‘Ojwang’: The unlikely hero of Kenya’s evolving comedy

Benson Wanjau aka Mzee Ojwang’ (right) with Cabinet Secretaries Fred Matiang’i for ICT and Hassan Wario for Culture. PHOTO | FILE

What you need to know:

  • For more than three decades Benson Wanjau Karira, better known by his acting name Mzee Ojwang’ Hatari, was an icon of Kenyan television comedy.

For more than three decades Benson Wanjau Karira, better known by his acting name Mzee Ojwang’ Hatari, was an icon of Kenyan television comedy.

Wanjau first appeared in Darubini, a programme aired by then national broadcaster Voice of Kenya, in 1980, having worked previously as a technician at Nairobi’s Mater Hospital. He was also at one time an employee of White Rose Drycleaners.

The veteran actor, who was 78 years old at the time of his death on July 12, saw his acting career grow by leaps and bounds even after the programme was discontinued in 1985 and he joined the cast of Vitimbi, a new comedy show also aired by VoK.

Acting as the often irate and unreasonably fastidious husband of Mama Kayai, played by Mary Khavere, Wanjau’s role also presented him as the proprietor of a popular eatery on the show.

Within no time, the duo were the darlings of television viewers in Kenya and beyond. Specifically, Wanjau’s role was made even more dramatic as he had an expressly critical persona. Further, he always donned thick glasses that gave him a rather stern look.

To further accentuate his impatience and quick tempered character, he more often than not brandished a walking stick, that he appeared perpetually ready to use against anybody who dared cross him, including the genial Mama Kayai.

It was, however, a totally different factor that gave Wanjau his allure: the fact that he was a Kikuyu born in Nyeri who very competently played a Luo character. So uncanny was he in the role, that, in both appearance and manner of speech, he came across as a typical Luo.

So much so, that many viewers mistook him for a Luo in real life, even though he confessed to never have spoken Dholuo, his typical Luo pronunciation of Kiswahili words notwithstanding.

In a country dogged by ethnicity, the late Wanjau was the epitome of how simple understanding and tolerance of other people was not that hard. His perfect Dholuo accent was probably the one single factor that made his popularity so universal.

Indeed, he and his stage wife Mama Kayai, were so convincing as a married couple that many admirers sought out Mama Kayai to express their condolences following Wanjau’s death. It took his sister, Sally Wanjiru Kimani’s explanation that he actually had a “real” wife, Augusta Wanjiru, to set the record straight.

However great their appeal, however, Wanjau and Khavere belong to the category of neglected Kenyan artistes whose popularity grew in adverse proportion to their economic fortunes.

Treated despicably by their employers — in the case of the Darubini and Vitimbi teams, the government of Kenya through the national broadcaster — they were paid practically peanuts and lived in penury in some of Nairobi’s most marginalised neighbourhoods.

Be that as it may, the fact that they were often invited to public and private events made them leading exponents of what is now widely referred to as the creative economy, whose potential is huge, as recognised in Unesco’s and Unctad’s Creative Economy Reports of 2008, 2010 and 2013.

The economic phenomenon was recently discussed by Kenyan academic and writer, Dr Bitange Ndemo. Citing John Howkins, in his book The Creative Economy: How People Make Money From Ideas, Ndemo explained that the creative economy comprises advertising, architecture, art, crafts, design, fashion, film, music, performing arts, publishing, research & development, software, toys and games, TV and radio, and even video games. 

The writer went on to argue that, despite the fact that the power of African creative-economy innovations continues to rock the world, many Africans remain unaware of its value and how to exploit it. He also decried the widespread failure to leverage its potential to create wealth and employment.

Several of Africa’s great artistes have died poor, he argued, “unlike their counterparts in other countries that have exploited this industry to not only create wealth, but also to unite their citizens.” 

During the last years of his life, Wanjau was dogged by ill health and a failing eyesight that led to partial blindness. He also reportedly suffered from diabetes that affected his mobility and kept him from acting for the better part of his last years.

Besides being a TV comedian, he and his troupe graced national public celebrations and entertained the president and the public and were much loved for their slapstick comedy on everyday life situations.

Not surprisingly, his death, soon after being admitted to the Kenyatta National Hospital in Nairobi, saw an outpouring of messages of condolences to his family and the acting fraternity from Kenyans of all walks of life.

Former vice president Musalia Mudavadi said, “For many years, Wanjau made our lives tolerable through his rib-cracking renditions that mirrored the ordinary lives of many Kenyans,” describing the late actor as “an entertainment, icon and mentor.”

Radio presenter Fred Obachi Machoka, one of Wanjau’s long-time friends, said: “Mzee Ojwang’ was a simple man who made an important contribution to our society.”

Machakos Governor Alfred Mutua, who is known for his involvement in several television production, tweeted: “Rest well, my friend Mzee Ojwang.’ I treasure your cameo appearance in Cobra Squad and the many moments we had. Keep the heavens laughing.”

President Uhuru Kenyatta eulogised Wanjau as a person who was devoted to family comedy in Kenya and as “an icon who entertained Kenya for decades with unparalleled dexterity.

“National holidays will suffer the loss of a long standing figure of unstinting reliability in delivery,” he said in a statement.

Pioneers of entertainment

Contrary to popular perception, Wanjau and his colleagues were not the pioneers of Kenyan comedy, but followed a tradition of popular comic acts begun years earlier.

The accolade belongs to people like Kipanga Athumani, who was born in Kajiado in 1930. A former bus driver with a lean figure and a flashing smile, he reportedly became a household name with the setting up of the African Broadcasting Service (ABS) in the politically turbulent early 1950s.

During Kenya’s Emergency, he was recruited by the colonial authorities with the express objective of bringing laughter to the inmates at various detention camps. The idea was to try to entertain the detainees with a view to eventually reducing their resistance to the colonial government.

According to archive records, it was Peter Colmore, a former British Army officer, who in 1954 took over as the ABS director of programmes, who was responsible for the “discovery” and promotion of a growing selection of African artistes.

After he recruited the first African broadcasters, the legendary Stephen Kikumu and Simeon Ndesanjo, in the same year he also set up an entertainment unit that comprised musicians like Fundi Konde and comedians like Kipanga. The latter often shared the limelight with Omari Suleiman (Mzee Pembe), another renowned comedian.

The combined talents of the gifted duo were such that, even in that era of unabashed racial segregation, Kipanga and Omari were immensely popular with African and European audiences.