Weep, Not Child – Ngùgi wa Thiong’o (1938-2025) We need another Ngugi!

Weep, Not Child – Ngùgi wa Thiong’o (1938-2025)

We need another Ngugi.
Another fist that pens with fire.
Another tongue that won’t retire into silence, just because the oppressor raised the volume.

We need another Ngugi.
Because our children speak in borrowed alphabets, dream in foreign tongues,
and pray to gods whose skin reflects the colonizer’s sun.

He wrote Weep Not, Child but I weep now, not just for the child —
but for the elder who spoke the truth until his bones became proverbs.
I weep for a continent that lost its fiercest griot, a linguist of liberation,
a fighter with fountain pens for fists, and books sharp enough to carve freedom into the spines of the sleeping.

Ngugi.

The man who turned toilet paper in prison into scripture-
writing Devil on the Cross
like Moses chiseling commandments from cracked concrete.
He did not ask Pharaoh for freedom, he wrote it. Ink became uprising.
Language became war. And every word he wrote was a bullet aimed at the heart of colonial illusion.

They locked him in a cell-but you cannot chain a mind that learned how to walk barefoot through barbed wire truth. Ngugi made Petals of Blood bloom from the bullet wounds of a bleeding people.

•⁠ ⁠Gracciano Enwerem

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