Last Sunday Ali Mazrui, the greatest scholar Kenya has produced, was buried in Mombasa. He died in the US, which became his home after he was effectively exiled from Kenya by the government in the early seventies.

He was born in Mombasa and loved it dearly, and had expressed his wish to be buried there. So hundreds of Kenyans gathered to say farewell to him and to celebrate his achievements and recognise his love of and dedication to Africa. I was among those who were invited by the Mazrui family to say a few words of our friendship, which now wish to share with other Kenyans.

I first met Ali in October 1961 when we both enrolled for our graduate studies at the prestigious Nuffield College at Oxford. We lived in the College, in adjoining rooms, ate most meals together, talked a great deal about our country, then on the verge of independence—and our hopes for it.

Even as a graduate student, he published some interesting and provocative articles; I remember one such article published in the op-ed page of the then highly regarded London Times which prompted much discussion and controversy—a sign of times to come.

Our careers were not dissimilar. He got a lectureship at Makerere, I at the newly established college at Dar es Salaam, about the same time. The two colleges were part of the University of East Africa.

He was, I am told, the first East African professor at Makerere, and I believe I was the first East African professor at Dar. We had several opportunities to meet at University occasions, which included exchange of teachers and gathering at academic conferences.

Annual social science conferences were exciting and provocative, especially as ideological differences emerged—one symbolised by Nyerere’s Ujamma policies and the other by Kenya’s incipient capitalism (soon to be perceived as ethno-capitalism). These were heady days, especially for young scholars like myself, as I tried to make sense of post-independence developments.

The University College of Nairobi wanted Ali to come to Nairobi as the University of East Africa was collapsing, the result of the breakup of the East African Community.

I was under considerable pressure from the Principal and Registrar of the Nairobi College to return to Nairobi to set up its Law School (I was by then the Dean at Dar). We were both happy where we were but also anxious to return home to contribute to the development of higher education.

I did indeed accept the Nairobi offer, retired from Dar, and was told a few weeks before returning to Nairobi that my contract was cancelled (I learnt on pressure from a senior minister).

Ali too was not acceptable to some powerful political groups. Thus began our exiles for many years, he in the US, I in Europe and Hong Kong. I did return home when quite unexpectedly Moi called me from exile to chair the constitution making process, but Ali continued to teach in the US—he by now a world figure, greatly admired and revered.

We did see each other occasionally after that. I nominated him for the annual Distinguished Scholar Lecture at Hong Kong University. Until then it seemed that only Nobel Prize winners were invited.

Ali did not seem to qualify, until the Committee saw his cv and read some of his books, concluding that if there were a Nobel Prize for social sciences, Ali would have won it long time ago. As expected, Ali’s brief sojourn in Hong Kong was a huge success.

When, some years later, the CKRC’s work started, I proposed that we invite two leading Kenyan thinkers to tell us what the orientation of the new constitution—we asked Bethwell Ogot, the great historian, and Ali Mzrui.

Speaking to a packed audience in the KICC, Ali reminded us that Kenya’s multi-religious and multiethnic character, and urged us to device a constitution which recognised this diversity but at the same time promoting a strong and united Kenya nation—a people with a common identity. That is what we did.

Ali’s achievement as a scholar was remarkable; he was a giant in his field. The range of his interests was wide; his knowledge of theory and practice was remarkable; and his ability to weave insights from many disciplines into new perspectives was unusual.

He was a scholar in the finest traditions of great scholars: devoted completely to his vocation; searching analysis of broad relationships between religions, ideologies, and state systems.

Early on in his work, before the subject became popular, he drew attention to the impact of globalisation on developing countries and their relationship with the more economically advanced west. Starting as a liberal, he saw the discrimination against and suffering of the people in the US and other places, and became a champion of social justice.

Ali never lost sight of the relevance of scholarship to policy, with forays into public debates. He was welcomed by numerous heads of state who sought his advice—though he did not have to be asked, as Obote, Idi Amin and Mugabe learnt to their cost!

He considered that as a scholar it was his duty to share his perceptions and prescriptions with the public. He reached out to many different audiences, and made very effective use of new communications technology—his famous, captivating TV programme on Africa’s Triple Heritage is an outstanding example.

But he showed little aptitude for public office; I am sure he would have greatly missed university environment—books, discourses, differences, but no fistfights!

And we would have been the poorer. His rich and abundant scholarship is a remarkable legacy to us; it will be read and closely analysed for generations to come.

* Prof Yash Pal Ghai is a director of the Katiba Institute in Kenya.

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