内容摘要：Earlier, Whitehead shied away from thinking that person might have poisoned Star, but now he doesn’t know.

Earlier, Whitehead shied away from thinking that person might have poisoned Star, but now he doesn’t know.

This image taken from video that European military officials say was filmed by a Ukrainian drone in the southern Ukrainian village of Piatykhatky on March 13, 2025, shows a soldier, center, identified as Russian, pointing his gun at a Ukrainian soldier who appears to be surrendering after emerging from the ruins of a house to join other Ukrainian prisoners on the ground. (Ukraine Military/European Defense Officials via AP)This image taken from video that European military officials say was filmed by a Ukrainian drone in the southern Ukrainian village of Piatykhatky on March 13, 2025, shows a soldier, center, identified as Russian, pointing his gun at a Ukrainian soldier who appears to be surrendering after emerging from the ruins of a house to join other Ukrainian prisoners on the ground. (Ukraine Military/European Defense Officials via AP)

The drone video in Piatykhatky was taken by Ukraine’s 128th Mountain Brigade, according to military officials with a European country that Ukrainian authorities shared the video with. The AP obtained it on condition of anonymity because the officials were not authorized to release it.Intense fighting has devastated this crossroads in the Zaporizhzhia region. Fresh scorch marks stain the grass and what houses remain are missing roofs and windows. The battle has been part of a scramble to seize territory ahead of peace talks, with Russia seeking a strategic foothold to force Ukraine to restructure its logistics lines, according to military analysts.Russian soldiers planted their flag amid the ruins of Piatykhatky last month, according to a drone video posted March 11 by pro-Kremlin bloggers.

Two days later, the Russian and Ukrainian drones recorded the surrender of the four Ukrainian soldiers about 100 meters (yards) away.The Russian video shows an explosive drone flying in the window of the house where Ukrainians took cover, detonating with a flash.

Both countries’ drones recorded one of the Ukrainians, arms raised and seemingly unarmed, leaving the shattered house. With a Russian soldier pointing his gun at him, the man plants himself spread-eagled next to his comrades on the ground.

European military officials who analyzed the video said the Russians are identifiable by red or white markings on their uniforms.He had been teaching at Nairobi University since 1967, but resigned at one point in protest of government interference. Upon returning, in 1973, he advocated for a restructuring of the literary curriculum. “Why can’t African literature be at the centre so that we can view other cultures in relationship to it?” Ngũgĩ and colleagues Taban Lo Liyong and Awuor Anyumba wrote.

In 1977, a play he co-authored with Ngũgĩ wa Mirii, “I Will Marry When I Want,” was staged in Limuru, using local workers and peasants as actors. Like a novel he published the same year, “Petals of Blood,” the play attacked the greed and corruption of the Kenyan government. It led to his arrest and imprisonment for a year, before Amnesty International and others helped pressure authorities to release him.“The act of imprisoning democrats, progressive intellectuals, and militant workers reveals many things,” he wrote in “Wrestling With the Devil,” a memoir published in 2018. “It is first an admission by the authorities that they know they have been seen. By signing the detention orders, they acknowledge that the people have seen through their official lies labeled as a new philosophy, their pretensions wrapped in three-piece suits and gold chains, their propaganda packaged as religious truth, their plastic smiles ordered from above.”

He didn’t only rebel against laws and customs. As a child, he had learned his ancestral tongue Gikuyu, only to have the British overseers of his primary school mock anyone speaking it, making them wear a sign around their necks that read “I am stupid” or “I am a donkey.” Starting with “Devil On the Cross,” written on toilet paper while he was in prison, he reclaimed the language of his past.Along with Achebe and others, he had helped shatter the Western monopoly on African stories and reveal to the world how those on the continent saw themselves. But unlike Achebe, he insisted that Africans should express themselves in an African language. In “Decolonizing the Mind,” published in 1986, Ngũgĩ contended that it was impossible to liberate oneself while using the language of oppressors.