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Memoirs #1
Dreams in a Time of War
Ngugi wa Thiong'o was born the fifth child of his father's third wife, in a family that includes twenty-four children born to four different mothers. He spent his 1930s childhood as the apple of his mother's eye, before attending school to slake what is considered a bizarre thirst for learning.
As he grows up, the wider political and social changes occurring in Kenya begin to impinge on the boy's life in both inspiring and frightening ways. Through the story of his grandparents and parents, and his brothers' involvement in the violent Mau Mau uprising, Ngugi deftly etches a tumultuous era, capturing the landscape, the people and their culture, and the social and political vicissitudes of life under colonialism and war.
273 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2005
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About the author
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o
119 books1,992 followersNgũgĩ wa Thiong'o was a Kenyan author and academic, who was described as East Africa's leading novelist.
He began writing in English before later switching to write primarily in Gikuyu, becoming a strong advocate for literature written in native African languages. His works include the celebrated novel The River Between, plays, short stories, and essays, ranging from literary and social criticism to children's literature. He was the founder and editor of the Gikuyu-language journal Mũtĩiri. His short story The Upright Revolution: Or Why Humans Walk Upright was translated into more than 100 languages.
In 1977, Ngũgĩ embarked upon a novel form of theatre in Kenya that sought to liberate the theatrical process from what he held to be "the general bourgeois education system", by encouraging spontaneity and audience participation in the performances. His project sought to "demystify" the theatrical process, and to avoid the "process of alienation [that] produces a gallery of active stars and an undifferentiated mass of grateful admirers" which, according to Ngũgĩ, encourages passivity in "ordinary people". Although his landmark play Ngaahika Ndeenda, co-written with Ngũgĩ wa Mirii, was a commercial success, it was shut down by the authoritarian Kenyan regime six weeks after its opening.
Ngũgĩ was subsequently imprisoned for more than a year. Adopted as an Amnesty International prisoner of conscience, he was released from prison and fled Kenya. He was appointed Distinguished Professor of Comparative Literature and English at the University of California, Irvine. He previously taught at Northwestern University, Yale University, and New York University. Ngũgĩ was frequently regarded as a likely candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature. He won the 2001 International Nonino Prize in Italy, and the 2016 Park Kyong-ni Prize. Among his children are authors Mũkoma wa Ngũgĩ and Wanjiku wa Ngũgĩ.
He began writing in English before later switching to write primarily in Gikuyu, becoming a strong advocate for literature written in native African languages. His works include the celebrated novel The River Between, plays, short stories, and essays, ranging from literary and social criticism to children's literature. He was the founder and editor of the Gikuyu-language journal Mũtĩiri. His short story The Upright Revolution: Or Why Humans Walk Upright was translated into more than 100 languages.
In 1977, Ngũgĩ embarked upon a novel form of theatre in Kenya that sought to liberate the theatrical process from what he held to be "the general bourgeois education system", by encouraging spontaneity and audience participation in the performances. His project sought to "demystify" the theatrical process, and to avoid the "process of alienation [that] produces a gallery of active stars and an undifferentiated mass of grateful admirers" which, according to Ngũgĩ, encourages passivity in "ordinary people". Although his landmark play Ngaahika Ndeenda, co-written with Ngũgĩ wa Mirii, was a commercial success, it was shut down by the authoritarian Kenyan regime six weeks after its opening.
Ngũgĩ was subsequently imprisoned for more than a year. Adopted as an Amnesty International prisoner of conscience, he was released from prison and fled Kenya. He was appointed Distinguished Professor of Comparative Literature and English at the University of California, Irvine. He previously taught at Northwestern University, Yale University, and New York University. Ngũgĩ was frequently regarded as a likely candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature. He won the 2001 International Nonino Prize in Italy, and the 2016 Park Kyong-ni Prize. Among his children are authors Mũkoma wa Ngũgĩ and Wanjiku wa Ngũgĩ.
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August 3, 2014
Even when not reading it, I can hear the music. The choice and arrangements of the words, the cadence, I can’t pick any one thing that makes it so beautiful and long-lived in my memory. I realize that even written words can carry the music I loved in stories, particularly the choric melody. And yet this is not a story; it is a descriptive statement. It does not carry an illustration. It is a picture in itself and yet more than a picture and a description. It is music. Written words can also sing.
They sing, they enchant, they teach, they tell stories. Even in memoir. Especially in memoir. It is as Vladimir Nabokov once said (Lectures on Literature) the writer must be an enchanter, teacher, and storyteller. Thiong'o is all of these things.
Penetrating details. In fact at times those details help distract you from the fact that there are numerous characters, too many characters that they are mostly forgettable, characters with intricate names like those of a Russian novel, characters who appear for one-liners or in a paragraph or two. These descriptive details distract you from the array of characters because the details become the major incidents, the characters only minor placements.
And this is why I love memoirs: historical and personal contexts combined. I find myself researching Harry Thuku, pondering India's ties to Kenya and the influence that leaders like Gandhi and Garvey had across the globe.
But back to Nabokov and the teacher, enchanter, storyteller statement.
The storytelling: A young boy who finds joy in books, but sometimes sees himself uprooted from his African schools because of British colonialism. A distinct family life within a small village. A boy abandoned by his father but brought to manhood through his village's customs. Then he learns that someone close to him is involved with the anti-colonial movement deemed illegal.
The education: Italian prisoners of war and builders in colonial Kenya (they surrendered during the East African campaign during 1941); the Indian community within Kenya, how this would later affect the landscape of tea-picking (tea seeds from India were introduced to his town in 1903); the link between Kenyan nationalism, Gandhian nationalism and Garveyite black nationalism; the rise of the famous activist and nationalist leader, Kenyatta—whose death Kenyan writer, Binyavanga Wainaina later mentions in his acclaimed memoir: One Day I Will Write About This Place: A Memoir.
The enchantment:
Oh yes, such a day it was! The crop was in bloom, the entire field covered with pea flowers of different colors. I always remember the butterflies, so many; and I was not afraid of the bees that competed with the butterflies. He took out a bead necklace and said: Will you wear this for me? Well, I did not say yes or no, but I took it and wore it, she said with an audible sigh.
March 30, 2016
Because I have just recently read Weep Not Child I was able to compare truth and fiction; evidently Ngugi drew on his own childhood experiences to write that early book, making Njoroge an avatar for himself. Certain scenes are common to both books, and it seems to me that Njoroge is a reflection of what young Ngugi might have become with less intelligence and good guidance. In this account, the protagonist comes off rather better, modesty unable to repress the fact of his admission to the country's most selective high school. Known as quiet, respectful and sensitive, he values each member of his family, and resists colonising influences. For example, he reports an incident that occurred when he went to a sports festival with his younger brother and, seeing some classmates and older boys, was embarrassed by his brother's 'traditional garb', and separated from him, but was quickly much more embarrassed by the impulse, and subsequently became closer to and more protective of his brother. Ngugi's family, with four 'mothers', is much more complicated than Njoroge's in Weep Not Child! Like Njoroge, he respects his carpenter half-brother and is captivated by stories from the Old Testament. The novel simplifies and dramatises real events and circumstances, but is rooted in reality.
In Weep Not Child the Indian/Asian Kenyan community is presented as disliked by the Black/African Kenyans via second hand white supremacy, but it seems to me that here Ngugi does not explicitly confront this racism. The Asians appear here as a community apart, but Ngugi and his brother do play with some Asian children and accept gifts from them. Much more is made of the links between anti-colonial intellectuals and resistance activists in Kenya and India, for example between Harry Thaku and Gandhi. Thaku also had links with Marcus Garvey, Ngugi points out, building up an impression of international decolonial organising laying down pathways for others to follow. Later, Ngugi's mentor Ngandi dramatises the links between Kenyatta's trial and the Gandhi-Nehru administration, which not only sent lawyers then, but had a long history of solidarity with Kenyans.
The memoir form makes possible a depth of mature political analysis, contextualisation and the benefit of hindsight. For me the most interesting topic was the independent teacher's college, which was closed down and turned into a place of execution by the colonial state. Ngugi tightly integrates political commentary with the narrative, for example describing how one black teacher refused to run when called by a white inspector and refused to call him sir, and how the class held him in awe for restoring their lost pride in their teachers and themselves. This episode concludes a fascinating chapter describing how independent (or rather, organised by collective native effort) schools were banned and how the curriculum changed
Circumcision is another political topic that receives important contextualisation here. The African Origin of Civilization, Cheikh Anta Diop comments that the cosmogony of circumcision comes from Egyptian tradition, and Ngugi briefly explains its importance in Gikuyu culture (later in the book is an account of his own 'initiation', from which its depth of significance and centrality as a rite of passage becomes very clear). For some reason, circumcising boys has excited little political feeling, but when it comes to girls, the issue is incendiary. Ngugi's explanation is extremely illuminating:
Ngugi also discusses government propaganda, which presented Mau-Mau actions as senseless and without reason. Ngandi points out to him that this is the colonial viewpoint, and fills in the gaps that are left by the reports, both critiquing the chaotic impression 'the guerillas are under strict orders from Marshall Dedan Kimathi not to kill at random. The guerillas could not survive without support from the people' and explaining the history and intent behind the struggle. He also exposes the indiscriminately lethal colonial response. This reminded me of The In Between World of Vikram Lall which also presents the Mau Mau struggle as senseless and disorderly, focussing on the violence.
Recently I was lucky enough to catch a production of the Lorraine Hansberry play Les Blancs at the National Theatre in London. Here, in an unnamed colonised country, it is emphasised that the native people have tried everything possible before violence, while the colonising state's first resort is terror and slaughter. Great African Reads Group's focus on Kenya this year, in combination with my reading of The Wretched of the Earth and the play, have so far been extremely helpful for me in understanding whiteness and imperialism better.
From the very beginning, Ngugi describes storytelling traditions in his community and family and mentions how he loved the way his sister Wabia used to retell the previous evening's stories in the day time; perhaps because of her blindness, the daylight does not drive away tales for her. Schoolchildren on their long walks home vie to tell stories best, crowding together to hear. Given Ngugi's passion for the practice, it is not surprising that this story, crafted out of many tales as a feast is made up of many dishes, is composed with a glorious combination of precision, materiality, and fluidity. While a timeline can be mapped, the telling leaps around it judiciously to better dramatise and contextualise its key scenes and events, sliding from past to present tense to modulate mood and mode, as if cutting from narration to flashback. It is no mean feat this, to make memoir dance and enthrall like a tale told in the night.
In Weep Not Child the Indian/Asian Kenyan community is presented as disliked by the Black/African Kenyans via second hand white supremacy, but it seems to me that here Ngugi does not explicitly confront this racism. The Asians appear here as a community apart, but Ngugi and his brother do play with some Asian children and accept gifts from them. Much more is made of the links between anti-colonial intellectuals and resistance activists in Kenya and India, for example between Harry Thaku and Gandhi. Thaku also had links with Marcus Garvey, Ngugi points out, building up an impression of international decolonial organising laying down pathways for others to follow. Later, Ngugi's mentor Ngandi dramatises the links between Kenyatta's trial and the Gandhi-Nehru administration, which not only sent lawyers then, but had a long history of solidarity with Kenyans.
The memoir form makes possible a depth of mature political analysis, contextualisation and the benefit of hindsight. For me the most interesting topic was the independent teacher's college, which was closed down and turned into a place of execution by the colonial state. Ngugi tightly integrates political commentary with the narrative, for example describing how one black teacher refused to run when called by a white inspector and refused to call him sir, and how the class held him in awe for restoring their lost pride in their teachers and themselves. This episode concludes a fascinating chapter describing how independent (or rather, organised by collective native effort) schools were banned and how the curriculum changed
In the old school teachers told us about African kings like Shaka, Cetshwayo. They told us a bit about the white conquest and settlements in South African and Kenya. But now the emphasis was on white explorers like Livingstone, Stanley, Rebman and Krapf. We learned in positive terms about the establishment of Christian missions. We learned that white people had discovered Mount Kenya and many of our lakes, including Lake Victoria. In the old school, Kenya was a black man's country. In the new school, Kenya, like South Africa, was represented as having been sparsely populated before the whites arrived, and so whites occupied the uninhabited areas. Where, as in Tigoni in Limuru, they had taken African lands, the previous occupants had been compensated. There had also been tribal wars. White people brought medicine, progress, peace. The teachers were of course following the official government-approved syllabus under which students would eventually be examinedThis is what we are taught in British schools and through other cultural channels here too. In this memoir, we can see how these lies were at least partly rejected, or at least viewed critically, even by children like Ngugi. The schools also now punished students for speaking Gikuyu, using an insidious strategy; the first child to speak Gikuyu would be given a piece of metal, which would be passed to whoever was heard speaking it next. Whoever had it at the end of the day was beaten.
Circumcision is another political topic that receives important contextualisation here. The African Origin of Civilization, Cheikh Anta Diop comments that the cosmogony of circumcision comes from Egyptian tradition, and Ngugi briefly explains its importance in Gikuyu culture (later in the book is an account of his own 'initiation', from which its depth of significance and centrality as a rite of passage becomes very clear). For some reason, circumcising boys has excited little political feeling, but when it comes to girls, the issue is incendiary. Ngugi's explanation is extremely illuminating:
the African Inland Mission, which had already condemned the practice as barbaric and unchristian, went further in their campaign against the practice and announced that all their African teachers and agents would have to sign a declaration solemnly swearing never to circumcise female children; never to become a member of the Kikuyu Central Association, the leading African political organisation at the time; never to become a follower of Jomo Kenyatta, the KCA's general secretary... and never to join any party unless it was organized by the government or missionaries.Thus, female circumcision was aligned with anti-colonial political resistance. Reading this was the hugest A-HA moment for me; when white feminists shout out against the practice, regardless of ignorance or intent, we are echoing colonial oppressors attempting to crush decolonising struggle. Much care and nuance is needed...
Ngugi also discusses government propaganda, which presented Mau-Mau actions as senseless and without reason. Ngandi points out to him that this is the colonial viewpoint, and fills in the gaps that are left by the reports, both critiquing the chaotic impression 'the guerillas are under strict orders from Marshall Dedan Kimathi not to kill at random. The guerillas could not survive without support from the people' and explaining the history and intent behind the struggle. He also exposes the indiscriminately lethal colonial response. This reminded me of The In Between World of Vikram Lall which also presents the Mau Mau struggle as senseless and disorderly, focussing on the violence.
Recently I was lucky enough to catch a production of the Lorraine Hansberry play Les Blancs at the National Theatre in London. Here, in an unnamed colonised country, it is emphasised that the native people have tried everything possible before violence, while the colonising state's first resort is terror and slaughter. Great African Reads Group's focus on Kenya this year, in combination with my reading of The Wretched of the Earth and the play, have so far been extremely helpful for me in understanding whiteness and imperialism better.
From the very beginning, Ngugi describes storytelling traditions in his community and family and mentions how he loved the way his sister Wabia used to retell the previous evening's stories in the day time; perhaps because of her blindness, the daylight does not drive away tales for her. Schoolchildren on their long walks home vie to tell stories best, crowding together to hear. Given Ngugi's passion for the practice, it is not surprising that this story, crafted out of many tales as a feast is made up of many dishes, is composed with a glorious combination of precision, materiality, and fluidity. While a timeline can be mapped, the telling leaps around it judiciously to better dramatise and contextualise its key scenes and events, sliding from past to present tense to modulate mood and mode, as if cutting from narration to flashback. It is no mean feat this, to make memoir dance and enthrall like a tale told in the night.
February 5, 2023
هي الطفولة بكل عنفوانها وما تحمله من آمال واحلام بغدٍ أفضل، حتى وإن كانت تحت وقع طبول الحرب( مقاومة الشعب الكيني للاستعمار البريطاني - واعلان حالة الطوارئ من 1952-1959)
عن علاقته بوالديه، وأمه بوجهٍ خاص اذ كانت الملهمة والدافع له بالنجاح والاستمرار رغم كل الظروف الصعبة التي مروا بها خصوصاً بعد انفصالها عن والده، عن ذكرياته و قصصه مع إخوته ووالده، إذ كانت له أربع زوجات، تتميز كل منهن بشيء فريد عن الأخرى كما يذكر. عن سنوات الدراسة الاولى ، شغفه في القراءه وتميزه الملحوظ بين اقرانه في عمرٍ مبكر؛ ثمة العديد من معلمي الابتدائية، الذين أسهموا بطرقهم الخاصة في نموه الفكري، ويخص بالذكر السيد سمويل جي. كيبيشو هو من أثر على حياته. ساعده في تعلم القواعد الأساسية في بناء اللغة بأسلوب يستذكره عن ظهر قلب، كما أنه لاحظ اهتمامه في القراءة فكان يعيره من مكتبته الخاصة روايات مختلفة في نسخ مبسطة، ك رواية دكنز " آمال عظيمة"، و جزيرة الكنز لروبرت لويس ستيفنسن.
عن اللعب واللهو ، إلى سن البلوغ" عادات وطقوس سن البلوغ في كينيا؛ تعد أكثر مراحل الانتقال والتأهيل أهمية, وصعوبة. فعلى الطفل أن يلقي بطفولته خلف ظهره وهو يخطو نحو الرجولة, وأن يبرهن عمليا على قدرته على تحمل الألم بكل صوره وأشكاله التى تتعدد بتعدد القبائل- "الختان"-وصف الكاتب بدقة هذه العملية وفترة العزل الإجباري التي تدوم لعدة اسابيع، قبل أن يعود الطفل ويندمج مع بقية افراد القوم او المجتمع حسب المعمول به في كينيا-وعندما يرجعون من عزلتهم الإجبارية يكونون قد تشبعوا بفكرة أنهم انسلخوا تماما من طفولتهم, وصاروا رجالا.
وصف في سيرته الحياة الاجتماعية والأيديولوجية وطبيعتها بكل ما تحمله من لين و قساوة الجغرافيا.
أسلوبه السردي رائع !
عن علاقته بوالديه، وأمه بوجهٍ خاص اذ كانت الملهمة والدافع له بالنجاح والاستمرار رغم كل الظروف الصعبة التي مروا بها خصوصاً بعد انفصالها عن والده، عن ذكرياته و قصصه مع إخوته ووالده، إذ كانت له أربع زوجات، تتميز كل منهن بشيء فريد عن الأخرى كما يذكر. عن سنوات الدراسة الاولى ، شغفه في القراءه وتميزه الملحوظ بين اقرانه في عمرٍ مبكر؛ ثمة العديد من معلمي الابتدائية، الذين أسهموا بطرقهم الخاصة في نموه الفكري، ويخص بالذكر السيد سمويل جي. كيبيشو هو من أثر على حياته. ساعده في تعلم القواعد الأساسية في بناء اللغة بأسلوب يستذكره عن ظهر قلب، كما أنه لاحظ اهتمامه في القراءة فكان يعيره من مكتبته الخاصة روايات مختلفة في نسخ مبسطة، ك رواية دكنز " آمال عظيمة"، و جزيرة الكنز لروبرت لويس ستيفنسن.
عن اللعب واللهو ، إلى سن البلوغ" عادات وطقوس سن البلوغ في كينيا؛ تعد أكثر مراحل الانتقال والتأهيل أهمية, وصعوبة. فعلى الطفل أن يلقي بطفولته خلف ظهره وهو يخطو نحو الرجولة, وأن يبرهن عمليا على قدرته على تحمل الألم بكل صوره وأشكاله التى تتعدد بتعدد القبائل- "الختان"-وصف الكاتب بدقة هذه العملية وفترة العزل الإجباري التي تدوم لعدة اسابيع، قبل أن يعود الطفل ويندمج مع بقية افراد القوم او المجتمع حسب المعمول به في كينيا-وعندما يرجعون من عزلتهم الإجبارية يكونون قد تشبعوا بفكرة أنهم انسلخوا تماما من طفولتهم, وصاروا رجالا.
وصف في سيرته الحياة الاجتماعية والأيديولوجية وطبيعتها بكل ما تحمله من لين و قساوة الجغرافيا.
أسلوبه السردي رائع !
October 18, 2015
I wish I had read this after reading Thiong'o's fiction. I will do that someday. This is an account of his childhood in Kenya from 1938 until he enters highschool/secondary school. This is during the time of the Mau Mau Uprising, which had a direct impact on his daily life.
I know people who were missionaries in Kenya directly after this period, so it filled in some gaps for me. Call me naive but I didn't really understand post-WWII colonialism very well. Goodness.
I loved seeing him in the role of songleader and storyteller even from a young age, and I am glad he never gave it up. Another small detail that I will remember most is the naming conventions of children - named after your father but also as a symbol of reincarnation, and then also your nickname that you are better known by. So much of a story built into a name!
I know people who were missionaries in Kenya directly after this period, so it filled in some gaps for me. Call me naive but I didn't really understand post-WWII colonialism very well. Goodness.
I loved seeing him in the role of songleader and storyteller even from a young age, and I am glad he never gave it up. Another small detail that I will remember most is the naming conventions of children - named after your father but also as a symbol of reincarnation, and then also your nickname that you are better known by. So much of a story built into a name!
July 18, 2013
Enjoyable and informative, definitely worth reading if you are curious to know more about the Mau Mau Rebellion 1952-1960 which lead to Kenyan Independence from Britain in 1963. Laid before you are the author's childhood memories up to his acceptance and arrival at high school. He is today a famed, contemporary African writer. This book focuses upon his quest for education, something all too many of us take for granted. It is about native Kenyan life. He was born in 1938, the fifth child of his father's third wife. Twenty-four siblings, four mothers, what is it like to be one in a polygamous family? You learn about life as one of the Kikuyu ethnic group in colonial Africa. Their land was taken from them, not once, but four times. Their culture was denied. There is a lot of history here, and it is not always told linearly. Furthermore the names are difficult, more so if you are listening to it as an audiobook. The narration by Hakeem Kai-Kazim is at times difficult to follow, particularly when the trial of Jomo Kenyatta is related with an angry tone, in an effort to emphasize the injustice of the events. I had to look on Wiki (Mau Mau Upprising and Jomo Kenyatta) to fully understand the scattered events splayed before me. It helped to see the names, to tie up the different threads. The book gives more depth than just reading at Wiki. What was his life like? How was it to have one brother as a Mau Mau rebel and another supporting the colonials? And what is it like to fight for the right to an education, to achieve that when you have no food, no shoes, no books and sometimes no light at all to work by. He succeeded. He didn't just succeed, he succeeded magnificently. His mother always asked him, "Is that your best?"
The prime message of this book is clear. Look at the title. In times of "war", we must have dreams to survive.
The prime message of this book is clear. Look at the title. In times of "war", we must have dreams to survive.
December 13, 2017
Desde un punto de visto formal, la obra es intachable. Sin utilizar grandes giros retóricos o construcciones muy elaboradas, wa Thing’o transmite con brillantez tanto sus propias vivencias personales como el contexto en el que se encuadran. Y es precisamente en la correlación entre las impresiones personales de un niño, y la gravedad de los hechos que le rodean, donde Sueños en tiempos de guerra se eleva como una obra fundamental. Crítica completa: http://www.libros-prohibidos.com/suen...
October 5, 2012
Put simply, Dreams In A Time Of War by Ngugi wa Thiong’o is a beautiful book. But it is also challenging, engaging, shocking, endearing and enraging at the same time. It also offers truly enlightening insight into the psychology, motivation and eventual expression of a great writer. Anyone who ha admired Ngugi’s A Grain of Wheat will adore Dreams In A Time Of War, because the fiction that rendered the novel such a complex and rewarding read is here as reality, in all its greater rawness of immediacy, contradiction and conflict.
Dreams In A Time Of War is an autobiography, covering Ngugi’s infant and childhood memories until the day he left home, as an adolescent primary school graduate, to join Alliance High School. Thus we journey in Ngugi’s account from a homestead shared with a father, four wives and numerous siblings to the start of a Western education with its subject boundaries and prescribed canals of thinking. It would be easy to suggest that this represented a journey from the traditional to the modern, but that would be naïve. It would also miss the point.
Tradition, in Ngugi’s recollections, is extremely important, especially the magic of language. Words, clearly, were always for him much more than labels. The Kikuyu language that was his birthright offered a richness of expression and meaning - not to mention an identity - that fired his imagination from a very young age. It was also a language that was denied and derided by at least part of an education system that proselytised on behalf of the colonial, the modern. Throughout Dreams In A Time Of War we are aware of this potential for conflict, where the clearly academically gifted young Ngugi yearns to read and learn, but is regularly reminded that the only acceptable vehicle for that activity was the English language. For some who emerged through the vicious selection for entry into the educated elite, this denial of identity led to a rejection of birthright, origin and perhaps culture, so that they might more completely and convincingly adopt the new status to which they aspired. In Ngugi’s case, this demanded denial of his own background led him to appreciate it, its values and its worth more acutely. It is a mark of the book and equally the man’s complexity, however, that he not only retained an insider’s appreciation and understanding of his birthright, but also embraced the English language and education to become one of the language’s greatest writers.
Ngugi’s description of tradition is never static. At the same time, his view of modernity is never uni-dimensional. He recognises that his people’s ceremonies have changed over the years and that their significance has altered. Old men’s stories may still enthral the young, but the world described has already changed. Farmers have been driven from their land. Estates growing crops for cash and bounded by fences have been established. Factories offering wage labour have opened. Many of the structures that bound families and communities together have been transformed, perhaps not broken down, but have at least been challenged by new allegiances and aspirations.
Equally the modern is not presented as a monolith. Two different education systems coexist, one that transmits only Christianity and European values, and one that admits local language and learning. In the same way that individuals are influenced by what they are taught, they are also transformed by their experience of employment, of nurture by institutions and comradeship. In Kenya, for some this included loyalty to King and country via service in two world wars, acceptance of Christianity, responsibility to exacting employers and land owners, as well as, for others, acknowledgement of and adherence to tradition, family values and kinship transmitted by oral culture. And the reality that Ngugi portrays so beautifully in this book is that these apparently opposing poles were often mixed up within the individual, almost every individual.
If there is still anyone who retains the notion that British Imperialism was tantamount to spreading pixie dust, then such a person ought to read Ngugi’s childhood memoir. Here are descriptions of hooded informers - no doubt paid to say the right names, of indiscriminate detention, concentration camps and cold-blooded murder. And all this was backed up by a wholly unjustified and erroneous assumption of racial superiority. By the way, it’s about the same way they treated the working class back home, even down to denying most of them access to the educational goodies that legitimise social class identity.
Readers please do not be put off by the difficulties posed by the Kikuyu names and words. If they are unfamiliar, then find a way of summarising and merely recognising them. But do read this beautiful childhood memoir and thus do understand a little more of the experiences that motivate writers - and others – to explain. The view is partial, of course, that is why it is both entertaining and illuminating.
Dreams In A Time Of War is an autobiography, covering Ngugi’s infant and childhood memories until the day he left home, as an adolescent primary school graduate, to join Alliance High School. Thus we journey in Ngugi’s account from a homestead shared with a father, four wives and numerous siblings to the start of a Western education with its subject boundaries and prescribed canals of thinking. It would be easy to suggest that this represented a journey from the traditional to the modern, but that would be naïve. It would also miss the point.
Tradition, in Ngugi’s recollections, is extremely important, especially the magic of language. Words, clearly, were always for him much more than labels. The Kikuyu language that was his birthright offered a richness of expression and meaning - not to mention an identity - that fired his imagination from a very young age. It was also a language that was denied and derided by at least part of an education system that proselytised on behalf of the colonial, the modern. Throughout Dreams In A Time Of War we are aware of this potential for conflict, where the clearly academically gifted young Ngugi yearns to read and learn, but is regularly reminded that the only acceptable vehicle for that activity was the English language. For some who emerged through the vicious selection for entry into the educated elite, this denial of identity led to a rejection of birthright, origin and perhaps culture, so that they might more completely and convincingly adopt the new status to which they aspired. In Ngugi’s case, this demanded denial of his own background led him to appreciate it, its values and its worth more acutely. It is a mark of the book and equally the man’s complexity, however, that he not only retained an insider’s appreciation and understanding of his birthright, but also embraced the English language and education to become one of the language’s greatest writers.
Ngugi’s description of tradition is never static. At the same time, his view of modernity is never uni-dimensional. He recognises that his people’s ceremonies have changed over the years and that their significance has altered. Old men’s stories may still enthral the young, but the world described has already changed. Farmers have been driven from their land. Estates growing crops for cash and bounded by fences have been established. Factories offering wage labour have opened. Many of the structures that bound families and communities together have been transformed, perhaps not broken down, but have at least been challenged by new allegiances and aspirations.
Equally the modern is not presented as a monolith. Two different education systems coexist, one that transmits only Christianity and European values, and one that admits local language and learning. In the same way that individuals are influenced by what they are taught, they are also transformed by their experience of employment, of nurture by institutions and comradeship. In Kenya, for some this included loyalty to King and country via service in two world wars, acceptance of Christianity, responsibility to exacting employers and land owners, as well as, for others, acknowledgement of and adherence to tradition, family values and kinship transmitted by oral culture. And the reality that Ngugi portrays so beautifully in this book is that these apparently opposing poles were often mixed up within the individual, almost every individual.
If there is still anyone who retains the notion that British Imperialism was tantamount to spreading pixie dust, then such a person ought to read Ngugi’s childhood memoir. Here are descriptions of hooded informers - no doubt paid to say the right names, of indiscriminate detention, concentration camps and cold-blooded murder. And all this was backed up by a wholly unjustified and erroneous assumption of racial superiority. By the way, it’s about the same way they treated the working class back home, even down to denying most of them access to the educational goodies that legitimise social class identity.
Readers please do not be put off by the difficulties posed by the Kikuyu names and words. If they are unfamiliar, then find a way of summarising and merely recognising them. But do read this beautiful childhood memoir and thus do understand a little more of the experiences that motivate writers - and others – to explain. The view is partial, of course, that is why it is both entertaining and illuminating.
February 6, 2017
Εξαιρετικό το πρώτο μέρος της τριλογίας-αυτοβιογραφίας του Thiong'o, απ'τις περιπτώσεις που παραγγέλνεις το επόμενο μέρος χωρίς δεύτερες σκέψεις. Ο Κενυάτης αφηγείται τα πρώτα 15-16 χρόνια της ζωής του, απ'τις αλλαγές στον εύπλαστο ακόμα χαρακτήρα του μέχρι τις κοινωνικές ταραχές στη χώρα, η οποία ζητάει όλο κ πιο έντονα, όλο κ πιο βίαια την ανεξαρτησία της απ'τους Άγγλους. Το βιβλίο άλλωστε φθάνει μέχρι τη στιγμή που ο συγγραφέας περνάει τις εξετάσεις για το πιο φημισμένο λύκειο της χώρας κάπου στα μισά της δεκαετίας του '50, κάτι λιγότερο από μια δεκαετία πριν την ανεξαρτησία που έρχεται κ στην κορύφωση της καταστολής απ'τον αποικιοκρατικό στρατό.
Ο Thiong'o μοιάζει να έχει κρατήσει καθαρά στη μνήμη του τις σκέψεις κ τα άγχη του 10χρόνου εαυτού του κ με αυτό το τρόπο παρουσιάζει όχι αποκλειστικά τη ζωή του, αλλά τη ζωή συνολικά στο χωριό του με τις σφαγές των άγγλων, τις προδοσίες των συμπατριωτών του κ φυσικά τις παραδόσεις της φυλής του που, όπως είναι αυτονόητο, φαντάζουν ξένες στο δυτικό κόσμο. Το βιβλίο κυλάει σα νερό κ επειδή πολλές απ'τις ιστορίες της ζωής του βρήκαν χώρο στο Weep Not, Child, διαβάζεται σαν εξαιρετικό μυθιστόρημα κ συνολικά βλέπεις πόσο καλύτερος γραφιάς έγινε από τότε που έγραψε το ντεμπούτο του.
Νομίζω ότι κάπου στα μισά του βιβλίου ξεχάστηκε λίγο με τις αναφορές στην οικογένεια του κ υπήρχαν κεφάλαια γεμάτα ονόματα κ συγγενικές σχέσεις που κουράζουν αλλά σε γενικές γραμμές το βιβλίο προτείνεται χωρίς ιδιαίτερες επιφυλάξεις σε όσους μπορεί να ενδιαφέρονται για τη ζωή σε αυτό το κομμάτι της Αφρικής κ φυσικά είναι ιδανικό ξεκίνημα για όσους θέλουν να γνωρίσουν αυτόν το ξεχωριστό συγγραφέα. Προσωπικά, σίγουρα θα συνεχίσω με το δεύτερο μέρος πριν περάσω σε κάποιο απ'τα μυθιστορήματά του
Ο Thiong'o μοιάζει να έχει κρατήσει καθαρά στη μνήμη του τις σκέψεις κ τα άγχη του 10χρόνου εαυτού του κ με αυτό το τρόπο παρουσιάζει όχι αποκλειστικά τη ζωή του, αλλά τη ζωή συνολικά στο χωριό του με τις σφαγές των άγγλων, τις προδοσίες των συμπατριωτών του κ φυσικά τις παραδόσεις της φυλής του που, όπως είναι αυτονόητο, φαντάζουν ξένες στο δυτικό κόσμο. Το βιβλίο κυλάει σα νερό κ επειδή πολλές απ'τις ιστορίες της ζωής του βρήκαν χώρο στο Weep Not, Child, διαβάζεται σαν εξαιρετικό μυθιστόρημα κ συνολικά βλέπεις πόσο καλύτερος γραφιάς έγινε από τότε που έγραψε το ντεμπούτο του.
Νομίζω ότι κάπου στα μισά του βιβλίου ξεχάστηκε λίγο με τις αναφορές στην οικογένεια του κ υπήρχαν κεφάλαια γεμάτα ονόματα κ συγγενικές σχέσεις που κουράζουν αλλά σε γενικές γραμμές το βιβλίο προτείνεται χωρίς ιδιαίτερες επιφυλάξεις σε όσους μπορεί να ενδιαφέρονται για τη ζωή σε αυτό το κομμάτι της Αφρικής κ φυσικά είναι ιδανικό ξεκίνημα για όσους θέλουν να γνωρίσουν αυτόν το ξεχωριστό συγγραφέα. Προσωπικά, σίγουρα θα συνεχίσω με το δεύτερο μέρος πριν περάσω σε κάποιο απ'τα μυθιστορήματά του
March 22, 2015
I didn't think this book would have such an impact on me. The ending had me in tears. Every time I read a Kenyan novel, I'm more eager to learn about the country's past- its such a great country. This is a very, very touching novel. Ngugi wrote this with such love and care - well, obviously, its his childhood memoir! But honestly, I admire and respect him a lot - especially the family he came from and his mother. Family units play a HUGE role in the future of children and this novel demonstrates that heavily. I gave this 4 stars instead of 5 stars because there were soo many different names in this book, it got a bit confusing. So try to read this in a couple of days in order to stay on track with all the names mentioned.
Kenya's history plays a large role in this book, for obvious reasons. Commentary on the war, Jomo Kenyatta, Mau Mau guerillas, Mbiyu etc are very prevalent in this book. If you aren't familiar with East African history, some prior knowledge will help make this an enjoyable read. Ngugi's dedication to going for his dreams even in Kenya's unstable state was so admirable. All the ups and downs of this book will encourage you to keep on fighting to achieve any personal goals/dreams you have. Its wonderful.
This is just a great novel. I feel like a part of Ngugi's family now that I've read this! His daughter is on Instagram, so seeing him as a family man is also very cool.
A more in-depth review will be on the blog...but I don't think any review can embody the tenderness of this book.
I absolutely recommend this. I will read his other memoir next: 'In The House of the Interpreter'.
Kenya's history plays a large role in this book, for obvious reasons. Commentary on the war, Jomo Kenyatta, Mau Mau guerillas, Mbiyu etc are very prevalent in this book. If you aren't familiar with East African history, some prior knowledge will help make this an enjoyable read. Ngugi's dedication to going for his dreams even in Kenya's unstable state was so admirable. All the ups and downs of this book will encourage you to keep on fighting to achieve any personal goals/dreams you have. Its wonderful.
This is just a great novel. I feel like a part of Ngugi's family now that I've read this! His daughter is on Instagram, so seeing him as a family man is also very cool.
A more in-depth review will be on the blog...but I don't think any review can embody the tenderness of this book.
I absolutely recommend this. I will read his other memoir next: 'In The House of the Interpreter'.
August 15, 2017
Belief in yourself is more important than endless worries of what others think of you. Value yourself and others will value you.Validation is best that comes from within.
Imagine a world where the lack of shoes and stockings can stand in the way of a highschool diploma.
Imagine a world where your exam results don't qualify you for highschool, but you are admitted to a "teacher training school."
As happened when I read The Diary of Ma Yan: The Struggles and Hopes of a Chinese Schoolgirl, what struck me most was again the fact that even today, for a large proportion of the world's population, any formal education is a privilege--and higher education an impossible dream. Education is the refuge, the "dream in time of war" referenced in the title. The child-Nugugi dreams of going to school, of learning, of obtaining a "licence to write". He is convinced that without that licence, as an African writer he would be imprisoned. He wasn't far wrong, given that most African-language newspapers were banned during Kenya's state of emergency--a euphemism for civil war. This volume of his memoirs covers his young childhood until the day he learns he has been accepted into Alliance High School, the most prestigious school in the country (for Africans).
Piecing this and that together to make a coherent story the way Ngandi did is difficult: It is like assembling a jigsaw puzzle with some pieces missing. It may have been the same for Ngandi, but he replaced the missing pieces with his fertile imagination. It is okay if I don't reach thelevel of the master narrator, I comfort myself, because I don't have to tell my stories to listeners eager to eat from the palm of my hand. Perhaps those "missing pieces" reflect the child's comprehension of the incomprehensible events that surround him in a world not geared to children--the scrappy narrative, particularly in the first third of the book, the changes of tense and mood sometimes in mid-sentence. Some events encountered in In the House of the Interpreter are first told here; they were re-narrated later in the light of his expanded understanding of the events surrounding them. I was again struck by the contrast between the history of white settlement of "unoccupied, uninhabited" lands in Kenya as narrated by Elspeth Huxley and others like her, and the dispossessed whose land came under the "soldier settler" plan. If the past is another country, the past told by the invader is a different universe.
If I have a complaint it is that there are too many unidentified characters who are named but never placed within the narrative; too many African names of organisations, groups etc that bring the uninformed reader up short. Only if you are on your toes can you realise, "Oh, wait--that's the newspaper"; and sometimes not then.
Imagine a world where the lack of shoes and stockings can stand in the way of a highschool diploma.
Imagine a world where your exam results don't qualify you for highschool, but you are admitted to a "teacher training school."
As happened when I read The Diary of Ma Yan: The Struggles and Hopes of a Chinese Schoolgirl, what struck me most was again the fact that even today, for a large proportion of the world's population, any formal education is a privilege--and higher education an impossible dream. Education is the refuge, the "dream in time of war" referenced in the title. The child-Nugugi dreams of going to school, of learning, of obtaining a "licence to write". He is convinced that without that licence, as an African writer he would be imprisoned. He wasn't far wrong, given that most African-language newspapers were banned during Kenya's state of emergency--a euphemism for civil war. This volume of his memoirs covers his young childhood until the day he learns he has been accepted into Alliance High School, the most prestigious school in the country (for Africans).
Piecing this and that together to make a coherent story the way Ngandi did is difficult: It is like assembling a jigsaw puzzle with some pieces missing. It may have been the same for Ngandi, but he replaced the missing pieces with his fertile imagination. It is okay if I don't reach thelevel of the master narrator, I comfort myself, because I don't have to tell my stories to listeners eager to eat from the palm of my hand. Perhaps those "missing pieces" reflect the child's comprehension of the incomprehensible events that surround him in a world not geared to children--the scrappy narrative, particularly in the first third of the book, the changes of tense and mood sometimes in mid-sentence. Some events encountered in In the House of the Interpreter are first told here; they were re-narrated later in the light of his expanded understanding of the events surrounding them. I was again struck by the contrast between the history of white settlement of "unoccupied, uninhabited" lands in Kenya as narrated by Elspeth Huxley and others like her, and the dispossessed whose land came under the "soldier settler" plan. If the past is another country, the past told by the invader is a different universe.
If I have a complaint it is that there are too many unidentified characters who are named but never placed within the narrative; too many African names of organisations, groups etc that bring the uninformed reader up short. Only if you are on your toes can you realise, "Oh, wait--that's the newspaper"; and sometimes not then.
November 30, 2016
4,25/5
A Somnis en temps de guerra, el reconegut escriptor kenyà Ngugi wa Thiong'o ens transporta a la seva infantesa. Una etapa en la que va haver de mantenir ben fermes les seves il·lusions i el desig d'aprendre a llegir i d'estudiar en un context social i polític de repressió colonialista i de rebel·lia contra aquesta situació.
Nascut en una família pobre de l'ètnia kikuiu, l'autor va viure els primers anys de la seva vida a la Kenya rural, en un moment en que les imposicions imperialistes dels britànics, que van voler negar la cultura, la religió i les formes d'organització social ancestrals, van afectar la seva família de manera directa. Ngugi wa Thiong'o, amb un llenguatge amè i amb subtilesa ens reflecteix a la seva obra com els colons van dotar de certs privilegis a part de la població nadiua per confrontar-la amb l'altra part i tallar-ne la creixent autonomia.
Un relat autobiogràfic d'una tendresa insòlita, en el que se'ns narra com un nen intenta entendre el què passa al seu voltant enmig de la cruesa de la guerra per la independència de Kenya sense perdre la innocència i les ganes de complir els seus somnis.
A Somnis en temps de guerra, el reconegut escriptor kenyà Ngugi wa Thiong'o ens transporta a la seva infantesa. Una etapa en la que va haver de mantenir ben fermes les seves il·lusions i el desig d'aprendre a llegir i d'estudiar en un context social i polític de repressió colonialista i de rebel·lia contra aquesta situació.
Nascut en una família pobre de l'ètnia kikuiu, l'autor va viure els primers anys de la seva vida a la Kenya rural, en un moment en que les imposicions imperialistes dels britànics, que van voler negar la cultura, la religió i les formes d'organització social ancestrals, van afectar la seva família de manera directa. Ngugi wa Thiong'o, amb un llenguatge amè i amb subtilesa ens reflecteix a la seva obra com els colons van dotar de certs privilegis a part de la població nadiua per confrontar-la amb l'altra part i tallar-ne la creixent autonomia.
Un relat autobiogràfic d'una tendresa insòlita, en el que se'ns narra com un nen intenta entendre el què passa al seu voltant enmig de la cruesa de la guerra per la independència de Kenya sense perdre la innocència i les ganes de complir els seus somnis.
April 6, 2012
All known truths lead to the fact that Ngugi is an iconic figure not only in Kenyan but African as well as the world literature. But where did he come from, and what was it like during his baby steps and subsequent ascend? Well, in this brilliantly captured childhood memoir, Ngugi tells of his time growing up in colonial Kenya and its coincidence with the fight for freedom. Its inevitable that he'd write about politics, his books contain so much of it, and Kenyan history indeed. I just read Camara Laye's stunning Childhood memoir, and he avoids politics completely. Well, there is something great about this memoir, and this is the depiction of a thirst for education, even when the opportunities are so scant. certainly I have been through this, and its very encouraging that Ngugi makes it all seem possible to achieve ourselves despite circumstance. For inspiration as well as Kenyan history, do read this book.
October 31, 2016
Publicado en http://lecturaylocura.com/suenos-en-t...
Sueños en tiempos de Guerra de Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. La plenitud de una idea
Escribía no hace mucho tiempo este artículo sobre Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o en la web de Canino para justificar la más que sobrada trayectoria del escritor keniata para ganar el premio Nobel de literatura. En dicho post establecía una unión indisoluble de la experiencia vital del autor con su literatura y cómo se ha erigido en uno de los principales adalides del postcolonialismo y, además, aprovechaba para repasar aquellas obras que habían sido publicadas en España.
Sueños de guerra (Dreams in a Time of War: a Childhood Memoir, 2010) es el primer libro de una trilogía de memorias autobiográficas que nos trae la editorial Rayo Verde; por ahora solo se han publicado dos volúmenes pero esta primera entrega supone, como comentaba en el texto, toda una vuelta a sus orígenes, un repaso a su infancia y a la vida de su familia y, al mismo tiempo, el retrato de una época caracterizada por una serie de cambios políticos y sociales de gran calado.
Da la impresión de que Ngũgĩ quiere transmitir a sus lectores, gracias a esta ambiciosa trilogía, una historia del colonialismo/imperialismo vs postcolonialismo y ligarlo definitivamente a su biografía y la de su familia. Su vida ha estado marcada por estas circunstancias, por un compromiso que le ha causado no pocos problemas pero el escritor, incansable en su propuesta, no quiere dejar que nos olvidemos de lo que ha sucedido y sigue sucediendo:
“Los cambios en el paisaje físico y social no se sucedían según un orden discernible sino que se solapaban entre sí, lo que contribuía a generar cierta confusión. No obstante, y a pese a ello, con el tiempo empecé a atar cabos y a verlo todo con más claridad, como si dejara atrás una densa niebla. Aprendí que nuestra tierra no era exactamente nuestra; que nuestro poblado familiar se hallaba en una finca propiedad de un terrateniente africano, el señor reverendo Stanley Kahahu o bwana Stanley, como lo llamábamos nosotros; también aprendí que nos habíamos convertido en ahoi, desposeídos, arrendatarios sin contrato ni derechos cuya suerte dependía de la voluntad del amo. ¿Cómo habíamos acabado convertidos en ahoi en nuestras propias tierras? ¿Acaso habían pasado a manos de los europeos? La niebla no acababa de disiparse.”
El pasaje anterior le sirve al autor para mostrarnos como una epifanía el modo en que despierta ante la situación colonialista/imperialista; utiliza la figura de la niebla que se disipa (aunque no totalmente) y el cómo su familia y sus habitantes son una suerte de “desposeídos” (ahoi), sus tierras no les pertenecen y lo que todavía no es capaz de discernir es cómo ha llegado esa situación. Se puede hablar de cómo el autor configura, a través de estas memorias, un relato de formación del postcolonialismo del que hará partícipe al lector en su mismo camino, un coming of age que, seguramente alargará en sus dos siguientes volúmenes de memorias.
Lo bueno de estas memorias es que no solo se limita a lo que he dicho anteriormente (historia y biografía) sino que utiliza los recuerdos (los suyos y los que le cuentan) para discutir sobre el proceso de creación literaria. Me encanta la parte en la que habla de los relatos orales, de aquello que utilizaban sus compañeros para entretenerse por no tener otras posibilidades:
“Además, ningún juego lograba cautivarnos como los relatos. En el camino de vuelta solíamos apiñarnos en torno al compañero que estuviera contando una historia, y aquellos que poseían un talento especial como narradores se convertían en los héroes del momento. A veces, en el afán por situarse cerca del orador, unos chicos lo empujaban hasta apartarlo del camino mientras otros hacían lo propio desde el lado contrario, y todo el grupo seguía avanzando en zigzag como un rebaño de ovejas.”
Es fascinante que uno de ellos se convirtiera en un héroe por el hecho de ser mejor narrador que ninguno; el germen de su literatura viene, por tanto, de la tradición oral y funciona como fundamento a la hora de crear todas sus obras; si a ello le sumamos lo siguiente:
“Juntar retazos de aquí y allá para formar un relato coherente, como hacía Ngandi, no es tarea fácil. Es como intentar completar un rompecabezas al que le faltan piezas. Puede que Ngandi sintiera lo mismo, pero reemplazaba las piezas ausentes con su fértil imaginación. No pasa nada si no alcanzo el nivel del maestro narrador, me consuelo porque no tengo que contar mis historias ante un público deseoso de comer de la palma de mi mano.”
En efecto, toda una serie de retazos se junta para “formar un relato coherente”; Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o es consciente de que quizá no sea el mejor narrador del mundo, ni tenga todas las piezas pero se consuela en el hecho de no tener que aparentar una forma de escribir. Esta obra da comienzo al que puede ser el colofón de su carrera. El trabajo que corrobore y dé todavía más sentido a su compromiso. Una forma de aunar toda la historia del postcolonialismo con sus memorias autobiográficas y que se configuren, al mismo tiempo, como un relato de formación artística.
No puedo más que aplaudir la iniciativa de una editorial independiente como Rayo Verde que arriesga y nos trae unas de las mejores formas de conocer a este aspirante al Nobel, a lo mejor el año que viene tiene más suerte pero, independientemente de este hecho, es un escritor magnífico.
Los textos provienen de la traducción de Rita da Costa de Sueños en tiempos de Guerra de Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o para la editorial Rayo Verde.
Sueños en tiempos de Guerra de Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. La plenitud de una idea
Escribía no hace mucho tiempo este artículo sobre Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o en la web de Canino para justificar la más que sobrada trayectoria del escritor keniata para ganar el premio Nobel de literatura. En dicho post establecía una unión indisoluble de la experiencia vital del autor con su literatura y cómo se ha erigido en uno de los principales adalides del postcolonialismo y, además, aprovechaba para repasar aquellas obras que habían sido publicadas en España.
Sueños de guerra (Dreams in a Time of War: a Childhood Memoir, 2010) es el primer libro de una trilogía de memorias autobiográficas que nos trae la editorial Rayo Verde; por ahora solo se han publicado dos volúmenes pero esta primera entrega supone, como comentaba en el texto, toda una vuelta a sus orígenes, un repaso a su infancia y a la vida de su familia y, al mismo tiempo, el retrato de una época caracterizada por una serie de cambios políticos y sociales de gran calado.
Da la impresión de que Ngũgĩ quiere transmitir a sus lectores, gracias a esta ambiciosa trilogía, una historia del colonialismo/imperialismo vs postcolonialismo y ligarlo definitivamente a su biografía y la de su familia. Su vida ha estado marcada por estas circunstancias, por un compromiso que le ha causado no pocos problemas pero el escritor, incansable en su propuesta, no quiere dejar que nos olvidemos de lo que ha sucedido y sigue sucediendo:
“Los cambios en el paisaje físico y social no se sucedían según un orden discernible sino que se solapaban entre sí, lo que contribuía a generar cierta confusión. No obstante, y a pese a ello, con el tiempo empecé a atar cabos y a verlo todo con más claridad, como si dejara atrás una densa niebla. Aprendí que nuestra tierra no era exactamente nuestra; que nuestro poblado familiar se hallaba en una finca propiedad de un terrateniente africano, el señor reverendo Stanley Kahahu o bwana Stanley, como lo llamábamos nosotros; también aprendí que nos habíamos convertido en ahoi, desposeídos, arrendatarios sin contrato ni derechos cuya suerte dependía de la voluntad del amo. ¿Cómo habíamos acabado convertidos en ahoi en nuestras propias tierras? ¿Acaso habían pasado a manos de los europeos? La niebla no acababa de disiparse.”
El pasaje anterior le sirve al autor para mostrarnos como una epifanía el modo en que despierta ante la situación colonialista/imperialista; utiliza la figura de la niebla que se disipa (aunque no totalmente) y el cómo su familia y sus habitantes son una suerte de “desposeídos” (ahoi), sus tierras no les pertenecen y lo que todavía no es capaz de discernir es cómo ha llegado esa situación. Se puede hablar de cómo el autor configura, a través de estas memorias, un relato de formación del postcolonialismo del que hará partícipe al lector en su mismo camino, un coming of age que, seguramente alargará en sus dos siguientes volúmenes de memorias.
Lo bueno de estas memorias es que no solo se limita a lo que he dicho anteriormente (historia y biografía) sino que utiliza los recuerdos (los suyos y los que le cuentan) para discutir sobre el proceso de creación literaria. Me encanta la parte en la que habla de los relatos orales, de aquello que utilizaban sus compañeros para entretenerse por no tener otras posibilidades:
“Además, ningún juego lograba cautivarnos como los relatos. En el camino de vuelta solíamos apiñarnos en torno al compañero que estuviera contando una historia, y aquellos que poseían un talento especial como narradores se convertían en los héroes del momento. A veces, en el afán por situarse cerca del orador, unos chicos lo empujaban hasta apartarlo del camino mientras otros hacían lo propio desde el lado contrario, y todo el grupo seguía avanzando en zigzag como un rebaño de ovejas.”
Es fascinante que uno de ellos se convirtiera en un héroe por el hecho de ser mejor narrador que ninguno; el germen de su literatura viene, por tanto, de la tradición oral y funciona como fundamento a la hora de crear todas sus obras; si a ello le sumamos lo siguiente:
“Juntar retazos de aquí y allá para formar un relato coherente, como hacía Ngandi, no es tarea fácil. Es como intentar completar un rompecabezas al que le faltan piezas. Puede que Ngandi sintiera lo mismo, pero reemplazaba las piezas ausentes con su fértil imaginación. No pasa nada si no alcanzo el nivel del maestro narrador, me consuelo porque no tengo que contar mis historias ante un público deseoso de comer de la palma de mi mano.”
En efecto, toda una serie de retazos se junta para “formar un relato coherente”; Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o es consciente de que quizá no sea el mejor narrador del mundo, ni tenga todas las piezas pero se consuela en el hecho de no tener que aparentar una forma de escribir. Esta obra da comienzo al que puede ser el colofón de su carrera. El trabajo que corrobore y dé todavía más sentido a su compromiso. Una forma de aunar toda la historia del postcolonialismo con sus memorias autobiográficas y que se configuren, al mismo tiempo, como un relato de formación artística.
No puedo más que aplaudir la iniciativa de una editorial independiente como Rayo Verde que arriesga y nos trae unas de las mejores formas de conocer a este aspirante al Nobel, a lo mejor el año que viene tiene más suerte pero, independientemente de este hecho, es un escritor magnífico.
Los textos provienen de la traducción de Rita da Costa de Sueños en tiempos de Guerra de Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o para la editorial Rayo Verde.
February 2, 2023
Eu não lembro do começo do livro porque comecei ele há muito tempo rsrsrs. O final é bom (avaliações foda
March 31, 2020
Apesar de ser considerado um dos principais nomes da literatura africana contemporânea, nunca tinha lido nenhuma obra do autor. Resolvi começar por seu livro de memórias, especificamente memórias da sua infância e juventude.
Thiong’o nasceu em uma região rural do Quênia, na década de 40, e foi criado com base nos costumes e tradições das gerações antepassadas. Sua mãe, uma figura extremamente presente ao longo da vida do autor, era a terceira das quatro esposas de seu pai.
E é a partir da visão de uma criança nascida em uma família poligâmica no interior do Quênia que o leitor acompanha as mudanças que o colonialismo traz na vida de Thiong’o e dos que estão à sua volta. É um contraste, percebido em pequenos detalhes, entre os costumes da população local e o “novo” conceito de civilização trazido pela colonização britânica. Essas mudanças impostas pelos colonizadores vão ser percebidas dentro da própria casa, nas escolas, no idioma falado, na religião, nos jornais e em diversos aspectos da vida cotidiana.
A história do Quênia no período colonial e dos movimentos de resistência que surgiram em busca da independência está dissolvida de forma sutil ao longo de toda a obra. É um daqueles livros em que se aprende sem nem mesmo perceber!
Além de relatar suas memórias de forma envolvente, o autor conseguiu transmitir ao leitor de forma muito real o processo de perda de identidade do povo colonizado. É o sentimento de não pertencer a uma cultura, de perder as terras em que vive e, como mencionado pelo próprio Thiong’o, de se sentir como um “forasteiro” em seu próprio país. “Sonhos em tempo de guerra” é um relato autobiográfico inspirador e que ensina muito ao leitor não só sobre fatos históricos, mas também sobre a resiliência e determinação do ser humano. .
“A crença em si mesmo é mais importante do que intermináveis temores acerca do que os outros pensam de você. Valorize-se, e os outros irão valorizá-lo. A melhor legitimação é a que vem de dentro.”
Nota: 9/10
Leia mais resenhas em https://www.instagram.com/book.ster/
Thiong’o nasceu em uma região rural do Quênia, na década de 40, e foi criado com base nos costumes e tradições das gerações antepassadas. Sua mãe, uma figura extremamente presente ao longo da vida do autor, era a terceira das quatro esposas de seu pai.
E é a partir da visão de uma criança nascida em uma família poligâmica no interior do Quênia que o leitor acompanha as mudanças que o colonialismo traz na vida de Thiong’o e dos que estão à sua volta. É um contraste, percebido em pequenos detalhes, entre os costumes da população local e o “novo” conceito de civilização trazido pela colonização britânica. Essas mudanças impostas pelos colonizadores vão ser percebidas dentro da própria casa, nas escolas, no idioma falado, na religião, nos jornais e em diversos aspectos da vida cotidiana.
A história do Quênia no período colonial e dos movimentos de resistência que surgiram em busca da independência está dissolvida de forma sutil ao longo de toda a obra. É um daqueles livros em que se aprende sem nem mesmo perceber!
Além de relatar suas memórias de forma envolvente, o autor conseguiu transmitir ao leitor de forma muito real o processo de perda de identidade do povo colonizado. É o sentimento de não pertencer a uma cultura, de perder as terras em que vive e, como mencionado pelo próprio Thiong’o, de se sentir como um “forasteiro” em seu próprio país. “Sonhos em tempo de guerra” é um relato autobiográfico inspirador e que ensina muito ao leitor não só sobre fatos históricos, mas também sobre a resiliência e determinação do ser humano. .
“A crença em si mesmo é mais importante do que intermináveis temores acerca do que os outros pensam de você. Valorize-se, e os outros irão valorizá-lo. A melhor legitimação é a que vem de dentro.”
Nota: 9/10
Leia mais resenhas em https://www.instagram.com/book.ster/
February 10, 2011
I first read about this book on Christianity Today's website under their book reviews and was so intrigued! This book really was quite the history lesson on Kenya and an immense culture shock. The reason it took me so long (it was just two sessions of reading separated by a few weeks) is because the subject matter is so hard. It's silly because Thiong'o really doesn't dwell on the suffering (nor does he gloss over it). However, the history of Kenya is a hard thing. It hurts my heart to read about the British doing such crappy things to a proud and wonderful people(s). It angers me.
As such, even though all that history backstory was informative, it also got quite confusing for me. The combination of all these difficult to keep track of names, timelines, and etc. made it hard for me to digest. However, is that the fault of the author if I have such an abysmal understanding of history?
I do recommend the book, if anything just to have the history of Kenya told via a memoir which at least grounds it in reality. Although, perhaps I would've preferred a historical fiction novel instead. Maybe I will check out Thiong'o's fiction (I think they're all set in Kenya).
As such, even though all that history backstory was informative, it also got quite confusing for me. The combination of all these difficult to keep track of names, timelines, and etc. made it hard for me to digest. However, is that the fault of the author if I have such an abysmal understanding of history?
I do recommend the book, if anything just to have the history of Kenya told via a memoir which at least grounds it in reality. Although, perhaps I would've preferred a historical fiction novel instead. Maybe I will check out Thiong'o's fiction (I think they're all set in Kenya).
February 20, 2019
Though I grew up in East Africa, I am ashamed to say I didn't read many African authors until much later in life. I did read about people like me, who were wazungus (Europeans) there, but not by many African citizens. In 2005, when I was in Tanzania, I began reading them and I especially enjoyed some of Ngugi wa Thiong'o's novels. He wrote so well, explained his ideas clearly, and brought out Kenyan life in the colonial era so well. Always meant to get back to him and now I found this memoir of his childhood. It takes place around Limuru, which was near where I went to high school, so I knew the setting well. He tells of his childhood growing up in a polygamous Kikuyu family in the early 1940s. In this book, he expanded my ideas about Kenyan history as he described what it was like to live in that type of family situation, his education at independent Kenyan schools in the pre-Independence era, the beginnings of the Mau Mau situation, and his growing love of reading and writing. The book ends as he gets accepted into Alliance Academy, one of the sports rivals of my high school. This is the first of a trilogy of memoirs. I enjoyed it as a much as I enjoyed his fiction.
May 21, 2017
Somnis en temps de guerra repassa l'infantesa d'un dels escriptors més importants en el panorama literal mundial i en aquests primers anys ja es veu la seva constància i les seves ganes d'entendre el món, aprendre i prosperar. Hi ha molts moments inoblidables que tinc subratllats i encara avui, setmanes després d'acabar aquesta lectura, segueixo revisitant. Tanmateix, si he d'assenyalar un defecte és que introdueix masses personatges i masses dades a parer meu intranscendents.
October 27, 2017
Fantastic account of coming of age in colonial Kenya, heartbreaking and funny in an endearing way. Definitely recommend this book, it would take you to Kenya to feel it for yourself
April 26, 2025
I can still hear the words of Ngugi's Mom as I type this, "Is it the best you can do?" And with this book he doesn't go for fluff rather, he takes you back to his childhood and his dreams and family and the lives of those closest to him during a time of war and uncertainty.
This has got to be the easiest of his titles to digest...it felt more like he was talking while seated next to a fire in the evening and I was listening.
❤️
This has got to be the easiest of his titles to digest...it felt more like he was talking while seated next to a fire in the evening and I was listening.
❤️
July 4, 2022
Boníssim!
Una lectura recomanadíssima, no només per qui l'escriu sinó per tot el que s'aprèn de Kenya. Clama al cel les injustícies comeses en aquest país i la resta d'estats africans, i veure-ho des de la perspectiva d'un nen...esgarrifa.
Una lectura recomanadíssima, no només per qui l'escriu sinó per tot el que s'aprèn de Kenya. Clama al cel les injustícies comeses en aquest país i la resta d'estats africans, i veure-ho des de la perspectiva d'un nen...esgarrifa.
December 27, 2019
Välskriven biografi över en uppväxt i koloniala Kenya.
December 26, 2020
Kenya <3
A lovely memoir for anyone who has spent time in Kenya, surprising and made me smile a lot.
His writing is smooth, and I liked this non-fiction story much more than Weep Not, Child.
A lovely memoir for anyone who has spent time in Kenya, surprising and made me smile a lot.
His writing is smooth, and I liked this non-fiction story much more than Weep Not, Child.
September 11, 2021
Muito interessante, mas tem um ritmo lento. Me sentia lendo um livro didático às vezes.
April 14, 2017
I bought this book at the wonderful Bridge Books. It was great to re-encounter one of my favourite authors from the 1970s.
What struck me most about this childhood memoir is its direct and deep insight into daily life of ordinary Kenyans in the 1950s during the anti-colonial struggle. Families and communities are split as some find it best to collaborate in some way with the colonial power, others ally themselves with local power figures, and yet others join the national resistance movement (the Mau Mau of course looks very different to Kenyans than to colonists). Probably the biggest struggle in Ngugi's immediate family is being forced off their land by another Kenyan whose expansionist land acquisition is helped by his alliance with Christian missionaries.
I love the deep confidence underlying Ngugi's writing, even when he tells stories about his own vulnerability. He also gives wonderful insights into the gifts of reading, writing and learning that he has been so abundantly blessed with, and was willing to fight to manifest in the world.
My personal aha as a white colonial descendant was about multiple names not necessarily causing identity confusion. Ngugi tells us just how many ways he can and could be named while growing up - including as the son of his mother, as his father's son, the son of his father's third wife, as "younger brother" or with his family nickname. Yet he wasn't in doubt about who he was. It contrasts with my preference to be called by the same name by everybody, and to have a single integrated online identity. It strikes me that his plethora of names acknowledges the extent and range of his polygamous family relationships and ancestry in a good way, where my heritage tends to monogamy and pays less attention to extended family.
This book ends on the point of Ngugi's entry into high school. I look forward to going back to Bridge Books to buy the second volume of his memoirs. Somebody with the courage to live his dreams in a time of war is a model for us all.
What struck me most about this childhood memoir is its direct and deep insight into daily life of ordinary Kenyans in the 1950s during the anti-colonial struggle. Families and communities are split as some find it best to collaborate in some way with the colonial power, others ally themselves with local power figures, and yet others join the national resistance movement (the Mau Mau of course looks very different to Kenyans than to colonists). Probably the biggest struggle in Ngugi's immediate family is being forced off their land by another Kenyan whose expansionist land acquisition is helped by his alliance with Christian missionaries.
I love the deep confidence underlying Ngugi's writing, even when he tells stories about his own vulnerability. He also gives wonderful insights into the gifts of reading, writing and learning that he has been so abundantly blessed with, and was willing to fight to manifest in the world.
My personal aha as a white colonial descendant was about multiple names not necessarily causing identity confusion. Ngugi tells us just how many ways he can and could be named while growing up - including as the son of his mother, as his father's son, the son of his father's third wife, as "younger brother" or with his family nickname. Yet he wasn't in doubt about who he was. It contrasts with my preference to be called by the same name by everybody, and to have a single integrated online identity. It strikes me that his plethora of names acknowledges the extent and range of his polygamous family relationships and ancestry in a good way, where my heritage tends to monogamy and pays less attention to extended family.
This book ends on the point of Ngugi's entry into high school. I look forward to going back to Bridge Books to buy the second volume of his memoirs. Somebody with the courage to live his dreams in a time of war is a model for us all.
March 25, 2019
"Dreams in a Time of War" is an important book. As the subtitle states, these stories are Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o’s memories of growing up in Kenya during very turbulent times. Ngũgĩ was born just prior to World War Two. These memories are predominantly from the 1950’s, which were a very turbulent time in Kenya. They are centred around Ngũgĩ’s desire for education and the sacrifices he and his mother make, so that he can attend elementary school and have an opportunity to be one of the few people in his village accepted to an area high school.
The historical backdrop to Ngũgĩ’s memories are the struggle for Kenyan independence and self-government. Interwoven in Ngũgĩ’s stories of his quest for education, are historical events including: the theft of land, by the British colonial government; the forcible resettlement of Indigenous peoples; the Mau Mau Uprising; mass detentions, forced labour and war crimes; as well as show trials of important leaders, like Jomo Kenyatta.
There were a couple of things that made this book a bit challenging for me. A small thing was that, in a few places, Ngũgĩ includes several lists of names. For me, these slowed my reading of his stories; I guess they seemed a bit like biblical genealogies - the author found them important, but many readers will skim them, or skip over them altogether. More challenging for me, was reading about some difficult cultural norms and practices.
Reading the author’s memories and reflections on a childhood that occurred amidst the violence of British colonial oppression and the resistance to it, was enlightening. In several instances, I found myself researching background information, in order to place the stories in greater historical context. I learned a lot about colonial oppression in Kenya, the Mau Mau Uprising and Jomo Kenyatta. This was an important book for me to read.
The historical backdrop to Ngũgĩ’s memories are the struggle for Kenyan independence and self-government. Interwoven in Ngũgĩ’s stories of his quest for education, are historical events including: the theft of land, by the British colonial government; the forcible resettlement of Indigenous peoples; the Mau Mau Uprising; mass detentions, forced labour and war crimes; as well as show trials of important leaders, like Jomo Kenyatta.
There were a couple of things that made this book a bit challenging for me. A small thing was that, in a few places, Ngũgĩ includes several lists of names. For me, these slowed my reading of his stories; I guess they seemed a bit like biblical genealogies - the author found them important, but many readers will skim them, or skip over them altogether. More challenging for me, was reading about some difficult cultural norms and practices.
Reading the author’s memories and reflections on a childhood that occurred amidst the violence of British colonial oppression and the resistance to it, was enlightening. In several instances, I found myself researching background information, in order to place the stories in greater historical context. I learned a lot about colonial oppression in Kenya, the Mau Mau Uprising and Jomo Kenyatta. This was an important book for me to read.
January 19, 2016
Dreams in a Time of War: A Childhood Memoir by Ngugi wa'Thiong'o describes his childhood and coming of age in Kenya in the 1940’s and 1950’s. It is a really touching story of a young boy’s thirst for knowledge and clearly provides the perspective of a native of Kenya.
Ngugi describes what life was like for him growing up in Kenya in a polygamous family. His father had four wives and many children. Ngugi’s mother was the third wife and Ngugi lived in her hut with his full siblings. The wives formed close relationships with each other as did the children. Early in life, Ngugi made a solemn promise to his mother to attend school and to his best possible if she would make the sacrifices necessary for him to go to school.
This book really presents what life was like for Ngugi through the innocence of a child’s eyes. We learn about who his friends were and what he did for fun. We also discover his heartbreak and travails when his father divorced his mother and she returned to live with her father. We begin to see the unfairness of the colonial rule when Ngugi’s brother returns to Kenya after fighting in Burma in World War II and these former soldiers are not given equal treatment or justly credited or rewarded for their assistance.
Dreams in a Time of War describes the beginnings of what is commonly termed the Mau Mau Rebellion through a child’s eyes and the confusion of having members of his family on different sides during the rebellion.
This was an enlightening read for me and I appreciated being able to see this through the innocence of a child.
Ngugi describes what life was like for him growing up in Kenya in a polygamous family. His father had four wives and many children. Ngugi’s mother was the third wife and Ngugi lived in her hut with his full siblings. The wives formed close relationships with each other as did the children. Early in life, Ngugi made a solemn promise to his mother to attend school and to his best possible if she would make the sacrifices necessary for him to go to school.
This book really presents what life was like for Ngugi through the innocence of a child’s eyes. We learn about who his friends were and what he did for fun. We also discover his heartbreak and travails when his father divorced his mother and she returned to live with her father. We begin to see the unfairness of the colonial rule when Ngugi’s brother returns to Kenya after fighting in Burma in World War II and these former soldiers are not given equal treatment or justly credited or rewarded for their assistance.
Dreams in a Time of War describes the beginnings of what is commonly termed the Mau Mau Rebellion through a child’s eyes and the confusion of having members of his family on different sides during the rebellion.
This was an enlightening read for me and I appreciated being able to see this through the innocence of a child.
May 27, 2012
I really want to read the rest of his memoirs now after reading this childhood one-I almost didn't believe it when the book ended right as he got to high school.
The story of Ngũgĩ's childhood life not only gives insight into life and the pursuit of knowledge at a time in Kenya's history when for political and economic reasons neither was easy; but also was a window into the country's history and the culture of the Agikũyũ.
For example, I enjoyed finding out about tradition as practised by his uncle and how the tensions between the Christian converts, the 'traditionalists' and the 'in-betweens' played out in lived life.
That the government had Italian prisoners of war working on building the Nakuru highway was information no history textbook had given me either. The book also began to answer some of the questions I have had about the making of Kenyatta into the founder of the nation.
After listening to Chimamanda's talk on the choice between whether to write memoir or fiction and which was more truthful because of the representation of characters and withholding or not of information, it was interesting that Ngũgĩ mentioned that he had drawn inspiration for some characters from the people around him while growing up. I am yet to read those books though so I can't comment on the parallels between his fictional characters vs real life people. I'll comment on this later.
The story of Ngũgĩ's childhood life not only gives insight into life and the pursuit of knowledge at a time in Kenya's history when for political and economic reasons neither was easy; but also was a window into the country's history and the culture of the Agikũyũ.
For example, I enjoyed finding out about tradition as practised by his uncle and how the tensions between the Christian converts, the 'traditionalists' and the 'in-betweens' played out in lived life.
That the government had Italian prisoners of war working on building the Nakuru highway was information no history textbook had given me either. The book also began to answer some of the questions I have had about the making of Kenyatta into the founder of the nation.
After listening to Chimamanda's talk on the choice between whether to write memoir or fiction and which was more truthful because of the representation of characters and withholding or not of information, it was interesting that Ngũgĩ mentioned that he had drawn inspiration for some characters from the people around him while growing up. I am yet to read those books though so I can't comment on the parallels between his fictional characters vs real life people. I'll comment on this later.
December 11, 2017
*
Theres nothing like a dream to create the future - victor hugo
*
i have learnt
From books dear friend
Of men dreaming and living
And hungering in a room without a light
Who could not die since death was far too poor
Who did not sleep to dream, but dreamed to change change the world.- Martin Carter, " looking at your hands"
*
In the dark times
Will there be singing ?
Yes, there will be singing
About dark times. - Bertolt Brecht, "Motto"
*
The Gikuyu have a saying that out of the same womb comes both a killer and a healer.
*
A human normalises the unusual in order to survive
*
She never allowed us to pick unripe fruits; she said this interfered with the rhythm of life of the plant, and she did not want to hurt its feelings.
*
I emerged from it convinced more deeply that for our times, education and learning, not a mark on the flesh are the way to empower men and women.
*
Perhaps it is myth as much as fact that keeps dreams alive even in times of war
*
That was my first lesson in virtue of resistance, that right and justice can empower the weak.
*
My loss is the gain of others. My second lesson in resistance.
*
The togetherness of people in times of sorrow is touching.
*
Us today; you tomorrow, haile se-lassie had told the league of nations.
*
But those words carried the authority of the silence that preceded their utterance.
*
Theres nothing like a dream to create the future - victor hugo
*
i have learnt
From books dear friend
Of men dreaming and living
And hungering in a room without a light
Who could not die since death was far too poor
Who did not sleep to dream, but dreamed to change change the world.- Martin Carter, " looking at your hands"
*
In the dark times
Will there be singing ?
Yes, there will be singing
About dark times. - Bertolt Brecht, "Motto"
*
The Gikuyu have a saying that out of the same womb comes both a killer and a healer.
*
A human normalises the unusual in order to survive
*
She never allowed us to pick unripe fruits; she said this interfered with the rhythm of life of the plant, and she did not want to hurt its feelings.
*
I emerged from it convinced more deeply that for our times, education and learning, not a mark on the flesh are the way to empower men and women.
*
Perhaps it is myth as much as fact that keeps dreams alive even in times of war
*
That was my first lesson in virtue of resistance, that right and justice can empower the weak.
*
My loss is the gain of others. My second lesson in resistance.
*
The togetherness of people in times of sorrow is touching.
*
Us today; you tomorrow, haile se-lassie had told the league of nations.
*
But those words carried the authority of the silence that preceded their utterance.
*
January 22, 2019
eu tive um pouquinho de problema com esse livro durante uma parte, quando começou a ter muita informação, muitos nomes que me deixaram confuso e com preguiça de continuar, mais ou menos no meio do livro. apesar disso, o começo é bom e pro final fica incrível. o próprio título é bem autoexplicativo sobre o que vai ser tratado, mas a forma como isso é feito é bem tocante, te deixa realmente próximo aos relatos apresentados. fala muito sobre o sentimento coletivo e o efeito do exterior branco colonial sobre negros subjugados, que perdem seus direitos e devem agradecer por permanecerem vivos; por isso causa muita indignação em alguns momentos, principalmente por saber que é algo que aconteceu há pouco tempo e com certeza acontece atualmente. eu amei ter contato com algo tão fora da minha zona de conforto e espero muito ter outras descobertas assim!
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