Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o passed away on May 28 at the age of 87. Back in 2014, I paid a visit to the late John Nagenda at his serene Muyenga home, which offered a sweeping view of its colorful surroundings—both tranquil and invigorating. We sat down for lunch together.

As we relaxed in the gentle breeze on his neatly trimmed lawn, I asked him about a story I’d heard: that a young James Thiong’o Ngũgĩ, as Ngũgĩ was then known, had admired Nagenda’s writing during their shared time at Makerere University College.

Nagenda responded with a wide smile. I followed up with a more serious question—whether, if given the chance to relive his Makerere years, he would have chosen the activist path that Ngũgĩ boldly pursued. Nagenda paused, smiled wistfully, and began recounting the memorable day in June 1962.

The Writers’ Conference

That was the time of the seminal, though paradoxically named, Conference of African Writers of English Expression—the first of its kind—hosted at Makerere. It was organized under the auspices of the Congress for Cultural Freedom, which later turned out to be a CIA front.

Literary heavyweights like Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka (later a Nobel Laureate) attended. They spoke passionately about the personal dangers they faced due to their writing. Amid these gripping tales, Nagenda, who lacked such dramatic experiences, gently asked, “What role is left for those of us who haven’t been shot at or tortured?” He didn’t say how the audience reacted. But after the story, my question still lingered—a reflection of the unconventional, yet courageous, path Ngũgĩ chose to walk.

At that same conference, Ngũgĩ humbly handed over his debut manuscript to Chinua Achebe. That act led Achebe to forward the work to Heinemann Educational Books in the UK, paving the way for the publication of Weep Not, Child in 1964. Set during Kenya’s state of emergency (1952–1961), the novel tells of the anti-colonial struggle and earned widespread critical acclaim. It was a landmark as the first major English-language novel by an East African writer of African descent.

Ngũgĩ followed up with The River Between and A Grain of Wheat. The former explored the clash of cultures and religion in early colonial Kenya, while the latter focused on complex responses to colonial rule in the lead-up to Kenya’s independence.

From Recognition to Rebellion

As Idi Amin ousted Milton Obote in 1972 and began posturing as the new ruler of the British Empire, Ngũgĩ was already being celebrated in the UK press as one of Africa’s preeminent contemporary writers.

But in 1977, a turning point came. That same year, when Archbishop Janani Luwum was reportedly killed under Amin’s regime, Ngũgĩ renounced his colonial name and declared a cultural revolution of his own. He resolved to write exclusively in Kikuyu, abandoning English entirely. His final English-language novel, Petals of Blood, published that year, tackled issues of corruption and inequality in post-independence Kenya.

That same year, he co-authored the play Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), which sharply criticized class divisions in Kenya. Much like the writings of South African activist Steve Biko, Ngũgĩ’s play embodied defiance. Unsurprisingly, the Kenyan government under Jomo Kenyatta shut it down and imprisoned Ngũgĩ for a year without trial.

While in prison, Ngũgĩ wrote his first novel in Kikuyu, Devil on the Cross, reportedly using toilet paper as his writing surface. After Amnesty International labeled him a prisoner of conscience, global pressure led to his release in December 1978.

However, the new regime under Daniel arap Moi barred him from teaching, effectively exiling him from Kenya’s academic institutions. While in Britain to promote Devil on the Cross, Ngũgĩ discovered a chilling plot to assassinate him upon his return to Kenya—thinly veiled as a “red carpet welcome” at the airport.

The ominous euphemism would have sounded absurd as a line in a bad spy movie. But Ngũgĩ took it seriously. He remained in exile—first in Britain until 1989, and then in the United States until 2002.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o now rests among the literary greats, remembered as one of the finest writers the world has ever known.