Round the Decay of That Colossal Wreck: An Interview with Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o

George Salis: Can you talk about your love of Gĩkũyũ, your native language? You started writing your fiction in English so do you still have a soft spot for English despite its connection to colonialism?

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Unmeasured Ages

Between two dumpsters in his little cell, he crouched. Shrugged and coughed. The hiatus of night wore off. Unnuzzled into ache. More swarf belched up, nettled in his gorge. He’d been enwombed into this blood-drunk blightedness. Day again—he felt things begin to swivel down a drainhole. Cloudy brainlumps stalled and massed above him. Below, a pigeon hobbled. A backfire sponked. The pigeon flitted away. Soot-motes glinted down a crevice. Nitted feathers traced the eye’s deception, dove-gray to bottlegreen, as it flew beyond the circle of his sight.

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