Summary
Part II
1. The narrator writes of the early, and glory, days of Ilmorog, which ended with the Europeans coming. Sometimes the people wanted what the Europeans had, and over time the village declined and became just another small, dry place.
These were the stories Nyakinyua told them as they walked; she was “the mother of men: there was a sad gaiety in her voice, she was celebrating rainbow memories of gain and loss, triumph and failure, but above all suffering and knowledge in struggle” (123).
*
Karega was lost in his thoughts as they walked. He mused on these stories of Africans fleeing their own homes, having to contend with new worlds. When Wanja came to talk to him, he told her of what he was thinking—about a great African past when the people controlled their own earth. Wanja found him somewhat sentimental and asked about this journey they were on and what the people might think of him if they got to the city and were treated poorly. Karega had not thought of this but said they were going as a people and the voice of the people was the voice of God.
The two of them sat down under the light of the moon, again lost in their own thoughts. Wanja had vowed not to sleep with another man until she had achieved something, but what she wanted to achieve was vague in her mind. Karega was thinking of Mukami, who had such a hold over him, and how he’d thrown himself into cause after cause after she died.
The two of them talked of the past, Karega claiming that it was important to know the present and Wanja sadly wishing she could ignore it. She began to cry and he was again surprised by how quickly she metamorphosized. She spoke of time as a barmaid, of all the young women like her who had dreams that were crushed. As for herself, she was lonely and traveled and came to Ilmorog. She grew restless there and decided to go to Nairobi and seek out European men, which was new to her. Her wardrobe was not quite right for this, and she ended up mostly with African men the first couple of nights in the city. Finally, she met a Mtalii from Germany one evening, who was looking for a certain girl from Kabete who needed to be brought back to Germany for a trial. He asked her if she knew her, and she said of course not, but he asked if she would accompany him in his search. She agreed, knowing he would pay her a great deal, and they went to his lovely, massive home. She was planning on sleeping with him, but something about the house made her fearful. Telling him she’d left her handbag in his car, she ran away. She was out on the road when she heard a car, but she saw it was an African man so she jumped in. He tried nothing and took her to the bus stop the next day, for which she was much relieved.
2. Abdulla became the hero of the journey, and people were even grateful for his donkey. He spent time with the children, telling them about the plants and showing them tricks with his knife. He even began telling them about his own life. He was a worker at a shoe-factory who made terrible wages, and became conscious of the class struggle; his goal was to redeem the land for those who worked it.
Immersed in his thoughts, he remembered a hero of his, Old Masai, who stood up to European oppressors, sided with the people, defied his father and promises of wealth, and was born again as a fighter in the forest. But then Masai was killed and Abdulla was shot in the leg on the day they planned to capture a garrison in Nakuru Town and free the prisoners in the next building. He remembered how, when Masai was shot, it felt like fate was playing tricks on them.
Abdulla returned to the present moment. Using a small catapult, he was able to kill two animals and the people feasted that night.
Munira laid under the stars, his mind also wrapped up in his thoughts. He wondered about Karega and his background, and he wondered if Wanja would come back to him. He listened to Abdulla as if he had never seen the man before. It was as if everyone could see a bit of themselves in him.
Abdulla spoke to the people about his experience with the Mau Mau—of living in the forest, of people leaving them to join the Home Guard, of keeping up their courage to act for the people. They raided settlers’ places, killing their animals and burning their houses, but crying because it was their own property in a way. There was to be a great meeting of an All Kenya Parliament in the Mount Kenya Forest, where the leader Dedan wanted them all to explore uniting with other groups across Kenya and even across Africa. Abdulla was anxious to see this man who was “but a voice a black power, and whose military genius was recognized even by our enemy” (141). His group journeyed there, and Old Masai told them stories of Old Nairobi as they went. They reached the gathering, which was overflowing with people, but they learned Dedan had been caught, delivered by their own traitorous brothers. There was to be a trial, and rescue plans failed. Finally, a day came when they sensed that Dedan had been put to death. They returned to their places, determining to keep going but feeling as if nothing would be the same.
3. That night was the peak of their journey across the plains. Abdulla had roused something in them all; they felt ready to face the man who represented them, ready to bring about a better life if not for themselves for their children.
Over the next few days, water and food became increasingly scarce. Thankfully, they eventually came to a green belt and a valley and had some relief, but Wanja noticed Joseph was faring poorly. They knew they had to find a farmhouse nearby and seek medicine or aid.
The city was visible now below them, but they still had a ways to go. They came to a farmhouse where Reverend Jerrod Brown, a Christian African, met them. Their expectations of friendly assistance were dashed when two dogs and guards came out. But Rev. Brown was a man Munira recognized from his father’s place, and he hoped that this connection would be useful for them. Munira planned to introduce himself but the Reverend brought out a Bible and asked the few he’d invited in to pray with him. This went on for some time and they waited patiently. The Reverend then intoned that what was wrong with the country was that most people seemed to prefer a life of wandering and begging to a life of hard work and sweat. He told them he offered prayers of the child and they should go in peace now. This was immensely frustrating to them all, and they left bitter and empty-handed.
The procession continued. They passed more farmhouses and then came to one with a plate that read “Raymond Chui.” Karega was flummoxed but Munira happily said he would go inside. The compound was full of cars and he could see many women talking and singing. Children wandered around, laughing and playing. Munira began to lose confidence, knowing he must look and smell terrible. Suddenly a woman opened the door he was standing in front of, and, shocked, screamed and fainted. Munira ran away, slipping into the shadows. He told the people they should continue on; there was no point searching for help here.
Joseph was getting worse, and Wanja’s “unfulfilled motherhood” (151) was causing her pain as she tended to him. At the very next house she, Karega, and Njuguna, one of the elders, decided to go in. Before they could get far they were surrounded by men who shone lights in their faces and bound them. A well-dressed man came out and apologized for how they were treated, and explained there had been many incidents of robbery and violence in the country of late. His and Wanja’s eyes met. Karega explained why they were there. The man said he knew Nderi; he was once a freedom fighter and they were friends, and both of them were life members of the KCO. it seemed like the man was trying to impress them, but Njuguna was frustrated they still had ropes on their wrists and that he, as an old man, was not being treated reverently.
The man said he wanted to see Wanja alone. Trembling, she went with him. It was Kimeria, the man who had gotten her pregnant years back, and he castigated her for running away. She could only think of how she would make him pay someday. He moved toward her and she said if he continued to do so she would scream and wake his wife. He laughed and said she was not there. He wanted Wanja to stay with him—he would put her up, find her a job, make her happy. Weakly but angrily, she told him to leave her alone. When she grabbed a knife, he turned cold. He sneered that she would not leave until he let her; no woman ever treated him as she did. He told her she must open her legs for him and then she could go; it was her choice to make.
She went back to Karega and Njuguna. Nyuguna was called in and told what Kimeria wanted, that Wanja was a former wife of his and had run away and was now refusing him. He brought this back to the two of them. Wanja was silent and Karega was furious, crying out that this was all a lie. Wanja sat and knew she would be responsible for the death of another innocent. She wished she had told Karega the truth before so he could help her now. She sat up and said yes, she was the man’s wife. He could not believe her, and stuttered out his query if she really had to go. She looked at him, almost hating him for his youth and innocence; she was “conscious of the moral gulf of knowledge and experience between them and she steeled herself against crying” (156). Kimeria must die, she thought, which gave her a brief peace of mind. She left the room and Karega groaned, contorted in the corner. There was a silence and a sense of foreboding in the room.
4. The delegation reached the city on Monday. Cries of amazement went up at the sights and smells and people. Their excitement was short-lived when a secretary told them the MP was not there but was expected back any day. They did not know where to sleep. Additionally, Abdulla’s donkey and cart has been apprehended. It seemed like the journey was cursed.
Wanja saved them. She said she knew a lawyer in the city who was special. When she called, he said to come to his office so she and Karega did so. Karega was surprised to see a man in his forties. He was kind and listened to Karega tell of the purpose of the journey and how they needed a place to spend the night. The lawyer told them they could stay on his property in Nairobi West, and Karega left thinking there still were good people in the country.
The villagers settled in and felt a sense of peace. Even Joseph was clearly feeling better, playing with some of the boys there. Karega could not help thinking about Wanja and Kimeria, and then wondered about Abdulla and his past; it seemed like they all had secrets. He went to Wanja and she brushed him away, but he told her he wanted to thank her for all she’d done. She apologized for her outburst and he explained that theirs was a collective endeavor and when one of them was wronged, they were all wronged.
The lawyer came home and talked with them. He brought Munira, Karega, Wanja, and Abdulla into his office where he questioned them seriously about Ilmorog and the MP and the drought and their goals. Then he began to talk of his own life and struggles. He lamented they all seemed like “black zombies, black animated cartoons dancing the master’s dance to the master’s voice” (163), how the leaders of this country decided to “flirt with the molten god, a blind, deaf monster who has plagued us for hundreds of years” (163), and how while they people grow weak as they are sacrificed to the god, he feels guilty for “ministering to the monster” and being “an expert in the laws meant to protect the sanctity of the monster-god and his angels and the whole hierarchy of the priesthood” (163). He remembered also being at Siriana with Chui and Fraudsham, how his education made him inferior as to accept the superiority of others. He went to America, which was also a land where they put black people to death and white people begged in the streets. His voice was level until the end, when he spit out his anger about how the Kenyan people felt that they were civilized and intelligent now, but were only pawns.
The four travelers listened to him raptly. Munira asked Karega what happened to him at Siriana. Surprised, the lawyer asked if Karega was also there. Karega replied yes. The lawyer then spoke of coming back from America and starting his practice and hearing about the strike at Siriana. He felt there was hope in these new young people, and his depression lifted.
Encouraged, Karega spoke of the strike—there were actually two, he clarified. Munira and Chui were expelled in the first, and then there was another,
*
Karega began by talking of Cambridge Fraudsham and the fear he inspired in the students. He was clever, though, and had fought bravely in the wars. There was a mystique around him at the school. He had had a vision to go to Africa and serve God and die there, so he did so, bringing his beloved dog Lizzy. Lizzy died and Fraudsham snapped. The students did not know why he was so distressed about the loss of a mere dog. Fraudsham gathered them all together and gave a lengthy speech about how important pets were, but this was too much for the school, which burst into laughter. Fraudsham was irate and said Africans had no feelings. He made some of the boys help bury Lizzy, but no one would agree. This was the beginning of the rebellion/strike. It was different this time, though. Fraudsham raged but he was diminished. The students met with him and gave their demands—they wanted to study African literature and history, wanted to rid of the prefect system. The newspapers heard what was happening and denounced the students. Dismayed but undeterred, the students called for Chui to come back and lead them.
The ministry came and appealed to the students, who agreed to go back to classes, but things had changed. Fraudsham soon resigned and the students were thrilled, hoping to get an African leader. It was to be Chui, and they waited anxiously to see this hero they had only heard of. He arrived, but it was not as they expected. He was a black Fraudsham, severe and strict. He would inject the prefect system with new blood, enforce obedience as the “royal road to order and stability, the only basis of sound education” (171). There would be no more nonsense about African writers and history.
Time passed and the students saw that the prefect system was stronger than ever and they only heard of Western conquerors and inventors and writers. There was no African dream anymore. The students stuck again and called for an end to Chui and a resurgence of African populism. Chui called the riot squad and the school was closed; Karega was one of the ten not allowed to re-enroll.
The room was gloomy as Karega spoke.
5. Once, Nderi wa Riera was truly a man of the people; now, he was only found in social clubs and in the newspapers. He had a lucrative connection with the tourist industry. He supported outside capital and investment for growth, but also remained an advocate of African culture and authenticity. His Parliamentary peers envied him since Ilmorog was so remote and thus he was rarely ever bothered by his constituents’ complaints.
He returned from his business trip to Mombasa and met his friends at a bar. Kimeria came and told him of the people from Ilmorog. He felt uneasy and wondered how they’d managed to organize themselves.
The delegation came to him the next day. He marveled at how dirty and haggard they looked, but he showed no surprise on his face. He was polite to them and apologized for being so busy. He had the four delegates introduce themselves, complimenting Munira on the importance of the teaching profession. He was careful with Karega, though, hearing the passion in the man’s voice. As they talked, and Karega pushed back at some of his conclusions, he became utterly convinced that these people were sent here to smear his good name; they must have been visited by his enemies so as to unsettle them.
He listened as Njuguna told him of the drought. He acted sympathetic, but he still felt like this was a plot. They told him others were waiting for him, so he decided to go and see them. The sight of the crowd, which included the villagers from Ilmorog as well as other city loafers, roused him. There were ululations and cries of “Uhuru,” and as Nderi welcomed them, he saw how he could confound his enemies. He announced they should go home and raise some money and send a delegation to Gatandu to celebrate their culture and traditions. There were some cheers but some expressions of confusion. Some called out that they were starving. Karega was disgusted and thought the man was mad. Suddenly someone threw a stone and it hit Nderi. He rushed away, undignified, wondering how it had gone wrong.
Karega was certain the mission had failed. A police car and riot squad came, but they only saw a sad and tired group of people. They still brought Karega, Munira, and Abdulla to the station for questioning.
6. The three men were detained and brought before a court, where they pled not guilty to disturbing the peace. The lawyer saved them; he argued eloquently for them, describing the conditions of Ilmorog and lambasted the “negligence of those entrusted with the task of representing the people” (184). The magistrate agreed and let them go, calling them Good Samaritans. The newspapers took up their cause and published their story, which was what saved them. Donations poured in from all over, a company agreed to transport them home, Reverend Jerrod and other church leaders decided to see how they could help.
The villagers returned home after the month, and people kept coming and coming to try and help them.
*
Nderi wa Riera was the only unhappy one in this whole tale and was still convinced this was the work of his enemies. He had influential business connections, which were more important than even the ministers’ connections, and thus worked to carry out his plan. He decided to make the KCO “the most feared instrument of selective but coercive terror in the land” (186). It was smart, he thought, to make “culture the basis of ethnic unity” (186), to try and subdue peasant unrest. He brought together other important figures such as landlords and company men, and even though there was some resistance at first, a couple more assassinations of notable people convinced them it was the right thing to do. Nderi told them that Africa must have its own Rockefellers and Fords and Mitsubishis; the KCO would “serve the interests of the wealthy locals and their foreign partners to create similar economic gains!” (186).
He was still disconcerted by thoughts of the men who’d come before him, deciding that they were front men. Karega was a problem, he knew, but the real problem was the lawyer. He was the brain behind it all, the Enemy, the Enemy of the KCO and Progress.
Nderi announced that he would explore opening up Ilmorog for tourism and getting loans for the people who lived there—not outsiders—and would change everything.
Analysis
There is something noticeably grander, more timeless, and allegorical about Part Two of the novel. The miles-long journey the entire village takes is told like an ancient diaspora or migration story; it has echoes of a quest, of biblical stories of settlement, struggle, and communal suffering. There are moments of joy and togetherness mingled with sickness, despair, uncertainty, and deprivation. Some characters show their mettle in new ways, while others diminish as they realize they are not cut out for such epic gestures.
One unique aspect of this second part of the novel is that there is not a single reference to the present-day police inquiry about the murders. Some of the things that happen cannot be in Munira’s report, such as the MP’s own thoughts. As Christina Pagnoulle suggests, the journey “exists on its own and is soon to become legend, part of the running mythical history of the Ilmorog community as it is remembered and sung by the elders.”
The journey from Ilmorog to Nairobi is what begins the community’s understanding of their indigenous roots and why those roots are important in the present day. Pagnoulle says it “marks the beginning of a complete disruption in the ‘old dispensation’ and contains the elements of a possible rebirth,” while Saaka Podis explains, “the sense of common purpose, the sharing of hardships of travel, and the exposure to the indignities of their reception in Nairobi create even stronger bonds of solidarity. The specific link to the past is created by the group's connection with the tradition of Ndemi, founder of Ilmorog, a connection that is reinforced by the role of Nyakinyua.”
Nyakinyua was the figure who successfully convinced the group to go together, and it is her courage that helps keep them going when times grow dire. She is also important in that she represents the power of orality, the spoken word. The stories she tells awaken and inspire her listeners; Karega in particular is awed by them.
Not only Nyakinyua is revealed to be a cornerstone of the community, and not only Ndemi and the older stories are revealed to be the ones that matter: Abdulla also becomes a hero on the journey, sharing his stories of the Mau Mau rebellion. The narrator says that “Abdulla’s story had made them aware of a new relationship to the grounded on which they trod…everything in the plains, had been hallowed by the feet of those who had fought and died so Kenya might be free: wasn’t there something, a spirit of those people in them too?” (143.) Abdulla also utilized the power of the spoken word, telling the children myths and animal fables.
Overall, as Gail Fincham suggests, this second section of the novel “records a poignant, short-lived achievement: a community creating through the spoken words of a shared vision a new knowledge and a new experience. Only the narrator, the literate orchestrator of a written record, stands outside the optimism of the characters' project. 'Toward Bethlehem' seems to invite the reader/ listener to participate in an advent celebration, but the next section, 'To Be Born', undercuts any such naivete.” We will discuss the journey's fruits, however rotten, in the next two analyses.
