Summary
Part I
Chapter 1
1. Munira had come from a vigil on the mountain when the police come for him, saying he is wanted at the Ilmorog police station for questioning about recent murders.
2. Abdulla is also approached, and he is locked in a cell at the station.
3. Wanja is at the hospital and a doctor says the police cannot see her because she is delirious.
4. Karega is asleep when the police come and bring him to the station. People gather outside, thinking he is in trouble for last night’s decision to strike, but the police say it is about murder.
5. The headline reads that Mzigo, Chui, and Kimeria, African directors of the Theng’eta Breweries and Enterprises Ltd., were burnt to death last night, and murder is suspected.
Chapter 2
1. Twelve years ago. Munira came to Ilmorog to teach, and rumors surrounded him. Why would anyone come here to teach shepherd boys? Was he crazed? Isn’t he too old?
One mother, Wambui, came to him and asked why he has come here. All the young men and women usually leave the village, so has he come to fetch the remaining ones? Munira did not reply but sneezed loudly and she fled in fright.
Abdulla and his donkey were also new to Ilmorog, as well as the child Joseph. Abdulla opened a shop, which surprised everyone, and people came and looked at him and his stump leg and donkey. There, some of the respected old men talked to Munira. They were prosperous peasants, though the region had small holdings and poor implements. Abdulla came to Munira’s rescue and asked about the school.
The old men reported their findings on Munira to Nyakinyua, a respected old woman, concluding he was all right. This did not mean Munira found it easy to fit in, as the people were wary of strangers and strange things. He told himself to remember why he came here, but he tried to avoid the thought of working in Limuru under the shadow of his father’s success.
Munira visited Mzigo, the Education Officer, who asked how the school was going. Munira asked for more help, and to his surprise, Mzigo agreed and said he wants to see the school grow.
Munira had lived almost all his life in Limuru. His brothers were successful, like his father. He had taught at multiple places after leaving the famed school Siriana in 1946. One of his sisters, Mukami, had recently died by suicide and he was deeply saddened by this because he felt she was always on his side. His father, Ezekieli, was tall and austere and holy. A wealthy landowner, he had many working for him, and Munira was often struck by how enthusiastically they praised the Lord. He began to feel the weight of his own sins. There was a woman on his father’s land, Mariamu, whom he admired for her piety and her forthrightness. She spoke up for herself but was respectful, and his father did not rebuke her. Munira heard her name in connection with the Mau Mau, but she did not know much other than that her son may have been a guerilla.
Munira’s choice to come to Ilmorog on his own was “like his first conscious act of breaking with this sense of non-being” (15).
*
After his visit to Mzigo, Munira settled back into teaching. It seemed like people accepted him more, especially as it is clear he wanted to stay. The people brought him things and he learned more about them, such as Mwathi wa Mugo, the local spiritual power who helped them. He began to set aside his past guilt and fears and enjoyed spending time at Abdulla’s store with the local herdsmen. There was occasionally talk about colonialism, which bothered him, as well as complaining about the local MP, Nderi wa Riera-aa, whose job the villagers did not understand, and how young people always left the land now.
Over time Abdulla accepted him, too, and confided in him that the people were concerned about his donkey and went to Mwathi and complained about it. Munira often asked why Joseph was not enrolled in school, but Abdulla said he needed him to run errands.
The rains came and everyone was busy. Munira was happier here now, glad to be away from Mzigo and his wife and his father.
*
Within six months it seemed like Ilmorog was Munira’s “personal possession: he was a feudal; head of a big house or a big mbari lord surveying his estate” (21). He took the children outside to observe nature. One day a child said he saw a flower with petals of blood, and Munira told him blood was not a color. The children began asking him questions about God and laws and nature and he was uncomfortable, as he tried to avoid such thoughts. He decided he will not take them outside again.
One day a woman approached him. He did not know her, but she was friendly and bold and asks for water. She said she had heard of him, the bachelor boy, and he was startled, wondering how, if she came to the village yesterday, she already knew about him. He felt his security eradicated. He wanted to know this girl’s name and wondered if Mzigo sent her to spy on him.
*
Munira knew that the village was backward, that the children were dirty, and that the village needed a few roads and a reliable water system, but he was also impressed by their care for each other.
He went to Abdulla’s shop, and found the woman there. She smiled and said she has found his other haunt. He asked her name, and she said Wanja, and she was the granddaughter of Nyakinyua. Munira was uneasy and said he knew the old woman well. Abdulla brought them drinks. Munira was intrigued by the “subtle, quick changes on [Wanja’s] face: from a suggestion of open laughter to an unconscious gravity and back again” (26).
Abdulla watched them both, wondering why quiet had descended. None of them really knew each other, he thought; Ilmorog was all they had in common.
*
Munira told Abdulla and Wanja of his time at Siriana. He was there during the “period of the big, costly European dance of death” (27). It was a glorious school, though he was just average there. The most impressive student was Chui, with his neat, stylish demeanor. Chui was the star of everything, and the headmaster of the school, the white Rev. Hallowes Ironmonger, liked Chui and treated him like a son. The Ironmongers left the school eventually, and a Cambridge Fraudsham came to the school. He had new notions and did not want to turn out “black Europeans but true Africans who would not look down upon the innocence and simple ways of their ancestors. At the same time, we had to grow up strong in God and the Empire. It was the two that had rid the world of the menace of Hitler” (29). The students saluted the British flag every morning and sang songs to God. It was Chui who led them in a strike, and Munira joined. He and Chui and five others were expelled.
Munira's voice was faint now. He said Chui was heard of in South Africa and America. He, though, turned inward and realized he was not made of sterner stuff.
Munira ended his ruminations. Abdulla called for more beer. When the seven-year-old Joseph came, Wanja suggested Joseph go to school and she would work here in the shop.
*
Wanja became one of them, but she was still a mystery. She was a city woman but did not mind dirtying her hands. One day she disappeared and then returned with her things. She took a hut near her grandmother’s, and people were glad she came back but wondered why Ilmorog.
Talk in the village also turned to anxiety over the possible failure of the crops and the harvest, yet they believed God would help.
*
Wanja and Munira became friends. It was not demanding; she comforted him and welcomed his attentiveness. She said little about her past but he felt her powerful glances on him and Abdulla. Munira wondered about both her and Abdulla—how did Abdulla lose his leg and why did he come here?
Munira started dreaming of her and bemoaned his growing obsession. He tried to remain aloof from her but it was difficult.
A small plane visited one day, then men were seen. They said they were making a preliminary survey for a road across Africa. Later at Abdulla’s shop, the villagers debated whether this would be good or bad. Munira wondered why Wanja was not there.
The following night he decided he must see her so he went to her place. She was happy to see him, but to his dismay, he saw Abdulla was there. She happily said Abdulla has offered her a job as a barmaid and was letting Joseph go to school. Munira was not sure why she was so pleased to be a barmaid but was happy to hear that his own story of Siriana touched Abdulla and made him decide to let Joseph go to school.
Wanja began to speak of her own past, of a boy she knew named Ritho who had ambitions to be an engineer. When her parents found out she was holding hands with this boy, who was not a Christian and was poorer than her, they beat her. She was furious, but saw that there was something wrong with her parents, who seemed to be coming apart after the Emergency. They were facing hard times, she knew, but her heart was still filled with rage and plans for vengeance. Another man came to town. He was prosperous and became friends with Wanja’s father. He also showered her with attention and they became intimate. The math teacher found out and since he wanted her too, he tried to blackmail her. She refused to give in to him and he told her parents what was going on. She had to leave school. Her parents were horrified and this further split them. Wanja ran to the rich man and told him she was pregnant, and he said she could be a second wife. She did not want this and went to her cousin. Her cousin was judgmental of her, especially as she could not find employment as anything other than a barmaid. She concluded by saying pensively that this was why she wanted children to go to school so they would have opportunities.
Munira and Abdulla listened to her, entranced.
Chapter 3
1. Twelve years later. Munira tries to construct this first night, this night of Wanja’s narrative—the night that seems to suggest doom and violence—for the police. He knows the young officer is getting frustrated; how could he not, with all the things going on in the country—strikes, protests, armed robbers cheered on by the people, women standing up to men. But these things will fail, Munira thinks, because these people forget that the only brotherhood that matters is that of the Lord.
The officer is annoyed that Munira’s story seems to have nothing to do with the present, but Munira wishes he could convey how this scene “had everything to do with it: for if Munira had not been blinded by that voice he could have seen the signs, the evil web being spun around him, around Abdulla, around Ilmorog” (43).
Munira is put into a cell. The next day he comes before an entirely different man. He is elderly with an expressionless face. He believes crimes are like jigsaw puzzles with laws to them, and he is looking for the right piece. He is neutral, having served the colonial regime and now this independent one. He is fascinated by the cast of characters in this story and that it is in a New Town.
He introduces himself as Inspector Godfrey, and speaks forthrightly of how respected Munira is and how they both simply want truth and justice. He asks for a simple and clear statement about the general mental state and movements of Abdulla, Wanja, and Karega on the night of the murder, and even the weeks before.
2. Munira ponders how to begin, how to recreate the past “so that one can show the operation of God’s law” (45). He remembers how their words always contained a razorblade of tension, of violence in thought and action and memory. He once thought he was saving them all, especially Karega, who for all his travels was still like a child.
All of them were drawn to Ilmorog to solve the riddle of truth and beauty, all searchers for refuge.
3. Munira speaks of how Karega had come to him and confided in him some of their shadowy past connections. Munira had been coming home from the headquarters in Ruwa-ini and encountered a man he did not know at his home. Munira remembers how even at this first meeting he was annoyed with something in Karega—perhaps his self-possession. Karega helped him carry items inside and Munira became the unwilling host and offered him tea.
Karega was small in stature and had sad, intense eyes. He suddenly reminded Munira of Mariamu from his father’s land. They began conversing, and Karega said he came from Limuru. While Karega was talking of the poor conditions of peasants, Munira’s thoughts flickered to Wanja; he wanted to know where she was and what happened to her child.
Karega finally said his name and when Munira asked what he did, the young man said he was recently at Siriana but was not anymore. Finally, he admitted he was Mariamu’s son and they used to live on Munira’s father’s land. Munira was surprised and told him he used to be friends with his brother, Nding'uri when they were children. Karega said he barely remembered his brother and did not even know he had one until he was hanged at Githinguri. He shrugged and said it was a collective sacrifice and some had to die for them all. He found out his brother was dead from Mukami. This was even more surprising to Munira, who did not know how Mukami and Karega were connected.
Karega changed the subject, asking if Munira remembered teaching him at Manguo. At first, Munira did not, but then remembered that it was an honor the boy Karega went to Siriana. Munira began to feel honored by this visit and asked about Siriana. Karega fidgeted and admitted he was expelled because of a strike. He bitterly began to speak of Cambridge Fraudsham and how he went away. Munira could not believe this, for the school and Fraudsham always seemed one and the same to him.
Karega asked question after question of Munira about his time at Siriana—about Fraudsham, about Chui. Munira felt like the past was being resurrected but he felt that Karega saw him as a fraud.
After Karega left, Munira could not keep his concern at bay, wondering at how he thought he’d put it all behind him. He told himself to keep his hold on the present but this was easier said than done. He did not know why Karega rattled him but he had so many questions about the strike, about Chui’s return. He felt he was being drawn into something he had left behind, or maybe it was that he was being drawn into someone else’s affairs.
He planned to go to Abdulla’s, but he decided he would go after Karega and offer him shelter here. He had more questions, and he had to deal with this new threat to his peace.
4. Wanja also tries to recall this period twelve years ago. She and her grandmother lamented the poor amount of crops. She was excited to start her new job and Abdulla was pleased with her industriousness and hard work. There were not many customers so she tried a trick of hanging a sign saying the shop was closing and having a sale so people began to come.
Her thoughts went to the coming evening, the evening of the big moon; she and Nyakinyua had gone to Mwathi and he told her this night would be ideal. She hoped Munira would come to her. She knew her power over men, knew the feeling of glory and then the emptiness it left behind. It was ultimately men who had control over her body, and she often sought someone else outside this. She wanted a child but with someone with whom she could be proud. This ache constantly filled her.
She began to feel disconsolate and told Abdulla she needed to go home. He told her he’d walk with her.
*
Karega’s father and his two wives had settled in the Rift Valley in the 1920s as squatters on different European farms. They provided free labor for these grazing and cultivation rights but they kept being driven off. They eventually worked full-time on settlers’ farms for wages. Husband and wife experienced much strife, and she left him and took her son Ndinguri and went back to Munira’s father to ask for cultivation rights. He wanted her body but she refused; he still let her stay. She once went back to her husband, a meeting from which Karega resulted.
Munira and Karega went to Abdulla’s shop for a drink. Munira did not know how to get back to their early conversation, as Karega avoided it. He wondered how Karega fit into everything he knew. It bothered him that his evening with Wanja was ruined, but he decided to ask Karega to go there with him anyway.
At Wanja’s hut, Abdulla was already there. They spoke of the harvest and of Joseph starting school and Abdulla told them his real name was not Abdulla but he baptized himself thusly. Wanja was in high spirits and commended Abdulla for his wonderful stories. Munira’s stomach tightened when she mentioned Dedan Kimathi, for he had not taken part in that period of war and felt guilty. Before Abdulla could speak, though, a flipped bottle cap from one of their sodas burst out the light. A small flame caught and they put it out. Wanja seemed disconcerted. Abdulla stood and said it was time to go. After he left, Wanja asked Karega to watch her hut for a bit. She smiled at him and he felt a surge of pleasure. She told Munira to walk with her.
The two walked out into the silent evening. Munira’s mind kept buzzing about everything that had happened of late. They sat down on the grass and he spoke about Karega, his new visitor. She was half listening and began to tell a story of her cousin and her tragic death by fire. She then spoke of her aunt, whose husband was a hardcore Mau Mau. She spoke of how she was terrified of fires.
Munira haltingly asked what happened to her child. She shuddered and said nothing. They walked back in silence and he saw that Karega had gone. He felt a thrill, for he knew he would spend the night.
Speaking to Godfrey, he says he can “see the devil at work in the magic and wonder and perplexity I felt at that fatal meeting between Karega, Wanja, Abdulla, and myself” (66).
Analysis
With its jumps back and forth in time and its multiple narrative voices (there is one overarching narrator who occasionally takes on a voice of authority, as well as numerous characters whose thoughts we are able to hear), Petals of Blood asks its readers to read carefully. While a relatively straightforward story in terms of plot, it is a dense, complex, and thought-provoking work that takes on a grand endeavor of retelling the story of Kenyan—and African—history.
Critic BL Nicholls calls it “nothing less than a bible of African world-historical experience.” As the novel opens, we learn Munira, Karega, Wanja, and Abdulla are being questioned for the murders of three important Kenyan businessmen, Kimeria, Chui, and Mzigo. None of those names resonate with the reader yet, and Ngugi will only reveal the victims’ true natures piecemeal throughout the text. We do, however, begin to get to know the four main characters right away, though Ngugi also takes his time to reveal their true motivations and backgrounds. It is important to remember, as critic Felicia Annin explains, that “the novel is a complex exploration of real human experiences, motivations, and dilemmas in a historical context” but that the “characters are made to dramatize ideological positions.” Ngugi himself was a young man who lived through the Mau Mau movement, the Emergency, and the end of colonialism, so, critic Angela Downing notes, “for a young, educated writer with a theme such as this, based in traumatic personal experience, the obvious danger is that of producing a narration of political and historical events, rather than a novel.” The reader can decide whether the characters seem “realistic” or whether they are more “types,” but Ngugi does indeed develop memorable and complicated individuals to take the reader on the historical/political/ideological journey.
Munira perhaps gets the most sustained narrative treatment. Right away, it is clear that Munira is an outsider to Ilmorog. The people of Ilmorog are naturally suspicious of strangers and want to know why anyone would come here. They wonder if “he was a little crazed—and was he not so old? Was he a carrier of evil?” (6.) He is unlike them in that he is not a farmer, which he admits to them. He has trouble with their song: “His first conscious attempt to keep in step with the song seemed to have ended in yet another failure and defeat” (11). He is a very self-conscious individual, which makes sense given his strict father and his failed attempts to secure said father’s approval. Choosing to leave Limuru was “like his first conscious act of breaking with his sense of non-being” (15). Over time, however, the residents do accept Munira: they appreciate “his readiness to stay…which did not carry restlessness” (16). He likes this feeling of acceptance even though he is not exactly like them. He does not like to talk about colonialism, as they do; when this happens “he would suddenly become conscious of never have done or willed anything to happen, that he seemed doomed to roam this world, a stranger” (18).
As a young man, Munira was intrigued by both his father’s anti-Mau Mau stance (he did not take the oath, and he lost an ear for it), and that of an older woman who worked his father’s land, Mariamu, who had Mau Mau sympathies and rumors of having a son who was excited for being in the movement. By his own admission, Munira “had never thought deeply about [Man…law…God…nature]” (22). Critic Saaka Podis deems Munira a “conflicted, ambivalent fence-[sitter], the sort of ‘everyman’ figure with whom a typical reader might identify…[Munira is] characterized by the kind of doubts and indecision which more typically plague the general population. Should they disengage themselves and ride out the storm, as Munira is so intent on doing, or should they become involved and make a stand, even if it is a futile stand, in the name of justice?” Similarly, Jacqueline Bardolphe suggests that “Munira has chosen not to choose, and to live in twilight,” and Christine Loflin sees Munira as “an intruder in the community, a man who fails to establish any lasting ties. He is the image of the Western-educated African, aspiring to Western ideals but left out of the real centres of power.” Munira speaks of owning Ilmorog at one point, similar to colonial masters. He “represents the contradictions involved in a Kenyan accepting Western premises about nature, power, and community.” He does not want to talk to the students about anything “real,” preferring to dwell on mere aesthetics and precision of language: when a student says a flower has “petals of blood” (21), Munira responds, “There is no colour called blood. What you mean is that it is red” (21). Because this conversation leads to the children asking big questions, Munira “swore that he would never again take the children to the fields. Enclosed in the four walls he was the master, aloof, dispensing knowledge to a concentration of faces looking up to him” (22).
Yet this ambivalence and conflict-avoidance cannot always endure the way Munira would prefer it to. His obsession with Wanja and his interest in Karega and how the young man was actually part of his own past bring him unwillingly into the doings of the village. He agrees to go on the journey to Nairobi, though it is “inadequately, as he cannot fit into their oral culture.” He will be forced to come face-to-face with evil, some of it being an evil fashioned from his own increasingly distorted and religiously fanatical worldview.
