“Who killed Meja Mwangi?” Prof Egara Kabaji asked in last week’s newspaper. His question was not about death but about neglect. The slow erosion of authors’ dignity when publishers fail to honour contracts or falsify royalty statements.
I once had the privilege of meeting Meja Mwangi and sharing a drink with him, thanks to Dr Henry Chakava. His name, along with John Ruganda’s, remain close to my heart. I studied Carcass for Hounds and The Burdens as set books. I still recall a flaw we laughed about in Carcass for Hounds: a granary collapses on the chief, yet the next day he appears perfectly healthy, addressing a baraza. So, here is my view on why royalties remain elusive and why the chase continues.
The main clauses in an MoU signed between a publisher and an author cover royalty percentages and the schedule of payments. Most publishers offer between 10% and 15% royalties, either on the published price or on net receipts. However, enforcement of MoUs under the Copyright Act is weak. Most authors receive royalty statements on request.
Publishing has three main cost centres: editorial, printing and trade discount. Printing consumes between 20% and 30% of the retail price. Smaller print runs and reliance on local presses push this figure higher. Bookshops get trade discounts that range between 30% and 35% and VAT at 16% raises consumer costs without increasing publisher margins.
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Consider a book priced at Sh100. Of this amount, printing costs account for Sh30, the bookshop discount takes Sh30, and the author receives Sh10 as royalty. The publisher is left with Sh30, from which administration and other overhead costs must be deducted. The remaining balance constitutes the publisher’s profit. With VAT added, the consumer pays Sh116, but the extra Sh16 to KRA. If 1000 copies are printed, the publisher earns Sh30,000, while the author earns Sh10,000.
Stories of unpaid royalties abound. One author, hospitalised with royalties of nearly Sh200,000 due, saw the publisher fail to raise even 10% for treatment. He died. Reputable authors owed millions have also died, leaving next of kin trapped in endless rounds. Delayed payments affect other service providers too.
Low returns make prompt payments impossible. Publishing is expensive, and profits on first print runs are rare. Yet it is a matter of priority. Some publishers fail to budget for royalties, miscalculate book costing, or divert funds to other projects.
Public service bad manners are replicated in the industry. When returns are low, austerity is declared, but executives rarely cut club memberships, fuel guzzlers, allowances, or bonuses. The first victim is royalties. Yet when the big man travels abroad, tickets and per diems appear instantly, padded with “miscellaneous” costs. Even if you are owed Ksh 5,000, you may be one of a thousand authors – where will the publisher find five million? Talk of a writers’ association as lobby or union persists.
Not all publishers are villains. Some pay quarterly or biannually without fail. John Ruganda’s story is telling. Known for The Burdens, he struggled financially and begged the publisher to buy his rights outright. The publisher refused. Frustrated, Ruganda relocated to South Africa and lost contact.
Years later, The Burdens became a set book. A single set book can sell 300,000–500,000 copies annually; in the 1980s, selling 50,000 copies was bliss. The publisher traced Ruganda, flew him back, and handed him a cheque of Sh1.2 million.
Globally, royalty systems are more transparent. Statements are audited and unions enforce compliance. In Africa, enforcement is weaker. The solution lies in transparency and collective action.
Audited royalty statements should be mandatory under the Copyright Act. Collective Management Organisations, successful in music, could inspire similar structures for authors. A strong writers’ union could help enforce timely payments, and litigate breaches. The Ministry of Education and KICD should mandate fair royalties in approval contracts.
Prof Egara Kabaji’s question is emblematic. The culprit is a system that undervalues intellectual labour. Royalties are a contractual right and moral obligation.
Kenya’s publishing industry must move beyond the cat‑and‑mouse game. Transparency, collective bargaining, and government oversight can ensure authors are paid fairly. Only then will royalties become what they were meant to be: a fair reward for the creative labour that sustains our stories.
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By Benson Shiholo