The literary world mourns the loss of one of Africa’s most influential voices. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, the Kenyan writer whose groundbreaking works explored the legacy of colonialism and who became a symbol of postcolonial African identity through his decision to write in his native Gikuyu language, died on Wednesday morning at the age of 87.

His daughter, Wanjiku wa Ngũgĩ, announced the news on Facebook with heavy heart: “It is with a heavy heart that we announce the passing of our dad, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, this Wednesday morning. He lived a full life, fought a good fight.”

The author died in Atlanta, where he had lived in exile for much of his later life. His son, Mukoma Wa Ngũgĩ, himself a writer and scholar, expressed his profound grief on social media: “I am me because of him in so many ways, as his child, scholar and writer. I love him – I am not sure what tomorrow will bring without him here.”

A Life Shaped by Struggle

Born in 1938 during British colonial rule in Kenya, Ngũgĩ’s early life was marked by the brutal realities of imperial oppression. One of 28 children born to a father with four wives, he witnessed firsthand the devastating impact of colonialism on his people, the Gikuyu, Kenya’s largest ethnic group. As a teenager, he lived through the Mau Mau uprising, a violent struggle for independence that saw the authorities imprison, abuse, and torture tens or even hundreds of thousands of people.

The personal cost was immense. His father was forced off his land, and two of his brothers were killed during the conflict. These traumatic experiences would later form the emotional and political backbone of his literary works, beginning with his breakthrough novel “Weep Not, Child” (1964).

Published just a year after Kenya gained independence, “Weep Not, Child” tells the story of Njoroge, the first in his family to attend school, whose life is thrown into turmoil by the violent events surrounding him. The novel established Ngũgĩ as a major literary voice and introduced international readers to the complex realities of postcolonial Africa.

The Scholar and Revolutionary

Ngũgĩ’s influence extended far beyond his novels. As a lecturer in English literature at Nairobi University, he challenged the colonial academic establishment, arguing that African literature should be at the centre of literary studies rather than being marginalised in favour of European texts. “If there is need for a ‘study of the historic continuity of a single culture’, why can’t this be African?” he wrote in a seminal paper. “Why can’t African literature be at the centre so that we can view other cultures in relationship to it?”

This intellectual rebellion paralleled his literary evolution. After publishing several novels in English, including “The River Between” and “A Grain of Wheat,” Ngũgĩ made a revolutionary decision that would define the rest of his career. Following his co-authoring of a play in Gikuyu titled “I Will Marry When I Want,” he was arrested and imprisoned in Mamiti maximum security prison in 1977.

The experience proved transformative. “In prison I began to think in a more systematic way about language,” he told The Guardian in 2006. “Why was I not detained before, when I wrote in English?” This realisation led to a profound shift: he decided that “the only language I could use was my own.”

Exile and Literary Triumph

Released in 1978, Ngũgĩ was forced into exile in 1982 when he learned of a plot to kill him upon his return from Britain, where he had been promoting his novel “Caitani Mutharabaini,” later translated as “Devil on the Cross.” This marked the beginning of decades in exile, first in the UK and later in the United States, where he worked as a professor of English and comparative literature at the University of California, Irvine, and headed its International Centre for Writing and Translation.

Despite the physical distance from his homeland, Ngũgĩ’s commitment to writing in Gikuyu never wavered. His 1986 novel “Matigari” was so politically provocative that Kenyan authorities issued an arrest warrant for its fictional protagonist, and the book was banned in the country.

His masterwork, “Wizard of the Crow” (2006), returned to themes of African dictatorship and corruption, set in the imaginary Free Republic of Aburiria. Ngũgĩ himself translated the work from Gikuyu to English, describing “the most beautiful sentence in the entire novel” as “a translation from Gikuyu by the author.”

A Dangerous Homecoming

When Ngũgĩ finally returned to Kenya in 2004, two years after the death of dictator Daniel arap Moi, he was greeted by jubilant crowds at Nairobi airport. However, the homecoming quickly turned tragic. During his visit, armed men broke into the apartment where he was staying with his wife Njeeri, brutally assaulting him and raping her. “I don’t think we were meant to come out alive,” he later told The Guardian, a chilling reminder that his political views still made him a target.

Literary Legacy and Recognition

Throughout his career, Ngũgĩ was a perennial favourite for the Nobel Prize in Literature, representing not just Kenyan literature but the broader struggle for African cultural independence. When he missed out on the prize in 2010 to Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa, he displayed characteristic humour and grace: “I was less disappointed than the photographers who had gathered outside my home. I was the one who was consoling them!”

In 2021, he achieved another significant milestone, becoming the first nominee for the International Booker Prize writing in an indigenous African language and the first author to be nominated for translating his own work, with his epic novel-in-verse “The Perfect Nine.”

His body of work spans novels, plays, essays, and children’s literature, all unified by his commitment to exploring the psychological and political legacies of colonialism. Works such as “Petals of Blood” (1977) and “The Trial of Dedan Kimathi” continued to probe the wounds left by imperial rule and the ongoing struggles of postcolonial Kenya.

Personal Battles and Enduring Spirit

Despite facing significant health challenges—including a prostate cancer diagnosis in 1995 and triple heart bypass surgery in 2019—Ngũgĩ continued writing and advocating for African literature until the end. He leaves behind nine children, four of whom have followed in his literary footsteps: Tee Ngũgĩ, Mũkoma wa Ngũgĩ, Nducu wa Ngũgĩ, and Wanjiku wa Ngũgĩ.

His philosophy of resistance, articulated in a 2018 interview with The Guardian, encapsulated both his personal journey and his broader political vision: “Resistance is the best way of keeping alive. It can take even the smallest form of saying no to injustice. If you really think you’re right, you stick to your beliefs, and they help you to survive.”

A Lasting Impact

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s death marks the end of an era in African literature. He was not merely a writer but a cultural revolutionary who insisted that African stories deserved to be told in African languages, challenging the linguistic colonialism that had dominated postcolonial literature. His decision to abandon English—the language that had brought him international recognition—in favour of Gikuyu was both a personal and political statement about the value of indigenous cultures.

His influence extends far beyond literature. He inspired generations of African writers to embrace their linguistic heritage and challenged academic institutions worldwide to decolonise their curricula. His work remains essential reading for anyone seeking to understand the psychological and cultural impact of colonialism and the ongoing struggle for African intellectual independence.

As tributes pour in from around the world, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o is remembered not just as a gifted storyteller, but as a man whose life embodied the very resistance he wrote about—a writer who refused to be silenced by imprisonment, exile, or threat of death, and who continued to fight for justice through the power of words until his final breath.

The literary giant may have fallen silent, but his voice—speaking truth to power in both Gikuyu and English—will resonate for generations to come, a testament to the enduring power of literature to challenge, inspire, and transform.

By Micheal Ngonana