A major literary fete opened in Nairobi on Wednesday, just as Kenyans took to the streets to remember their dead, only for police to open fire and kill some more, and maim many more. Official tallies of the dead stood at 15, while another 400 people were injured.
I suspect the pitch from the organisers hailed Nairobi as the world’s only city to boast of a game park, a green city in the sun, blah blah blah. But no one would have anticipated the conference as a performance stage bringing to life the tensions that Ngugi wa Thiong’o, our recently-departed ancestor, envisioned presciently in Penpoints, Gunpoints, and Dreams.