Abstract
Banned playwright and novelist Ngugi wa Thiong’o, pictured with his son Thiongo in London in 2013, was pivotal in the fight against colonialism
CREDIT: David Mbiyu/Alamy
The theatre in those days was run by white settlers who developed plays according to their values.
There was hope that Jomo Kenyatta’s ascension to the presidency in 1964 would help heal the wounds inflicted by the British and pave the way to tolerance, social justice, freedom and prosperity. But his presidency, characterised by an increasing centralisation of executive power and the repression of political opponents, prompted many artists to use the theatre as a tool to hammer what they saw as a neo-colonial government.
Playwright and novelist Ngugi wa Thiong’o led the pack with his first short plays - The Black Hermit (1962) and This Time Tomorrow (1968) - which sent a message to the people that nothing good was going to come out of the Kenyatta presidency. If The Trial of Dedan Kimathi (1976), co-written with Micere Githae Mugo, painted the picture of Kenya’s future artistic protest, Ngaahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), co-written with Ngugi wa Mirii in 1977, set Kenyatta’s presidency on fire.
The provocative play, written in his native Kikuyu language, angered the Kenyatta regime, which banned it and ordered Ngugi’s detention. Undeterred by his one-year imprisonment, which appears to be what radicalised him, Ngugi continued his protest right through the Daniel arap Moi regime (1978-2002), often considered the country’s most brutal, undemocratic and corrupt.
His critical play about colonial oppression, Maitu Njugira (Mother Sing to Me), in 1982 - again co-written with wa Mirii, and in collaboration with the Kamiriithu theatre community - was battered and banned by an intransigent Moi, who subsequently ordered the open-air theatre where the drama was due to be played to be razed. Ngugi fled the country.
Moi, who ruled the east African nation with an iron-fist for 24 years, stood in the way of any kind of artistic protest by, among other ways, using arbitrary detentions to stifle activist theatre creativity. A theatre group called 5Cs (five years of colonialism) bore the brunt of Moi’s corrupt and repressive regime.
Fredrick Odhiambo Ayieko, 5Cs secretary, told Index that the group developed plays that advocated good governance and leadership, democracy, gender equality, respect of human rights and nationhood and constitutional change. “We staged them in open spaces like shopping centres, markets, churches and bus stations, among others,” he said.
Feeling that the plays were too critical of his presidency and therefore constituted a threat to his regime, Moi went on the offensive. Ayieko said: “Since we were operating under an oppressive regime, our plays exposed the government’s wrongdoings and made a significant impact on society.”
Angry and agitated by this form of artistic militancy, the government ordered the arrest of 5Cs members, who were subsequently jailed. Charges included illegal gathering and releasing toxic content to the public.
A wave of arrests which started in 1997 went on until 2007, through the presidency of Mwai Kibaki - who replaced Moi in 2002, promising mountains of freedom and zero corruption.
The critical plays that led to six 5Cs members being arrested in 2000 were Dying to Be Free (about human rights violations) and Paukwa (depicting land issues). Other critical plays included Uhuru na Mashamba (Freedom and Land), Hawkers, Ufisadi (Corruption) and Democracy.
Corruption, one of the scourges that Kenyan artists were decrying through their creative work, is one of the country’s biggest obstacles to development. The country ranked 124 out of 180 in the Transparency International 2020 report.
Expectations were high that freedom of expression would improve and corruption would be eradicated under Uhuru Kenyatta, who replaced Mwai Kibaki (another corrupt leader) in 2013. Civil society organisations had lambasted Kibaki for lacking commitment to fight and being complicit with corrupt individuals. But Kenyatta seemed determined to show anyone criticising his regime that some of Moi’s blood still circulated in his veins.
Muthuri Kathure, Article 19’s eastern Africa senior programme officer for civic space, confirmed that Kenya was still in the same position. He told Index: “One of the cases that we are involved in is [that] of [Edwin] Mutemi Kiama, who was arrested in 2020 for publishing information about how the presidential family benefited from public resources.”
Kathure said artists in other fields had also been threatened with arrest, including Eric Omondi, for his show Wife Material. Kikuyu singer Muigai wa Njoroge was also arrested on allegations of hate speech for a political song criticising the president.
The arts were a powerful tool of informing masses, he said. By arresting and muzzling artists, governments risked calls for accountability.
Shepherd Mpofu, professor of media, culture and communications at the University of Limpopo in South Africa, concurred. He told Index that arts and the theatre played a critical role that should not be undermined. But he said: “Governments have managed to oppress and almost drive artists off the stage. We should be alive to the fact that economic meltdown in most countries has affected the arts and therefore silenced a critical protest voice in society.”
As well as facing a crackdown from the government and influential people and the harassment of artists through trumped up charges and physical abuse, theatre in Kenya faces funding challenges. Because of a lack of money, many groups, including 5Cs, are forced to scale down their activities and, unless they urgently get funding, they risk disappearing in the near future.
“It cannot be that directors, writers and actors have failed. A multiplicity of problems militates against them and this leads to their silencing,” said Mpofo, who added that art had always been purposeful in Africa and rarely simply art for art’s sake.
Here, silencing artists can take many forms, including “silencing in silence”, as one Kenyan artist, who spoke on condition of anonymity, put it.
“Denying or drying up funding to critical artists serves to ensure that they do not thrive. What can you do when the government uses public resources to fund artists that sing its praises and overlook those that criticise it? You become frustrated and get stuck and simply disappear from the stage.”
Ayieko added: “The government receives funding from the donor community for advocacy work but only channels it to government user-friendly groups. Any group that is criticising the government cannot access the money.
“Funding, or not funding, might be one way of censoring and silencing theatre. As theatre people, we are still cautious.”