Weep Not, Child (Penguin African Writers Series Book 3)

by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o

he very rarely alluded to Mwangi’s death.

Boro, Kori, and Kamau were all sons of Njeri, Ngotho’s eldest wife.

While Njeri was always ‘our’ or ‘my elder mother’, Nyokabi, being the younger wife, was always just ‘Mother’. It was a habit observed and accepted by all.

This was Mukuyu, God’s tree.

Now, you know that at the beginning of things there was only one man (Gikuyu) and one woman (Mumbi). It was under this Mukuyu that he first put them.

And the Creator who is also called Murungu took Gikuyu and Mumbi from his holy mountain.

“This land I hand over to you. O Man and woman It’s yours to rule and till in serenity sacrificing Only to me, your God, under my sacred tree…”’

came the white man as had long been prophesied by Mugo wa Kibiro, that Gikuyu seer of old.

For Njoroge it was a surprising revelation, this knowledge that the land occupied by Mr Howlands originally belonged to them.

But the thing he could not forget was the death of his stepbrother, Mwangi. For whom or for what had he died?

How could these people have let the white man occupy the land without acting? And what was all this superstitious belief in a prophecy?

In a whisper that sounded like a shout, he said, ‘To hell with the prophecy.’ Yes, this was nothing more than a whisper. To his father, he said, ‘How can you continue working for a man who has taken your land? How can you go on serving him?’

But after four

years of blood and terrible destruction, like many other young men he was utterly disillusioned by the ‘peace’.

She found sweet pleasure in scolding and beating her servants.

The boy, Peter, was followed by a girl. For a time, the three – mother, daughter, and son

Then European civilisation caught up with him again. His son had to go to war.

She had another boy, Stephen.

He wanted to tell of his own son: he longed to say, ‘You took him away from me’. But he kept quiet. Only he thought Mr Howlands should not complain. It had been his war.

At school Njoroge proved good at reading.

They called him Isaka.

This was his Christian name, a corruption of Isaac.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. Europeans cannot be friends with black people. They are so high.’

Education is the light of Kenya. That’s what Jomo says.’

‘Education is everything,’ Ngotho said. Yet he doubted this because he knew deep inside his heart that land was everything. Education was good only because it would lead to the recovery of the lost lands.

Boro had changed. This was all because of the war. Ngotho felt the war had dealt ill with him. It had killed one son! And the other was accusing him.

He saw himself destined for something big, and this made his heart glow.

Nyokabi had once told Njoroge that those were small holes through which one saw the lighted fire of God. He had not quite believed it.

Nairobi, the big city, was a place of mystery that had at last called away his brothers from the family circle.

‘Yes. They are robbers.’

Education for him, as for many boys of his generation, held the key to the future.

The Bible was his favourite book.

His belief in a future for his family and the village rested then not only on a hope for sound education but also on a belief in a God of love and mercy, who long ago walked on this earth with Gikuyu and Mumbi, or Adam and Eve. It did not make much difference that he had come to identify Gikuyu with Adam and Mumbi with Eve.

‘What about those employed by black people?’ ‘We must concentrate on the government and the white people. We black people are brothers.’ Ngotho knew of one or two who were certainly not brothers. But he did not say so.

he wanted a strong government action – an action that would teach these labourers their rightful places.

Boro had not found a permanent job in Nairobi but had gone into politics.

‘Yes, that’s how your land was taken away. The Bible paved the way for the sword.’

We were killed, we shed blood to save the British Empire from defeat and collapse.’

Jacobo, the richest man in all the land around, had been brought to pacify the people. Everyone listened to him in silence. But something unusual happened to Ngotho. For one single moment Jacobo crystallised into a concrete betrayal of the people. He became the physical personification of the long years of waiting and suffering – Jacobo was

KAU was the society of black people who wanted Wiyathi and the return of the stolen lands. The society also wanted bigger salaries for black people and the abolition of colour bar.

‘That’s the point. Dedan can change himself into anything - a white man, a bird, or a tree. He can also turn himself into an aeroplane. He learnt all this in the big war.’

Jacobo had now been made a chief. He moved with one or two policemen always by his side, carrying guns to protect him against the Ihii cia mutitu (Freedom Boys of the Forest).

The new DO was actually Mr Howlands himself.

Independent and Kikuyu Karing’a schools, which had been built by the people after a break with the missions, had been closed by the government, and this made the situation worse.

Ngotho was changing. Soon after the strike Boro quarrelled much with the old man. He accused him of having spoilt everything by his rash action in spite of Kiarie’s warning. Boro clearly had contempt for Ngotho. But he had never expressed it in words except on those two occasions.

Ngotho, as a result, had diminished in stature, often assuming a defensive secondary place whenever talking with his sons and their friends. For months he had remained in this position, often submitting unflinchingly to his son. And then Boro thought that he could make the old man submit to his will. But Ngotho made a determined resistance. He would not take the Mau Mau oath at his son’s hands or instruction. There had been a bitter quarrel and Boro had stayed for a long time without coming home.

Karanja, who had just joined the group, said, ‘It is a secret Kiama. You “drink” the oath. You become a member. The Kiama has its own soldiers who are fighting for the land. Kimathi is the leader.’

‘But father says that Kimathi is the leader of the Freedom Army and Jomo is the leader of KAU. I like KAU and fear Mau Mau.’

That night Njoroge learnt that Jomo lost. His spirit fell and he felt something queer in his stomach. He did not know what to think.

Ngotho himself lived in fear for his family because Jacobo who had now become the most powerful man in the land had never forgiven him. He knew that sooner or later the chief would retaliate. Perhaps he was biding his time.