Karanja Character Analysis

At Githima, people believed that a complaint from [Karanja] was enough to make a man lose his job. Karanja knew their fears. Often when men came into his office, he would suddenly cast them a cold eye, drop hints, or simply growl at them; in this way, he increased their fears and insecurity. But he also feared the men and alternated this fierce prose with servile friendliness.

“I would hate to see a train run over my mother or father, or brothers. Oh, what would I do?” [Mumbi] quickly exclaimed.

“Women are cowards.” Karanja said half in joke.

“Would you like a train to run over you?” Mumbi retorted angrily. Karanja felt the anger and did not answer.

In Kenya we want deaths which will change things, that is to say, we want true sacrifice. But first we have to be ready to carry the cross. I die for you, you die for me, we become a sacrifice for one another. So I can say that you, Karanja, are Christ. Everybody who takes the Oath of Unity to change things in Kenya is a Christ.

“As for carrying a gun for the whiteman, well, a time will come when you too will know that every man in the world is alone, and fights alone, to live.”

Then, somehow, [Karanja] had not felt guilty. When he shot [Freedom Fighters], they seemed less like human beings and more like animals. At first this had merely thrilled Karanja and made him feel a new man, a part of an invisible might whose symbol was the whiteman. Later, this consciousness of power, this ability to dispose of human life by merely pulling a trigger, so obsessed him that it became a need. Now, that power had gone.

Courage had failed [Gikonyo], he had confessed the oath in spite of his vows to the contrary. What difference was there between him and Karanja or Mugo who had openly betrayed people and worked with the whiteman to save themselves? Mugo had the courage to face his guilt and lose everything. Gikonyo shuddered at the thought of losing everything.

At Githima, people believed that a complaint from [Karanja] was enough to make a man lose his job. Karanja knew their fears. Often when men came into his office, he would suddenly cast them a cold eye, drop hints, or simply growl at them; in this way, he increased their fears and insecurity. But he also feared the men and alternated this fierce prose with servile friendliness.

“I would hate to see a train run over my mother or father, or brothers. Oh, what would I do?” [Mumbi] quickly exclaimed.

“Women are cowards.” Karanja said half in joke.

“Would you like a train to run over you?” Mumbi retorted angrily. Karanja felt the anger and did not answer.

In Kenya we want deaths which will change things, that is to say, we want true sacrifice. But first we have to be ready to carry the cross. I die for you, you die for me, we become a sacrifice for one another. So I can say that you, Karanja, are Christ. Everybody who takes the Oath of Unity to change things in Kenya is a Christ.

“As for carrying a gun for the whiteman, well, a time will come when you too will know that every man in the world is alone, and fights alone, to live.”

Then, somehow, [Karanja] had not felt guilty. When he shot [Freedom Fighters], they seemed less like human beings and more like animals. At first this had merely thrilled Karanja and made him feel a new man, a part of an invisible might whose symbol was the whiteman. Later, this consciousness of power, this ability to dispose of human life by merely pulling a trigger, so obsessed him that it became a need. Now, that power had gone.

Courage had failed [Gikonyo], he had confessed the oath in spite of his vows to the contrary. What difference was there between him and Karanja or Mugo who had openly betrayed people and worked with the whiteman to save themselves? Mugo had the courage to face his guilt and lose everything. Gikonyo shuddered at the thought of losing everything.