As Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o dies, in the middle of the river in the middle of the river - no longer a novel, but a mirror. It is still torn between two worlds: tradition and modernity, fear and freedom, silence and truth. In its pages, an prohibited love reflects a deep fracture - which is not cured over time, but deepened by neglect. The river was never about the land; It was about the identity, and the cost of standing at the confluence.
Ngũgĩ was Kenya's literary Prophet - Anwelkam, unbalanced and unbalanced. Nevertheless, instead of giving our warning, we exiled him. We banned his books, captured his views, and treated his pen as a danger. Now, mourning is swollen. Let's put in tribute. But what do the flowers use after the funeral of a voice, which we buried long ago from his body? Why did we finally wait for silence?
This is not just a memory. It is going to believe. Look at this comment tribute, not only to honor Ngũgĩ, but also to ask: Are we still burning both banks? Colonial ghosts and postkolonial betrayal - feeding each. The river between us was never to divide - it was to flow. But first, we should stop torching the bridges.
