Overview ︎︎︎
Urbanisation at the Margins
Nowhere is urban change more vivid than in Lamu’s “new settlements,” where transformation is happening every day. Here, ahead of formal urban planning, it is the people who shape the town’s extensions.
Women, Migration, and Everyday Life in Wiyoni
Wiyoni is a rapidly growing settlement in Lamu where migrant women play a central role in the local economy despite facing challenges related to housing, social integration, and limited infrastructure. This research explores how physical infrastructure and social networks intersect to shape women’s livelihoods and daily life in the community.
The Space Between Work and Prayer
Lamu is going through a socio-economic transformation that has, among others, two key consequences: more Muslim women are entering the workforce and the town is expanding. For these working women, the need to pray outside of the domestic space arises. These projects investigate the strategies that women in Lamu use to appropriate and shape alternative spaces of prayer in the city.
Mpishi Hula Moshi
Food connects the global and local, past rituals and new technologies, personal and collective identities. Through making, sharing, and eating, food becomes a creative medium that redefines relationships between bodies, places, and time. This theme explores food as living heritage in Lamu, blending tradition and modernity.
Ways of Living with the Lamu archipelago
The Lamu Archipelago is undergoing significant transformation, with various forces shaping its future. This theme examines ongoing changes through multiple lenses, focusing on key topics such as the promises and challenges of the Blue Economy, shifts in local fisheries, the impact of climate change, and human-nature relations during times of crisis.
Mama na Bahari
Women play an integral role in Lamu's fishing industry, particularly through sustainable projects such as octopus closures. This theme delves into how women’s participation in these initiatives reshapes community dynamics and social identities. By engaging in sustainable practices, they not only impact local economies but also influence perceptions of gender roles within the broader fishing industry.
Ng'amba // Plastic
The environmental and social impacts of plastic waste can be seen through the lived experiences of locals in Lamu. This theme explores their challenges in managing plastic waste, including local initiatives for recycling PET plastics, and highlights the broader economic inequalities that complicate these efforts.
Lamu's Drainage System
As Lamu expands, older drainage systems have struggled to keep up, while new developments lack proper infrastructure altogether. This topic delves into how these issues affect both the island's residents and its growing economy, exploring the need for better planning and maintenance as Lamu continues to develop.
Ecologies of belonging
Due to the LAPSSET Corridor, the Lamu region is anticipating massive urban growth on the mainland. Yet much of this has yet to materialise. Meanwhile, Lamu island is experiencing its own construction boom. This theme explores how home-building is tied to people’s sense of belonging and to the broader ecology of the region.
Maritime Mobilities
The new port promises future economic prosperity fueled by the smooth transportation of goods and people. But Lamu has been a regional and global node of trade for centuries, and mobility continues to be central to people’s lives. Our work focuses on the relationship between people’s ability to move and their ability to sustain themselves.
Urban Stories of Displacement
LAPSSET’s promise of infrastructure-led development reactivates histories of displacement and forced resettlement in Lamu. This theme explores how these memories and hopes of return are shared and how they impact political claims to address historical and ongoing injustices.
Heritage under Transformation
Lamu town has experienced significant urban growth since its inscription on the World Heritage List in 2001. This theme focuses on the ways in which Lamu negotiates the complex relationship between heritage preservation, changing domestic cultures, and new architectural and urban development.
Security Urbanism
The Lamu region has suffered insecurity since the Shifta War. Current counter-terror securitisation is focused not only on infrastructure and construction sites but also on tourist and transport hubs. This theme explores the impact of securitisation on everyday life.
Urbanisation at the Margins
How are the peripheral settlements of Kashmiri and Kandahari evolving, and what does this tell us about the power to shape the urban?
Authors:
Eleonora Balestra
Hamdat Fathi Mahmud
Fatma Sayyid Athman
Joëlle Martz
By adopting a historical lens, our research traced the stories and memories of those who have built and inhabited Kashmiri and Kandahari overdecades of its incremental yet continuous urbanisation.
These stories revealed the many ways in which residents navigate fragmented land tenure, engage in tacit negotiations with neighbours, and copewith the ambiguous status of their neighbourhoods within the frameworks of urban governance in Lamu, which are currently gaining relevance and capacity.
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Eleonora Balestra
Hamdat Fathi Mahmud
Fatma Sayyid Athman
Joëlle Martz
By adopting a historical lens, our research traced the stories and memories of those who have built and inhabited Kashmiri and Kandahari overdecades of its incremental yet continuous urbanisation.
These stories revealed the many ways in which residents navigate fragmented land tenure, engage in tacit negotiations with neighbours, and copewith the ambiguous status of their neighbourhoods within the frameworks of urban governance in Lamu, which are currently gaining relevance and capacity.
“Some would term what is happening in these settlements as classical urban sprawl. There isn’t much order; the only authority present at that time were the original land owners, who allowed the people to settle there. The way they build is very different to the old town [...] these are the houses of their own dreams.”
- Resident of Lamu Town
affiliated with the
National Museum of Kenya
Constant tacit or explicit negotiations characterise the informal urbanisation in Kashmiri and Kandahari, which stands in sharp contrast to the municipality’s practice of marking new structures that don’t fit regulatory norms with a bright red ‘X’. These visual markers point to tensions that result from growing enforcement capacities of rigid laws, recently published land-use plans, and broader development projects that mismatch the incremental, negotiated way of urbanising.affiliated with the
National Museum of Kenya
Urbanisation in these settlements is shaped by both necessity and hope for future recognition.
Projects
Urbanisation at the Margins #2501
Between Formal Plans and Everyday Life
On my daily walks through the narrow streets of Kashmiri and Kandahari, I developed a little guessing game. Whenever I came across new redmarkings on bare, unplastered walls, I would try to guess what might have led the municipal surveyors to judge a particular building as failingregulations. Most of the time, I had barely a clue. But what grew from these regular observations of red X’s along my routes was a much more pressing question:
How do the residents here, the people I had come to think of as neighbours, respond to the growing presence of localurban governance? And how does this shape the production of urban space, which until now had been almost entirely in the hands of those who call this place home?
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To this day, Kashmiri and Kandahari are shaped by self-building practices, but formal rules are starting to havemore influence as the local government becomes bigger and better able to enforce them. This research looks at how urban spaces are being shaped through the ongoing interaction between everyday building practices and official regulations.
How do the residents here, the people I had come to think of as neighbours, respond to the growing presence of localurban governance? And how does this shape the production of urban space, which until now had been almost entirely in the hands of those who call this place home?
To this day, Kashmiri and Kandahari are shaped by self-building practices, but formal rules are starting to havemore influence as the local government becomes bigger and better able to enforce them. This research looks at how urban spaces are being shaped through the ongoing interaction between everyday building practices and official regulations.
In Kashmiri and Kandahari, it is common for people to build their own houses, either by doing it themselves or by hiring professionals. Hardly a daypasses without the sounds of construction nearby or the sight of donkeys carrying sand or building blocks through the streets. Prominent urban anthropologist Teresa P.R. Caldeira has described what is happening here as ‘peripheral urbanisation’. She theorises it as more than just development at the physical edges of a city; rather, it is a mode of producing urban space that is driven by the agency of residents themselves. Tiedto financial means and personal opportunities, this process is typically incremental and interacts with formal markets and governance systems in ways that cross and connect these seemingly separate spheres. Such relationships are often described as transversal.
“Transversal” is something that moves sideways and thus crosses boundaries — between formal and informal, powerful and less powerful, official and unofficialworlds.
Re-Engaging Informality
To explore and describe the interactions between residents and local government, I chose to use the terms formal and informal— a distinction thatmany influential scholars have criticized for decades. Building on these critiques, this study takes a closer look at the complexities of informal spaces.
“informality can represent an opportunity to manage lives outside of undesirable or unaffordable formal systems”
- Asef Bayat, in his Book
Life as Politics, 2010
Life as Politics, 2010
It is important to not think of informality only as the opposite of official, state-defined rules, as it is more than the absence of such, but more an alternative form of social organisation. Its flexibility, adaptability, and openness to negotiation may support people who are commonly excluded fromformal systems. Though often connected to poverty, informality isn’t limited to people with low incomes. Middle-class people, too, increasingly live, work, and invest in informal spaces.
Everyone can engage with informality; some have the privilege to do so quietly, while others carry that label openly on theirshoulders.
Everyone can engage with informality; some have the privilege to do so quietly, while others carry that label openly on theirshoulders.
Tracing the In-Betweens
The foundations of urban life in Kashmiri and Kandahari are built on informally subdivided land, where former shambas (Kiswahili for agriculturalland) were split and sold by their owners. As urbanisation gradually built over the small path that once separated these plots, the municipal garbagetruck, which used to pass through to reach the town’s main dumping site behind Kandahari, was forced to find new routes. Over time, a new path,commonly referred to as TakaTaka road (TakaTaka is a Kiswahili term for garbage), emerged there, where unequal opportunities to build left plotsempty.
Below them were two paid chefs from Mombasa, assisted by younger male family members or, in wealthier families, hired helpers. The most basic tasks were assigned to women, who were close family members or friends. Biryani preparation becomes a rare and valuable opportunity for women to connect and socialize away from their daily lives, which are still shaped by strict social norms and extensive domestic responsibilities. The community hall nonetheless transforms into a space for women to breathe, engage in self-making, and bond socially through chanting, dancing, and small conversations around food trays.
The case of the TakaTaka road shows how the formal system sometimes works with informal structures to help achieve its own goals, while people involved in informal activities may use formal rules to advance their interests.
The way the TakaTaka road emerged is a good example of ‘mutual accommodation’ — a term used by urban scholar Carole Rakodi to describehow formal and informal actors work together to get access to land in African cities. My research shows that this idea also helps explain what’shappening in Kashmiri and Kandahari today.
As formal and informal actors adjust to one another, they sometimes, whether intentionally or not, help to legitimise each other’sactions. This is how mutual accommodation takes shape.
The case of the TakaTaka road shows how the formal system sometimes works with informal structures to help achieve its own goals, while people involved in informal activities may use formal rules to advance their interests.
The way the TakaTaka road emerged is a good example of ‘mutual accommodation’ — a term used by urban scholar Carole Rakodi to describehow formal and informal actors work together to get access to land in African cities. My research shows that this idea also helps explain what’shappening in Kashmiri and Kandahari today.
As formal and informal actors adjust to one another, they sometimes, whether intentionally or not, help to legitimise each other’sactions. This is how mutual accommodation takes shape.
Listening to Urban Rhythms
The people of Kashmiri and Kandahari have been shaping their neighbourhoods through mutual accommodation long before state institutionsbecame involved in these areas. This study found that their incremental ways of building — a new wall here, a small extension there — make iteasier for neighbours to adjust to one another over time. These slow, flexible timelines, shaped by gradual, adaptive, and sometimes opportunisticactions, allow people to create their own forms of acceptance and legitimacy, outside any formal rules or laws.
In contrast, formal planning tends to arrive with strict, project-based timelines and fixed ideas about what should happen and when. These bigprojects rarely leave room for the kinds of everyday negotiation that allow residents to quietly accommodate one another. Without this slow processof adjustment, formal interventions can easily feel disruptive, even threatening, and often struggle to gain acceptance within the community.
The frictions and accommodations evident today will shape the evolving relationship between state authority and resident agency in the future, as planning efforts continue to permeate the informal urban fabric of Kashmiri and Kandahari.
The frictions and accommodations evident today will shape the evolving relationship between state authority and resident agency in the future, as planning efforts continue to permeate the informal urban fabric of Kashmiri and Kandahari.
Women, Migration and Everyday
How do (migrant) women in Wiyoni construct a sense of belonging and sustain their everyday lives? How are these actions further related to the social and physical dimensions of infrastructure?
Authors:
Svenja Jakob
Tefle Mohammed
Rebecca Rodrigues
Lilian Salama
Natalia Krikotina
Wiyoni is a new and rapidly growing settlement in Lamu, home to a diverse population of both long-time Lamu residents and newcomers. This theme addresses the broad meaning of infrastructure in the context of Wiyoni, with a particular focus on the combination of its physical and social dimension. One notable example is the planned road connecting Wiyoni to other parts of the island and the support networks that emerge within the community in response to its construction.
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S. in front of her shop
Many women in Wiyoni have migrated from other parts of Lamu County or the Kenyan coast in search of better economic opportunities for their families. However, migration often presents challenges, such as finding affordable housing, building new social connections, and overcoming the stigma of being an outsider. Despite these challenges, women remain prominent figures in Wiyoni's daily economy. They run small businesses selling juices, mahamri, ice cream, ice, and baobab snacks, and they also run cafes, beauty salons, and shops, catering to both their own needs and those of the community.
Svenja Jakob
Tefle Mohammed
Rebecca Rodrigues
Lilian Salama
Natalia Krikotina
Wiyoni is a new and rapidly growing settlement in Lamu, home to a diverse population of both long-time Lamu residents and newcomers. This theme addresses the broad meaning of infrastructure in the context of Wiyoni, with a particular focus on the combination of its physical and social dimension. One notable example is the planned road connecting Wiyoni to other parts of the island and the support networks that emerge within the community in response to its construction.
S. in front of her shop
Many women in Wiyoni have migrated from other parts of Lamu County or the Kenyan coast in search of better economic opportunities for their families. However, migration often presents challenges, such as finding affordable housing, building new social connections, and overcoming the stigma of being an outsider. Despite these challenges, women remain prominent figures in Wiyoni's daily economy. They run small businesses selling juices, mahamri, ice cream, ice, and baobab snacks, and they also run cafes, beauty salons, and shops, catering to both their own needs and those of the community.
To understand the forces that shape life and business in Wiyoni, the research team interviewed local residents, including shop owners, community leaders, newcomers, as well as officials from the municipality. The findings highlight the challenges of accessing education, finance, infrastructure, social connections, and security, and reveal how women navigate these challenges to sustain their lives and livelihoods.
H. making mahamri at home during an informal interview
Projects
Women, Migration and Everyday #2404
Understanding women’s business problems in Wiyoni
Before going to Lamu, my own thoughts about how Islamic society is organised and the potential challenges for local women to develop businesses freely would flash through my mind like subliminal frames. Having had experience interacting with Muslim communities before, I understood the differences in our views and wasn’t sure I would be able to feel free there, both as a woman and as a white tourist/researcher. From the first days, immersing myself in the details of local life thanks to living with host families, the traditions and rules of relationships between men and women became clearer and clearer.
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Understanding the local relationship system, I relaxed a little and sank into just “being,” trying to stay more in the here and now rather than in my thoughts.
Having spent the first week studying Lamu for myself, we then moved on to interviews with local residents. We asked about infrastructural problems but we were met with indifference to this topic from local people. We returned to exploring other dynamics affecting Lamu Island and the Wiyoni area in particular. We walked along sandy roads washed out by the rain, talking to local women about life in Wiyoni. Most of them had moved here from other places; some were Muslim, others Christian. Trying to build their new lives here, these women face the fact that their families lack basic means to survive. They try to earn money to feed their children and give them an education that they themselves never had. After talking to a dozen women and looking around, we saw what we hadn’t noticed before – women sitting in front of their homes selling food, working, or running their small shops. But why had we not seen what had been shining right into our eyes this whole time, like a sunbeam reflected off a piece of glass?
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Understanding the local relationship system, I relaxed a little and sank into just “being,” trying to stay more in the here and now rather than in my thoughts.
Having spent the first week studying Lamu for myself, we then moved on to interviews with local residents. We asked about infrastructural problems but we were met with indifference to this topic from local people. We returned to exploring other dynamics affecting Lamu Island and the Wiyoni area in particular. We walked along sandy roads washed out by the rain, talking to local women about life in Wiyoni. Most of them had moved here from other places; some were Muslim, others Christian. Trying to build their new lives here, these women face the fact that their families lack basic means to survive. They try to earn money to feed their children and give them an education that they themselves never had. After talking to a dozen women and looking around, we saw what we hadn’t noticed before – women sitting in front of their homes selling food, working, or running their small shops. But why had we not seen what had been shining right into our eyes this whole time, like a sunbeam reflected off a piece of glass?
In Islamic society, a woman’s traditional role has been to care for the home and raise the children. Women still spend most of their time at home and when they run a business, it is often located at home or nearby. Women are “hidden” from strangers’ eyes, yet are an important part of Wiyoni’s social infrastructure.
The Covid-19 pandemic, which led to many divorces and a change in views on traditional family structure and household duties, challenged women to become more independent.
Analysing the knowledge we gained after several weeks of research, it became clear that women’s difficulties in Wiyoni are linked not only to Islam’s definitions of a woman’s place as interpreted in Lamu, but also to broader social changes. A lack of formal education, distrust in the state system, and, as a result, missed opportunities to seek support from organisations helping women’s businesses work together to create unique barriers for women-owned businesses.
While researching and trying to understand Wiyoni’s uniqueness in terms of women-owned businesses, I began wondering: is this case really unique in a global context? Studying works on Black feminism and feminism in general makes it clear that discrimination against women because of their gender, skin color, race, and social class is a pattern repeated on many pages of history. The struggles of building a business as not only a woman but also a newcomer to a community are deeply permeated with centuries of fighting for rights, facing discrimination, and striving for a brighter future. Yet, facing these challenges again and again, women coming with their families to live in Wiyoni continue their path, no matter what.
Women, Migration and Everyday #2405
Kupatikana si Kukubalika:
Kupatikana si Kukubalika:
Belonging, Informality, and Moral Navigation Among Migrant Women in Wiyoni, Lamu
It was during a walk to Wiyoni that something caught my attention for the first time. I noticed that one of the local people I had interacted with beforewas wearing her veil differently; in addition to her usual hijab, she was also wearing a niqab. Curious, I asked why. The answer came withgentleness, care, and a certain discomfort: she didn’t want to be recognized or associated with Wiyoni.At first, I didn’t fully understand why. But as we talked more about it, I began to grasp (even if not explicitly) an unease in her words: a discomfort with how people from Wiyoni were perceived.
She described them as “modern,” influenced by outside customs, with different behaviors; almost as a threat, a stain on the expected moral conduct, something that endangered tradition.
Research team during fieldwork in Wiyoni
The reasoning was clear: being associated with that neighborhood, or with the people who lived or circulated there, was a risk to her reputation withinher own community. And in Lamu, community is one of the most valuable things a person can have. Beyond one’s immediate family, the communityincludes religious leaders, childhood friends, neighbors — people you're taught from a young age to respect and keep close. It represents anextended network of financial, emotional, social, familial, and religious support; fundamental for belonging and success on the island: whether to geta job, to receive help in times of need, to secure housing, or to form a family.
In some way, this discomfort with the “new” or the “different” also echoed within the internal dynamics of this year’s research group, composed of researchers from UniBasel and LYA. During the last week, some local researchers shared their impressions, and it became clear that maintaining a relationship with us, foreign researchers, felt like walking a fine line. They enjoyed the company and accessed spaces they normally wouldn’t frequent. Cafés, restaurants, interviewees’ houses, hotels, and more. Yet, at the same time, they felt a certain tension about what their families andthe community might think. We, also seen as different, external, could represent a risk of moral influence, a possible departure from local norms andtraditions.
In some way, this discomfort with the “new” or the “different” also echoed within the internal dynamics of this year’s research group, composed of researchers from UniBasel and LYA. During the last week, some local researchers shared their impressions, and it became clear that maintaining a relationship with us, foreign researchers, felt like walking a fine line. They enjoyed the company and accessed spaces they normally wouldn’t frequent. Cafés, restaurants, interviewees’ houses, hotels, and more. Yet, at the same time, they felt a certain tension about what their families andthe community might think. We, also seen as different, external, could represent a risk of moral influence, a possible departure from local norms andtraditions.
It was in this friction, between visibility, belonging, and exclusion, that I began to perceive a deeper tension in Lamu, within the community and, beyond it, among its residents. Belonging in the local community was not a given, not even for those born there or connected through friendship or faith. There were subtle limits and unofficial, but widely understood, rules that determined who could occupy certain spaces, under what conditions,and when it was acceptable to slightly cross the line.
Members of the research team interviewing a local business owner in Wiyoni
That was the starting point of my seminar. Not a grand revelation, but a persistent discomfort, perceived and observed. Something that repeated itselfand resurfaced. I began to realize that everyday decisions, which I call performances, inspired by Sarah Hillewaert, such as what to wear or whichroute to take to a neighborhood, were not made solely on an individual basis, but also as deliberate actions in relation to others’ gaze, public opinion,and unspoken rules.
Reflecting on the daily experiences of the women in our research group, most of whom are originally from the island, and the impact of thesedynamics on their lives, I shifted my focus to understand how such issues affect migrant women. In this context, Wiyoni proved to be a key place for this observation, as it is where most people from other parts of the country on the island are concentrated.
Reflecting on the daily experiences of the women in our research group, most of whom are originally from the island, and the impact of thesedynamics on their lives, I shifted my focus to understand how such issues affect migrant women. In this context, Wiyoni proved to be a key place for this observation, as it is where most people from other parts of the country on the island are concentrated.
As a migrant, I recognize that moving involves profound changes in daily life and in how one envisions the future. However, my migratory experiencemay differ significantly from that of the women in Wiyoni, whose motivations, circumstances, and contexts are distinct from mine. Therefore, when addressing social codes and forms of belonging in Lamu, especially in Wiyoni, it is essential to emphasize that these are specific contexts with theirown dynamics that cannot be generalized to all migratory experiences. This diversity shows that the concept of “migrant” encompasses multiplerealities, making it necessary to understand the specificities of each group in order to grasp the complexity of their trajectories. That said, it ispossible to affirm that social codes vary everywhere, but I developed a particular curiosity about how these codes manifest in Lamu and, above all, in Wiyoni, where the senses of belonging were unfamiliar to me and had different complexities and carried different meanings.
For example, as a Brazilian living in Switzerland, I have had to adapt to certain local norms. However, most of the time, I do not feel obliged tobehave “like a Swiss woman” and I believe I do not perform as such. The consequences of this, and the impact it has on my life, perhaps affect me less or matter less to me. But in Wiyoni, migrant women navigate codes that, if not followed, can compromise their support networks as well as their emotional, social, and even material security.
Of course, in any context, there are always individuals who, despite being aware of the local social expectations, consciously choose not to follow them, and this is also a legitimate way of being. It involves an authentic decision to acknowledge these norms but decide not to incorporate them into their lives. This is the case, for example, of the women who run the Wiyoni pub, who intentionally position themselves outside these rules, embracingthe risks and possibilities that this stance entails.
For example, as a Brazilian living in Switzerland, I have had to adapt to certain local norms. However, most of the time, I do not feel obliged tobehave “like a Swiss woman” and I believe I do not perform as such. The consequences of this, and the impact it has on my life, perhaps affect me less or matter less to me. But in Wiyoni, migrant women navigate codes that, if not followed, can compromise their support networks as well as their emotional, social, and even material security.
Of course, in any context, there are always individuals who, despite being aware of the local social expectations, consciously choose not to follow them, and this is also a legitimate way of being. It involves an authentic decision to acknowledge these norms but decide not to incorporate them into their lives. This is the case, for example, of the women who run the Wiyoni pub, who intentionally position themselves outside these rules, embracingthe risks and possibilities that this stance entails.
From there, and considering how this theme of non-belonging and adaptation to local rules came up repeatedly in our interviews with migrant womenliving in Wiyoni. They occupy the most sensitive and vulnerable edge of this social “chain”.
Local pub in Wiyoni
So, the question that has guided me since then is: how do these women (migrant, observed, scrutinized) construct a sense of belonging in a place that sooften denies them legitimacy? How do they show the community whether they are (or are not) conforming to social norms?
Throughout the research, I realized that belonging in Wiyoni is constantly negotiated: never full, never guaranteed. For migrant women, this process is evenmore complex: beyond adapting to the material demands of life in a new place, they must learn to navigate social codes that are often unknown orchallenging.
Throughout the research, I realized that belonging in Wiyoni is constantly negotiated: never full, never guaranteed. For migrant women, this process is evenmore complex: beyond adapting to the material demands of life in a new place, they must learn to navigate social codes that are often unknown orchallenging.
Instead of seeking adherence to local norms (which are often exclusionary) many of them build alternative forms of belonging through horizontal alliances, informal exchanges, mutual support, and selective visibility. These practices compose a kind of social infrastructure that doesn’t appear on official maps butsustains life in Wiyoni. It is made of relationships, care, silent agreements; an everyday engineering that challenges the formal frameworks of institutionalurbanism and reveals the strength of women as infrastructural agents.
At the intersection of vulnerability and agency, these women create small shifts at the boundaries of moral acceptability. Some perform respectability as expected; others publicly push against those limits and invent new ways of being. These performances (at times strategic, at others spontaneous) are notmerely individual, but collective and situated. They draw a different moral cartography, in which belonging is not granted, but claimed.
By observing these dynamics, I came to understand that urban life in Wiyoni cannot be read solely through material infrastructures or official plans. It unfoldsin the folds of everyday life, in the silences of interviews, in moments of self-censorship and rupture. It is in that space, between the visible and the invisible, that the city is made. And it is there that migrant women, with all their ambivalence, courage, and performance, sustain urban life.
Women, Migration
and Everyday #2406
Assemblage of Infrastructure in Wiyoni, Lamu
The first connection one commonly makes with “infrastructure” is often in physical terms, as also the urbanist AbdouMaliq Simone describes (2004: 407). Physical isalso understood in terms of human-built. So this category includes things such as roads, electricity networks, or ports. The field research in the neighbourhood Wiyonistarted from this point on: inspired by the Kenya Informal Settlements Improvement Project (KISIP), I started to analyse the physical infrastructure of Wiyoni. The KISIP plans to improve roads, street lights and the sewage system in Wiyoni, as local interlocutors explained. However, being in the field and talking to the peoplewho live in Wiyoni, we quickly realised that “infrastructure” consists of many more layers than the obvious visible objects. There are different social relations which arenot visible on first sight, especially not as an outsider like the students from Unibas who don’t know about the cultural dynamics of the place.
From there on, I started looking out for the dimension of “social” infrastructure during the field research. Social infrastructure includes relations people have with theirneighbours, family and friends, and strangers, on an individual scale, as well as relations on the scale of the neighbourhood, the community elders (representatives ofthe neighbourhood), and towards the municipality, county government, or KISIP representatives.
Often, “physical” and “social”infrastructure are understood as something separate from each other. This project critically reflects on this dichotomy and argues thatthey are indeed connected and influence each other. The many layers that “infrastructure” consists of form the place Wiyoni and the daily lives of the residents. The project aims to shed light on this assemblage of different types of infrastructures, on understanding the making of Wiyoni, and to think of infrastructure as more than a human-built object.
Often, “physical” and “social”infrastructure are understood as something separate from each other. This project critically reflects on this dichotomy and argues thatthey are indeed connected and influence each other. The many layers that “infrastructure” consists of form the place Wiyoni and the daily lives of the residents. The project aims to shed light on this assemblage of different types of infrastructures, on understanding the making of Wiyoni, and to think of infrastructure as more than a human-built object.
Promises of Infrastructure
Street light built through KISIP
How physical and social infrastructure is connected and influenced is visible on the example of the KISIP project. One wish from the Wiyoni community, as well as theinitial plan of KISIP, was to improve the street lights.
They built one tall street light in the center, about 15 meters high and consisting of nine light bulbs. In that sense, the physical infrastructure was built and a promise kept. However, the light is not addressing the needs of the people, as it only lights up one small part of theneighbourhood. The physical infrastructure has an influence on how people move after dark, and further influences social ties, when and where to meet.
One request by the community that has not yet been addressed by the officials, is a market. People in Lamu buy fresh food (vegetables, fruits, meat, fish), usually on the market, which is located in the Old Town. The market is also a place of social interaction. Many women we talked to in Wiyoni expressed the wish of a market in Wiyoni, in order to not have to go to the Old Town to buy the food.
This is another example of a physical infrastructure that is tied to social interactions, as the marketwould not just provide people with food but foster social relations as a place of gathering and simplify daily life by having easier access to products. Furthermore, itwould allow more people in Wiyoni to have a business that could contribute to one’s income.
One request by the community that has not yet been addressed by the officials, is a market. People in Lamu buy fresh food (vegetables, fruits, meat, fish), usually on the market, which is located in the Old Town. The market is also a place of social interaction. Many women we talked to in Wiyoni expressed the wish of a market in Wiyoni, in order to not have to go to the Old Town to buy the food.
This is another example of a physical infrastructure that is tied to social interactions, as the marketwould not just provide people with food but foster social relations as a place of gathering and simplify daily life by having easier access to products. Furthermore, itwould allow more people in Wiyoni to have a business that could contribute to one’s income.
Promises of Infrastructure
In our field research we mainly talked to women, as they were in the focus of our research theme, and individual interests such as women doing business. This isanother form of social infrastructure: First of all, women need customers to sell their products (such as baked snacks and sweets). If they know many people in theneighbourhood, it is easier to sell. Additionally, if they are well-connected to other women, they have easier access to the merry-go-round.
This is a collective fund in which women regularly pay a small amount of money. One after the other then receives a certain amount of money from the fund to invest in her business. This in turn contributes to the physical facilities of the neighbourhood, if they for example enlarge their store.
Time and Nature
A large part of Wiyoni consists of reclaimed land. In the 1990s, sand was extracted from the canal between Lamu Island and the mainland to enlarge the canal. The sand was put over the mangrove forest. Many buildings in Wiyoni are built on this land. The soil is eroding which causes challenges for the building of the houses and especially for the sewage and water systems. These further influence the daily lives of the residents of whom some expressed the wish for an improvement of accessto water and sewage systems. Infrastructures are thus tied also to the environment and, even though human-built, not separated from the nature. Drawing on the workof geographer Andrew Barry (2016), the earth and soil is the infrastructure, physical human-made infrastructure is constructed on.
Furthermore, the dimension of time shows, on the one hand, the transience of infrastructure, as the nature (i.e. eroding soil) or material infrastructure can bedemolished over time. On the other hand, it sheds light on how infrastructure is always in progress. Wiyoni offers a variety of houses, at times painted buildings, at times only the basic walls and a door.
Infrastructure is incomplete in the sense that it is an ongoing process. Building new objects, negotiating over projects and needs, getting to know new people and perhaps letting go of others.
Wiyoni from above: part located on reclaimed land, buildings in different stages of construction.
Uncovering Wiyoni’s Infrastructures
The project shows the layers of infrastructure that together form Wiyoni: human-built objects, relations between people on different scales, the environment and through the dimension of time. It enables the reader to reflect on one’s personal relations to infrastructures, things that one might take for granted but are not just there but rather emerge out of a process of social and political negotiation, power structures, and environmental circumstances.
The Space Between Work and Prayer
Where do working Muslim women pray outside the domestic space? And how does their prayer practice manifest in Lamu spatially?
Authors:
Nusrat Ahmed Ali
Khadija Bwanahamisi
Muanamkuu Salim Bake Ali
Samira Muster
Mara Pepine
Times are changing in Lamu. One of these changes is that women increasingly work outside of their homes. Islam teaches that it is most rewarding for a woman to pray at home, and traditionally, Lamu women stayed inside the home. But this does not apply to everyone. Nowadays, an increasing number of Muslim women play an active part of the economic life of the city. So, when the adhan is heard from all directions in Lamu town and their male colleagues go to the mosques to pray, where do these women go?
Our investigation also revealed how the different levels of assertiveness and claim-making on the part of the Muslim working women result in a variety of spaces being made available for prayer – from the storage cupboard to the female mosque. By exploring these spaces, we uncovered underlying connections between gender, culture, faith, labor conditions and the spatial expansion of Lamu Town.
Taking ablution in the Women’s Mosque
As an all-women research team, we were able to explore how these Muslim women assert their presence in the city through their newly emerging places of prayer and how the female embodied practice of Islam enables working Muslim women to shape and in turn be shaped by the spaces they inhabit.
Entrance to Raudha Women’s Mosque
Projects
The Space Between Work and Prayer #2502
Culture, Religion, and the Question of Space
When investigating the topic of working Muslim women in Lamu, the questions surrounding the lack of female mosques was answered time and time again with one word: “culture”. What is culture? And how is it different from religion? These are the questions on which I have built my theoretical framework that underpins my exploration of the female religious practices outside of the domestic space in Lamu Town.
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“We’re fighting with culture and religion.”
– Raya Famau, LWA
(in regards to women
empowerment)
(in regards to women
empowerment)
“Most women in Lamu are not used to going to themosques because of the culture”
– Abubakar & Hassan,
imams
imams
Due to an unstable and declining economy on the one hand, and a higher level of education on the other, more and more Muslim women are joining the workforce. In anticipation of the mega infrastructural project LAPSSET, the town is expanding, both in size and population. In this context, for many working Muslim women, prayer at home often becomes a no longer viable option.
Theoretical framework
The theoretical framework I am using lies at the intersection of three concepts: heshima, embodied piety and respectability politics. In the Lamu context, heshima is of vital importance; literally “respectability” in Swahili, it represents the unspoken moral code that runs through the Swahili community. Theorized by the anthropologist Sarah Hillewaert as a “relational and performative network” (a system of behavior codes that apply to one’s role in the community and the mutual relationships between members), heshima relies heavily on Islamic values and morals, without, however, being one of the teachings of Islam.
The way heshima functions in the Lamu context is very reminiscent of “respectability politics”. This concept, theorized by Evelyn B. Higginbotham in the U.S. context of African American women and adapted to an African feminist perspective by Sylvia Tamale, refers to the strategies used by women to attain legitimacy in a patriarchal environment, by exercising social control over each other’s bodies and behavior.
The way heshima functions in the Lamu context is very reminiscent of “respectability politics”. This concept, theorized by Evelyn B. Higginbotham in the U.S. context of African American women and adapted to an African feminist perspective by Sylvia Tamale, refers to the strategies used by women to attain legitimacy in a patriarchal environment, by exercising social control over each other’s bodies and behavior.
In order to avoid the pitfalls of binary oppression-liberation narratives, I also introduce Saba Mahmoud’s concept of embodied piety. The anthropologist reframes agency not as resistance to norms, but as the ethical cultivation of the self through religious practices. Through this lens, the actions and choices undertaken by the women of Lamu in regards to their preferred spaces of prayer become proofs of agency and self-determination under the prevalent moral system, defined by the respectability politics of heshima.
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Prayer and Spatial Negotiations:
Women’s Strategies in Daily Life
I apply this theoretical framework to the findings of the fieldwork we did in Lamu in orderto reveal the socio-cultural reasons behindsome of the more prevalent choices of prayerspace for the Muslim working women of Lamu. As such, the choice to pray at home during the lunch breaks has two underlying reasons: the Islamic prescription that teaches that women receive more spiritual rewards by praying at home and the more practical reason of domestic duties, like preparing lunch for the children.
This is where the spatial expansion of the town comes into play, as the urban development becomes a hurdle in the most heshima-elevating prayer practices the working Muslim women can engage in. With longer distancesand unreliable means of transportation women can no longer easily go home on their lunch break to pray for dhuhr, the midday prayer. As such they employ various strategies. Some visit the homes of relatives or friends that live closerto their place of employment, whereas others pray directly at their workplace, with a growing minority preferring to pray in the one accessible and adequate female mosque, Raudhwamosque.
The Role of Mosques
There are some women praying in mosques too. Generally, women pray in a mosque more often during Ramadan, as there are much less domestic duties during the day, due to thefasting, which allows women to congregate en-masse to female mosques. Outside of Ramadan however, only one female mosque fulfills all thecriteria to be properly used.
Raudhwa mosque recently (February 2025) opened its female section, which despite its small size is bright, clean and equipped with all the women might need to fulfill their religious duties. It is also, as opposed to other mosques that have or have had a female section, perfectly placed, on the Seafront, within walking distance from most workplaces that employ Muslim women. Raudhwa mosque, however, is not perfect either; most of the time it is locked up, and only a select few have got a key, and thus access to the building and despite their popularization campaign it is still largely unknown by the women working in a radius bigger than 100 meters.
Raudhwa mosque recently (February 2025) opened its female section, which despite its small size is bright, clean and equipped with all the women might need to fulfill their religious duties. It is also, as opposed to other mosques that have or have had a female section, perfectly placed, on the Seafront, within walking distance from most workplaces that employ Muslim women. Raudhwa mosque, however, is not perfect either; most of the time it is locked up, and only a select few have got a key, and thus access to the building and despite their popularization campaign it is still largely unknown by the women working in a radius bigger than 100 meters.
The Culture-Religion Vicious Circle:
Why Women Don’t Pray in Mosques
The lack of female mosques and the lack of visitors of those mosques reveals a vicious circle that proliferates at the intersection of religion and culture. Islam professes that it ismore rewarding for a woman to pray at home and historically most women did not leave the domestic space for prolonged periods of time. As such, it has become a part of the culture that women do not pray in mosques, which has been used as the reasoning behind the meager offering of female sections. The lack of appropriate space, in turn, makes women prefer the comfort and familiarity of their domestic space, further entrenching the idea that Lamu Muslim women simply do not pray in mosques.
“Swahili people (women) do not use the mosque for prayer”
– Usthada Asya, teacher and radio moderator (regarding Swahili culture)
Improvised Sacredness:
Prayer in the Workplace
When praying outside of a domestic space, we can see the women’s religious practices as a form of embodied piety, a way to express their agency in an environment that does not cater to them. Workplace prayer spaces are rarely institutionalized, and thus often improvised. Offices, storage rooms and the back rooms of shops take on a religious function through the act of prayer. However, these spaces, not being designed for such a function, are often lacking: too small, not clean enough and occasionally without the proper ablution facilities. But regardless of their shortcomings, these improvised prayer spaces represent a way for the women to appropriate and transform them in accordance to their religious needs, thus becoming an act of religious self-cultivation.
The Space Between Work and Prayer #2503
Micropolitics of Prayer
“How does Muslim working women’s prayer practice challenge the gendered cityscape of Lamu, fostering new female spaces of worship and increasing the feminine presence in public areas?”
This research started from an interest in the women’s spaces of prayer. While the Muslim men usually pray five times a day at one of the 42 mosques in Lamu Town, Lamu’s Muslim women habitually pray in their homes.
The recent increase in Muslim women engaging in non-domestic work is changing this. I was curious to first understand where the idea that women should pray at home comes from. From there, I was then trying to learn about these women's motivations for participation in the structural workforce and the changing needs that come with it. Lastly I was looking at the way, the practice of religion plays into this dynamic and the spatial manifestations of it.
The recent increase in Muslim women engaging in non-domestic work is changing this. I was curious to first understand where the idea that women should pray at home comes from. From there, I was then trying to learn about these women's motivations for participation in the structural workforce and the changing needs that come with it. Lastly I was looking at the way, the practice of religion plays into this dynamic and the spatial manifestations of it.
In Swahili society someone’s position in the social hierarchy used to be defined by their wealth, descent and heshima (respectability). Having heshima is roughly defined by factors such as behaving respectfully and being a good Muslim. What that means in practice though is constantly renegotiated amongst the members of Swahili society. An increased emphasis on heshima in the beginning of the last century, led to the seclusion of women becoming a status symbol for the family. The effects of this practice had a big impact on the position of women in the public sphere which is perceived until today. Many places in town, especially the bigger streets, squares, the Seafront and many workplaces, continue to be male-dominated, which leads to women either avoid them or navigate them with precaution. For a long time women were also discouraged from pursuing higher education, leading to generations of women who had no, or no higher education.
Most women in Lamu are housewives. My mom didn't go to school. […]. In the past, Lamu girls didn't go to school, only the boys did. The common assumption was that the girl child is there for marriage. This was the culture.”
– 23 year old woman from Lamu
Now the changes in Lamu’s economy and the rising level of education in women, have led to their increased participation in the non-domestic workforce. Working, for many of them, is much more than just a way to make money. It became clear to me, that it is also a means to gain some independence and to open paths beyond marriage and domestic duties. Through the insight of Belgian anthropologist Sarah Hillewaert’s study of Lamu’s youth we also understand that these women see working, especially in NGOs and aid organisations as contributing to the development and therefore to the wellbeing of the town and its residents, contributing to their heshima.
At the same time, by joining the workforce, and their increased presence in the streets and workplaces, they challenge the ever-present unwritten rules of heshima. However, religion remains central in many of their lives, contradicting a western view of secularisation as a liberating element. For most of the women we spoke to, there was no doubt, they would continue their salat, the practice of their five daily prayers also when working. Scholars like John R. Bowen describe the Muslim daily prayers as one of the most visible aspects through which Muslims distinguish themselves from other religions, but also from one another and their varying degrees of religious observance. It therefore comes to no surprise that the women also employ their own religiosity to show that a practicing Muslim, a person with heshima, can also come in the form of a working woman.
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A prayer room inside an office
The increased participation of Muslim women in Lamu's formal workforce is not merely an economic shift but a transformation of the city's social and spatial dynamics. As these women navigate the complexities of work and religious observance, they challenge traditional norms of heshima and redefine the gendered nature of public spaces. Their commitment to maintaining their daily prayers while engaging in non-domestic work emphasisesthe intricate relationship between gender, religion, and urban space. Through their everyday practices, these women are not only asserting their place in the city but also reshaping its urban fabric. The creation of new prayer spaces, from ad-hoc solutions to dedicated women's mosques, materializes their evolving needs and aspirations. My research highlights the importance of acknowledging and adapting to these transformations to cultivate more inclusive and equitable urban environments. The 'micropolitics of prayer' utilized by these women stand as a compelling illustration of their agency and determination, embodying the continuous evolution of societal norms within Swahili society.
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Outside Raudha Women’s Mosque
At the same time, by joining the workforce, and their increased presence in the streets and workplaces, they challenge the ever-present unwritten rules of heshima. However, religion remains central in many of their lives, contradicting a western view of secularisation as a liberating element. For most of the women we spoke to, there was no doubt, they would continue their salat, the practice of their five daily prayers also when working. Scholars like John R. Bowen describe the Muslim daily prayers as one of the most visible aspects through which Muslims distinguish themselves from other religions, but also from one another and their varying degrees of religious observance. It therefore comes to no surprise that the women also employ their own religiosity to show that a practicing Muslim, a person with heshima, can also come in the form of a working woman.
A prayer room inside an office
The increased participation of Muslim women in Lamu's formal workforce is not merely an economic shift but a transformation of the city's social and spatial dynamics. As these women navigate the complexities of work and religious observance, they challenge traditional norms of heshima and redefine the gendered nature of public spaces. Their commitment to maintaining their daily prayers while engaging in non-domestic work emphasisesthe intricate relationship between gender, religion, and urban space. Through their everyday practices, these women are not only asserting their place in the city but also reshaping its urban fabric. The creation of new prayer spaces, from ad-hoc solutions to dedicated women's mosques, materializes their evolving needs and aspirations. My research highlights the importance of acknowledging and adapting to these transformations to cultivate more inclusive and equitable urban environments. The 'micropolitics of prayer' utilized by these women stand as a compelling illustration of their agency and determination, embodying the continuous evolution of societal norms within Swahili society.
“The opening of the women’s Mosque made me feel seen.”
– Working woman regularly praying at Raudha
Outside Raudha Women’s Mosque
Lamu’s Mkunguni Square
While some women go back to their homes at prayer time, through Lamu’s growing spatial expansion and the further distances, this is not always possible anymore, which leads to a new need for prayer places for women close to their workplaces.
I read the women’s everyday practices of working and especially praying in the city as acts of ‘micropolitics’, a term first coined by French philosopher Michel de Certeau in 1984, and taken up by Yasminah Beebeejaun, Professor for Urban Planning from the University College London. She appeals to planners to pay attention to women’s everyday actions and read them as acts of ‘micropolitics’, to inform their planning and create more just cities for all genders. In the context of Lamu, and other cities of the Global South, where the role of planning is distinctly different from a Western context, I argue that the ‘micropolitics of prayer’ of the women negotiate symbolic but also physical space with the community and religious leaders. Starting from small ad-hoc prayer spaces like a storage cupboard to more institutionalised space like the mosque dedicated to women, the material impact of this negotiation is manifold. The most prominent form of it is certainly the new creation of a mosque just for women which enjoys great popularity, especially amongst the working Muslim women, but also serves travelling women as a temporary refuge in a city, where there are not many other public spaces dedicated to women.
Inside Raudha Women’s Mosque