Meja Mwangi, who died on Thursday this week, is a silent giant of Kenyan storytelling. His books may not be first on many reading lists for African literature but he would be there with the men and women of letters of the 1960s and 1970s in the continent’s early years of independence. His writing, though, is largely about the tragedy of hope.
Many colonised Kenyans had prayed for and hoped that matunda ya uhuru (fruits of freedom) would be ripe and available to them. Dreams of a good life, education, health, economy, politics and so on that would include everyone.
However, there wasn’t light at the end of the tunnel for a majority when uhuru (independence) came. Cynics still argue that when the Union Jack was lowered and the Kenyan flag raised, that’s all the majority of Kenyans reaped from independence. For, 62 years on, the ruling class continues to promise education, health and wealth to all Kenyans, yet, mambo kwa ground ni tofauti (the reality is different).
Meja Mwangi is among the earliest of Kenyan artists to warn of the tragedy of unfulfilled dreams that postcolonial Kenya threw at its citizens. Kill Me Quick and Going Down River Road are two of the most tragic tales of independent Kenya. These two texts brilliantly tell the story of disappointment, of loss, of knowing that you will never make it, but hoping against reality that the individual will break free from the shackles of an endless unfulfilled life. If Cockroach Dance is added to the mix, what comes out at the end, in the cauldron, is a cocktail of dystopia.
In Kill Me Quick (1974), Meja and Maina are doomed to fail in life, whatever efforts they expend pursuing their dreams. The two young men are trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty. They cannot find jobs, despite their education and willingness to work.
They remain perpetually on the margins of the society and are condemned to a life in the ‘shanty land’, underemployed and underpaid; eating from dustbins; stealing; jailed etc. But why do these young men suffer? Because they were not prepared for the difficulties of urban life when they came from the countryside.
They don’t have relatives or friends in the city. They didn’t know that getting a job in the city could depend on who you know. They had no idea that one can become a criminal or be accused of crime because of circumstances beyond his control. Meja and Maina and the rest of the cast on Kill Me Quick can only wish for death because life is unbearable, with no signs of becoming livable any time soon.
In Going Down River Road (1976), Ben, Ochola and Wini are seemingly cursed to fail, irrespective of their hustling. Ben and Ochola work at mjengo. But ‘Development House’ doesn’t seem to grow at all. The lives of Ben and Ochola, his workmate and later roommate, mirrors the stagnation of Development House.
After losing his job in the army, for renting out military hardware, Ben ends up at a construction site where Ochola works. He also meets Wini, mother to Baby. Wini abandons Ben and Bay when she elopes with her Boss. The lives of these two men is an endless drama of ‘chasing after life’, with no success in sight.
Dusman Gonzaga in The Cockroach Dance (1979), can only end up madder. How does one live with characters whose names include, Chupa na Debe, Tumbo Kubwa, Toto etc. What does it take to read parking meters or water meters? Dacca House is rotten but the landlord won’t be bothered; he is only interested in the rent.
Dusman Gonzaga, like Ben and Ochola, lead a life of bars, alcohol, women and the usual brawls. His fellow tenants are men and women stuck in an unending cycle of poverty, joblessness, crime, underemployment etc. It is not surprising, therefore, that the cockroaches all over Dacca House dance on irrespective of the attempts to eradicate them. For Dusman, there is a need for change. But how can the poor revolt? What is the opportunity cost of fighting oppression?
Meja Mwangi wrote for all — the young, teenagers, middle-aged, or old. He may have had a cast of common characters on the streets, mama mboga, hawkers, bottle collectors, pickpockets, the homeless, single mothers, construction workers etc, but who are the majority of the population, if not such women, children and men?
Some of Meja Mwangi’s books, exemplified by the three that we have referred to above, are better critiques of the consequences of what has been described as “capitalism without a human touch” in Kenya than any academic paper written on the subject. Why? Because they constantly remind the reader of the existence of the downtrodden of this world everywhere, and their everyday struggles to survive.
The best way to remember Meja Mwangi is to buy and read his books. If you wish to delve into the old narratives of heroism, try The Return of Shaka . If you wish to revisit the tragedy of diseases, in this case HIV/AIDS, The Last Plague will serve you well.
Weapons of Hunger is about what happens when famine ravages the land and its people, aid is available but for reasons that are difficult to explain, it cannot be transported to those in need of it. Imagine a rigid bureaucracy and that thing Kenyans love to call corruption combined with hazards of nature combining to keep the food aid stuck at the seaport.
This is a familiar story, which, though, leads to deaths of thousands of poor and hungry people who could easily be helped.
It is sad that 2025 ends with a wind of death robbing Kenya of several artists and writers. Too sad that this December, the country has lost David Mulwa, one of the country’s most celebrated playwrights; Pamela Kola, a great writer of children’s books; and Meja Mwangi, son of Nanyuki. Their works, though, will always keep them alive in our minds and lives.
