Where are our national languages now? Where are the books written in the alphabets of our national languages? Where is our own literature now? Where is the wisdom and knowledge of our fathers now? Where is the philosophy of our fathers now? The centres of wisdom that used to guard the entrance to our national homestead have been demolished, the fire of wisdom has been allowed to die; the seats around the fireside have been thrown to a rubbish heap, the guard posts have been destroyed; and the youth of the nation has hung up its shields and spears. It is a tragedy that there is nowhere we can go to learn the history of our country. A child without parents to counsel him-what is to prevent him from mistaking foreign shit for a delicious national dish?
Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong’o, “Devil on the Cross”, 1982
