abuse of his first wife was revealed by his son calls into question a few things.

What, if anything, do our heroes owe us? Why do we place such importance on international recognition even at the expense of our own dignity? And why is the Nobel more important than truth and justice for Nyambura? Is the upholding of a hero more important than listening to the voice of his victims?

That the Nobel is such a prestigious prize across the globe does not speak to its own moral standing. In 2018, members of the selection panel were accused, and one of them convicted, of sexual misconduct.

The Peace Prize has been awarded to some people who could reasonably be accused of war crimes such as Henry Kissinger. Winston Churchill, who decimated scores of lives across the British colonies, was awarded a Nobel Prize in Literature. As far as Ngugi goes, it would not be the first time that a person accused of abusing women was awarded; VS Naipul and Bob Dylan have faced similar scandals in their own private lives.

In light of so many morally opaque awards being handed out, why then, is there a yearly campaign to demand that Ngugi be added to the number? Ngugi himself writes not only from an anticolonial but also a decolonial lens. Decolonialism demands that we not seek recognition from the West in order to be truly worthy.

If Ngugi's oeuvre speaks for itself, which it certainly does, then that should be more than enough for the people who really care for his work. But whilst it might be that Ngugi understands this, many of his supporters do not.

Which brings us to the question of the revelation made by Mukoma. As stated before, Ngugi's work is not only anticolonial but also decolonial. He espouses, in both his fiction and nonfiction, ideals that call not only for the freedom of Black and African people, but for women as well.

How do we, as readers and admirers of the man and his craft, reconcile his alleged violent actions when pitted against his revolutionary work? We could start first by learning the importance of truth-telling as taught to us by Ngugi himself.

Truthtelling leaves room for those who feel hurt to come forward with their stories and speak without being silenced. Next, we should "kill our idols" by admitting that they too are fallible and holding them accountable for their wrongs.

Lastly, we ought to reconsider the annual Nobel campaign, not only because the award is antithetical to decolonial ideals, but also because perhaps, and especially in this year of revelation, Nyambura's silencing and erasure should be our primary focus.

-Ms Gitahi is a researcher and PhD candidate