Magayu, the humorous champion of the media

Friends and colleagues from the University of Nairobi bid their final farewell to Mr Magayu Kiarie Magayu at his ‘Texas Ranch’ home in Kaharati, Murang’a County, on January 27.

Mr Magayu died on January 19, in India, where he had flown for treatment after battling diabetes, hypertension and heart complications.

Though he is gone, he has left a deep mark in the professionalization of the media, having taught the who-is-who of Kenyan journalism. He was a

brilliant lecturer and beloved teacher of a wide array of media courses, particularly those with a strong practical component such as news gathering,

writing and editing.

When I joined the University of Nairobi’s School of Journalism, Magayu’s trademark beard had gone. His stereotypical professorial gait had been

replaced with a certain grandfatherly mien. He welcomed me jocularly at the school, telling me that I looked like an American televangelist, which wasn’t quite off the mark as I had just returned from the US.

I was appointed editor of a souvenir issue of The Anvil, the school’s publication, and commissioned him to write a piece on university education.

I got a smoking article that lamented what he termed as the “Worldbankanisation” of higher education. In it, he railed against the liberalisation of university education, which had resulted in the introduction of the ‘parallel’ or Module II programmes taught in the evening, and which opened the door to hordes of students whom he regarded as being insufficiently qualified.

He wrote: “Classes are full, so full that they resemble public barazas. This resemblance is in everything; from noise to demographics. Young people

straight from high school sit next to people older than the lecturers. The lecturer is holding a microphone. Booming speakers relay his

pronouncements to the credulous students. The lecturer assesses the numbers. There are probably 200 students in that hall, probably more. Nobody

knows for sure. A perfunctory roll call is done. But with so many students, who can ever be sure that the student who answers ‘present’ is actually

the owner of the name that was called out? The lecturer probably knows about three per cent of the students in class; two per cent who have requested meetings, two per cent who sit at the front of the class, and one per cent that is really famous, or infamous, for all kinds of reasons.”

'SECOND LIBERATION'

This critique was vintage Magayu Magayu.  Away from class, he was an important figure in the fight for the “second liberation,” when Kenyans were

pushing for political liberalisation in the 1990s. With financial help from politicians associated with the Democratic Party (DP), he founded The Star in

1997, whose critical and no-holds barred journalism got him arrested by the Moi regime. He was among the founders of the Writers Association of

Kenya (WAK), the Association of Free and Independent Press (AFIP) and the Free Press Commission (FPC), which fought for press freedom during the Moi era.

In 1995, he had published a short story titled "Do you know Anybody?" in a collection called The Winner and Other Stories published by Kenya Literature Bureau, which was taught in high schools and was critical of the pervasive culture of corruption and favouritism. He was also author of other lesser-known works.

Magayu was a humorous man, whom we at the SOJ called “Elder,” a moniker he shared with Prof Polycarp Omollo Ochillo. Whenever a Jonny

-come-lately would arrive at the university oozing great, transformative ideas, the two elders knew before anyone else that the newcomer was not

going anywhere since they themselves had been there and done that. These veterans knew that an African university is a vast graveyard of good

ideas, good intentions and ambition, a place where bright fellows come to waste away. Behind the façade of green lawns and hallowed hallways is a

playground where cartels of inequities trade in the wares of tribalism, nepotism, parochialism and incompetence using the currencies of red tape and

inertia. 

At the school, Magayu Magayu occupied a revered position as a peacemaker. No institution is ever free of politics. Magayu Magayu tried his best to calm things down. 

Both he and Ochillo used to regale us with stories of their encounter with Dr Joseph Mbindyo, a former director of the school, who also passed on

recently. They were more escapades than encounters, for they involved zooming around the city at breakneck speeds at night in a car that Dr Mbindyo had returned with after his PhD studies at Stanford in the early 1980s. The Nissan Bluebird was nicknamed the “Rhino”, for it used to charge into any vehicle yet its highly educated cargo would always survive to tell the tale. 

What most people didn’t know was that Magayu’s humour belied a certain longstanding frustration with the university administration. Many times, he

had spoken out against what he saw as “shenanigans” without achieving anything. Indeed, he used to tell us about his confrontations with various vice-chancellors over the years since the 1980s.

As he grew older, his strategy of dealing with what was going on was adopting a studious detachment from the institution. It followed a hiatus during

which he became a practising performer of Kikuyu pop music, known as “one-man guitar,” played with a single box guitar. 

As he grew older, he retreated to his ‘Texas Ranch’ farm in Kaharati, about 80km from Nairobi. This is where he would drive to after teaching his

night classes. Here, he embarked on the other, often under-appreciated work of a professor — philanthropy, public intellectualism and praxis.

COMMUNITY LEADERSHIP

He took to community leadership, becoming chairman of Wamahiga Secondary School for 14 years and transforming the school from one stream to

three with over 400 students. The current crop was among those who performed a dirge at his funeral. He started charity work, paying school fees

for many poor high school children. He also joined the local Deliverance Church and became a preacher.

On the day of his funeral, the local government official had ordered that the road leading to his farm be graded, benefiting his community one last time, while policemen provided security. It was a funeral with so much humour and laughter, one could have taken it for a wedding.

Magayu will be remembered as a great teacher, social critic, cultural icon, writer and gallant crusader for press and political freedoms as well as institutional autonomy.

He is survived by his widow, Esther, whom he met while he was an undergraduate at the University of Nairobi, a son and three daughters. 

Muiru Ngugi teaches at the School of Journalism and Mass Communication, University of Nairobi.