There is no difference between old and modern stories. Stories are stories. All stories are old. All stories are new. All stories belong to tomorrow.… - Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o

But, somehow, in time, I began to connect a few threads, and things became clearer as if I was emerging from a mist. I learned that our land was not quite our land; that our compound was part of a property owned by an African landlord, Lord Reverend Stanley Kahahu, or Bwana Stanley, as we called him; that we were now the ahoi, tenants at will. How did we come to be ahoi on our own land? Had we lost our traditional land to Europeans? The mist had not cleared entirely.

It's terrible when the old have to bury the young. But it is more terrible when neither the old nor the young are there to bury each other.

What is the difference between a politician who says Africa cannot do without imperialism and the writer who says Africa cannot do without European languages?