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Memoirs #3
مولد حائك الأحلام
Birth of a Dream Weaver charts the very beginnings of a writer’s creative output. In this wonderful memoir, Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o recounts the four years he spent in Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda—threshold years where he found his voice as a playwright, journalist, and novelist, just as Uganda, Kenya, Congo, and other countries were in the final throes of their independence struggles.
James Ngugi, as he was known then, is haunted by the emergency period of the previous decade in Kenya, when his friends and relatives were killed during the Mau Mau Rebellion. He is also haunted by the experience of his childhood in a polygamous family and the brave break his mother made from his father’s home. Accompanied by these ghosts, Ngugi begins to weave stories from the fibers of memory, history, and a shockingly vibrant and turbulent present.
What unfolds in this moving and thought-provoking memoir is both the birth of one of the most important living writers—lauded for his “epic imagination” (Los Angeles Times)—and the death of one of the most violent episodes in global history.
James Ngugi, as he was known then, is haunted by the emergency period of the previous decade in Kenya, when his friends and relatives were killed during the Mau Mau Rebellion. He is also haunted by the experience of his childhood in a polygamous family and the brave break his mother made from his father’s home. Accompanied by these ghosts, Ngugi begins to weave stories from the fibers of memory, history, and a shockingly vibrant and turbulent present.
What unfolds in this moving and thought-provoking memoir is both the birth of one of the most important living writers—lauded for his “epic imagination” (Los Angeles Times)—and the death of one of the most violent episodes in global history.
183 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 4, 2016
45 people are currently reading
2376 people want to read
About the author
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o
107 books2,015 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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Displaying 1 - 30 of 45 reviews
March 28, 2017
Leaving aside the fact that I am not much into memoir at this point in my reading life—thus much of Dream Weaver was personally quite boring—I certainly do recommend it. It's the first book I've read by Ngugi wa Thiong’o, and I learned a lot about the history, politics, and literature of postwar Kenya. Most of all, I am now eager to dive into his fiction – can't wait!
March 16, 2017
Τρίτο κ τελευταίο μέρος της αυτοβιογραφίας του εξαίρετου Κενυάτη συγγραφέα που εστιάζει στα μαθητικά κ φοιτητικά του χρόνια στην Κένυα κ στην Ουγκάντα όπου ολοκλήρωσε τις προπτυχιακές του σπουδές. Εδώ ο Thiong'o πιάνει το νήμα εκεί που το άφησε στο House of the Interpreter, στη μετακόμισή του δηλαδή στην Ουγκάντα για να ξεκινήσει τις σπουδές του. Όπως τονίζει επανειλημμένα, το 1959 μπήκε στο κολέγιο ως υπήκοος της Βρετανικής Βασιλικής Αποικίας κ αποφοίτησε το 1964 ως πολίτης ενός ανεξάρτητου Αφρικανικού κράτους.
Περιέργως, το τρίτο μέρος το ευχαριστήθηκα λιγότερο απ'τα πρώτα δύο αν κ θεωρητικά θα έπρεπε να γίνει το αντίθετο. Οι πολιτικές αναταραχές στην ευρύτερη περιοχή (όχι μόνο στην Αν. Αφρική αλλά κ στην υπόλοιπη ήπειρο) είναι έντονες αφού σιγά σιγά όλες οι χώρες κερδίζουν την ανεξαρτησία τους. Ο Thiong'o αν κ παραδέχεται ότι δυσκολευόταν να συμμετάσχει στις πολιτικές διεργασίες του πανεπιστημίου (προτιμούσε τους λογοτεχνικούς/θεατρικούς τρόπους συνεισφοράς) περιγράφει αρκετά απ'τα σημαντικότερα γεγονότα της περιόδου, αλλά ο συνοπτικός του τρόπος δεν κρατάει το ενδιαφέρον. Η αλήθεια είναι ότι στο διάστημα που χρειάστηκα για να διαβάσω τα τρία αυτά βιβλία, ασχολήθηκα αρκετά με την πορεία της περιοχής οπότε ο κατακλυσμός ιστορικών στιγμών με κούρασε (ήταν πολλές οι σελίδες που ο συγγραφέας προσπαθούσε να στριμώξει την ιστορία ετών) αφού η γοητεία της συγκεκριμένης τριλογίας-αυτοβιογραφίας έγκειται κυρίως στις προσωπικές στιγμές του Thiong'o, στο τρόπο που περιγράφει τα περιστατικά που καθόρισαν τη ζωή του. Ότι ήταν έξω απ'τη βιογραφία του ήταν απλά "ιστορία" που μπορεί ο καθένας να ανακαλύψει από άλλες, πιο αφοσιωμένες στο θέμα, πηγές. Για να το πω πιο απλά, αυτό το βιβλίο είναι ένα πιο συμβατικό nonfiction κείμενο απ'τα δύο που προηγήθηκαν που τα διάβαζα ουσιαστικά σαν ξεχωριστά μυθιστορήματα.
Ταυτόχρονα όμως, ο αναγνώστης παίρνει αυτό που ζητάει αφού οι πρώτες του συγγραφικές απόπειρες (είτε λογοτεχνικές, θεατρικές ή δημοσιογραφικές) είναι υπέροχα γραμμένες κ εξιτάρουν την περιέργεια για το μετέπειτα έργο του. Ο Thiong'o είναι φανερά περήφανος για όσα κατάφερε κ καλά κάνει. Ήταν ένας πρωτοπόρος του πολιτισμού της Αν.Αφρικής, ένα πολύ κοφτερό κ αυθεντικό μυαλό που κυνήγησε με όλες του τις δυνάμεις τα όνειρά του. Η πορεία του θεατρικού που έγραψε για τον εορτασμό της ανεξαρτησίας της Ουγκάντα είναι μάλλον η καλύτερη στιγμή κ των τριών βιβλίων καθώς κ η περιγραφή της έκδοσης του πρώτου του βιβλίου, Weep Not Child (σχόλια εδώ) με το άγχος που είχε καθώς περίμενε τους εκδότες απ'το Λονδίνο να του απαντήσουν αλλά κ του Black Messiah που σύντομα θα κυκλοφορούσε με τίτλο The River Between.
Συνολικά, τα τρία αυτά βιβλία συστήνονται ανεπιφύλακτα. Διαβάζονται εύκολα, ψυχαγωγούν κ προβληματίζουν κ αποτελούν ιδανική αρχή για όσους ενδιαφέρονται να γνωρίζουν τον Thiong'o. Σειρά παίρνει κ πάλι η λογοτεχνία του, αφού σύντομα θα πιάσω το The River Between, το πρώτο βιβλίο που έγραψε αν κ κυκλοφόρησε μετά το Weep Not, Child.
Περιέργως, το τρίτο μέρος το ευχαριστήθηκα λιγότερο απ'τα πρώτα δύο αν κ θεωρητικά θα έπρεπε να γίνει το αντίθετο. Οι πολιτικές αναταραχές στην ευρύτερη περιοχή (όχι μόνο στην Αν. Αφρική αλλά κ στην υπόλοιπη ήπειρο) είναι έντονες αφού σιγά σιγά όλες οι χώρες κερδίζουν την ανεξαρτησία τους. Ο Thiong'o αν κ παραδέχεται ότι δυσκολευόταν να συμμετάσχει στις πολιτικές διεργασίες του πανεπιστημίου (προτιμούσε τους λογοτεχνικούς/θεατρικούς τρόπους συνεισφοράς) περιγράφει αρκετά απ'τα σημαντικότερα γεγονότα της περιόδου, αλλά ο συνοπτικός του τρόπος δεν κρατάει το ενδιαφέρον. Η αλήθεια είναι ότι στο διάστημα που χρειάστηκα για να διαβάσω τα τρία αυτά βιβλία, ασχολήθηκα αρκετά με την πορεία της περιοχής οπότε ο κατακλυσμός ιστορικών στιγμών με κούρασε (ήταν πολλές οι σελίδες που ο συγγραφέας προσπαθούσε να στριμώξει την ιστορία ετών) αφού η γοητεία της συγκεκριμένης τριλογίας-αυτοβιογραφίας έγκειται κυρίως στις προσωπικές στιγμές του Thiong'o, στο τρόπο που περιγράφει τα περιστατικά που καθόρισαν τη ζωή του. Ότι ήταν έξω απ'τη βιογραφία του ήταν απλά "ιστορία" που μπορεί ο καθένας να ανακαλύψει από άλλες, πιο αφοσιωμένες στο θέμα, πηγές. Για να το πω πιο απλά, αυτό το βιβλίο είναι ένα πιο συμβατικό nonfiction κείμενο απ'τα δύο που προηγήθηκαν που τα διάβαζα ουσιαστικά σαν ξεχωριστά μυθιστορήματα.
Ταυτόχρονα όμως, ο αναγνώστης παίρνει αυτό που ζητάει αφού οι πρώτες του συγγραφικές απόπειρες (είτε λογοτεχνικές, θεατρικές ή δημοσιογραφικές) είναι υπέροχα γραμμένες κ εξιτάρουν την περιέργεια για το μετέπειτα έργο του. Ο Thiong'o είναι φανερά περήφανος για όσα κατάφερε κ καλά κάνει. Ήταν ένας πρωτοπόρος του πολιτισμού της Αν.Αφρικής, ένα πολύ κοφτερό κ αυθεντικό μυαλό που κυνήγησε με όλες του τις δυνάμεις τα όνειρά του. Η πορεία του θεατρικού που έγραψε για τον εορτασμό της ανεξαρτησίας της Ουγκάντα είναι μάλλον η καλύτερη στιγμή κ των τριών βιβλίων καθώς κ η περιγραφή της έκδοσης του πρώτου του βιβλίου, Weep Not Child (σχόλια εδώ) με το άγχος που είχε καθώς περίμενε τους εκδότες απ'το Λονδίνο να του απαντήσουν αλλά κ του Black Messiah που σύντομα θα κυκλοφορούσε με τίτλο The River Between.
Συνολικά, τα τρία αυτά βιβλία συστήνονται ανεπιφύλακτα. Διαβάζονται εύκολα, ψυχαγωγούν κ προβληματίζουν κ αποτελούν ιδανική αρχή για όσους ενδιαφέρονται να γνωρίζουν τον Thiong'o. Σειρά παίρνει κ πάλι η λογοτεχνία του, αφού σύντομα θα πιάσω το The River Between, το πρώτο βιβλίο που έγραψε αν κ κυκλοφόρησε μετά το Weep Not, Child.
October 18, 2016
Creative cauldron, creative drive, creative process.
Those are my three takeaways from Thiong’o’s third volume of his autobiography. It finds him traveling to Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda from his home in Kenya. Makerere was a branch of University of London, founded to serve all of Britain’s East African colonies. It collected an astounding student body of dozens and dozens of the future leaders/writers/artists/educators of these countries. The names were not all familiar to me, but Thiongo’s thumbnail descriptions of their future roles made it clear that each of them left with a network of strong minds they could rely on, and a belief that they could achieve their mission.
Uganda had just achieved independence when he arrived, and Kenya was to achieve independence while he was at university. He writes with graphic detail and political bitterness of the colonial violence and propagandistic depiction of Kenyan revolutionaries as crazed Mau-Maus. Thiong’o’s brother and uncle were part of the movement back in Kenya; he did his part by writing politically-pointed plays while at university.
He also benefitted from visits to the Makerere campus of world figures such as Langston Hughes from the United States. Thiong’o was assigned to give him a tour of the town, and he had a great cultural procession planned, but Hughes wouldn’t leave the everyday hustle-bustle of the metal workshops and people’s music outside the university gates. The book also depicts a very normal college experience of learning more about the wider world: dancing, dressing, reading, and assessing others for duplicity, bias, complexity, weakness and courage.
Then there is Thiong’o exploding into the writer, driven by prizes and inter-college competitions to write his first plays and novels. Amazingly, he had written two novels (one of them published, one accepted for publishing), a three act play performed in the national theater, some one-act plays, and extensive journalism by the time he graduated. One of those novels was his The River Between.
The book also contains a compelling description of the creative process. He talks about how the challenge to produce a novel or play starts with him casting about for ideas, then how those initial ideas develop and get revised in the writing process. It’s one of the best and most ‘present’ ways of conveying this process that I’ve read.
So, this eminence grise didn’t win the Nobel again this year. However, I was lucky enough to see him read to San Francisco’s City Lights bookstore a couple of weeks ago. That, and this memoir, left me ready to tackle the big Wizard of the Crow. Maybe next year...
Those are my three takeaways from Thiong’o’s third volume of his autobiography. It finds him traveling to Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda from his home in Kenya. Makerere was a branch of University of London, founded to serve all of Britain’s East African colonies. It collected an astounding student body of dozens and dozens of the future leaders/writers/artists/educators of these countries. The names were not all familiar to me, but Thiongo’s thumbnail descriptions of their future roles made it clear that each of them left with a network of strong minds they could rely on, and a belief that they could achieve their mission.
Uganda had just achieved independence when he arrived, and Kenya was to achieve independence while he was at university. He writes with graphic detail and political bitterness of the colonial violence and propagandistic depiction of Kenyan revolutionaries as crazed Mau-Maus. Thiong’o’s brother and uncle were part of the movement back in Kenya; he did his part by writing politically-pointed plays while at university.
He also benefitted from visits to the Makerere campus of world figures such as Langston Hughes from the United States. Thiong’o was assigned to give him a tour of the town, and he had a great cultural procession planned, but Hughes wouldn’t leave the everyday hustle-bustle of the metal workshops and people’s music outside the university gates. The book also depicts a very normal college experience of learning more about the wider world: dancing, dressing, reading, and assessing others for duplicity, bias, complexity, weakness and courage.
Then there is Thiong’o exploding into the writer, driven by prizes and inter-college competitions to write his first plays and novels. Amazingly, he had written two novels (one of them published, one accepted for publishing), a three act play performed in the national theater, some one-act plays, and extensive journalism by the time he graduated. One of those novels was his The River Between.
The book also contains a compelling description of the creative process. He talks about how the challenge to produce a novel or play starts with him casting about for ideas, then how those initial ideas develop and get revised in the writing process. It’s one of the best and most ‘present’ ways of conveying this process that I’ve read.
So, this eminence grise didn’t win the Nobel again this year. However, I was lucky enough to see him read to San Francisco’s City Lights bookstore a couple of weeks ago. That, and this memoir, left me ready to tackle the big Wizard of the Crow. Maybe next year...
September 18, 2024
Same factual style of writing. No drama, no confessions, no fun. At the same time, I found the memoirs intriguing. All the characters were real people, flesh and blood. All that happened was there and then, during a critical juncture when British East Africa was turning into independent Uganda, Kenya, Tanganyika and Zanzibar, the latter two morphing into the present days Tanzania.
Another dimension: no Kenyan fiction existed before Ngugi wa Thiong'o embarked on this endeavor. How is it to be a pioneer? First Kenyan play, then the first novel. Of course, there are role models from other African countries, Chinua Achebe and such. But still. Laying the foundation stone for a body of literature is mind-blowing.
All in one, his is a personal history which merges so closely with the national one. Memoirs to be enjoyed, but also studied.
Another dimension: no Kenyan fiction existed before Ngugi wa Thiong'o embarked on this endeavor. How is it to be a pioneer? First Kenyan play, then the first novel. Of course, there are role models from other African countries, Chinua Achebe and such. But still. Laying the foundation stone for a body of literature is mind-blowing.
All in one, his is a personal history which merges so closely with the national one. Memoirs to be enjoyed, but also studied.
January 24, 2018
I found this the most challenging of the three volumes of Ngugi's memoirs. After Dreams in a Time of War chronicled his childhood and primary schooling, and In the House of the Interpreter went through his high school years, this book is centred on his undergraduate years at Makerere in Uganda.
Like all of his writing, these books address both the personal and the political. And in his memoirs Ngugi does a great job of capturing the personal and political mood of the time. So Dreams in a Time of War has a youthful energy and optimism even as it chronicles harsh circumstances, and In the House of the Interpreter captures a lot of the primal questioning of a teenager. Somehow Birth of a Dream Weaver felt less personal, and for me danced in a not always satisfying way between political analysis and personal experience. On reflection perhaps this is exactly the mood of the author in his early 20s - I suppose it was so for me at that age, too.
What he captures brilliantly is the era of the Winds of Change as Africa begins shedding overt colonial rule in the late 1950s and early 1960s. I was struck by his train journey to Makerere where he compares the sterility of colonial settler occupation in Kenya with the much more proudly African "untrimmed tropical luxuriance" of black-owned coffee and banana farms in the "protected African kingdom" of Uganda in 1959.
On arrival at Makerere he dedicates himself to seek the truth - acknowledging the openness inherent in this Makerere pledge. Throughout the book he soldiers on with this goal, laying bare a number of popular misconceptions about colonial rule and the so-called Mau Mau. He also applies wisdom of hindsight into the problems generated by a decolonisation process dominated by those who had collaborated with the colonists - to the detriment of the more creative thinkers and people-focused leaders of the resistance.
There are many stories crucial to our understanding of the ongoing challenges of decolonising Africa. For example, the vivid story of the African assistant to the white librarians during Ngugi's vacation employment: he manifests "obsequiousness made flesh when [close to] any of the white officers" and mistreats any and all black staff under him.
For me as a beneficiary of the colonial conquest, his discussion of "good" and "bad" colonists is powerful, including his analysis of white teachers from his high school days. He asks "can the moral gesture of an individual wash away the sins of an institution?"
Again and again, Ngugi calmly and clearly drops devastating facts into the narrative that show the deep cracks in many Eurocentric narratives. For example: John Newton, the composer of famous favourite hymns like "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds" and "Amazing Grace" captained a slave ship. What I didn't know was that Newton continued to profit from investments in slaving long after he became a vicar. It was another 34 years before he eventually denounced slavery.
The theme promised by the title of this book only emerges (for me) secondary to the conversation about the nature of colonialism and the process by which East Africa received political independence. This theme is nonetheless exciting for me as Ngugi is one of my favourite authors and I got at least some insight into how he became a writer on the world stage.
Like all of his writing, these books address both the personal and the political. And in his memoirs Ngugi does a great job of capturing the personal and political mood of the time. So Dreams in a Time of War has a youthful energy and optimism even as it chronicles harsh circumstances, and In the House of the Interpreter captures a lot of the primal questioning of a teenager. Somehow Birth of a Dream Weaver felt less personal, and for me danced in a not always satisfying way between political analysis and personal experience. On reflection perhaps this is exactly the mood of the author in his early 20s - I suppose it was so for me at that age, too.
What he captures brilliantly is the era of the Winds of Change as Africa begins shedding overt colonial rule in the late 1950s and early 1960s. I was struck by his train journey to Makerere where he compares the sterility of colonial settler occupation in Kenya with the much more proudly African "untrimmed tropical luxuriance" of black-owned coffee and banana farms in the "protected African kingdom" of Uganda in 1959.
On arrival at Makerere he dedicates himself to seek the truth - acknowledging the openness inherent in this Makerere pledge. Throughout the book he soldiers on with this goal, laying bare a number of popular misconceptions about colonial rule and the so-called Mau Mau. He also applies wisdom of hindsight into the problems generated by a decolonisation process dominated by those who had collaborated with the colonists - to the detriment of the more creative thinkers and people-focused leaders of the resistance.
There are many stories crucial to our understanding of the ongoing challenges of decolonising Africa. For example, the vivid story of the African assistant to the white librarians during Ngugi's vacation employment: he manifests "obsequiousness made flesh when [close to] any of the white officers" and mistreats any and all black staff under him.
For me as a beneficiary of the colonial conquest, his discussion of "good" and "bad" colonists is powerful, including his analysis of white teachers from his high school days. He asks "can the moral gesture of an individual wash away the sins of an institution?"
Again and again, Ngugi calmly and clearly drops devastating facts into the narrative that show the deep cracks in many Eurocentric narratives. For example: John Newton, the composer of famous favourite hymns like "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds" and "Amazing Grace" captained a slave ship. What I didn't know was that Newton continued to profit from investments in slaving long after he became a vicar. It was another 34 years before he eventually denounced slavery.
The theme promised by the title of this book only emerges (for me) secondary to the conversation about the nature of colonialism and the process by which East Africa received political independence. This theme is nonetheless exciting for me as Ngugi is one of my favourite authors and I got at least some insight into how he became a writer on the world stage.
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July 19, 2018Even if you are not particularly interested in Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's life, this memoir is still worth a read for other reasons.
This memoir is focussed on his university years, and how that place at that time contributed to him becoming a writer. The place being Kampala, the time being the early 1960s. Ngũgĩ describes Makerere University as a stimulating place full of bright young people, and since I love reading about university life this was my favourite part of the book. As it is a memoir, you will follow Ngũgĩ's life throughout the narrative, but what mostly interested me was everything in the background: the beginnings of decolonisation, how people with different ethnicities stood in relation to each other, and art and journalism as a platform for societal change, for example. It also interested me because I really enjoy taking in new perspectives that go beyond the readily available ones from the western world.
I only just found out there are two parts of his memoirs before this one, and I hope there will be more after Birth of a Dream Weaver: I think I'm hooked.
This memoir is focussed on his university years, and how that place at that time contributed to him becoming a writer. The place being Kampala, the time being the early 1960s. Ngũgĩ describes Makerere University as a stimulating place full of bright young people, and since I love reading about university life this was my favourite part of the book. As it is a memoir, you will follow Ngũgĩ's life throughout the narrative, but what mostly interested me was everything in the background: the beginnings of decolonisation, how people with different ethnicities stood in relation to each other, and art and journalism as a platform for societal change, for example. It also interested me because I really enjoy taking in new perspectives that go beyond the readily available ones from the western world.
I only just found out there are two parts of his memoirs before this one, and I hope there will be more after Birth of a Dream Weaver: I think I'm hooked.
September 19, 2024
Prologue
'I entered Makerere University College in July 1958, subject of a British Crown Colony, and left in March 1964, citizen of an independent African state. Between subject and citizen, a writer was born. This is the story of how the herdsboy, child laborer, and high school dreamer in 'Dreams in a Time of War' and 'In the House of the Interpreter' became a weaver of dreams.'
This book is a history packed memoir of one of the leading writers & scholars at work in the world today. An artist with words who uses his pen to weave a story of liberation throughout Africa, a coming together of history in a journal form that not only enlightens but also entertains. This is a must read for anyone who is interested in African literature & the impact that it made in the fight against colonialism or just anyone who believes in the 'power of the pen 🖊️'!
'I entered Makerere University College in July 1958, subject of a British Crown Colony, and left in March 1964, citizen of an independent African state. Between subject and citizen, a writer was born. This is the story of how the herdsboy, child laborer, and high school dreamer in 'Dreams in a Time of War' and 'In the House of the Interpreter' became a weaver of dreams.'
This book is a history packed memoir of one of the leading writers & scholars at work in the world today. An artist with words who uses his pen to weave a story of liberation throughout Africa, a coming together of history in a journal form that not only enlightens but also entertains. This is a must read for anyone who is interested in African literature & the impact that it made in the fight against colonialism or just anyone who believes in the 'power of the pen 🖊️'!
February 12, 2023
I think the people that will get the most out of this memoir are people who are already familiar with Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's novels or plays, do not make this your first delve into his work.
June 9, 2025
This functions really as a homage to education, and to that education available at Makere University in the 1960s in particular. Thióngo balances the nostalgia with sharp, hindsight infomred, commentary that highlights the limitations of Makere, but manages to savor this moment when changing the world felt possible, and storytelling was an act of optimistic creation.
This is the second time in a year I have been reading a book when the author passed away. Once more and I will start to feel like I should be very careful what I pick up...
This is the second time in a year I have been reading a book when the author passed away. Once more and I will start to feel like I should be very careful what I pick up...
August 31, 2025
An autobiographical account of Ngũgĩ's beginnings as a writer (dramatist, author, journalist) during his undergrad. This book drew me in so much! Fascinating look at the time of East African independence movements, and academic life at its most inspiring.
Read
November 27, 2025Moderately interesting, thankfully brief.
January 10, 2023
First of all, I'm not sure why but I'm taking to these memoirs like fish to water. In this installment Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o writes about his university days in Makerere, the expansion of his worldview, and above all his becoming of a writer. In the background of heady days of the independence of a new Kenya, he must chart his own path, make career choices, but most of all ask within him what he most desires to do. Here readers who had wrote, or tried to wrote a novel, play or other works of fiction, might connect with his emotions at that time - the need to write, to tell the stories that will otherwise never be told. The anxiety of presenting your draft, the simultaneous wanting and not wanting other people to take a look at your work. Across time and space, what joy it is for the writers and thinkers to be able to connect with him through written words.
"I am trembling inside. I jot a few lines, but the trembling won't stop. I so badly want to see everything in all its clarity, but the mist hides the sharp edges of the connections yet also makes them more alluring. Like magic. It is magic. Imagination is the magic the makes possible connections across time and space. "
August 11, 2017
I have enjoyed and looked forward to the installments of Ngugi's memoirs since I read his 'Dreams from a Time of War'. Somehow though I didn't enjoy this book as much as the first 2. It was drier. I felt Ngugi was relating facts, and interesting historical tidbits and not as much personal history as he had in his first 2 installments. His life and new responsibilities with his girlfriend turned mother of his child while he was studying at Makerere are glossed over, as are other details of his family in Kenya while he was overcoming hurdles and stereotypes to become the first writer from East Africa published in English.
I can't help but wonder why the reticence....but I hope the next installment, covering his studies in England (I suppose), will be more personal.
I can't help but wonder why the reticence....but I hope the next installment, covering his studies in England (I suppose), will be more personal.
January 29, 2022
Una lectura diferente, no es una novela, no termina de ser una autobiografía, pero combina bien esos elementos para adentrarse en la compleja y dramática situación que el colonialismo dejó en países como Uganda o Kenia.
Sin embargo, es ante todo la búsqueda del destino de su autor, posibilitado por una poderosa herramienta: la literatura. La vida no es fácil, África no es fácil, el mundo no es fácil, pero al menos la lectura y la escritura están en el bando correcto.
Sin embargo, es ante todo la búsqueda del destino de su autor, posibilitado por una poderosa herramienta: la literatura. La vida no es fácil, África no es fácil, el mundo no es fácil, pero al menos la lectura y la escritura están en el bando correcto.
July 18, 2021
Emergence of the Eminent African Experience Interpreter - Wanting to read something by an African novelist (since delving into Brazilian Mussa’s “The Mystery of Rio”---see my review), I looked into Ngugi when hearing him being interviewed in 2020 around award of the Nobel prize for literature as a perennial contender. My initial choice was his recently released “The Nine,” but I reconsidered believing I needed something more historical first.
This selection proved to be a very good one for me in providing background and an informative introduction to this towering literary figure. As the author puts it in various ways within this work, “. . . I entered Makerere [College] in 1959, a colonial subject, and left in 1964, a citizen of an independent Kenya” revealing circumstances and events contributing to his “coming of age” and becoming a writer.
More specifically, the book consists of a Prologue and fourteen chapters: (1) The Wound in the Heart , (2) A Wounded Land, (3) Reds and Blacks, (4) Benzes, Sneakers, Frisbees, and Flags, (5) Penpoints and Fig Trees, (6) Writing for the Money of It, (7) Black Dolls and Black Masks, (8) Transition and that Letter from Paris, (9) Boxers and Black Hermits, (10) Pages, Stages, Spaces, (11) Coal, Rubber, Silver, Gold, and New Flags, (12) Working for the Nation, (13) Notes and Notebooks, (14) A Hell of a Paradise. There are also Notes, Acknowledgements and Photographic References which add supportive details.
My favorite parts ended up being those concerning the way Ngugi’s first plays, novels (“The River Between” and “Weep Not Child”), journalistic articles written while at Makerere College (in Kampala, Uganda) emerged. I was fascinated with his writing process including narrative and character formation. For instance (in Kindle edition Location 1138-48), he relates “And then I have just read George Lamming . . . from Barbados. How can this be . . . so compelling that I want to do the same thing? Write about a village in Kenya. Write about Limuru. Write about my going to school under a hail of bullets. Write about life in an endless nightmare. Write about a community awakening to new life. . . Easier thought than done. . . I scribble a few words here and there, but nothing forms.” He continues (in Location 1156-90) “And then one night I hear a melody, then the words. . . It’s a history the colony tries to bury in a heap of white-skinned lies. My imagination digs up the history. It’s a living history. . . Then it hits me. . . I want to tell how it all began, that struggle for school. The barefoot teacher was at the center of the dream. He is the interpreter of the world; he brings the world to the people . . . “ (These words bring to mind Freire’s “Pedagogy of Freedom”---see my review).
Then, there is the manner in which Ngugi includes mentions of key political headliners and occurrences at the time such as British Prime Minister Harold MacMillan, US President Kennedy, Congo’s Patrice Lumumba assassinated and replaced by Joseph Mobutu, Uganda President Milton Obote deposed by Idi Amin, and Kenya’s Jomo Kenyatta’ succeeded by Daniel arap Moi. For example, (in Location 765-69), he indicates that “The. . . airlifts of African students to American universities was meant to close the educational deficit. . . Among beneficiaries was Barack Obama Sr., the man who would father the future president, Barack Obama Jr “ (see my review of Coates' "We Were Eight Years in Power"). Ngugi also alludes to relevant literary luminaries as well. In one of several instances (e.g., in Location 2369) “With his pen, [Joseph] Conrad had traversed the world of European conquest and domination from the far reaches of Asia through the heart of Africa to South America” (see my review of Denham’s “Northrup Frye and Critical Method”). Regarding a conference in which he participated, he says (in Location 1669-70) “Langston Hughes gave the gathering breadth of geography and depth of history. . . He had been to the Black Writers Congresses in Paris in 1956 and Rome in 1959, both attended by the great names of the black world, among them Frantz Fanon, and Richard Wright” (see my review of Hughes’ “Literary Brooklyn”).
While such allusions and comments about other aspects of his life helped keep me interested and reading, they also led to more questions and some frustration in getting answers. So how did Ngugi get from this beginning writer to the Nobel candidate he became later in his career? Perhaps some of his novels and later books such as “Something Torn and New” (2009) or “Globalectics: Theory and the Politics of Knowing” (2012) can fill in the picture.
Despite my minor complaints, this book is an enjoyable and compelling read, an apt introduction that shows why Ngugi is so venerated as an author and eminent interpreter of the African experience.
This selection proved to be a very good one for me in providing background and an informative introduction to this towering literary figure. As the author puts it in various ways within this work, “. . . I entered Makerere [College] in 1959, a colonial subject, and left in 1964, a citizen of an independent Kenya” revealing circumstances and events contributing to his “coming of age” and becoming a writer.
More specifically, the book consists of a Prologue and fourteen chapters: (1) The Wound in the Heart , (2) A Wounded Land, (3) Reds and Blacks, (4) Benzes, Sneakers, Frisbees, and Flags, (5) Penpoints and Fig Trees, (6) Writing for the Money of It, (7) Black Dolls and Black Masks, (8) Transition and that Letter from Paris, (9) Boxers and Black Hermits, (10) Pages, Stages, Spaces, (11) Coal, Rubber, Silver, Gold, and New Flags, (12) Working for the Nation, (13) Notes and Notebooks, (14) A Hell of a Paradise. There are also Notes, Acknowledgements and Photographic References which add supportive details.
My favorite parts ended up being those concerning the way Ngugi’s first plays, novels (“The River Between” and “Weep Not Child”), journalistic articles written while at Makerere College (in Kampala, Uganda) emerged. I was fascinated with his writing process including narrative and character formation. For instance (in Kindle edition Location 1138-48), he relates “And then I have just read George Lamming . . . from Barbados. How can this be . . . so compelling that I want to do the same thing? Write about a village in Kenya. Write about Limuru. Write about my going to school under a hail of bullets. Write about life in an endless nightmare. Write about a community awakening to new life. . . Easier thought than done. . . I scribble a few words here and there, but nothing forms.” He continues (in Location 1156-90) “And then one night I hear a melody, then the words. . . It’s a history the colony tries to bury in a heap of white-skinned lies. My imagination digs up the history. It’s a living history. . . Then it hits me. . . I want to tell how it all began, that struggle for school. The barefoot teacher was at the center of the dream. He is the interpreter of the world; he brings the world to the people . . . “ (These words bring to mind Freire’s “Pedagogy of Freedom”---see my review).
Then, there is the manner in which Ngugi includes mentions of key political headliners and occurrences at the time such as British Prime Minister Harold MacMillan, US President Kennedy, Congo’s Patrice Lumumba assassinated and replaced by Joseph Mobutu, Uganda President Milton Obote deposed by Idi Amin, and Kenya’s Jomo Kenyatta’ succeeded by Daniel arap Moi. For example, (in Location 765-69), he indicates that “The. . . airlifts of African students to American universities was meant to close the educational deficit. . . Among beneficiaries was Barack Obama Sr., the man who would father the future president, Barack Obama Jr “ (see my review of Coates' "We Were Eight Years in Power"). Ngugi also alludes to relevant literary luminaries as well. In one of several instances (e.g., in Location 2369) “With his pen, [Joseph] Conrad had traversed the world of European conquest and domination from the far reaches of Asia through the heart of Africa to South America” (see my review of Denham’s “Northrup Frye and Critical Method”). Regarding a conference in which he participated, he says (in Location 1669-70) “Langston Hughes gave the gathering breadth of geography and depth of history. . . He had been to the Black Writers Congresses in Paris in 1956 and Rome in 1959, both attended by the great names of the black world, among them Frantz Fanon, and Richard Wright” (see my review of Hughes’ “Literary Brooklyn”).
While such allusions and comments about other aspects of his life helped keep me interested and reading, they also led to more questions and some frustration in getting answers. So how did Ngugi get from this beginning writer to the Nobel candidate he became later in his career? Perhaps some of his novels and later books such as “Something Torn and New” (2009) or “Globalectics: Theory and the Politics of Knowing” (2012) can fill in the picture.
Despite my minor complaints, this book is an enjoyable and compelling read, an apt introduction that shows why Ngugi is so venerated as an author and eminent interpreter of the African experience.
May 7, 2017
I’m not a memoir person—they’re about as antithetical to non-fiction as you can get. A memoirist notes something they lived through then later puts it down onto paper. I suppose some of the best non-fiction books come from people who have lived their subjects—The Mushroom at the End of the World was sublime and contained oodles of personal experiences, but I wouldn’t call it a memoir.
Most lives aren’t interesting enough to sustain a whole book. Or the authors tend to be too self-deprecating to be interesting. Or too boastful to want to listen to. Or too misinformed to be able to draw interesting corollary facts from tangential fields of study. And, of course, most memoirists decide to write a memoir because they are a unique voice in their career as a [something] and choose the auspicious memoir as the medium in which to laud their achievements. Because they are not writers first and [somethings] second, the act of reading their actual, physical words can often be quite painful.
Luckily for me—or perhaps I remembered, subliminally, the lessons drawn from Brain on Fire—Birth of a Dream Weaver: A Writer's Awakening is a memoir about a writer becoming a writer. Not another tale of big-city dreams against graduate school labor, but a personal history set in an academia unlike any other: the stage is portions of Africa in flux. As Uganda pivots from colonial territory into autonomous state, “upheaval” doesn’t quite do it justice.
By virtue of its setting, it is forced into a tale of English as lingua franca that I have rarely considered; only The Fall of Language In the Age of English touched this note for me before. Now the English language and its rise to dominance isn’t shrouded in the technocractic mythos of internet kismet but naked in its imperial control, enforced by violence-backed authority:
Most lives aren’t interesting enough to sustain a whole book. Or the authors tend to be too self-deprecating to be interesting. Or too boastful to want to listen to. Or too misinformed to be able to draw interesting corollary facts from tangential fields of study. And, of course, most memoirists decide to write a memoir because they are a unique voice in their career as a [something] and choose the auspicious memoir as the medium in which to laud their achievements. Because they are not writers first and [somethings] second, the act of reading their actual, physical words can often be quite painful.
Luckily for me—or perhaps I remembered, subliminally, the lessons drawn from Brain on Fire—Birth of a Dream Weaver: A Writer's Awakening is a memoir about a writer becoming a writer. Not another tale of big-city dreams against graduate school labor, but a personal history set in an academia unlike any other: the stage is portions of Africa in flux. As Uganda pivots from colonial territory into autonomous state, “upheaval” doesn’t quite do it justice.
By virtue of its setting, it is forced into a tale of English as lingua franca that I have rarely considered; only The Fall of Language In the Age of English touched this note for me before. Now the English language and its rise to dominance isn’t shrouded in the technocractic mythos of internet kismet but naked in its imperial control, enforced by violence-backed authority:
John Butler, the adjudicator, described the play as being beautifully written and finely constructed and praised the production and the players for living up to the quality of the play. And because Butler was a member of the drama festival committee, he must have been an advocate for the play’s inclusion. Was he outvoted, overruled even, all because it was inconceivable that a British officer could have forced himself on an African woman? The art of politics by some who did not like the politics in the play had trumped the art of drama.Birth of a Dreamweaver isn’t going to change my mind about memoirs, but it is going to continue to resonate as a lived-in truth of global occupation. It will also be my touchstone for readability in memoirs for the foreseeable future.
June 13, 2023
The memoir of a great writer and not even the first but the third installment of it. Oddly enough, it is the first of his works that I am reading.
As an African with great appreciation for academic and literary endeavours especially among people from the continent, I find this memoir quite interesting that I am even envious in a way. At that young age and during his university days, he had already made such an impact and met with great names in his profession, the likes of Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka. His thought process and experiences were rich and spanned topics of national and continental importance. What can someone at the same level in university hope for in our times? Do we have such influence? Unfortunately not. Is it the Education system? Or that we lack the motivation of these pioneers? Or that going to university is no longer a novelty or something special as most people have university degrees these days? The answer probably lies at the intersection of these points. Where is the spirit of collaboration with other Africans across borders to deepen academic pursuits?
Coming to Ngugi’s story, it is simply thrilling. The descriptions of Makerere conjure memories of my time in boarding school in Nigeria - the inter-house rivalry, the pride in academic achievements, though not so much the struggle. A birthplace of many great minds but for some reason, I have only heard of it for the first time. The Nigerian alternatives of such centres that nurtured early pioneers would be Kings college Lagos and University Of Ibadan. The thought that these big names once walked about the halls of the same institution at the same time as mere students is simply beautiful to behold.
Of course Ngugi shines light on the colonial system that was paving way to quasi independent nations at the time. Even at institutions that touted equality and academic freedom, it was ever rarely the case, especially if the colour of your skin happened to be different from that of the people at the top at the time. Even academia could not fully separate itself from the political system. Albeit a miniature society of its own, it nevertheless perpetuated the inherent political and social hierarchies and stereotypes of the larger society.
This has introduced me to the works of Wa Thiongo and indeed other great African writers and so I highly recommend it!
As an African with great appreciation for academic and literary endeavours especially among people from the continent, I find this memoir quite interesting that I am even envious in a way. At that young age and during his university days, he had already made such an impact and met with great names in his profession, the likes of Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka. His thought process and experiences were rich and spanned topics of national and continental importance. What can someone at the same level in university hope for in our times? Do we have such influence? Unfortunately not. Is it the Education system? Or that we lack the motivation of these pioneers? Or that going to university is no longer a novelty or something special as most people have university degrees these days? The answer probably lies at the intersection of these points. Where is the spirit of collaboration with other Africans across borders to deepen academic pursuits?
Coming to Ngugi’s story, it is simply thrilling. The descriptions of Makerere conjure memories of my time in boarding school in Nigeria - the inter-house rivalry, the pride in academic achievements, though not so much the struggle. A birthplace of many great minds but for some reason, I have only heard of it for the first time. The Nigerian alternatives of such centres that nurtured early pioneers would be Kings college Lagos and University Of Ibadan. The thought that these big names once walked about the halls of the same institution at the same time as mere students is simply beautiful to behold.
Of course Ngugi shines light on the colonial system that was paving way to quasi independent nations at the time. Even at institutions that touted equality and academic freedom, it was ever rarely the case, especially if the colour of your skin happened to be different from that of the people at the top at the time. Even academia could not fully separate itself from the political system. Albeit a miniature society of its own, it nevertheless perpetuated the inherent political and social hierarchies and stereotypes of the larger society.
This has introduced me to the works of Wa Thiongo and indeed other great African writers and so I highly recommend it!
December 31, 2019
Ngugi's final episode of his trilogy doesn't disappoint. His Makerere years are filled with achievement and experiences that are as impressive (for a young student) as they are historically poignant. As he always does so well, he has been able to weave and contextualise his personal experiences and observations with the political dispensation of the day. Another history lesson for me, and I make the point once again - the history of colonial and neocolonial Kenya never having been part of the school curriculum in post-colonial Kenya. As paraphrased below, Ngugi has been able to succinctly capture the tragic neocolonial reality of the transition from colonial to postcolonial East Africa:
"The West embraced their creation with glee. It gave Amin state visits from Golda Meir of Israel, George Pompidou of France, and Queen Elizabeth of England. Only when they saw him begin to behave oddly, not always following decorum, did Western leaders denounce him as a dictator and an example of black misrule rather than foreign manipulation. Suddenly they discovered that he did actually refrigerate the decapitated heads of his captives and feed their bodies to crocodiles. But this was not his first decapitation program, for he had acquired the habit of head hunting as a member of the King's African Rifles, fighting "Mau Mau," and he must have been surprised by the fickleness of those who now denounced him for doing things for which they had once given him medals."
The tragic irony of this account, brilliantly presented by Ngugi, lies in its laying bare the disingenuousness of the relationship between the former colonial subjugators and the subjugated - from independence to this very day.
Ngugi does a great job covering his time at Makerere, the beginnings of his literary career, and his first job at the Nation Newspapers. But little is said about his family in this book, unlike the first 2 in the trilogy. This for me was the only void in the book. I would have liked to hear more about the role played during this transformative period in his life, by his young wife, Nyambura, their children and extended family.
"The West embraced their creation with glee. It gave Amin state visits from Golda Meir of Israel, George Pompidou of France, and Queen Elizabeth of England. Only when they saw him begin to behave oddly, not always following decorum, did Western leaders denounce him as a dictator and an example of black misrule rather than foreign manipulation. Suddenly they discovered that he did actually refrigerate the decapitated heads of his captives and feed their bodies to crocodiles. But this was not his first decapitation program, for he had acquired the habit of head hunting as a member of the King's African Rifles, fighting "Mau Mau," and he must have been surprised by the fickleness of those who now denounced him for doing things for which they had once given him medals."
The tragic irony of this account, brilliantly presented by Ngugi, lies in its laying bare the disingenuousness of the relationship between the former colonial subjugators and the subjugated - from independence to this very day.
Ngugi does a great job covering his time at Makerere, the beginnings of his literary career, and his first job at the Nation Newspapers. But little is said about his family in this book, unlike the first 2 in the trilogy. This for me was the only void in the book. I would have liked to hear more about the role played during this transformative period in his life, by his young wife, Nyambura, their children and extended family.
September 19, 2023
Birth of a Dream Weaver, the third volume of Ngugi’s memoirs, chronicles Ngugi’s intellectual awakening as a writer while studying English at Makerere University in Uganga, likewise narrating the decolonial period of East Africa in the early 1960s. Beginning with his experience as a colonial subject in British-occupied Kenya, Ngugi traces the East Africans’ dream of not only land and freedom under British imperialism and colonization, but of knowledge and education. Ngugi highlights the inevitable intertwinement of literature, politics, and power in the process, and draws on this involvement to birth his literary presence, initially within the halls of Makerere as a student writing short stories and newspaper columns, and transcending outward to the global literary landscape, as a successful playwright (The Black Hermit, critically acclaimed, and performed at the Ugandan National Theater in 1962), and as a published novelist (Weep Not, Child released in 1964, the first novel published by an East African). As Ngugi’s presence as a student and writer develops, East Africa enters into its decolonial period. Ngugi writes, “I entered Makerere in 1959, a colonial subject, and left in 1964, a citizen of an independent Kenya” (191). Uganda and Tanganyika gain independence from British rule, and in 1963, at the start of Ngugi’s senior year at Makerere, Kenya is granted liberation, with Zanzibar's freedom following closely behind.
Despite this newfound independence, the effects of colonialism are still apparent throughout East Africa, and ethnic divides politically separate Uganda and Kenya. This engrained structure of colonial values is evident not only geopolitically, but within Ngugi’s writing. He describes, “The colonial and the anticolonial values were always at war in my worldview, a conflict visible in my often inadequate grasp of the global character of imperialism and the intricacies of its neocolonial manifestation” (216). The scars of British domination and imperialism hold lasting effects within East Africa in the early 1960s. Yet the beauty of Ngugi’s literature is expressed through this confusion and struggle on the cultural, intellectual, and political levels. Higher education, and literature particularly, serve as modes of liberation and an escape from censorship to the budding intellectuals of Makerere, yet inevitability, the corruption of colonialism is present in Ngugi’s studies, which center Western forms, narratives, and views on colonialism. Thus, Ngugi’s literary presence counteracts this ambivalence; he writes of the Eastern African search for freedom (uhuru, in Swahili) amidst the Kenya Land and Freedom Army’s struggle for independence. “A writer’s quest is truth; his guide, social conscience” (212). In Ngugi's education and literature, the personal is inherently political.
Despite this newfound independence, the effects of colonialism are still apparent throughout East Africa, and ethnic divides politically separate Uganda and Kenya. This engrained structure of colonial values is evident not only geopolitically, but within Ngugi’s writing. He describes, “The colonial and the anticolonial values were always at war in my worldview, a conflict visible in my often inadequate grasp of the global character of imperialism and the intricacies of its neocolonial manifestation” (216). The scars of British domination and imperialism hold lasting effects within East Africa in the early 1960s. Yet the beauty of Ngugi’s literature is expressed through this confusion and struggle on the cultural, intellectual, and political levels. Higher education, and literature particularly, serve as modes of liberation and an escape from censorship to the budding intellectuals of Makerere, yet inevitability, the corruption of colonialism is present in Ngugi’s studies, which center Western forms, narratives, and views on colonialism. Thus, Ngugi’s literary presence counteracts this ambivalence; he writes of the Eastern African search for freedom (uhuru, in Swahili) amidst the Kenya Land and Freedom Army’s struggle for independence. “A writer’s quest is truth; his guide, social conscience” (212). In Ngugi's education and literature, the personal is inherently political.
February 27, 2025
"A veces nos hacemos preguntas
No por las respuestas que nos faltan
Sino por las respuestas que ya tenemos."
En esta obra, la tercera parte de sus memorias, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o nos cuenta cómo descubre el propósito de su obra: enaltecer su cultura, buscando siempre la verdad sin doblegarse a las costumbres colonialistas de la época.
Mientras soplaban vientos de cambio en el continente africano, el eterno candidato keniano al Nobel, se formó como un gran intelectual en la prestigiosa Universidad de Makerere en Kampala y dio sus primeros pasos como escritor al servicio de su pueblo.
La universidad era un lugar para soñar y allí Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o se ve influenciado por autores, compañeros y profesores que le inspiran a comenzar a escribir relatos para el periódico universitario. Más adelante, sufre algunas frustraciones pero finalmente triunfa con varias obras de teatro enalteciendo el legado africano; y termina publicando sus primeras novelas basadas en recuerdos de su infancia donde plasma su deseo de de luchar contra las injusticias impuestas por el sistema colonial británico.
Citas:
“Usamos máscaras para desenvolvernos mejor en el gran baile de disfraces de la vida cotidiana.”
“yo no podía evitar la sensación de que había algo, fuera lo que fuese, que debería haber dicho y no alcancé a decir”
“De pronto, lo vi con toda claridad: la dedicación, la voluntad colectiva. Sobre eso quería escribir.”
“debía enfrentarme primero al pasado, mi pasado. El hoy nace de los juegos de poder del ayer.”
“ la piel blanca era sinónimo de riqueza, poder y privilegios, mientras que la raza negra era sinónimo de pobreza, impotencia y sufrimiento”
“las personas hacen su propia historia, pero no bajo circunstancias elegidas por ellas mismas”
No por las respuestas que nos faltan
Sino por las respuestas que ya tenemos."
En esta obra, la tercera parte de sus memorias, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o nos cuenta cómo descubre el propósito de su obra: enaltecer su cultura, buscando siempre la verdad sin doblegarse a las costumbres colonialistas de la época.
Mientras soplaban vientos de cambio en el continente africano, el eterno candidato keniano al Nobel, se formó como un gran intelectual en la prestigiosa Universidad de Makerere en Kampala y dio sus primeros pasos como escritor al servicio de su pueblo.
La universidad era un lugar para soñar y allí Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o se ve influenciado por autores, compañeros y profesores que le inspiran a comenzar a escribir relatos para el periódico universitario. Más adelante, sufre algunas frustraciones pero finalmente triunfa con varias obras de teatro enalteciendo el legado africano; y termina publicando sus primeras novelas basadas en recuerdos de su infancia donde plasma su deseo de de luchar contra las injusticias impuestas por el sistema colonial británico.
Citas:
“Usamos máscaras para desenvolvernos mejor en el gran baile de disfraces de la vida cotidiana.”
“yo no podía evitar la sensación de que había algo, fuera lo que fuese, que debería haber dicho y no alcancé a decir”
“De pronto, lo vi con toda claridad: la dedicación, la voluntad colectiva. Sobre eso quería escribir.”
“debía enfrentarme primero al pasado, mi pasado. El hoy nace de los juegos de poder del ayer.”
“ la piel blanca era sinónimo de riqueza, poder y privilegios, mientras que la raza negra era sinónimo de pobreza, impotencia y sufrimiento”
“las personas hacen su propia historia, pero no bajo circunstancias elegidas por ellas mismas”
March 26, 2018
This is a memoir of Ngugi Wa Thiong'o's based largely on his time at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda during the time when most of the African countries were still under colonial rule and few countries were gaining independence. The memoir narrates the academic life for the few privileged Africans that made it thus far, the challenges they faced, their aspirations and the beginning of his career as an author, play writer. Don't ask me many questions on suddenly why African writers, it is just the season when I feel compelled to read or re-read works done by African writers. I read this book following two of his other books, Weep Not, Child and The River Between. While it is apparent the bias and the colonial injustices, to some extent, the same biases are still at play more than 50 years since his time at Makerere University. I am also intrigued by the fact that several prominent people were schooled at Makerere University - I guess back then there were few options for Africans that made it to University level education. The most interesting part of the book is Chapter 5: Penpoints and Fig Trees, when he was reflecting on what shaped his writing career or when the writer in him was conceived? Was it the stories he heard from his mother, or when he learned to read the bible, or Oliver Twist, Alliance High School, maybe, or at Makerere when he took the Oath? All in all, I think he achieved a lot as an undergraduate student in the 1960s than most people would dream of achieving even after completing PhDs. No wonder he is a celebrated African writer.
November 5, 2021
This is a beautiful memoir that shares Thiong'o's experience from his time at Makerere College where he witnessed Kenya shift from a colonial subject to an independent country.
I'm not usually a fan of memoirs or autobiographies as I find they often carry rhetoric of vanity or depict arrogant anecdotal accounts of lavish lifestyles. However, Thiong'o's, Birth of a Dream Weaver shares his personal observations and experiences revealing some of the rawest emotions I have read from any memoir. His time receiving education at Makerere undergoes great political and social change and throughout this memoir, we see how this had, and continues to have, an influence on his literary career-shaping his own identity.
This is a truly fascinating read and has reminded me why Thiong'o is such a talented writer. His attention to detail strongly portrays many of the events that piece together his personal life with the ongoing and much broader political frame. Thus, creating a rich image that highlights the exploitation faced by many within the 1950s and 1960s due to colonization and its fallout. Further, the influence such regimental living has on him and what he is able to create and produce as a writer.
I would certainly recommend this memoir to anyone who is interested in enriching their historical knowledge from the mid 20th century or who wants to learn more about the often unknown exploitative impacts of the British Colonization in Africa.
I'm not usually a fan of memoirs or autobiographies as I find they often carry rhetoric of vanity or depict arrogant anecdotal accounts of lavish lifestyles. However, Thiong'o's, Birth of a Dream Weaver shares his personal observations and experiences revealing some of the rawest emotions I have read from any memoir. His time receiving education at Makerere undergoes great political and social change and throughout this memoir, we see how this had, and continues to have, an influence on his literary career-shaping his own identity.
This is a truly fascinating read and has reminded me why Thiong'o is such a talented writer. His attention to detail strongly portrays many of the events that piece together his personal life with the ongoing and much broader political frame. Thus, creating a rich image that highlights the exploitation faced by many within the 1950s and 1960s due to colonization and its fallout. Further, the influence such regimental living has on him and what he is able to create and produce as a writer.
I would certainly recommend this memoir to anyone who is interested in enriching their historical knowledge from the mid 20th century or who wants to learn more about the often unknown exploitative impacts of the British Colonization in Africa.
August 25, 2024
In this memory of his years at Makerere University, the author writes about how the anticolonial movements in Kenya and Africa in the 1950s and 1060s defined his formation as a writer, thinker and activist. We can see his dreams, hopes, deceptions, and social awakenings, but also and especially the complexity of colonial, anticolonial and post-colonial societies. Coloniality is complex and this books reminds us of it in a wonderful and powerful way.
Here is one of my favorite passages:
"Being born and educated in a colony inevitable leaves scars. But anticolonial resistance was also part of my heritage. The colonial and the anticolonial values were always at war in my worldview, a conflict visible in my often inadequate grasp of the global character of imperialism and the intricacies of its neocolonial manifestation [...]. Hope lies in learning enough from the scars to reach for the stars". (216-217)
NOTE: For those with very little knowledge of Kenya's or Uganda's history (like myself), the book requires some extra research to contextualize people and events, which makes it a little harder but way more interesting to read.
Here is one of my favorite passages:
"Being born and educated in a colony inevitable leaves scars. But anticolonial resistance was also part of my heritage. The colonial and the anticolonial values were always at war in my worldview, a conflict visible in my often inadequate grasp of the global character of imperialism and the intricacies of its neocolonial manifestation [...]. Hope lies in learning enough from the scars to reach for the stars". (216-217)
NOTE: For those with very little knowledge of Kenya's or Uganda's history (like myself), the book requires some extra research to contextualize people and events, which makes it a little harder but way more interesting to read.
July 20, 2025
Enjoyed learning about the country, culture, and company that shaped Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. It provided great context as I embark on a journey to read more of his writing.
“The only real loyalty a writer has is to the imagination, the muse. Writers must find the time for her, obey her when she calls, and exert the sinews of their being in her service.” Pg. 211
“Having to rely on my take on some aspect of current news also meant developing a personal view on what was unfolding in Kenya and Uganda, and sometimes in Africa and the rest of the world. I had not formed a comprehensive worldview, but I grew up in a race-structured society where white was wealth, power, and privilege and black was poverty, impotence, and burden, where white was indolence and black was diligence, a society where whites harvested what blacks planted. This dichotomy gave me a frame through which I saw the world. Amid contradictions, incoherence, and half-formed opinions, I came to develop themes that would later find their way into my fiction and nonfiction, particularly the issues raised by inequalities of power and wealth in society.” Pg. 118
“The only real loyalty a writer has is to the imagination, the muse. Writers must find the time for her, obey her when she calls, and exert the sinews of their being in her service.” Pg. 211
“Having to rely on my take on some aspect of current news also meant developing a personal view on what was unfolding in Kenya and Uganda, and sometimes in Africa and the rest of the world. I had not formed a comprehensive worldview, but I grew up in a race-structured society where white was wealth, power, and privilege and black was poverty, impotence, and burden, where white was indolence and black was diligence, a society where whites harvested what blacks planted. This dichotomy gave me a frame through which I saw the world. Amid contradictions, incoherence, and half-formed opinions, I came to develop themes that would later find their way into my fiction and nonfiction, particularly the issues raised by inequalities of power and wealth in society.” Pg. 118
March 25, 2019
This is the third of Ngugi Wa Thiong'o's memoirs and covers his years at Makerere University in Uganda and his beginnings as a writer and playwright. While I really liked the two previous memoirs in this series covering his childhood and adolescent years in Kenya, I was not enamored with this one. It seemed to concentrate mainly on the University and writing, while the others brought in his family, culture, and the colonial issues impacting his family and country. The family part of his life during these years seems to be almost totally absent. I think he was married and began a family during these years but it is missing from the narrative. The other two books brought out his full life, while this one was focused on just the academic environment and writing, and because of this, it lost something.
December 31, 2017
This the first time I read Ngugi's work and any literature coming out of Africa. It offered a great insight to the amount of talent I've blithely missed. I also learned about how significant Makerere University has been in shaping leaders who have had a bearing on so much of East African history. The book introduces a variety of characters (though not in much detail). It was interesting to lookup and read up about these college mates of Ngugi like the Tanzanian president Julius Nyerere and the Ugandan Indian author Susie Tharu.
June 15, 2022
I enjoyed the continued look it Nugogi’s education and how he became an author. This book was a bit more about writing - though it lacked insights into his writing process, other than the events that led him to write a book, the opportunities he got and the people that gave him feeedback, than about his person life. Thus I felt it was inferior to his Memoir #2. Nevertheless, a very compelling and readable insight into Kenya on the cusp of and just after becoming Independent. Worth reading.
March 14, 2025
Terrific read. Ngugi tells a vivid and inspiring tale of his days at the Makerere University, and how the institution and his determination shaped his literary journey. One thing becomes evident when reading the book: Ngugi was destined for greatness. He was born to write. Additionally, you will appreciate the value of institutions of higher learning and their role in nurturing talents (not forgetting the hurdles they also present to learners).
July 4, 2017
Thiong'o artfully weaves together the story of his undergraduate education, his personal emergence as a writer, and the transition of Kenya and Uganda into indepedent nations. His thoughtful look at the past encourages comparisons to the present and dreams for the future. He writes, "The present is born of the power plays of the past" (89).
November 16, 2020
I've read some of this author's fiction but not his two previous volumes of memoirs. A fascinating account of his education and realization of his dream of being a writer. Very interesting account of the differences in liberation from colonial rule of Kenya and Uganda, where he want to university. For anyone with an interest in African history of the mid-20th Century, this book is a must.
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