*spoiler alert!Ngugi gives us an intimate account of how real people and families were effected by the Mau Mau Rebellion in Kenya in the 1950's and how the same interests of preserving land rights got cast as vastly different and racialized interests, resulting in the deaths of many. Following Njoroge through his coming of age,we see him first as a young boy who believes that through education and learning, he can save his country, then as a devout Christian who sees himself as God's chosen one to deliver his people from the evils of the war, and finally as a disillusioned young man who can't even hold on to the woman he loves and attempts suicide on the last pages of the novel. Ngugi's ability to interweave the stories of Mr. Howlands, a white expatriate originally from Great Britain, but who claims Kenya as his home, Jacobo, a black land owner who "sells out" and supports the white cause in the conflict, and Ngotho, a traditional Gikuyu man who believes the prophecy of his people long ago that blacks will reclaim ownership of the land that was stripped from them when white European settlers arrived. Ngugi complicates the story by focusing on two generations involved in the battle over land rights. Njoroge's brazen brothers Kumau, Kori, and Boro, are hostile, reckless supporters of the Mau Mau, while younger and more innocent Njoroge remains steadfast in his ideas that education is the answer. While his brothers support strikes and Boro becomes a plotted murderer, Njoroge remains in school, excelling in his class. Mwihaki, the gentle daughter of Jacobo, becomes the unfailing companion of Njoroge from a young age, but because of the differences in their families' beliefs and the ultimate deaths of both of their fathers, they cannot be together in the end. Ngugi fills the rest of the novel with other archetypal revolutionary figures such as the barber and Teacher Isaka who both get assassinated because of their fundamental belief that the Gikuyu people should claim right to their land, as their ancestors did. At the same time; however, we get an intimate portrayal of Mr. Howlands and how he passionately sees Kenya as his home, the land rightfully his. Surely, he believes "the blacks" to be "savages" and intends to pit them against each other to better his cause, but he is human just like they are, desiring to hold his fragile family together as it fractures like Ngotho's family. The background of World Wars I and II in the novel help to establish the historical context of the Mau Mau Rebellion. There existed an entire generation of Kenyan veterans who were not given proper compensation for their role in helping the British fend off the Germans and other world powers, thus fueling their desire to take back their rights. The first half of this novel is less palatable to me than the second; perhaps because Ngugi is setting up the context and the players. The second half of the novel traces the mental and ideological downfall of his major players and is much more affecting to read. I did feel a hint of Achebe's Things Fall Apart at the end when Njoroge tries to commit suicide by hanging himself from a tree, but Ngugi's new contribution to this ending is that Njoroge was never of the generation who valued tradition and the ancestral spirits, pointing to the fact that colonialism inflicts potentially brutal consequences on younger generations as well. The fact that Njoroge does not go through with the act could either point to a hope that he will go on to serve as a savior to his people or a scathing critique that the newer generation is not as courageous and masculine as its father's. I was searching for more female voices in here, and though Ngugi gives Ngotho's wives Njeri and Nyokabi some space in which to speak about the tragedies of the war, and Mwahiki occupies a lot of lines in the novel, this is what is really lacking for me as a reader. Certainly there were female revolutionaries who supported the rebellion, but we don't see any of them here.
It has been years since I read Ngugi's Weep Not, Child. It's one of those rare books in my sister's collection that turned out to be good. I may not remember the novel in its entirety, however, there are certain images Ngugi emphasized which made the story memorable, particularly the contrast of light and darkness. The play on light and dark images exemplify the themes of hope and desolation that is stressed in parts one and two of the novel respectively. The protagonist Njoroge is encouraged by his family and village to attend school in hopes that the education he receives will be beneficial in restoring Kenya to its glory before colonial arrival. Njoroge felt responsible for the welfare of his family and people so he eagerly worked hard in his schoolwork, eventually showing great potential. Here "education is the light of Kenya." Towards the end of the novel, Njoroge's faith in education and his belief that the "sun will rise tomorrow" slowly crumbles because of the socio-political unrest in Kenya. He eventually attempts suicide when he realizes "the sun was sinking down and his last hope had vanished" after the people he loved abandoned him. Despite Njoroge's sense of hopelessness at the close, I found Ngugi's overall message to be inspiring and memorable. Ngugi ambiguously implies hope when Njorge "saw the light [his mother] was carrying and falteringly went towards it. It was a glowing piece of wood which she carried to light the way."
What do You think about Weep Not, Child (1988)?
Why have I not read this sooner? Beautifully written. Early on, it reads like Camara Laye's L'Enfant noir, in its description of the early colonial education of an African and the two worlds that Njoroge inhabits. As the political conflict intensifies, Njoroge's family reveals a wide variety of responses to Jomo Kenyatta, Mau Mau, the Bible, the British, the colonial enterprise, the presence of Indian traders in their midst, and so much more. Yes, an especially moving experience as I read it against the backdrop of the recent events in Paris.
—Ruthmarie
Okay, here's my beef with Weep Not, Child: it's an interesting story set in a time of political strife that the uninformed masses (ex me) should learn more about, but the writing is not as compelling as the plot. Ngugi wa Thiong'o writes simply, which generally serves the story well, except for when he diverges into excessively contracted segments of blatant, explicit exposition. I found myself constantly marking long sections of text with "too fast - too told!" and "why are you explaining your symbols and so crudely?" I even came up with an abbreviation for the latter (wayeys, if you want to know) due to the number of times I had to use it. A long, unnatural conversation that was basically an excuse to dump information on the reader also stands out in my mind. Another problem I had was not with the book so much as the blurb on the back cover. My edition (African Writers Series) describes Weep Not, Child as revolving around "two small boys." Not true! Kamau, the other small boy mentioned besides the protagonist Njoroge, is barely mentioned and does not prove pivotal to the plot. I was surprised to find him essentially dropped from the text after the first few chapters. I also found the predictability of the characters annoying (or maybe I've just read too many books like this), and the white settlers are one-dimensional caricatures; I understand that from the third person limited viewpoint of the oppressed black, they surely must seem arbitrarily cruel, but could we not have had some more depth and perception in here? I found Howlands especially bothersome. At first he seemed to be a well-rounded character; attention is paid to his love of the land and seeming escape from England, for example, but ultimately he becomes a heavy-handed stereotype. Invested in "the settlers' way" (78), he wishes only to "reduce everything to his will" (78). A further fleshed character would have lent the book needed complexity.That said, there are some interesting themes raised in this text: masculinity, powerlessness, and cowardice (I'm still thinking over this one); progress, Progress, and ancestral ways; and of course, class and race.
—Liana
I just finished reading this for the second time. I agree with some people below that the writing can be odd and simple. Its kind of a sketch more than a really fleshed out tale, I mean it is a short book. I think the odd language and simpleness of the book actually make the themes much more clear. Additionally its one of the first English books in African literature and Ngugi wrote it when he was young himself. I love how simply he addressed these complex topics, it feels youthful and fresh. I think that kind of adds voice to the young main character Njoroge. I also like how it mixes normal events/feelings of growing up including first loves and realizing your parents aren't invincible along with the story of growing up in a nation fraught with turmoil and revolution. Just my take. It does vilify white people and colonialism more than some other books in this genre but I actually like it better than Things Fall Apart. This is one of my favorite books in African literature. I also like the more negative views of colonization in this book.
—Caitlyn
