The Kenya National Theatre at seventy: The reason we should now let Ngugi’s mother sing

One evening, in February 2019, I watched celebrated writer and culturalist Ngugi wa Thiong’o make his way into the Kenya National Theatre (KNT). In his entourage were his contemporaries and younger ‘disciples’.?Largely, they were scholars, ideologues, publishers, and book enthusiasts. Nevertheless, a discerning eye wouldn’t have failed to notice something else. There was an invisible cord that bound Ngugi to the people who flanked him – A good number of them had been victims of state oppression. They had survived incarceration, exile and every other manner of persecution visited upon them by a political class that could not entertain dissent, even in its artistic form.

Anyway, then, Ngugi had returned home at the invitation of his publisher. He was here to grace cultural crusades across the country. The talking point in these events was the place of mother tongues in socio-economic – and even, political – development. Coincidentally, at the time, he was celebrating the publication of his book, Kenda Muiyuru, The Perfect Nine. For very obvious and valid reasons, there was no better venue for the launch of this book than the KNT.

To Ngugi and his fans, his return to the KNT wasn’t any less significant than any other that had preceded it. It was a moment to celebrate the evolution Kenya has undergone in her quest for cultural emancipation and autonomy. At the same time, it was an opportunity to pay homage to the building, in its stature as a cultural and historical monument.

In the foreword to his address that evening, Ngugi reminded his audience of the history of the KNT. Particularly, he shared embarrassing accounts of how cultural imperialism had remained alive and well in post-colonial Kenya. In his reminiscence of the old days, he pointed out the 70s as a season whose highlight was the scramble for space between national and foreign interests at the KNT. Then, the KNT had not yet shaken off its colonial heritage – Its management, patrons, and catalogue of performances were still dominantly ‘white’.

But that was until Ngugi masterminded the 1975 KNT cultural ‘coup’. The very constricted three-day allowance he had been allocated to stage The Trial of Deadan Kimathi, the play he had co-authored with Micere Mugo in 1975, saw Africans turn up in their numbers at the theatre. The state read this as Ngugi’s attempt to upset the cultural order – Stage a takeover of the European theatre. This marked the beginning of state-commissioned theatre censorship. Henceforth, undercover state operatives patronised the theatre incognito and kept an eye on all the goings-on.

In 1977, Kamiriithu Community Education and Cultural Centre performed Ngaahika Ndeenda; I Will Marry When I want, a play that Ngugi had co-authored with Ngugi wa Mirii. This performance granted the state an opportunity to illustrate that it could, after all, make good its threats – Ngugi was incarcerated!

The theatre censorship streak didn’t end there. Later, in 1982, the Kamiriithu theatre group booked the KNT for yet another play, Maitu Njugira, Mother Sing for Me. In spite of doing all the requisite paperwork, they were denied access to the theatre on the material day. Besides, the police raided and razed down the Kamiriithu community theatre. It was this development that broke the camel’s back – Ngugi fled the country and went into exile.

A lot has transpired since then. Kenyan theatre has come of age – The expansion of our democratic space, faithfulness to the respect of freedom of expression, and anti-cultural imperialism campaigns brought theatre censorship to an end. In addition, theatre arts occupy a critical space in our educational curriculum, and in the modern age, technology provides an infinite space for the African theatre to thrive. Above all, a few years ago, the KNT, thanks to the partnership between the Jubilee regime and Kenya Breweries Limited, got a facelift that transformed it into a user-friendly establishment.

And there is boundless hope that better days await the KNT in the future. This hope is hinged on the promise Ababu Namwamba, the Cabinet Secretary (CS) for Youth Affairs, Sports and The Arts, recently made when he attended the celebration of the Kenya Cultural Centre’s commemoration of its 70th anniversary. The CS committed to transform the KNT into a world-class cultural centre. This is not only a step in the right direction but also a way of recognising all the sacrifices Kenyans have made in their pursuit of cultural emancipation.

Decades ago, the state deregistered Kamiriithu Community Education and Cultural Centre, raided and razed down its theatre. In addition, it imprisoned, exiled, and in extreme cases, killed literary practitioners. By sabotaging the performance of Maitu Njugira in 1982, the state symbolically gagged Ngugi’s mother, and by extension, all African mothers from singing for us. Isn’t it time we let Ngugi’s mother sing? And isn’t there a way of making it up to her? As Khaled Hosseini teaches us in his novel, The Kite Runner, there is always a way to be good, again. ?In our case, I invite Namwamba to facilitate the strict implementation of the National Policy on Culture and heritage. This will call for the collaboration between the national and county governments. And I have a long shot in mind – This collaboration should see us establish community theatres across the country. In those theatres, our mothers will find the freedom to sing for us.

I, too, celebrate you, the KNT, on your 70th anniversary!