At the beginning, each character inhabits a world defined by difference and isolation. Karim’s world is shaped by emotional estrangement. His mother leaves her marriage and returns to her father’s home, and from that moment, mother and son exchange few words. Even after she remarries, the warmth between them remains tentative, though her new husband shows Karim the affection she once withheld. Karim’s formative years, therefore, are marked by quiet resentment and the psychological residue of parental separation—a common theme in societies negotiating between tradition and individual agency.
Fauzia’s world is gentler, yet shadowed by fragility. Her mother’s love is all-encompassing, protective to the point of suffocation. Her father, a man of few words, expresses his affection in acts rather than speech. Fauzia also lives with the “falling sickness,” epilepsy, a condition that sets her apart and attracts both sympathy and superstition. Her best friend, Hawa, circles her with the constancy of a guardian spirit. Through Fauzia, Gurnah captures the intimate anxieties of African domestic life, where illness is both a personal struggle and a communal concern framed by cultural beliefs.
Badar, on the other hand, occupies a world of servitude and marginality. His is the life of a boy born into disadvantage, struggling against economic deprivation and the hierarchies that quietly sustain inequality. He is a symbol of the countless young men who drift along the edges of postcolonial societies—hardworking, unseen, and uncertain of tomorrow.
Karim’s return to Zanzibar after completing his university education in Dar es Salaam marks the point where these distinct worlds begin to converge. The city he comes back to is not the one he left. Zanzibar, with its layered history of slavery, trade, and colonialism, is now being remade by new forces. Tourism is reshaping its streets and its values, and technology is bridging old boundaries while deepening class divides. In this shifting landscape, Karim and Fauzia meet and fall in love. Their romance, at first a private rebellion against loneliness, soon becomes a social affair. In traditional Tanzanian culture, relationships are rarely hidden for long. Community observation and family involvement turn private desire into public expectation, and soon, talk of marriage follows.
When Badar’s world merges with theirs, Gurnah constructs a layered social tableau. The convergence of these three lives symbolises more than personal connection. It mirrors the broader collision between the old and the new, the local and the global, the privileged and the dispossessed. Each character embodies a fragment of a society negotiating modernity: Karim, the educated cosmopolitan struggling with inherited wounds; Fauzia, the vulnerable yet resilient woman navigating the constraints of gender and tradition; and Badar, the overlooked youth whose struggles reflect systemic inequities.
Through their entangled stories, Theft becomes more than a tale of love or parental betrayal. It is a sociological portrait of Zanzibar and, by extension, Africa’s coastal societies, where the residues of colonialism still shape personal destinies. The novel situates individual choices within the larger machinery of economic transformation, cultural expectation, and historical memory.
Gurnah’s prose is measured and introspective. He writes with the compassion of one who understands exile not merely as physical dislocation but as an emotional and moral condition. His characters are perpetually searching—for affection, for meaning, for a place in a world that is both familiar and alien. In Theft, the act of stealing is not always about possessions; it can be the theft of innocence, of opportunity, or of one’s sense of self.
The ending of Theft unfolds with quiet intensity, gathering the many threads of the story into a resolution that feels both surprising and inevitable. Gurnah achieves this without theatrics; instead, he allows meaning to emerge through silence, gesture, and emotional restraint. The novel’s power lies in its shifting perspectives, drawing readers deep into one character’s consciousness before reorienting them through another’s. In doing so, Gurnah exposes the limits of understanding and the distortions of memory that shape human relationships.
