In his newly released memoir, City Boy: Chronicles of a Nairobi Life, renowned Kenyan psychiatrist Dr Frank Njenga offers a reflective and often nostalgic portrait of life, love, and legacy in postcolonial Kenya.
Launched on May 10, 2025, and published by Kenway Publications, the 380-page autobiography is part love story, part professional journey, and part national commentary.
But while its charm lies in warmth and storytelling, the book largely avoids grappling with the deeper contradictions of class, power, and politics that have shaped modern Kenya.
At the emotional core of the narrative is Njenga’s long-standing marriage to Elfreda Wanjala Madoka. Their relationship—spanning over five decades—is recounted in cinematic detail, from a dramatic first encounter at a Nairobi bus stage in the early 1970s to dates at Kenya Cinema and handwritten love letters exchanged across schools.
While undeniably endearing, such storytelling occasionally leans into myth-making, offering little reflection on changing social norms or gender dynamics. For some readers, this could come across as overly romanticised.
Njenga’s professional journey is a valuable addition to Kenya’s mental health discourse. He charts his path from an early fascination with Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth to psychiatric training at London’s Maudsley Hospital and eventual recognition by the Royal College of Psychiatrists.
His founding of the Chiromo Hospital Group, which now includes five facilities and a new 103-bed hospital, is presented as a significant achievement. His commitment to “Recovery in Dignity” and critique of stigma around mental illness are timely and important.
However, while the memoir champions holistic care, it largely sidesteps questions around access and affordability, leaving out the wider context of mental healthcare inequality in Kenya.
Refreshingly, Njenga does not portray himself as a product of poverty. Unlike many African autobiographies that follow a rags-to-riches formula, he speaks openly about his middle-class upbringing and credits his time at Delamere School (now Upper Hill) for shaping his early views on race and leadership.
As one of the first Black students in the previously all-white institution, he reflects on dismantling racial prejudice and becoming head boy. However, his class privilege and access to elite institutions are not interrogated deeply—nor is the broader system that allowed his success while excluding others.
The book also offers glimpses of Kenya’s political and cultural history, from the Mau Mau rebellion and the Shifta War to the pre-digital rituals of courtship in 1970s Nairobi. These details give texture to the narrative and may resonate with readers nostalgic for a different era.
However, the memoir’s engagement with Kenya’s more recent political turbulence is cautious. While Njenga briefly critiques political greed—calling it a “cultural affliction”—he avoids naming political figures or exploring the structural failures that continue to affect Kenyan governance. This restraint may reflect his role as a respected elder statesman, but it also limits the memoir’s critical depth.
As the book draws to a close, Njenga reflects on legacy, grandfatherhood, and the importance of remaining curious. He describes himself as a “romantic optimist” and rates his happiness at 7.5 out of 10, attributing his contentment to family, golf, and a lifelong commitment to learning. These reflections offer warmth, but they may also leave some readers wanting a more unflinching look at personal or professional setbacks.
City Boy is a warm and often compelling memoir, particularly for those interested in Nairobi’s social evolution or the personal journey of a leading figure in Kenyan psychiatry. But it remains a selective portrait—one that favours sentiment over scrutiny, and success over struggle. While it undoubtedly affirms Njenga’s legacy, it leaves open the question of how much more could have been said.
-By Nusurah Nuhu

