Too Raw?

As a child I often wished I could climb the Mau Mau Freedom Fighter behind our home. If Samwel Wanjau had carved a flight of steps up the back of a leg, I would have ascended the twelve feet to the fierce dreadlocks, and settled a few scores.

"I'm the king of the castle,
You're the dirty rascal.
I'm the king of the castle,
Get down, you dirty rascal!"

The taunt, directed at my older brother, would have penetrated the canopy of eucalyptus trees and instilled the fear of god into the bullies of Ridgeways Estate.

Instead, I climbed the Jacaranda tree in front of the house and daydreamed amidst clusters of fragrant, purple, trumpet-shaped blooms...

If Wanjau had carved an aesthetically "palatable" symbol of Kenya's fight for independence, as he was commissioned, the Mau Mau Freedom Fighter would be standing in front of the Kenya Parliament building today, celebrating forty-five years of independence from British colonial rule.

Instead, Wanjau conveyed what he envisioned with characteristic honesty and vigor.

As a result, Sir Charles Four Piece Suit Njonjo, the attorney-general of Kenya at the time, declared the Mau Mau's stance too raw, unfit for human consumption and therefore, unfit for Parliament buildings.

The deal was off. Wanjau's big dream was disrupted.

But I could still daydream in the Jacaranda tree amidst clusters of fragrant, purple, trumpet shaped blooms...

...about instilling the fear of god into neocolonial puppets who dared assault an African artist's creative expression.

I didn't.

Instead, I ran circles around the base of the Mau Mau playing catch with Safi, and in this picture, showing her a bird's nest I had found, complete with unhatched eggs.

Baba first met Samwel Wanjau at Nairobi's Gikomba market, making curios to feed the growing tourist industry. He invited Wanjau to join Paa Ya Paa, and he became the first official member of the artists-in-residence program. Wanjau and many other artists after him were encouraged to free themselves from the repetitive style of commercial art.

Wanjau soon became one of Kenya's most ingenious artists. In 1969 he was honored as Kenya's leading sculptor, a designation that led to his being commissioned to create an historical emblem for the new republic's Parliament buildings. The beautification committee that commissioned the work was led by Sir Charles Njonjo.

The Mau Mau Freedom Fighter was built out of cement reinforced in steel wires. For several weeks, every day after school, I would go around to the back to watch Wanjau work.

He never tired of my questions about his crooked arm and I never tired of his Kiswahili enunciated in a heavy Nyeri Kikuyu accent. He told me stories of the Emergency Period when he was a Mau Mau freedom fighter in the 1950s. The way he carved Bundukis [gun stocks] that were used in the resistance; how he was arrested and thrown in jail; how he escaped. And when the Home Guard burnt his father's hut down, how he was shot in the arm as he tried to escape and thrown back in jail. When he subsequently escaped it seemed he had finally found the path leading to his long road to national and international fame.

In my mind, the Mau Mau Freedom Fighter remains a rock solid representation of resilience to cultural domination in Kenya; a manifestation of creative independence, authentic, raw; not overdone like Sir Charles' Four Piece Suit.

And when I go home, I can sit at its base, raise my head and celebrate its inspirational power, and still daydream...

...about fueling my spiritual independence. Au siyo? [not so?]

Mpaka next time,

Mama Shujaa.
Copyright © Hana Njau-Okolo 2009. All Rights Reserved.