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The history of the printed word in Kenya may be over four centuries old. It could be traced back to the Omani Arabs who ruled the Kenya Coast, on and off, before the coming of Vasco da Gama in 1498 to as late as 1867. They traded in gold, ivory, and slaves, making regular caravans into the interior in search of these commodities.
The Portuguese overthrew the Omanis in 1505 and were themselves later overthrown by European powers:
Britain, France, Germany, Italy, and others. The ‘Scramble for Africa’, in reality, was between 1881-1914. European explorers, missionaries, settlers, and colonizers, in that order, started arriving at the Kenya Coast from the the second part of the 19th century.
The missionaries regarded the Kiswahili language as adulterated by Islam and too ‘secular’ to be entrusted with Christian messages from the Holy Bible. So they settled among the local tribes, learned their languages, formed local language translation committees, harmonized orthographies as best they could and translated the bible and hymn book into these languages to facilitate their work. If they had elected to translate the bible into Kiswahili, as the Germans did for Tanzania, Kenya would have ended up a more homogeneous society than it is today.
In the case of the Luhya communities of Western Kenya, for example, where there are over seventeen dialects, they chose to work in Kimaragoli, Kinyore, and Kiwanga and imposed these languages on the rest of the other tribes. The traditional animosity between the Maragoli and the Bukusu can be traced to this beginning. The Bukusus may have been larger in numbers but they were ‘forced’ to use the Maragoli bible and hymn book until recently. Learners were required to select one of these languages for their early education from Std1 – 3 which, in those days, was taught entirely in mother tongue.
When one remembers the dominance of Kiswahili (an African language that has absorbed many Arabic words), and the preponderance of Arabic classical narratives such as ‘Hekaya za Abunwasi’’ ‘Alfulela-u-lela’, ‘The Arab and the camel’, etc, and proverbs such as ‘Usikate kanzu kabla ya mtoto hajazaliwa, ‘Asante ya punda ni mateke, etc; and the rich repertoire of Arabic and Muslim language and cultural artifacts at the Coast, one is left with no alternative but to accept this view. ‘Watu wa bara’ was a derogatory term used to separate the ‘Wastarabu’ and the uncivilized indigenous folks from upcountry.
The next milestone in the development of local languages was in 1948 when the East Africa High Commission was formed and following the recommendations of the Elspeth Huxley Report, the East African Literature Bureau, (EALB) was set up to publish books in local languages for local use. I have covered the work of Charles Richards in detail in one of my publications and will not return to it here. Suffice it to say EALB could have done more but was riddled with systemic inefficiency and was generally underfunded. When the East African Community was dismantled in 1977, each of the 3 countries set up their own publishing units. The Kenya Literature Bureau (KLB) was established immediately afterward as a state publishing firm under a new mandate. It would no longer exclusively publish in local languages and was now perceived as a commercial outfit.
Laying the Foundation
I graduated from the University of Nairobi with a First Class Honours degree in Literature and Philosophy in 1972 and immediately took up a job as a TV Producer with Voice of Kenya Television, and also enrolled for a Master’s degree in Philosophy. After one term, I abandoned the Philosophy department and sought assistance from my Literature Professor, Andrew Gurr who arranged for me to take up a ‘temporary’ job at Heinemann Publishers, Nairobi while he tried to secure an overseas scholarship for me, But, soon after joining Heinemann, I was seconded to Head Office in London where I worked for 9 months and upon my return to Nairobi was promoted to the position of Publishing Manager, taking over from David Hill in May 1974.
Two years later, I was promoted to the position of Managing Director, taking over from Bob Markham under circumstances that found me unprepared, but which I won’t go into here. The company arranged for me to buy a house in Lavington, which was a major shift from Nairobi West where I lived. With these fast developments, I said goodbye to my dreams of further education and concentrated on my work. I was now comfortable; mentally, physically, and financially.
At the tender age of 30, I was sitting on top of a multinational, The Head Office had said they would allow me space to operate freely, as long as I returned a profit at the end of the day. I decided to invest in people, to set up a formidable editorial department that would make the right choices and fill it with First Class brains, such as Laban Erapu, Paul Njoroge, Simon Gikandi, Jimmi Makotsi, Barrack Muluka, Nazi Kivutha, Lillian Dhahabu, Leteipa ole Sunkuli, to name but a few. I backed these people with a host of experienced external readers, editors, and advisors. Names such as Philippa de Cuir, Rodney Nesbitt, Kimani Njogu, Kivutha Kibwana, Senda wa Kwayera, Okoth Okombo, Wahome Mutahi, Chacha Nyaigoti Chacha, Esther Kantai, Ashiq Hussain, were on my list. A host of new authors were brought on board and many publishing opportunities and innovative ideas were created at our weekly Wednesday meetings, including the publication of new textbooks, academic and general books, students’ guides to prescribed set books, publishing in Kiswahili and mother tongues. Most of the books were published locally, but some, such as AWS manuscripts, were sent to London for publication.
My involvement
My dalliance with African languages is as old as my publishing career. When I joined Heinemann Nairobi in 1972 as Editor, I found three books in galley proofs, waiting to be produced: ‘Mtawa Mweusi’ (Kiswahili translation of Ngugi’s Black Hermit and ‘Usilie Mpenzi Wangu’, Weep Not, Child,‘ Kivuli Cha Mauti’, (Dying in the Sun), by Peter Palangyo. I had to summon my best Kiswahili knowledge to see these books through to finished copies. The company had earlier published ‘Ebb’yenda Bisasika‘ (Things Fall Apart) in Luganda and, although the book had been prescribed as a textbook by the Ministry of Education in Kampala, sales had been poor. I continued to issue Kiswahili translations of selected titles in the African Writers Series even though, again, sales were not always that brilliant.
In 1974, I was appointed a jury member on the Founding Committee of the Noma Award for Publishing in Africa. The first winner of the prize was the Senegalese feminist writer Mariama Baâ, and I expressed interest on behalf of Heinemann for translation rights into English and Kiswahili of her novel Solong a Letter. The second-year prize went to Meshack Asare’s, The Brassman’s Secret, although my preference had been Myombekere na Bugonoka. Na Ntulanalwo na Bulibwali, a Tanzanian tome that detailed the day-to-day life and living of the Bakerewe people of Ukerewe Islands. My detailed report recommending Aniceti Kitereza for the prize may still be in the archives of that Award.
When Hans Zell, Convenor of the Award, saw my deep interest and commitment to African local languages, he recommended me to UNESCO who then invited me to a conference in Alma-ata, USSR in 1976. I presented a paper entitled “Publishing in a Multi-Lingual Situation: The Kenya Case” to much acclaim, and this was published in the African Book Publishing Record (ABPR), in 1977. I became a regular guest of UNESCO at their various seminars and conferences and even managed to write a monograph for them by the title Books and Reading in Kenya, which was published under their Books and Reading Series (1982).
At the National Level
My Involvement after 1976 was tied up with local events in Kenya. The first was a conference held at Nairobi School, which revolutionized the teaching of Literature in Kenyan secondary schools; and a parallel one was the change taking place in the Literature department at the University of Nairobi, engineered by Ngugi and his African colleagues. The second was my close association with Ngugi himself who had been my teacher at Nairobi University, and whom I was now made to handle on behalf of Heinemann London.
My publishing relationship with Ngugi has been well documented and I won’t highlight it here. Suffice it to say I was critical of Ngugi’s publishing output in the Gikuyu language and in English and Kiswahili translation between 1975 to 1982, the year he went into exile. We had agreed that every book published by him would immediately be followed by a translation in what he termed a conversation between languages. Within this period, I published The Trial of Dedan Kimathi (Mzalendo Kimathi), Ngahika Ndeenda (I Will Marry When I Want), and Caitani Mutharaba-ini (Devil on the Cross). Because of the circumstances of the time, these three sold in very large quantities and I was able to reprint them several times up to the time when they were ‘banned’.
In 1979, I embarked on an ambitious project to publish textbooks in Kiswahili to strengthen the teaching of Kiswahili in both primary and secondary schools. Kiswahili was an examinable subject at the secondary level but there were no course books and most schools chose to ignore it, using its period to teach other subjects instead. By the end of 1980, I had completed a full secondary course and the first three books of Masomo ya Msingi, the primary course, plus teachers’ guides. The sales were sluggish at first, but I soldiered on, completing the entire course in 1982, the same year President Moi decreed that Kiswahili should be taught as a compulsory subject at all levels.
There was no curriculum, no preparation, nothing except my adventurous course. So huge were the sales that, at one stage, this course alone accounted for 85% of our entire turnover. It also helped to cushion me against the adverse effects of parting with Heinemann London in 1986-1992, a process, which had started well but had ended in acrimony. Around the same time, I commissioned the writing of children’s books in mother tongues. I challenged already successful writers in English, such as Ngugi, Grace Ogot, Asenath Odaga, David Maillu, and Francis Imbuga, among others, to write. The above-mentioned did submit manuscripts, and the first mother-tongue children’s books started rolling out of EAEP in 1982.
Again, sales were poor because, admittedly, the quality was wanting as local editors, printers and designers were not capable of handling the special features that go into children’s book publishing; special paper that can withstand handling, full-color illustrations, design and printing, and the project, which I eventually abandoned, needed a readership outside the textbook market to be sustainable, of which there was very little.
Paradoxically, when I published English translations of these same readers, sales improved considerably. I also invested in Orature. I realized that the old generation was fast disappearing. So I commissioned people to carry out research among their communities. I would publish their works under the Oral Literature of Kenya Series, which I had created for that purpose. The text would, by and large, be in English but the songs and any other special features would be preserved in the mother tongue. I was able to release books in the following language communities: Gikuyu, Dholuo, Maasai, and Kalenjin. Many of these books are still being used in the teaching of Orature today, especially at the university level.
The books are in a rough and ready form and I hope that one day, the company will use them to produce illustrated coffee table editions such as I see in local bookshops from foreign publishers.
