by MAUREEN NGOZI EKE
- I want you to know
- how carefully
- I watered the tender shoots
- you planted in my little garden.
Micere Githae Mugo, 1972.
On Thursday, 25 May 2023, several of us, mostly women from across various continents, gathered at the Africa Literature Association (ALA) Annual Conference to honour Mwalimu Micere Githae Mugo on her 80th. Birthday. We were all happy to be there; some attending virtually via zoom from as far as Japan, Europe, and the rest from the United States. The room was full and those of us on the organised roundtable felt the enormity of this event. I had not anticipated the number of people attending to pay homage to one person: Professor Micere Githae Mugo, who could not attend in person. I was delighted that she was able to attend virtually, but alas, we did not see her face because she was in bed and quite sick.
I was grateful that she had followed us online. In those few minutes of our convening, I became acutely cognisant of the significance of the occasion. We had all come to honour and celebrate our sister Prof Micere Githae Mugo, but did we have some prescience? Wangui wa Goro and two others present at the conference had been discussing organising a roundtable to honour sister Micere at the African Literature Association or a small event for quite some time. The ALA Annual Conference offered the best opportunity. Wangui submitted the roundtable proposal and eventually expanded the contributors to include those who could only attend virtually. I was happy to see this gathering. Indeed, it was a sisterhood, although several brothers attended. Did we know then that this would be our last communion with our beloved sister? I worried. If we did, none of us showed it.
I have tried to recall when I first met Dr Micere Githae Mugo and concluded that my first encounter with her was through her writing, specifically her co-authored play with Ngugi wa Thiong’o, The Trial of Dedan Kimathi. In the mid-1980s, I was a young black female graduate student who perceived herself as a feminist, an activist, a fighter for human rights. I was involved in the anti-apartheid activism on my campus, and later, on the campus where I worked. I was in the early stages of working on my doctoral dissertation. I had been drawn to the anti-apartheid and protest writings of South African authors, but I was especially interested in the writings of Black Consciousness authors, and even more specifically, the playwrights. I had also read plays by other African playwrights. I wanted to focus on the relationship between art?– mainly theatre?–?and politics. I wanted to examine liberatory plays, particularly those by African women. But it was clear that the field was dominated by men.
Ironically, African women were concerned with some of the historical and political challenges that confronted many post-colonial African nations?–?postcolonialism, identity politics, gender marginalisation, class, etc., but their voices were absent. I found only a few: Ghana’s Ama Ata Aidoo and Efua Sutherland, Nigeria’s Zulu Sofola, South Africa’s Fatima Dike who was emerging. I wanted more! As a black female graduate student in a predominantly white department or programme and institution in the United States, I was looking for a model of revolutionary art practice and scholarship. For sure, I was familiar with the works of numerous African Diaspora authors, scholars, and culture critics?–?women and men. I was familiar with the revolutionary writings of Audrey Lorde, Lorraine Hansberry, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Angela Davis and Zora Neale Hurston, to mention a few. But while their voices spoke to my pan-Africanist spirit, I was looking for one whose voice addressed my uniquely African spirit and experience. While black women writers in the US were coining new language for their feminist practice or did not care if their works were feminist or not feminist enough, African women writers were struggling with how to define their feminism–“small f” or big “F” or just feminist?–?feminist or not? Speak up!
I found my model. It was a short but powerful play?–?The Trial of Dedan Kimathi. It was co-authored by Micere Mugo and Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Kenya’s foremost writers. Here was a play whose focus was the struggle for African autonomy?–?self-determination and dignity. Yes, the play is about Kimathi, but it addressed so much more: colonisation, racism, gender and class injustice. Here was a play with a male title character, but which gave equal space for women’s voice, acknowledging that African women were also victims of colonialism. It would not be far-fetched to conclude that the strong presence of women in that play is due in part to Professor Micere Githae Mugo’s contribution.
In 2004, Micere Mugo would be the speaker for the Women’s Caucus of the African Literature Association (WOCALA). She would introduce us to her performative voice and body. She had been making a case for the inclusion of orality/orature in our examination of African literature and her performance of her luncheon address was evidence of her commitment to orature.
In October 2014, Professor Micere Githae Mugo invited several of us to Syracuse University to a special event: “Achebe Symposium: A Celebration of the 50th. Anniversary of Arrow of God.” There were more than twenty-five speakers. It was cold, but over a period of two days, we discussed several aspects of this complex text and its relevance in the field of African Literature. My focus was uncomplicated, simply, “The Art of Arrow of God”. The event also provided us with an opportunity to see Dr Mugo in leadership and performance!
The Elephant for more