Writing for Kenya

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Writing for Kenya Page 12

by Wangari Muoria-Sal


  identity, family and clan, division and cohesion, separation and home.

  Some of Muoria’s daughters and grandchildren wrote down what they

  wanted to say and parts of their accounts are included in the essay. Th

  is

  material is supplemented with stories of Muoria’s life and that of his

  family from his autobiographical writings,3 and features and interviews

  in Kenyan newspapers. Some members of the family have read earlier

  versions of the narrative and let me know their interpretations and

  disagreements, but also their appreciation that Henry Muoria would

  be remembered.4

  3 Th

  e most important are Th

  e Inquisitive Karamando Gets Work in London (1954)

  revised in 1970, unpublished typescript, privately held; How it Feels to be Born a Kikuyu (1955), revised 1987, unpublished typescript, privately held; Th e British and

  my Kikuyu Tribe (1982), unpublished manuscript. Kenya National Archives (KNA): 85–498/325.34109626 MUO; I, Th

  e Gikuyu and the White Fury (Nairobi: East African

  Educational Publishers, 1994).

  4 I am deeply grateful to Ruth Muoria, Wangari Muoria-Sal, Peter Mwaniki, Julius Mwaniki, George Muoria and other members of the Muoria family in Britain, Kenya and the United States who have been more than generous with their stories, interpretations and hospitality.

  the muorias in kenya

  65

  Th

  e essay opens up by giving an account of Muoria’s early days, his

  youth, his marriages and working life. Th

  en follows the story of his third

  wife, Ruth, as an illumination of the role of the women in his family,

  their history and resilience. She is a third generation urbanite, belonging

  to a lineage of independent women who established themselves in the

  changing social and economic environment of the Nairobi neighbour-

  hood of Pumwani, from the 1920s onwards. Th

  is part of the story is

  based on interviews with Ruth and her daughters and grandchildren in

  Kenya. In the next sections daughters of Henry and Judith and Henry

  and Ruth, his second and third wives, tell about their upbringing, one

  branch in Nairobi, the other in rural Kiambu, and discuss issues of

  identity. Finally, the word is given to groups of grandchildren: David,

  Patrick and Julius refl ect on the role of women in the Muoria family,

  and on what it means to be a Kenyan and a descendant of a highly

  respected national fi gure. Th

  eir cousins, two sisters, Nuna and Terry,

  born and raised in Nairobi and resident in the United States, discuss

  identity, home and exile. And Alex Muoria, a grandson of Henry and

  his fi rst wife Elizabeth, who has stayed in the rural family home in

  Nyathuna and carries on with the agriculture that has sustained the

  family for so long, tells of the pleasures and diffi

  culties of being a Muoria

  grandson and cultivating a farm. Together, the diff erent voices express

  the mixture of pride and loss which marks the history and present

  situation of the Muoria family.

  Henry Muoria—early life, literacy, marriages and career

  Muoria wa Mwaniki was born in 1914 to what he calls an ‘ordinary

  Kikuyu couple’ Mwaniki wa Muoria and Wambui wa Mbari.5 His

  grandfather, the founder of the Muoria mbari, established himself with his two wives and children on the fertile lands near Kabete in Kenya’s

  Central Province. His son Mwaniki, Henry’s father, worked with electri-

  cal installations for ‘white people’ in Nairobi, and only returned home

  to his family and land during weekends. Lillian Gathoni, Muoria’s sister,

  5 His daughter Wangari tells, ‘Upon questioning his mother about his precise age, he was told that there were many planes fl ying and men were taken away to fi ght in the war. He deduced that he must have been born during the First World War, around 1914. As to the date it always remained a mystery as there was no written record’.

  Interview, London, July 2000.

  66

  chapter two

  tells that until their mother converted to Christianity and started going

  to Church their parents would not let Henry go to school, ‘we used to

  do as we were told by our mother.’ Both children worked around the

  farm and were quite happy, ‘we wanted to be where we could feel at

  home—among cows and goats.’6 Muoria, however, pursued his plan of

  learning to read and write, fi rst in Gikuyu, and managed to get himself

  to evening classes at Kirangari, the Anglican mission, where he learned

  English. Two years later, when his younger brother was old enough to

  look aft er the cattle, Henry entered day school. Conversion and literacy

  were two sides of the same coin, and in 1930 the famous Canon Harry

  Leakey, one of the pioneers of Kikuyu literacy and a translator of Th

  e

  New Testament into Gikuyu, baptised Muoria who was now sixteen.

  Th

  is was how he got the name Henry. Instead of becoming a mundu

  mugo, a traditional Kikuyu seer and wise man, as had been prophesied

  at his birth, he was ‘converted to Christianity . . . through his great desire to know how to read and write.’7

  Muoria was one of a very small number of African children in the

  British Kenya Colony who was in a position to seize the chance of

  entering the world of reading and writing, and he was able to do so

  only aft er overcoming resistance from his surroundings. He ended fi ve

  years of schooling with the so-called ‘vernacular exam’. Aft er that he

  interrupted school briefl y and found work in Nairobi with an Indian

  plumber’s fi rm. He left his urban job aft er having suff ered the indignity of being slapped by his Asian employer for a small mistake. He now

  joined the East African Railways as a trainee telegrapher. He was given

  work as a guard on trains crisscrossing Kenya Colony. Around this time

  he met Elizabeth Th

  ogori who was to become his fi rst wife. She was a

  student at the Anglican Mission in Kabete, close to Nairobi, where she

  was learning knitting and tailoring. Th

  ey celebrated a church wedding

  in 1932 aft er Muoria had been transferred to Voi, a desolate station

  on the railway line to Mombasa. A year later their fi rst son was born,

  and in the same year Henry’s father died. Henry was transferred to

  Athi, south east of Nairobi, arid and deserted, and worked as an assis-

  tant station-master for three years. In 1935 Th

  e East African Railways

  off ered him a place at their training school for further education, and

  aft er he had fi nished he was sent to Eldoret in Western Kenya. His

  6 Interview, Kiambu, October 2000.

  7 Th

  e British and my Kikuyu Tribe, 8.

  the muorias in kenya

  67

  work with the railways took him far away from his home area and the

  nationalist and regional politics he was becoming involved in. In 1942,

  saddened by the loss of a baby daughter and pining for home, he asked

  for and was granted a transfer to Nairobi. Th

  is meant that he was back

  in more familiar country, ‘among his tribespeople’, as he wrote in his

  autobiographical account.8 He settled on the Muoria land in Nyathuna,

  Kiambu, with his wife an
d children.

  During his long hours of travel Muoria worked his way through a

  journalism correspondence course, which he had ordered from London.

  He wished to make his views on African and Kikuyu problems and

  progress known to a broader public. In his autobiographical writings he

  attributes his determination to become a journalist to having a letter to

  the editor containing strong criticism of the British presence in Kenya

  rejected by the East African Standard, Kenya’s leading newspaper. His return to Kikuyuland inspired him to write his fi rst book, Tungiika

  Atia Iiya Witu? or What Should We Do, Our People? that came out in 1945. Its aim was, as he wrote, to ‘provide his tribespeople with a

  lot of ideas which they could discuss among themselves for their own

  benefi t.’9 Th

  e book covered education of children, modern homes,

  jealousy, the necessity of work, a fair profi t, co-operative farming, the

  study of books, the dangers of drunkenness, and more broadly moral

  issues concerning right and wrong and the importance of choosing the

  right path. Th

  e sale of Tungiika Atia Iiya Witu? and other pamphlets

  from the Church Mission Society bookshop in Nairobi, among other

  places, provided start capital for setting up his newspaper Mumenyereri, a forum for news, education and discussion among Gikuyu-speaking

  people.10

  Muoria was in contact with several other writers and journalists,

  among them one of the other prominent, independent Kikuyu pam-

  phleteers, Gakaara wa Wanjau, who used Muoria’s newspaper and

  network to advertise his own works.11 At the time similar didactic

  8 Th

  e British and my Kikuyu Tribe, 10.

  9 Th

  e British and my Kikuyu Tribe, 10.

  10 He noted that Ngoro ya Ugikuyu ni ya Gutoria, (‘Th

  e Gikuyu Spirit of patriotism

  is for victory’), which he later included in I, the Gikuyu, sold out its fi ve thousand copies in a week. Th

  e British and my Kikuyu Tribe, 15.

  11 Th

  anks to Derek Peterson for drawing my attention to this connection. On

  Gakaara wa Wanjau and political writers of the 1940s and 1950s see Christina Pugliese,

  ‘Complementary or Contending Nationhoods? Kikuyu Pamphlets and Songs 1945–52, in Atieno E. S. Odhiambo & John Lonsdale (eds.), Mau Mau and Nationhood (Oxford,

  68

  chapter two

  books on modern life for Africans were being written by colonial ser-

  vants, and solicited from African writers by colonial institutions like

  Christian missions or the East African Literature Bureau. Th

  e Bureau

  also published guidebooks for aspiring African writers and held Gikuyu

  literature competitions. Muoria was aware of these activities, but not

  particularly infl uenced by them. He translated Hanahela into Gikuyu, a didactic novel written by A. T. Culwick, a colonial offi

  cer from Tang-

  yanika. More important than colonial enlightenment, the source of

  his modern outlook was frustration at what he occasionally called the

  ‘backwardness’ of his own people and a strong conviction that reform

  was needed, based on his own experience all over Kenya, but particu-

  larly in his home region. Th

  e thrust of his work was towards education

  and the value of individual enterprise. In an unpublished manuscript,

  written in 1944, he emphasized that ‘people are not determined by

  parents, but have free will’, a statement which mirrored his own suc-

  cessful social and spatial mobility.12 His reforming zeal was, however,

  combined with a strong respect for Kikuyu values and morality. Both

  ambitions are caught in the title of his newspaper, Mumenyereri: the

  one who guards and the one who observes.

  In the mid-1940s, aft er having proved that it was possible to make

  a profi t from publishing a book, Muoria decided to leave his job with

  the railways in order to start his newspaper. His wife was not willing

  to support him in his venture into journalism and thus the danger-

  ous world of nationalist politics. Th

  e couple by now had three sons to

  look aft er and she thought that by doing so he put the family at risk.

  Events proved her right. However, Muoria had made up his mind and

  the couple were formally divorced. Th

  is is how Muoria explained the

  disagreement to a journalist who interviewed him in London forty years

  later: ‘My wife could not comprehend how a man of my calibre could

  leave a high paying job and a respectable one at the Railways to go into

  a trade where I had very little time even to sleep, while returns were

  not handsome.’13 In 1945 Muoria entered into a customary marriage

  with his second wife, Judith Nyamurwa. Judith was a teacher, trained

  at Kahuhia Teachers’ College, and a writer in her own right. She shared

  Nairobi & Athens OH: Currey, EAEP & Ohio University Press, 2003) 97–120, and Derek Peterson, ‘Th

  e Intellectual Lives of Mau Mau Detainees’, Journal of African

  History 49 (2008): 73–91.

  12 Th

  e Inquisitive Karamando, 193.

  13 Daily Nation 12 February 1987.

  the muorias in kenya

  69

  Muoria’s critical views of the British, was committed to the fi ght against

  colonialism and supported him in his journalistic and political activities.

  Th

  ey wrote a book together, Muturiri wa Kiriu, on modern living, or

  ‘what it takes to live sociably’.14

  Muoria met his third wife Ruth in 1947. She was the only daughter

  of a Kikuyu woman, Grace Njoki, who was a house-owner in Pumwani,

  the core of African Nairobi. Aft er their marriage, she also moved to

  Nyathuna and, like Judith, assisted her husband in the writing and pro-

  duction of Mumenyereri. Muoria and his extended family lived in two

  houses he had built on a ridge in the middle of fertile fi elds of Kiambu.

  One is a beautifully designed smaller house, which Muoria built of bricks

  in the mid 1940s in order to show his fellow tribesmen that indigenous

  materials lent themselves to building modern homes. Brick houses had

  several advantages over the traditional round mud houses, an issue he

  had dealt with in his published book. Th

  is building enterprise, where

  he showed in action and not only in words what could be done, was

  part of his didactic enlightenment project. Th

  e second larger building,

  where Judith lived, a substantial house that he fi nished in 1952 with

  the help of his age mates, is the fi rst stone house built by an African

  in the area. Th

  e family farmed and traded in agricultural produce. Th

  e

  children were educated on the income from farming, from paid work

  undertaken by Judith and, for a few years, from the newspaper, which

  from 1950 onwards made a profi t.

  Journalism and the city

  Starting a newspaper was not easy, especially in 1945 when war-time

  restrictions still applied. Paper was rationed and it was not until Muo-

  ria convinced the colonial authorities that he was reviving an already

  existing Gikuyu newspaper, Muthithu (‘Th

  e Treasure’), which had been


  published by the well-known nationalist politician, James Beauttah, that

  he was able to push ahead. Th

  e fi rst issue of Muthithu/Mumenyereri in

  Gikuyu and English was published in May 1945, and the paper quickly

  became popular. For a short period it came out every second week,

  it then speeded up and became a weekly, then a bi-weekly, now in

  14 Th

  anks to Derek Peterson for this translation. Unfortunately, I have not been

  able to locate a copy of the book.

  70

  chapter two

  Gikuyu only. It grew from a circulation of two thousand copies to one

  of around twelve thousand towards the end of its existence.15

  It is not surprising that a political paper in Gikuyu such as Mumenyer-

  eri should be in high demand in Nairobi at this time. Nationalist politics were gaining strength aft er a lull during the war. In 1946 Muoria was

  one of the group of infl uential Africans, most of them active in the

  leading nationalist political organization, Kenya African Union, who in

  Mombasa welcomed Jomo Kenyatta back from his British exile. Over

  the next years Muoria followed Kenyatta closely and made sure that

  Mumenyereri reported the important speeches which he made—activi-

  ties that were stepping stones in the careers of both men as nationalist

  political spokesmen. Th

  e paper reported fully and openly on political

  issues and brought letters from Africans who were dissatisfi ed with

  the politics of the colonial regime. Muoria wrote carefully considered

  but strongly worded editorials, and the paper announced a host of

  political meetings and Mau Mau oath ceremonies under the guise of

  ‘tea parties’.

  Muoria’s working environment as a newspaperman was the volatile

  and politically fraught atmosphere of the city. At this time the ownership

  and governing of Nairobi, the colonial capital, was extremely contested.

  In 1950 the colonial authorities decreed that the town of Nairobi had

  existed for fi ft y years and celebrated its elevation to city status. Th

  is

  symbolic and self-congratulatory event was turned into a celebration

  of fi ft y years of colonial rule. Th

  e achievements of the African and

  Asian populations of the city were neglected. Th

  e preparations for the

  Jubilee and its actual celebration served to focus and dissatisfaction on

 

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