By Dennis Weche 
Courtesy photo of students performing
There was a time when the school stage was sacred, a place where students dared to dream aloud, to question, to protest, and to imagine better worlds. It was a miniature republic of ideas, where costumes and characters were stitched together not just with thread but with conviction. Drama festivals in Kenya were not just competitions. They were cultural rituals where young people learned to think, speak, and listen through story.
But today, that space is slowly being suffocated.
A creeping culture of commercial scripts, often penned by outsiders with little connection to the learners or their lived realities, is dulling the edge of school theatre. What was once raw and real is now rehearsed and rented. Students have been reduced to performers of someone else’s agenda, their voices drowned in narratives they did not choose.
The controversy surrounding Butere Girls High School’s 2025 performance of Echoes of War, scripted by former Kakamega Senator Cleophas Malala, is only the latest alarm bell. The play, set in a fictional autocracy and following a young innovator’s defiance of a corrupt regime, was political, provocative, and powerfully performed. Yet despite its artistic merit and success at regional levels, it was silenced by the authorities. The students were banned from performing at the National Drama Festivals. No explanation. No appeal. Just exclusion.
This is not the first time Malala has been at the center of such a controversy. In 2013, his play Shackles of Doom, which explored ethnic marginalisation and economic disparity, was also banned before a court reinstated it. But whether these plays deserved to be banned is a secondary concern. The deeper issue is why schools are outsourcing student expression to politically affiliated or commercially motivated playwrights in the first place.
Let it be said plainly: commercial playwrights are crippling the creative spirit of students.
Kenyan schools, once fertile ground for original student-devised performances, have increasingly turned into stages for prepackaged narratives. These scripts, often heavy handed, preachy or laced with controversy, overshadow what should be the main goal of school theatre to empower learners to craft and share their own stories.
Theatre should not be reduced to a transactional product, bought, branded and imposed. It is, at its core, an act of creation and confrontation. In African literary history, plays such as Wole Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman and Ama Ata Aidoo’s Anowa challenged audiences because they came from a place of deep cultural and political insight. They emerged from within communities, not from commercial commission.
Closer to home, plays like Francis Imbuga’s Betrayal in the City and Kithaka wa Mberia’s Kifo Kisimani have shaped generations of Kenyan learners. Kifo Kisimani, in particular, is a chilling reflection on tyranny, decay and the cost of silence in a corrupt regime. Its enduring relevance lies in its literary depth and resonance, not in provocation for its own sake. These works were subjected to rigorous academic scrutiny before being introduced to schools. They were not parachuted onto school stages by individuals seeking attention or influence.
Under the Competency Based Curriculum (CBC), creativity and innovation are meant to be the hallmarks of learning. But how can learners become creators when they are being spoon fed scripts written by strangers? Authentic drama should begin in brainstorming circles, late night dorm conversations, classroom improvisations, guided not by outsiders, but by teachers who understand the learners’ realities, emotions and educational context.
Let the Kenya National Drama and Film Festival set the themes, yes. Let it provide a framework, certainly. But let the scriptwriting begin in the hearts and minds of the students. Let it be crafted under the mentorship of trained teachers, not by politicians or playwrights for hire who have no stake in the students’ growth.
To those with a love for theatre and storytelling, let your plays go through the proper publishing process. Let them be subjected to critique, let them be vetted and, if found suitable, let them be studied in classrooms alongside the greats. Follow the path of Soyinka, Aidoo and Mberia, write with purpose and allow your work to live on in literature, not in borrowed student voices on a borrowed stage.
Drama in schools is not about impressing adjudicators. It is about expressing identity.
Let students write. Let teachers mentor. Let playwrights publish. And let the stage be free again.
Call to Action
The time has come for stakeholders in education, culture and the arts to take a firm stand. The Ministry of Education must issue clear guidelines that discourage the infiltration of commercial scripts into school festivals. Teachers should be empowered, trained and resourced to mentor students in creating original dramatic works. Festival organisers must insist on authenticity and relevance, not sensationalism.
Parents, sponsors and school boards must start asking the most important question: Whose voice is being heard on stage? If it is not the students’, something has gone terribly wrong.
Let us return the stage to the students where it belongs. Their stories are powerful. Their perspectives are fresh. Their imagination is vast. And their voices, once trusted and nurtured, will not only entertain, they will transform society.
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