Reflections on the need for decolonisation: A glimpse into the Kenyan education system

An introduction

When positioning oneself in the complex debate on decolonisation, it is vital to acknowledge to what extent the control of knowledge generation and cultivation has remained a tool that maintains asymmetrical global power structures. In the study of the politics of knowledge, the monopoly that the Western world holds over determining what constitutes knowledge in the first place, who is capable of producing knowledge and who is not, is alive and well. Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2018) elaborates on the concept of the epistemic line, which is defined as the imperial line of reasoning that reduces some human beings to a subhuman category of possessing no knowledge, determining them as a-historical “others” that have been relegated to a sphere of tabula rasa, of mere marginal nothingness (3). This clear cut line is the Western disqualification of peoples outside of the West from holding any epistemic and ontological virtue, disabling the right and ability to think, theorise and perceive the world unencumbered by Eurocentrism (Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2018, 3). The perpetuation of this epistemic line maintains a neat geopolitical division of the world, in which the West is equated with reason and sense, and the Rest is deemed irrational and sense-less.
The recognition of the existence of knowledges (plural) outside of the Western sphere constitutes an entry point into decolonial thinking and the calling to move the centre from its assumed location in the West to a multiplicity of spheres in all the cultures of the world (wa Thiong’o 1993, 4). While there exists a need to reflect on processes of decolonisation on a global scale, zooming in on very contextual power struggles to reclaim and reinstate other knowledge systems, taking place in very specific localities, is highly insightful. First of all, the investigation of specific acts of decoloniality within a specific setting showcases how deeply Eurocentrism has penetrated the local organisation of knowledge around the world. Furthermore, this approach shifts the attention towards the agency that actors hold when grappling with the long standing indoctrination of colonial thought. It helps to crystallise and de-abstractify the real life implications resulting from the Western hegemony of knowledge in daily life.

The following blog post zooms in on the organisation of knowledge production and consumption in and around the Kenyan education system today, drawing both on the Kenyan and Gĩkũyũ scholar Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o and a series of interviews -in parts transcribed and recorded- conducted with a Kenyan individual who was asked to reflect on their experiences within the Kenyan school system.

Discussions with Najma

Najma is sitting on a balcony in Mombasa, a straightforward list of four points and pen in hand. I had asked her what came to mind when reflecting back on her experiences as a student within the Kenyan school system, in terms of how the reproduction of knowledge is structured. Her answers are clear and straight to the point, she informs me of both tangible and intangible aspects that shaped her daily life at school and indicate the continuous existence of colonial structures in place.

 

First, I must mention publishers.

When we look into publishers in this context, we are looking into who publishes school books for Kenyan students and teachers. And thus we investigate who participates in the decision making of what is printed in school books- knowledge for Kenyan teachers to teach and knowledge for Kenyan youth to absorb. The answer to the question of “who” is a simple one- because all her school books were published by one publishing house, namely Macmillan Publishers- a British publishing house based in London.

Let us continue with Najma’s list.

 

Every subject is taught in English, except the Kiswahili classes. The ex-colonial language is alive and kicking.

In his work, the Gikuyu and Kenyan author Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1986) critically reflects on language use in both the classroom setting and in literature. He speaks of the psychological violence of the classroom that came with the advent of colonial education, stating “the language of my education was no longer the language of my culture.” To him, the choice of language marks a cornerstone for people’s definition of self in relation to the natural and social environment and the rejection of a colonial language thus marks both an act of decolonising the mind and a subjective reclamation of the African self and collective vis-a-vis the deeply entrenched experiences of alienation caused by the bastardisation of African cultures in the colonial context (wa Thiong’o 1986, 110). According to wa Thiong’o, the continuous domination of the English language within Kenyan education constitutes a domination of the mental universe of peoples. By making the coloniser’s language the language of education, a distortion of African consciousness takes place, as reality is obscured and a certain perception of reality is forced.
He points towards this schizophrenic splitting of language and culture also in the literary sphere. He begins by writing about his attendance at the 1962 Conference of African Writers of English Expression, placing the exclusion of works of literature written in African languages into the historical trajectory of colonisation, characterising it as a psychologically violent act within the sphere of language as going hand in hand with the physical violence of the colonial experience. To him, this exclusion of essential literary works that emerged from the African continent, written for example in Swahili, Yoruba and Zulu, from a meeting in which the categorisation of African literature was discussed, constitutes a phenomenon of anomalies (111). Not only did he perceive this exclusionary effect on works written in African vernacular languages to be bizarre, but he was further puzzled by the fact that the attempts made to define African Literature, were marked by an abstract focus on subject matter, racial origins and geographical habitation of the author, while the primary issue at hand-namely the domination of African languages and cultures by those of colonial Europe- was not addressed. He points towards the fatalistic logic of focusing on how to best make foreign languages carry the weight of African experiences (wa Thiong’o 1986, 112). His reflections culminate in the demand for a shift towards enriching African languages within the literary space- bridging the disconnect between African writers, not writing in the vernacular, and the people, for whom the vernacular constitutes a primary carrier of meaning embedded in the daily act of living.

Najma adds:

Let me talk about storytelling. When raising me, my Dad tried to make sure that he would pass on the stories that he was told every day growing up. But this common form of passing on knowledge via means of storytelling, which transcends across different cultures in Kenya, finds no place of expression in the Kenyan education system. There are no lessons on culture that expand on the telling of traditional stories and knowledges. We need cultural lessons.

The relegation of non-Eurocentric means of knowledge transmission that encompass sets of knowledges to the home setting is evident. However, Najma’s next point highlights how attempts to teach culture and other knowledge forms outside of the school setting are further pushed to the margins due to the imposition of time constraints.

I went to school six days a week, with long hours spent in the classroom every day. Most of my time was consumed by class hours. This posed an obstacle to attending the madrassa school to learn about my own religion. My parents wanted me to go to madrassa to receive other forms of knowledge rooted in my religion, but skipping classes on Saturdays often meant being failed by teachers or receiving some kind of punishment at school.

Najma expands on this, explaining that Kenyan parents are confronted with the struggle of wanting to pass on specific sets of knowledges to their children, such as religious education and through means of oral storytelling, but making time for this comes with the risk of the child being failed at school, affecting their future opportunities.

The following recorded discussion with Najma highlights this struggle and poses ideas for potential reforms to the Kenyan school system in the pursuit of decolonisation:

Bibliography

• Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Sabelo J. Epistemic freedom in Africa: Deprovincialization and decolonization. Routledge, 2018.
• Wa Thiong’o, Ngugi. “Decolonising the mind.” Diogenes 46, no. 184 (1998): 101-104.
• One Vibe TV. (2019, April 25). Ngugi Wa Thiongo – Why Africans hate their own languages | Diaspora Connect: Ep. 23 (Video). YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnF6XdOh5HY&t=268s