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Overview ︎︎︎


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 the 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: Maji yakishamwagika hayazoleki tena


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.

Mpishi Hula Moshi



How is food a creative medium that articulates Lamu’s oscillating relationships between bodies, places, and time?



Authors:
Nusrat Ahmed Ali 
Umi Haroun
Marie-Jean Malek
Olga Voiushina
Oliver Frayne


A proverb from Lamu, which translates as "the cook eats smoke”highlights the hardship work and the fact that the fruits of cook’s labor are for others.

The research traces the stories of food on Lamu Island, where different actors use food as a method to navigate daily challenges, leverage their status, and highlight gender advantages and social connections, hence exploring new business opportunities.


Food has become a technology to access earning opportunities for those previously left out, hence reimagining and recreating urban spaces.


Conversely, we examine how this access shapes the uniqueness of Lamu's food culture, fostering value exchange both materially and culturally. This sustains a connection to traditions while providing hope for a future that may or may not be tied to the food business.






Projects


Mpishi Hula Moshi #2401

Mpishi Hula Moshi

Lamu, 2024

Marie-Jean Malek
Olga Voiushina

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Food Methodologiee

With a diverse group of five researchers differing in age, gender, and cultural background, we began by reflecting on our positionality as individuals from various parts of the world. Starting with a simple task of cooking and sharing meals together as team members, food preparation and consumption initiated our journey in order to better connect and understand each other and the focus of our research. This approach aimed to immerse ourselves in the local culinary practices and traditions, by reflecting on our position as external observers, and depending on our sensory perceptions shaped by the immediate surroundings, to guide and inform our interpretations. The practice of collaborative research has allowed us to better "cook" our research interest, which lies in understanding how food, as an absolute good for all living organisms, acquires practices in a social environment that vary from culture to culture.


Lamu Foodscape journey: Mapping Six Weeks of Food Stories

Lamu Foodscape

Foodscape is defined by the food practices that create the character of a place. As we were collecting food stories, a map of our research path was developed covering the stories of recipes, ingredients, tools, challenges, and opportunities embodied in the processes of preparing, selling, sharing, and eating food on a daily basis.



Lamu Food Stories

Farzana’s Story - A Space for Aspiration



Farzana’s kitchen is a cramped, three-square-metre space with no windows or ventilation. It serves as both a workspace for household duties and a small business, with shelves packed with tools for every cooking need. Her equipment blends traditional and modern: a multi-cooker for speed, a gas oven for power cuts, and a charcoal burner as a backup. Limited by space, her tools spill into other rooms.



For Farzana, cooking is both a duty and a creative outlet. She personalizes meals with secret ingredients, adapts broken tools, and tries TikTok-inspired recipes. Cooking lets her care for her family’s health and gives her a rare space for self-expression, constrained by cultural traditions in Lamu. Her investment in modern tools reflects her desire to ease her domestic load and expand her small food business from home, symbolizing a broader tension between tradition and modernity where personal and professional aspirations meet.

The dual pursuit - seeking efficiency in household chores while aspiring to economic activities centered on the home space reflects a larger picture in Lamu - a nuanced balance between tradition and modernity, and a negotiation of space where personal and professional aspirations converge.




Biryani Night - 
The Story of Many Hands for One Dish



In our journey to unveil the different scales and spaces of food-making, the preparation of wedding food marks a traditional festivity rich with socio-cultural stories and connections. In a one-night setup to prepare biryani, a traditional wedding meal, a whole, often invisible social infrastructure comes to life, where private and commercial aspects merge while maintaining the societal hierarchy. In this setup, the top supervisory roles were held by the adult men of the family, who oversaw the preparations.  
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 shaped by strict social norms and extensive domestic responsibilities.

Thus, the community hall transforms into a space for women to breathe, engage in self-making, and bond socially through chanting, dancing, and small conversations around food trays.





A Recipe’s Story -
‘Lost Recipes, Lost Connections’





With our desire to explore Lamu's traditional dishes through hands-on learning, we focused on local, typical ingredients that require simple preparation. Bananas, coconut, and sugar seemed simple in theory but led us to discover the creativity and variety employed by locals to create two distinct dishes: Mazu (or Ndizi za Nazi), a familiar dessert for Lamu residents, and Mboko, a fading recipe at risk of being forgotten

What began as a goal to exchange knowledge, practices, food, and joy within our group evolved into recording one of many unwritten food archives that are gradually disappearing, along with the stories of the women who invented and once cooked these dishes.





Asma’s Story -
A Space of Experimentation


Carrying on her family’s heritage in the food business and driven by a desire to have a self-independent work, Asma—fondly known as “Mama Ntilie” by those who visit her small outdoor kitchen—introduces a new dimension of Lamu food stories.


For 24 years, her corner of the street witnessed her innovations in Lamu food business, demonstrated by the arrangement of her cooking platform to accommodate both the family business and her customers’ needs.




The display of her cooking tools, the preparation of jiko for a live cooking experience, and the promotion of various homemade dishes on her small table—some made by other women in the family— all contribute to transforming the place into a warm and comfortable dine-in experience for repeated customers, embodying the genuine warmth and hospitality of a true  ‘Mama Ntilie’.



Fahita’s Story -
A Space of Resilience





We have come to Fahita to learn more about her mahamri, by some accounts the best mahamri in town. In a quiet, narrow alley blackened from years of wood smoke is where Fahita makes the mahamri each day. She buys the ingredients from the same place—she has her person. She cuts and shapes them here, but the dough is mixed off-site at her in-laws' shop, where they have a standing mixer suitable for larger amounts of dough needed for her small mahamri business. 

We learn that one aspect that makes this mahamri popular is that they taste, look, and feel homemade—something lost in the commercialized baking.


As we observe the steps of mahamri-making, it starts inside the house, from shaping the triangular mahamri, rolling a small disc, and cutting it into quarters, which are then stacked and set aside. Fahita then moves outside to her usual corner to start the frying. As she begins frying she becomes even quiet. The dough triangles are tossed into the oil; they inflate and become a dark orange-gold before being turned out into a colander to drain off excess oil. Fahita says a small prayer each time she fries another batch. We depart with hot mahamri wrapped in newspaper advertising discounts on electronics.



Exhibition

The stories and characters featured on the page became part of an exhibition at The Lamu Fort Museum, where the collaborative work was shared with the people of Lamu. A folded map served as a key to the exhibit, allowing visitors to journey from story to story - not only within the exhibition but also to discover these places and people throughout the city. 



By gathering recipes, stories, and symbolic objects, the exhibition aimed to show how food bridges the global and local, uniting past traditions with modern technologies, personal expressions with collective identities.

Through preparing, sharing, and enjoying food, it becomes a creative medium that reimagines the connections between bodies, places, and time.

Mama na Bahari



How do social identities and community roles of women in Lamu evolve through their engagement in the fishing industry?

How do gender dynamics and cultural practices influence women's roles and participation in environmental conservation efforts in Lamu, Kenya?



“Mama na Bahari” investigates the transformative role of women in Lamu’s fishing industry, particularly through their involvement in projects like sustainable octopus closures. By examining these initiatives and women’s activism, our research highlights how women’s participation is reshaping community structures, redefining, and challenging traditional roles.

These sustainable practices not only enhance environmental conservation but also elevate women’s standing within the community, contesting long-held gender norms.


The research underscores the pivotal contributions of women in fostering economic adaptability and environmental stewardship in Lamu. 

Through these initiatives, women become agents of change, reshaping local perceptions of gender roles and actively contributing to Lamu’s socio-economic landscape.


This project offers a comprehensive view of how women are reimagining their place within the fishing industry, interweaving the intersections of gender, economy, and environmental sustainability to build a more inclusive and empowered future.











Projects


Mama na Bahari #2406

Sustainable Futures:
Mama na Bahari at the Intersection of Gender Justice and Climate Action in Lamu, Kenya

Lamu, 2024

Milena Alicia Astray Wolff

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Introduction

This seminar paper investigates the intersection of Islamic feminism, decolonial feminism, and environmental justice in Lamu, Kenya, with a focus on women’s roles in environmental conservation and social justice within the fishing industry.

Using an intersectional approach, it highlights the complex socio-cultural and economic barriers that shape women’s experiences, revealing the ways in which gender, environment, and power are interconnected.





Through interviews, group discussions, participatory observations, and literature review, the study emphasizes the critical role of women in addressing climate-related challenges, such as droughts and floods, which disproportionately impact their lives and livelihoods.


The Mama na Bahari exhibition, serves as a central element of the research, demonstrating the significant influence of women’s conservation efforts and their contributions to both the environment and society.

Findings suggest that environmental justice in Lamu cannot be achieved without gender justice, and this paper advocates for an integrated approach that combines both.


Sustainable futures

Women in Lamu’s fishing industry face numerous challenges, particularly those exacerbated by climate change. These include not only environmental pressures like rising sea levels and unpredictable weather patterns but also socio-cultural restrictions that limit their mobility and participation in the industry.

The paper documents that women, who are often responsible for household duties, are more vulnerable during environmental crises. During floods, for example, women’s caregiving roles increase their exposure to danger, limiting their ability to seek safety. Moreover, health risks for women are amplified, as climate change contributes to increased incidences of stillbirths and diseases such as malaria and Zika. The intersection of these issues underscores the urgent need for gender-sensitive policies that recognize the unique vulnerabilities faced by women.



Local organizations, such as the Lamu Women Alliance, play a vital role in supporting women in overcoming these barriers. They advocate for what they call a “girl code” of solidarity to counter political and social challenges, including harassment and exclusion from decision-making processes. The need for comprehensive educational programs and greater support from both governmental and non-governmental organizations is also highlighted, particularly programs that incorporate indigenous knowledge and are sensitive to local cultural values.

The Faza Youth Action Group similarly addresses historical injustices, aiming to amplify marginalized voices and promote equal inclusion. The contributions of these groups emphasize that gender equality is essential for achieving environmental justice in Lamu, where socio-cultural and economic limitations have historically restricted women’s participation in sustainability efforts.
The research explores decolonial and Islamic feminist frameworks to understand how colonial legacies and religious principles influence environmental policies and gender norms in Lamu. Decolonial feminism critiques the enduring effects of colonialism, capitalism, and imperialism, challenging global structures that perpetuate inequality and exploitation. By valuing indigenous knowledge and amplifying marginalized voices, this perspective seeks to dismantle oppressive systems and promote self-determination for women in Lamu.

Islamic feminism, in turn, provides a framework for advancing gender justice within the context of Islamic principles, allowing women to engage in conservation and leadership roles without directly challenging religious beliefs.  

For instance, one interviewee from the Faza Youth Action Group stated,

“We can fight the culture because that was made by humans. We can challenge humans, but we cannot challenge God,” 

reflecting how women navigate social structures.





Initiatives
In addition to these feminist perspectives, the paper illustrates how women-led initiatives are essential to sustainable development and social justice. Community projects such as coral reef restoration and octopus closures are examples of how environmental sustainability and economic independence are intertwined. Women in these initiatives challenge traditional gender roles, contributing both financially and socially to their communities while promoting ecological balance. Education is central to these efforts, fostering awareness of environmental issues and reinforcing women’s capacity to advocate for their rights.



The research finds that women’s involvement in Lamu is often defined within cultural contexts; as one member of the Lamu Women Alliance described, empowerment means “changing the way of life to the culture.” Similarly, the Faza Youth Action Group observed that the empowerment process has elevated women’s self-worth and expanded their roles within the community. Such culturally specific understandings of empowerment align with decolonial feminism’s goal to respect local values and resist external influences.

The interconnections between gender, religion, and culture shape women’s leadership and environmental activism in complex ways. 

The gendered division of labor and women’s disproportionate vulnerability to climate change highlight the importance of integrating gender perspectives into environmental justice. Community-led aspirations for environmental conservation align with economic activities, enabling women to develop strength and self-sufficiency.  However, while women bear many responsibilities in their roles as primary caregivers, they often lack formal recognition and support. Local women’s knowledge, rooted in their cultural heritage and everyday experiences, is invaluable in promoting sustainable practices, as illustrated by their roles in conservation initiatives and traditional fishing practices.

The research emphasizes that sustainability and social justice must go hand in hand, particularly in the context of women’s contributions to environmental conservation in Lamu.

Participants frequently echoed the sentiment that


“There is no climate justice without gender justice,”

underscoring that sustainability efforts must be inclusive to be effective.


The Lamu Women Alliance advocates for integrating these principles into environmental policies to address gender-specific challenges and ensure women’s participation in leadership roles. The study illustrates that women’s voices are essential to sustainable development.




Conclusion

This paper underscores the importance of integrating gender justice with environmental sustainability, advocating for policies that support women’s roles in conservation and address the socio-cultural barriers they face. Women’s leadership in Lamu demonstrates the transformative potential of decolonial and ecofeminist frameworks, which challenge global structures of inequality and foreground indigenous knowledge and local empowerment. 

These findings illustrate that achieving environmental justice requires acknowledging and addressing gendered inequalities, recognizing women as key contributors to environmental preservation and community resilience.


Through their collective efforts, women in Lamu not only contribute to the local ecosystem but also foster a more equitable and sustainable future for their community.


This research offers valuable insights for policymakers, highlighting the need for inclusive approaches to environmental justice that respect cultural identities and promote gender equity within sustainability practices.







Mama na Bahari #2407

Mama na Bahari: An analysis of the involvement of women in the fishing industry in Lamu, Kenya

Lamu, 2024


Janaina Caratsch
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My research project, titled “Mama na Bahari,” examines the role of women in the fishing industry on Lamu Island, Kenya, where men typically dominate the field. Women primarily engage in fish processing and, in some cases, specialize in octopus fishing.

Their involvement challenges traditional gender norms within the culturally conservative, Muslim-majority society of Lamu. 


This project explores how these women navigate traditional boundaries, how cultural expectations shape their participation, and the socio-economic impacts of their contributions.




Context and objectives

The fishing industry in Lamu is vital to the community. Fishing is traditionally seen as men’s work, particularly deep-sea fishing, which is physically demanding and requires specialized skills.



Women’s participation has been largely restricted to shore-based activities like fish processing, trading, and small-scale, near-shore fishing, such as octopus harvesting. 

This gendered division reflects deep-rooted cultural norms and Islamic teachings, which influence gender roles in Lamu.


My central research question is:

“What factors and societal values influence women’s participation in the fishing industry in Lamu?”


The study’s objectives include understanding the cultural and religious norms that shape women’s work, examining the challenges they face, and assessing their economic contributions to their communities.




Findings

The findings reveal that women in Lamu’s fishing industry operate within a framework heavily influenced by cultural and religious expectations. Women’s roles remain largely tied to household responsibilities and shore-based fish processing, a key activity known locally as Mama Karanga, which aligns with conservative Islamic perspectives that assign distinct responsibilities to each gender. Furthermore, in certain areas, especially octopus fishing, women fish independently, staying closer to shore and working among themselves. The economic importance of octopus fishing has led some community elders to accept women’s involvement due to the financial benefits it brings.


Economic Challenges and Climate Impacts

Women’s involvement in the fishing industry is influenced by economic necessity, particularly due to limited employment options on the island. The fishing industry however, faces significant economic and environmental challenges.

Inadequate infrastructure, like the lack of cold storage facilities, complicates fish preservation and affects women’s incomes.


Environmental issues, including the LAPSSET project, have also impacted fish availability, with pollution and changing marine conditions reducing catches and creating additional economic pressures on women.

Empowerment and Community Engagement

Empowerment, as perceived by these women, is nuanced and community-oriented. Through initiatives led by organizations, women receive training and access to resources.

Many interviewees expressed a sense of agency from their work, noting that financial independence helps them support their families and contribute to the community.


Empowerment is evident in the women’s ability to make household decisions and engage in collective action to address community issues, such as marine conservation.


Despite the influence of Western perspectives on empowerment, the local women’s concept is rooted in Nego-feminism, a form of African feminism that emphasizes negotiation and harmony rather than confrontation. For example, many women continue to balance their fishing activities with traditional roles, such as caring for children and managing household duties, in line with conservative expectations. Women like Mama Pweza, an octopus fisher, embody this approach by working in groups, thus respecting cultural norms about gender-appropriate activities while still advancing economically.



Cultural Norms

The women’s increasing visibility and agency create tensions within the community, particularly regarding traditional expectations. Some men and elders disapprove of women’s involvement in fishing, fearing it disrupts social structures.


In this context, for example, it is said:

"wazee wanasema wanawake wamekuwa kichwa ngumu", which means "Elders say women have become stubborn".


However, the acceptance of economically beneficial activities, like octopus fishing, shows that traditional norms in Lamu can be flexible when financial incentives are evident.




Conclusion

The "Mama na Bahari" study illustrates how women in Lamu balance economic empowerment with traditional roles, navigating a complex social landscape shaped by cultural norms and economic necessity. They leverage resources and opportunities within the framework of Islamic gender norms, achieving a form of empowerment that aligns with African feminist ideals of collective welfare.

In an interview, it is stated:

"We can fight the culture because that is what was made by humans. We can challenge humans, but we cannot challenge God". 


This highlights how women in Lamu negotiate change while respecting religious and cultural boundaries. 

Although women face significant challenges, they contribute substantially to their families and communities by adapting traditional roles to new economic contexts.


This research underscores the need for culturally sensitive empowerment initiatives that respect local customs while providing meaningful support. 
Ultimately, the women of Lamu are redefining empowerment on their terms, blending traditional values with economic strengths in ways that contribute positively to their community’s socio-economic and environmental sustainability.

Ways of Living with the Lamu Archipelago



Today the Lamu Archipelago is undergoing a period of change, wherein land and sea converge under the influence of local and global forces.



These transformations affect the ways in which the community live with their near environment, as well as more distant surroundings in various ways. 


Our research aims to capture this evolving landscape through a blend of voices and perspectives, highlighting key themes:

  • Promises and Pitfalls of the Blue Economy;
  • Changing Performance of Fisheries in Amu;
  • Experience and Sense-Making of Climate Change; 
  • Relations to Nature in Times of Crisis;
  • Archipelagic Stories of Spirituality; and 
  • Managed Mangroves. 

Each perspective reflects Lamu’s ongoing dialogue, rooted in both tradition and adaptation, as it faces environmental, social, and economic changes.




Authors

Runzhu Qian
Leo Witzig
Lion Tautz
Clara Alder Juul




Projects



Ways of Living #2402

I can read dua in Lamu and cure you in Dubai: On how spirituality circulates through spaces in Lamu, and what spiritual practices tell us about the islands’ transoceanic ties to other ports cities in the Indian Ocean

Lamu, 2024

Clara Alder Juul

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“I can read dua in Lamu and cure you in Dubai”


Hashid told me one evening during my fieldwork in Lamu, after explaining the various methods he uses as a healer (mtabibu), to cure people of spiritual forces (Field notes 25.04.2014).

We sit in the living room of his home in Lamu Old Town. The room offers a tranquil and undisturbed space for our conversation, with the exemption of his two-year-old daughter, who at times seems fairly displeased that I take up her father’s attention. Despite her young age, it occurs to me that she is somehow aware of her father’s expertise, and conscious that I, a complete stranger, have come to her home to learn.

The general term for a spiritual force in Lamu is jinn (jinns or majinni in plural). There exist good and bad jinns. The good jinns do not disturb humans, while it is believed that the bad jinns bring all sorts of malaise to people. The process of being “taken over” or “put out of control” by a spiritual force is conceived as spirit possession or dispossession. This is where Hashid’s profound knowledge of spirituality is most evident, as he has the ability to free people from spirit possession. As a mtabibu, he carries a jinn, that together with his religious faith, serves as a guiding force in his treatments:

“I have religion in one hand, and the jinn in the other” 


(Field notes 25.04.2014), he states, and hands me his medical license issued by the social services.

Spirituality in Lamu is doubtlessly connected to Islam, and due to Lamu’s maritime connections to other nations in the Indian Ocean, the advent of Islam has led to an enduring influence on the cultural history of the port city.


This research presents a study of spirituality on Lamu Island through a relational lens. For this, I ask the following questions:

How does spirituality circulate through spaces in Lamu and across geographies? And how are we as urban scholars to squeeze meaning out of these practices?


Kicking them to the curb as mere superstition simply raises the question. Reducing them to fears or reasons of explanation (because what else should it be?) dismisses their depth and embeddedness in Lamu society, and the ways in which people relate to other urban sites in the Indian Ocean through spirituality. I consider relationality the starting point of connections across space and situate Lamu at the nexus of studies on spirituality (Larsen 2009, 2014; Ballarin 2009; Giles 2018; Uimonen & Masimbi 2021) and urban maritime literature (Menon et al. 2022, Mahajan 2022, Lavery & Hofmeyr 2020 Pugh 2013, Glissant 1997) to show how spirituality in Lamu creates an archipelagic space of connections between distant urban locales, that are both geographical, bodily and more-than-material. 




The first part of my study delves into the link between spirituality, water and people, and shows how my interlocutors embody the island’s history of connectedness through spiritual practices around water (Meier 2017; Kosgei 2021).

Interactions with tides reveal a deep spiritual connection to the sea, where tidal movements are seen as sacred and imbued with cleansing powers.


Through rituals, Hashid whom I shortly introduced in the beginning of this abstract, uses the ebbs and flows as a medium to engage with spirits, invoking prayers to channel divine forces of the sea for protection and healing. Hashid’s practices connect him to a broader cultural and historical tapestry, reflecting an embodied spiritual relationship that links Lamu to other Indian Ocean communities.

After converging around the watery quality of spirituality in Lamu, I extend the analysis to a focus on the fringe between water and land as being a specifically dense spiritual space (Mahajan 2022; Kucher 1995).

My interlocutor Yunus’ memory of a spirit encounter near the main jetty of Lamu Old Town highlights the jetty’s unique role as a liminal space, where the boundary between water and land holds spiritual intensity and guides social behavior.


The materiality and the social relations played out around the jetty-space extends Mahajan’s concept of "archipelagic relationality".

The second part of my study explores the translocal nature of jinns in Lamu, and challenges the dichotomy between human and spiritual identities, suggesting a more integrated and archipelagic relationship between the worlds. Hasid’s recalling of his friends’ Issa’s possession by a Russian-speaking jinn exemplifies Ensing Ho's (2006) concept of "local cosmopolitanism”, which I argue extends itself into the spiritual realm, where jinns also embody the junctures of local and global influences, which I employ as a critique of Larsen’s argument (2024) that the spiritual and human world are considered separate, though they intertwine. I rather propose that spirituality in Lamu is regarded an inseparable part of the human world.

The last and third part proposes that modernity offers alternative ways of practicing spirituality in Lamu (Meier 2017). This argument is further deepened by a comment to Dilip Menon’s argument that migration across the oceanic distances creates a scale of its own (Menon et al. 2022: 8).  Based on Hashid’s remarks “I can read dua in Lamu, and cure you in Dubai”, I suggest spirituality as a scale of it own.

Spirituality as a scale of its own creates alternative connections between spatial, temporal, emotional and socio- political elements, than proposed by Menon, and provides a pathway to think space less as a surface to move on or a scene for cultural practices or beliefs, and more of a medium to think about felt connections.


By exploring the role of jinns on Lamu Island, my study reveals the role of spirituality in Lamu as a means of cultural and historical relationality to the wider Indian Ocean world, where multiple spiritual practices intersect. Together they create an archipelagic space of connections between Lamu and distant urban locals that are both geographical, bodily and more-than-material, demonstrating that spirituality circulates through numerous spaces in Lamu and across the Indian Ocean as process and result of many relations at a time.




Ways of Living #2403

Mangroves

Lamu, 2024

Runzhu Qian

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About the project

We were on the boat, the sky was blue and the clouds were white.

The writer saw a lot of mangroves above the sea, like soldiers protecting the coast. Slowly darkness fell, and the forest became as silent as the dark night.

They are so mysterious, beautiful and reliable, and it is said that elves live in them, but the writer does not want to talk about elves here, only consider their future.

In 2001, Lamu was listed as a World Heritage Site by the United Nations for its unique culture. Mangroves, which are the nature and culture heritage in Lamu, their survival status has received a lot of attention due to the industrialization and urbanization of Lamu. Many institutions are trying to protect and restore them, such as KFS(Kenya Forest Service), CFA (Community Forest Associations) , NGOs and local communities.

What is the relationship between these institutions? What is the relationship between mangroves and local people? And are mangroves effectively protected? 


The writer focuses on the relationship between groups and between people and mangroves.
The aim is to answer the following question:

What kind of restoration method can better ensure that mangroves are effectively passed down as a natural and cultural symbol?

Especially in the context of Lamu facing severe urbanization.

If we still have a little compassion for the remaining species, if we really put ourselves in the middle of them, we will understand that animals and plants are as alive as humans.  


Based on existing research and inspired by Calkins’ “empathy with plants”(2020), in this paper the writer has preliminarily explored which of the several existing restoration methods is more conducive to restoring the mangroves themselves and restoring people’s relationship with them.


Lifestyle

Work at sunrise and rest at sunset.
People pray, people sing.

Children and donkeys are crying
from time by time.
However, you do not feel noisy at all,
You feel that, this is life itself.

The boat drifting with the sea,
The starry sky in sight.
Houses in the distance,
Waves close by,
Chatty backpackers.

All tell the stories... ...



                                       —Runzhu




Forest and sea

















If the forest is the habitat of the soul,
then the sea is the home of the wanderer.
Rare seabirds were low in the sky,
The moon showing half its face.

The clouds are like the white breasts of swans,
People running, laughing and crying.
Day after day, year after year,
Until the end of the world...

Sometimes, the darkness
extinguished the light of the clouds,
Just like the distant dreams.

Lonely old people,
Lost middle-aged people,
And the little ones,
Who do not know what they are doing... 



                                    —Runzhu






Ways of Living #2404

Complexity and Contradiction in Ecology

Lamu, 2024

Lion Henri Tautz

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The project

“Will we allow anthrax or cholera microbes to attain self-realization in wiping out sheep herds or human kindergartens? Will we continue to deny salmonella or botulism micro-organisms their equal rights when we process the dead carcasses of animal and plants that we eat?”

    Dipesh Chakrabarty (2021, p. 194)

We meet in Hassan’s office on the first floor. Hassan is a community organizer, and he has arranged for us to speak with an Ustadh, a Muslim teacher and leader. My co-researcher has asked Hassan to set up the interview, and she has invited me to come along. Lamu is a majority Muslim community and before the Ustadh arrives, we chat with Hassan about the rules of Islam regarding the treatment of animals. The Ustadh, a man around 30 and wearing a football jersey, feels most comfortable speaking in Kiswahili, so Hassan has volunteered to translate. Throughout, he also offers his own opinions at various points.



In the second half of the interview, after my co-researcher has asked her questions, we return to the topic of animals in Islam. The Ustadh explains that while the elders still follow the rules of the Qu’ran, younger people have lost their way and treat animals — from donkeys to ants — poorly. I ask if the rules extend also to fish and Hassan takes a moment to explain something to me before translating:

“Okay, let me tell you something. In the sea, Islamically, everything that comes from the sea is eatable.”


The Ustadh’s response is similar:
“In the sea, there is no mistreat. Because they're going there for fish, and fish is a meal. People will eat it, right?”


In Lamu, a historically seafaring town on the shores of the Indian Ocean, “70 percent of the local population depends on artisanal fishing.” (Lesutis 2022, p. 2438) A hierarchy of beings begins to emerge, with (differentiated) humans on top and a value-gradient of animals below. What seems at first glance to be an instance of the double fracture laid out by Malcom Ferdinand in his book Decolonial Ecology is quickly qualified by the Ustadh: “In a killing of this animal or insect, there is a way of killing. Like, for instance, we cannot kill a mosquito for consumption, right? But it's just for prevention. Because if you don't take care, we'll get malaria.” Malaria is a serious illness and can be fatal — fracture or not, preventive action is necessary for health and survival.

Still, I cannot shake the feeling that we have very different concepts of equality. Hassan explains that “we have rights, and animals have rights. So, it's equal. For Islam, it's very equal. You're not supposed to kill it without a reason. If you have a reason, you do it. […] That is Islam.” As a conscientious vegan, I want to think there is never a reason to kill, human or other animal. One might reasonably ask what makes my drawing of the line between justified and condemnable in between plants and animals more valid than Hassan’s at the border in between animals and humans; I leave it to you, the reader, to consider this ethical quandary. No matter which version of equality you settle on, though, the Ustadh acknowledges that that is not how things are anyways:

“We need to have equal rights for everything. But it is not practiced. It is only practiced to the direct benefit. […] Things are done for productivity. So, if something is not productive to me, I don't care about it. But there is a need for everything to be treated equally.”




Haki Za Asili // Asili Kama Rasilmali
Rights Of Nature // Nature As Resource


Tunahitaji kuwa na haki sawa wote, lakini hilo halijatiliwa maanani, halijatekelezwa -ila kutekelezwa tu Kwa manufaa ya kibinafsi.


We need to have equal rights for all, but it’s not practiced — it’s only practiced to the direct benefit.


—        Ustadh / Islamic Teacher



Tuna haki, wanyama pia Wana haki, Katika uisilamu, upo usawa. Hufai kuua bila sababu, labda kuwe na sababu tu.

We have rights, and the animals have rights, so it is equal. For Islam, it is very equal. You’re not supposed to kill without a reason — if you have a reason, you do it.


—        Msimamizi wa Jamii / Community Organizer


Cha kusikitisha samaki walio na thamani kubwa sana wamekuwa wahamaji. Pindi tu wanapo vuka mipaka waanaacha kuwa samaki wa hapa Kenya. Lakini wanapokuwa katika bahari yetu, ni haki yetu kutumia rasilimali hizo.

Sadly still, the high-value fish species are migratory. The moment they cross the border, they are no longer Kenyan fish — but when they are in our waters, it is our right to utilize those resources.


—        Mtafiti wa Uhifadhi wa Bahari / Marine Conservationist

Kama mwanaharahakati unapaswa kuwa na njia mbadala za kuelezea hisia zako. Iwapo unakuja hapa kuharibu Mikoko yetu, tutapaza sauti zetu — Pia tutatumia jukuwaa Hilo kuzielezea hisia zetu. Unajaua mbona umelifanya, sababu unatutenga, unatubagua na kutunyanyasa na haya ni maeneo yetu,uliyoyachukua kwa lazima.

As an activist, you should always have a different formula of expressing your concern. So if you come here to destroy mangroves, we will raise our voice — but we will utilize that platform also to express our feelings: ‘You know why you did it, because you’re neglecting us, you’ve marginalized us, these are our areas, you took them by force.’

—        Mwanaharakati wa Mazingira / Environmental Activist


Kwa mtazamo wangu kama mwanamazingira, Ni na Imani fika sehemu zote za asili ni sawa,zote zina haki ya kuwepo, zote zinafaa kufurahia maisha na uhuru wao — Kwa mtazamo wa jamii, Kuna utegemezi mkuu sana wa rasilimali, na kujiona bora zaidi wanafaa kufaidika na rasilimali hizo .

From my point of view as an environmentalist, I obviously believe all parts of nature is equal, they all have a right to be there, they all deserve to enjoy their life and their freedom — but from the community point of view, since there is a high dependency on natural resources, they definitely see themselves as superior. They are supposed to be the ones benefitting from nature, but not nature benefitting from them.


—        Mtaalam wa Mazingira / Environmentalist





Ways of Living #2405

Conflicting Scales and Ambitions:
Kenyas Blue Economy in times environmental decline

Lamu, 2024

Leo Witzig

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Mvuvi chake ni unga – the fishermen goes with the flour

This Swahili proverb was quoted by a Lamu County executive committee member, who used it to explain the precarious situation of fishermen in Lamu today.  According to him, “go with the flour”  is translatable to the english proverb living from the hand to the mouth. Although fishing and fishing-related business is one of the main income sources of coastal communities in the Lamu archipelago, many fishers live day to day and with little means. In recent years, they faced multiple challenges such as rising fuel prices and loss of access to good fishing grounds as a result of LAPSSET, a major regional infrastructure project. The health of fish populations and their ecosystems is under pressure from ocean warming, pollution, and illegal fishing practices, all of which damage the fish population and decrease overall biodiversity.
While this description depicts a challenging situation, it is only a momentary state of a dynamic field. Starting a few years ago, connected trough the term Blue Economy, a plethora of programs and policies where initiated, which should help the socioeconomic development of coastal communities while introducing measures to protect life in the ocean. The Kenyan government and external actors such as the World Wildlife Foundation, the World Bank and the European Union are mobilizing the term Blue Economy in their programs with the promise to uplift fishers from poverty, develop the market capacity and meanwhile ensure a better security and environmental protection in the coastal waters.



Research goal

The goal of my research was to understand the interplay of the different programs and policies active in Lamu and the related ambitions and challenges.  


Therefore I approached the topic from two sides. Once I studied the context and ambitions of programs which use the term Blue Economy and the recent development of governing structures in the Kenyan maritime and costal domain. On the other hand, I conducted interviews with fishermen, NGO workers and local government representatives in order to learn about the lived experiences, challenges in the implementation and different interests involved.




Interventions

The current developments in the Blue Economy are heralded by stating the ambitions to help the fishers to have more stable incomes, to protect the marine environment and simultaneously increase the production.


This should be facilitated by creating alternative income sources for some, while providing others with boats big enough to exploit the barely used fish resources further out in the EEZ (Exclusive Economic Zone).

The fishers staying with the near coast fishing should participate in the management of the co-managed areas, in which temporary closures allow the fish population to recover.



But even though many plans exist and large sums of funding have been invested, most of the fishermen still go with the flour.  


The co-managed areas are relatively nascent and although often mentioned as a key part of the solution, the they are still far from a common sight. Offshore fishing is often spoken of, but so far the Lamu Archipelago lacks the cooling infrastructure to even support the current catch.



Interventions

What will come with quite high certainty is a new landing site with cold storage capacities, an adjacent marketplace and processing plant for fish and seafood in Mokowe. This will help to build the aspired deep sea capacity and, thanks to more direct access to the international market, likely increases the profits which can be made. Whether the boat owners will stay as intermediaries or whether government initiatives to give the fishers access to sell directly in the market is to be seen when it is built.

And conflicting with the hope to get the now too numerous fishers to find other occupations, the potential higher income trough this new market access combined with the scarcity of other job opportunities, could work as an adverse effect. 

Ultimately, while changing the sector might take some time, overfishing and ocean warming induced changes are accelerating.

The coral bleaching related to the 2023-2024 El Niño has shown how sensitive the coral ecosystem reacts to temperature changes.  On top of that, the environmental impact the further construction and operation of the LAPSSET Port will put additional stress on the ecosystems.


Outlook

Since leaving Lamu in May 2024, the compensation for the damages caused trough the first part of the LAPSSET Port construction, was after many years of waiting finally paid.


This spurs hopes, that fishermen will be able to invest in alternative income sources or own equipment, to reduce the dependencies on boat owners as middle men. 
While I was writing the related seminar paper in June, massive protests against the new financial bill, which would have further increased the gas prices, have forced President William Ruto to renounce the bill and replace his entire board of ministers.
I conducted my research in a moment when many things were changing, on different scales at different speeds. What comes of it remains to be observed in the future.








Ng'amba // Plastic:
Maji yakishamwagika hayazoleki tena //
Once Water Has Been Spilled, It Cannot Be Recovered



Through the stories of local residents, the film delves into the impacts of plastic waste on the community and its environment.



Our documentary, "Ng'amba: Maji yakishamwagika hayazoleki tena" (Once Water Has Been Spilled, It Cannot Be Recovered), explores the issue of plastic pollution in Lamu Island, Kenya.


It highlights the challenges in waste management, the local initiatives for handling plastics such as PET, and the economic inequalities that complicate these efforts. 

The films aims to raise awareness about the complex, global nature of plastic pollution and its local impact on Lamu island.




Authors

Ahmed Adhan
Ruth Lozi
Nadja Nievergelt
Henning Weiss




Projects


Ng'amba #2408

The Lifecycle of Disposability: Perspectives from Lamu

Lamu, 2024

Nadja Nievergelt

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What is truly disposable?

This seemingly simple question reveals more than meets the eye. It is a question that relates to what we consider less important, less valuable, and less necessary. It encourages us to reflect on the ease with which we grant both material and immaterial things worthlessness. How is it that we view certain objects and even people as disposable, and what are the wider consequences of this disposability?

In contemporary western discourse there is frequent dialogue surrounding our consumer society, which is tied the desire to purchase new things, use and then dispose of them, turning these objects into waste (Crocker 2012, 1,2; Goodwin et al. 2008, 1,4). That moment of an object turning into waste is often considered somebody else’s problem (Crocker 2012, 1). Waste is out of sight and out of mind (Barnes 2019, 1), encapsulated by the NIMBY syndrome meaning “Not in my back yard” (Dalzero 2021, 207). But the question is in whose back yard then? Who must carry the burden of disposability?

During the six weeks I spent in Lamu, Kenya, I became very curious about these very issues. Working alongside two members of the Lamu Youth Alliance and a fellow student from the University of Basel, we immersed ourselves in the community's approach to plastic waste and the lives of waste pickers. As we learnt our way through the everyday landscape of discarded materials, the question of what we throw away and why stayed present in my mind during both the research and writing phases of this paper. In Lamu, the discarded pieces of plastic felt like a reflection of the cultural, economic, and historical complexity of the island, showing how deeply the concept of disposability is entangled in local and global life. 


To delve deeper into the topic surrounding waste, particularly plastic waste and waste workers in the context of Lamu, I was inspired by Lucy Bell’s paper “Place, People, and Processes in Waste Theory: A Global South Critique (Bell 2019). In it she critiques the fact that traditional waste theories predominantly take European and US-centered perspectives that often ignore the realities of the Global South (ibid, 99-100). These theories usually assume a physical and ideological distance from waste, which is not the case in many communities in the Global South including, from my observations, Lamu (ibid, 101).

Waste is present, it is visible and so are those who work with it.


For countless people in places like Lamu, waste is an immediate, everyday presence that affects and shapes their lives in profound ways


(Abdallah Interview 2024; Ali Interview 2024; Issa Interview 2024). This is why Bell's critique guided my seminar paper, namely that I wanted to fulfil her call to understand waste from the perspective of those who live with, on, and beside it (Bell 2019, 98).
 


Plastic boys

During our research, I found the story of a local plastic waste collector, Jassim, whose daily work is often stigmatized and overlooked, particularly touching (Issa Interview 2024). We shadowed Jassim in Lamu's newly built India quarter, where he gathers waste for pickup by Flipflopi, a local waste management group. India, unlike the well-kept parts of Lamu Town, relies heavily on local waste pickers like Jassim. As we began our interview, a group of young men laughingly called out to him “Rasta man”, a term which then characterized the conversation we were about to begin. 

Jassim shared insights that reveal not only his daily and economic struggles, but also the broader societal attitudes towards his waste work and subsequent marginalization and stigmatization (Issa Interview 2024):

“Young people feel ashamed to collect these things; they feel embarrassed to be seen collecting these things; they feel they look like me”, 


he remarked, his voice steady, but reflecting the burden of the societal scrutiny he is regularly facing (Issa Interview 2024).  Derogatory remarks like “Rastaman is crazy” further illustrate a belief system that equates waste collecting with madness or failure, ignoring its environmental significance and its societal value. In areas on Lamu’s outskirts, where no governmental waste workers are present (Lee Fieldnotes 2024a), Jassim’s role is vital, yet stigmatized. This reflects a broader prejudice towards certain types of labor also seen globally, where waste work is often labeled as “dirty” or “impoverished”, “lack economic resources” or “prospects”, closely associated with the waste they collect or even equated with the waste itself (Kornberg 2020, 148; Vázquez 2016, 127; Porras Bulla, Rendon, and Espluga Trenc 2021, 1303).
Jassim’s story raises important questions about the wider implications of waste, disposability, and invisibility.

The stigma associated with what is often viewed as “dirty work” is not only physical, but also societal and moral, deeply impacting those who manage waste 

(Meiu 2020, 225-26).


Meiu’s analysis highlights how plastic boys are marginalized not just for their economic status but also for handling the foreign and culturally degrading plastic objects. Both plastic boys and waste workers, through their association with plastic, confront judgments tied to the broader implications of disposability and societal invisibility.

This exploration into the lives of various waste workers in Lamu not only highlights the stigmatization they face, but also forces us to acknowledge and recognize their essential but overlooked contribution to our daily lives and the wellbeing of our environment. It prompts us to re-examine our notions of what constitutes valuable labour and challenges the origins of these ideas. By examining how waste is viewed as disposable, we see a parallel to how people who work with waste are similarly viewed as tainted by their association with the objects they handle. However, this stigma seems to vary depending on the context, history and type of waste handled, suggesting that the stigma attached to waste work is not uniform, but is influenced by these factors.


Ecologies of Belonging



How does home-building shape people’s life stories and their sense of belonging in Lamu? What do common building materials such as coral stone and mangrove wood tell us about the future of Lamu?






Most new houses on Lamu island are built with local coral stones and mangrove wood. These ancient building materials are key to Lamu’s world-famous architectural heritage, yet home-builders often integrate them with modern techniques such as poured concrete. These building practices raise pressing questions of who belongs to Lamu.

Lamu’s coral stones come from the quarry of Maweni on nearby Manda Island. Workers in this village carve the stones by hand from the coral stone bedrock of the island. They transport the stones by boat and donkey to Lamu, where they are used to build new houses on the outskirts of the historic town.  Prospects of prosperity have long attracted people to work and live in Maweni, which has been a site of coral stone extraction since at least the 1980s. Many in this community of stone workers hail from western Kenya and are considered to be outsiders to the region.

Our research focused on the relationship between Lamu and Maweni. What do they share? What separates them? And how do these communities depend on each other?
Building a house out of permanent materials is a common aspiration. Yet living in Lamu and Maweni comes with very different challenges. While most inhabitants of Lamu’s neighborhoods enjoy tenure, the inhabitants of Maweni face precarity and the risk of eviction. Few of their homes are built with the precious stones around which they have organized their livelihoods. Most homes in Maweni are made out of a combination of thatch, mud, and wood. Despite these inequalities, residents’ lives in both Lamu and Maweni are interlaced with complex stories of aspiration and belonging that are not contained by either of these locations. 

Our urban research with community organizers, stone masons, house builders, home owners, and neighborhood residents combined hand drawing with photography, mapping, interviews and ethnographic walks. We used drawings and maps to convey the ecological relations of belonging that structure these stories. Someone’s sense of belonging cannot be easily pinned on a map or represented in a drawing, yet the dialogical practice of drawing together with community members allowed us to better understand what it means to belong.




Nasba’s story

Nasba comes from the coastal area of Kiwayuu, she is Swahili and Muslim. Nasba’s father is a fisherman and her mom owns a shop. She moved to Lamu Island for her studies because the university was close to home. She has been living in Lamu town ever since. Nasba still goes and visit her family in Kiwayuu - she buys groceries in Lamu and brings them to her mother’s shop. She initially lived with relatives and later moved from one rental apartment to another in the town.


This is why Nasba says she has so many neighbors. She greets all of them when she walks her streets. Today, she lives in Bombay, one of the new neighborhoods on the outskirts of the historic town. She rents an apartment there and has a close relationship with her neighbors, who she says are like family. In the future, Nasba wants to invest and build a big house back in Kiwayuu, and she also wishes to own a shop there. But she can also imagine living in Lamu, buying a plot of land and building a house of her own.



Mary’s story

Mary was born in central Kangundo in Machakos County. She is Christian and identifies as Kamba. She was brought up in Mpeketoni, where she attended school and learned Kiswahili and English. Her parents could not fully finance her education, so  she started working on a farm when she was still young. Her husband was an alcoholic and could not provide for their four children. She divorced him and moved to Maweni for work all by herself. She first lived in a rented house and started working in the quarry to save money for her childrens’ education.


After ten years of hard work, she saved enough money to take over a restaurant lease and build a house of her own. She is currently renovating it with a tin roof and wishes to build a four-bedroom house. In the future, Mary also wants to build her own restaurant and manage employees in order to welcome more customers. Mary may decide to return to Mpeketoni in the future, but she does not think there will be work for her there.



Dida’s story


Dida was born in the nearby county of Tana River. She is Orma and Muslim. She came to Lamu town with her parents when she was six years old. Her family first lived in the neighborhood of Kandahari. Halima does not have any memories of her home village in Tana River. Her father lives in Witu, a town on the mainland, while her siblings are still living in Lamu Island. For work, Halima sells groundnuts, milk and tobacco in town. Sometimes, she sends her children to sell her products when they are not in school. She lives in her late husband's house together with them.


Dida’s house is a temporary structure made out of Makuti. She does not feel secure in her house because the land does not belong to her. It belongs to an old Swahili family of Lamu. She understands she is a squatter and can be told to go away anytime. She aspires to own a plot in Lamu town and build a permanent house of her own.



Projects


Ecologies of Belonging #2301

The Violence in Maweni’s Coral Stones

Maweni, 2023

Maeva Yersin

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Anticipating the economic prospects of the new port, the region has witnessed a surge in land speculation, sparking intensifying disputes about belonging in the region. These disputes encompass not only matters of land adjudication and ownership, patronage politics and corruption, but also about the stewardship and transformation of lived-in landscapes and ecologies.

Maweni is a small town nestled on Manda Island within the Lamu archipelago. Since the 1980s, people from various parts of Kenya have flocked to Maweni, attracted by the economic prospects offered by the local quarry. This quarry is pivotal in providing an ongoing supply of coral stones to Lamu town and the surrounding region. Coral stone, as the primary construction material of the town, carries profound cultural significance for Swahili coast residents, tightly interwoven with their sense of belonging, extending along the coastal expanse of Kenya.

In contrast to the predominantly Muslim population of the Swahili coast, Maweni's workers and residents, recently counted to be around 2,000 people, are mainly Christian. Many identify as Luo—an ethnic identification of communities initially settled around Lake Victoria in Western Kenya. 



A shipment of coral bricks from Maweni, stacked at Lamu waterfront


Postcolonial politics in stone

Coastal Kenya’s prevailing political landscape bears the marks of colonial history. European-imposed racial hierarchies intersect with Arab culture and Muslim notions of belonging within a  Christian-dominated Kenya. The ambiguous relationship of coastal communities with “Kenya” can be traced back to the British colonial era when Swahili-speaking communities were racially classified as distinct from Africans. Compounding such clafficiations is the fact that since Kenyan independence, coastal communities have suffered state-led marginalization,  manifesting in absent or deteriorating infrastructure, imposed security, and limited education and employment opportunities.

Perceptions of neglect by the postcolonial state have intensified the idea of a distinctive coastal identity, which serves both to gain political legitimacy and establish an alternative narrative of belonging independent of the Kenyan nation-state. How do these complex politics of belonging inhabit building materials such as coral stone?

Since the 12th century, coastal communities have utilised coral stones to construct houses, tombs, and mosques, thereby transforming  coastal towns such as Lamu into powerful nodes of trade and civilisation. Coral stones symbolise the aspiration to be part of the civilisational order of urban Islam, as art historian Prita Meier has shown. They   perpetuate the celebratory narrative of Lamu Island as a stone town. However, they also evoke the painful legacy of plantation slavery.

"Coral stone masonry encapsulates political and social tensions, embodying both the violent racial histories of dispossession and the celebratory narratives of belonging to an ecosystem."


Examining building exclusively through the lens of architecture or development today falls short of capturing these profound historical and political complexities.



Reaching Maweni

The commute from Lamu to Maweni begins with a 20-25-minute journey aboard a public boat to Manda Island. From there, the trip then involves a 15-minute ride on the back of a motorbike (known as piki piki). Often, three people share a single motorcycle, navigating muddy and rugged roads that have not been renewed in decades. During rainy days, these roads become treacherous, necessitating slower speeds and an increase in the cost of the ride.

Including waiting times, the journey from Lamu Island to Maweni takes an hour or two, with a total cost ranging between 600 and 800KSH. This overland route is slower but cheaper than going by boat. However, for residents working in Manda Maweni who earn just 1000KSH on a good day, leaving Maweni often means saving up their daily pay for weeks or even months.

Most tourists know Manda Island because this is where the airport is located. Just a few kilometers away, however, the village of Maweni remains a highly marginalized space where quarry workers remain bound to backbreaking labour and have limited mobility options due to high transportation costs.

Nevertheless, material circulates at a frantic pace. Material from the quarrying sites is transported to the shore via donkeys and carts. From there, workers carry the materials on their shoulders onto the boat, which then ferry them to the seafront of Lamu Town.

And just as coral stones are carried out of the village, water containers are carried in. The island has no source of drinking water. Cyclists are often seen transporting yellow water containers brought from Lamu Island. Drinking water makes up a significant portion of household expenses in Maweni.

Mining and Blackness



Minerals are commonly perceived as inert matter available for exploitation and activation. The logic of extraction and the language used to describe geological processes pervade the experiences of those involved in mining. Geographer Kathryn Yussof has argued that the extraction and commodification of mineral material goes hand in hand with colonial logics of dehumanization.  This process is intricately tied to the racialisation of bodies, as the categorisation of blackness is a prerequisite for extracting resources from colonised territories.

Blackness is closely linked to the formation of a subjectivity intentionally distorted by the logic that the violence inherent in resource extraction must be absorbed by black bodies. Blackness, furthermore, is an embodied experience, manifesting itself in journeys and interactions, characterised by the constant movement of bodies, memories, and cultures. These populations possess the capacity to evolve and adapt, "to become different things at different times," reflecting an urban population in perpetual motion or considered available for movement," as urbanist Abdoumaliq Simone writes.

"The concept of Blackness assumes a relational character in Maweni, pertaining to individuals perceived as "immigrants" (colloquially "up-country people") rather than indigenous residents in the local politics of Lamu."




Ecologies of belonging #2302

Fixators of oppression in space

2023

Cristina De Lucas

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This paper aims to shed light on the  connections between property, belonging, and power dynamics in Lamu, Kenya. It relates the historical and conceptual foundations of property to the role of emotions and social negotiation in the construction of belonging. By exploring this interplay between land and belonging, the paper aims to gain a deeper understanding of social hierarchies and identity in Lamu.

Property can be conceptualised as a potent instrument of power, driven by the act of possession akin to domination, thereby ensuring the perpetuation of oppression. Moreover, belonging can be understood as a profound sense of comfort and the emotional responses derived from a harmonious alignment with one's surroundings in terms of behavioural constraints, which are influenced by the directives imposed by a dominant authority. This parallel can be drawn to apprehensions regarding discrimination and exclusion.

Lamu is a vibrant and heterogeneous place characterised by  diverse ethnicities, religions, and cultures. With a blend of Islam and Christianity, the region features a fusion of traditions and beliefs. However, despite its rich cultural heritage, Lamu often finds itself stigmatised by Kenya as "the poor, undeveloped one." This discrimination stems from prevailing narratives that undermine the economic and social progress of the area. Additionally, Lamu bears the lasting consequences of British colonisation, having inherited a foreign system of governance that continues to influence its present-day development.

“Traditionally, the indigenous peoples of Lamu lived in tightly-knit communities where a council of elders played a central role in decision-making processes.”

These respected figures were responsible for ensuring the community's well-being, managing land usage, maintaining security, and overseeing trade activities. They also presided over civil disputes among neighbours and conducted annual religious rituals, many closely tied to economic practices such as farming, livestock rearing, and fishing.

However, the current administrative structure of the government, particularly the presence of the provincial administration, conflicts with these traditional modes of rule. 

“Chiefs, sub-chiefs, and headmen appointed by the government now handle most disputes, effectively sidelining the authority of the Council of Elders. This erosion of power has led to a loss of the indigenous peoples' sense of prior informed consent, as the government-appointed local leaders often fail to consult with the communities they are meant to represent.”


Consequently, some communities in Lamu have strained relationships with these appointed leaders, resulting in a lack of effective representation and limited opportunities for community participation in decision-making processes. It is within these contexts that housing construction, property dynamics, and the formation of social belonging become salient factors that both influence and are influenced by Lamu's broader power structures.
 

A disenchanted home

As we delve into the exploration of property as an instrument of power, navigating the realm of belonging becomes essential—a concept intricately intertwined with the transmission of narratives surrounding cultural identity. Belonging encompasses the multifaceted tapestry of connections, attachments, and associations individuals forge with spaces, objects, and communities. Within this framework, we can discern how emotional motivations traverse the landscape of property relations.

Scholar Nira Yuval-Davis defines belonging as "an emotional (or even ontological) attachment about feeling 'at home', understood as a safe space." She attests that belonging is always a dynamic process, not a reified fixity, arguing that the latter is only a naturalised construction of a particular hegemonic form of power relations.

However, the feeling of belonging also exists in relation to fixed factors such as family and social roles. These are not only emotional attachments but also structures of power. 

“Romanticising the role of belonging as solely an emotional attachment to childhood memories diminishes the power dynamics at play.” 


While it is true that emotional attachments to memories become more pronounced when one is distanced, this heightened visibility results from confronting the feeling of not belonging. These sentiments merely reflect the social comfort of knowing that one's values align with the prevailing social norms of the surroundings.



Communal, state, and private property

In Lamu, the dynamics of land ownership are shaped by a complex interplay of cultural, historical, and political factors. The local population, who predominantly practice Islam, strongly advocates for preserving traditional system of ownership, governed by councils of elders.

The elders hold the power to allocate land use but not ownership. However, the authority of the elders extends beyond land, as they also make decisions pertaining to security trade and oversee annual religious rituals.

However, the administrative structure imposed by the government, particularly through the presence of the provincial administration, means a centralization of power. This shift has resulted in a sense of detachment amongst the people and lack of transparency and accountability in government.

“The Kenyan government's categorisation of land as Government Land has been exploited by the political and financial elite to gain access to ancestral lands, branding the indigenous communities as ‘squatters’ on their territories.”



A significant portion of Lamu's land, however, is recognised as "community land," intended for communal use and livelihoods. To protect these communal lands, regulations stipulate that they should be held by communities identified based on ethnicity, culture, or similar community interests. Within the community, families and individuals are allocated rights to use the land in perpetuity, with the ultimate ownership vested in the community.

The dynamics of land ownership in Lamu reflect the tension between traditional governance systems, the imposition of colonial structures, the influence of political and financial elites, and the ongoing struggle to protect communal land and livelihoods from land grabbing.

Maritime mobilities



How does the construction of the new port disrupt maritime mobility patterns and marine-based livelihoods? What interventions will be needed to safeguard these for the future, and which new livelihoods might emerge?



The new regime of mobility which the LAPSSET project aims to establish disrupts existing maritime livelihoods and mobility across the Lamu region. Sustained civil society action has resulted in a one-time, highly contested compensation scheme for fisherfolk. But many in the community are aware that this compensation does little to guarantee locals’ inclusion in economic development, nor mitigate the risks and threats to existing way of life.

Meanwhile, anxiety about the  future of Lamu is prompted by rumours about a new bridge and ferry connections and fears about the closure of the dug-out channel that facilitates crucial east-west travel in the archipelago.
Through ethnography and mapping, our work explores the relationships between the ways people move across the archipelago and their ability to sustain themselves. It shows how mangrove, fishing, and tourist livelihoods depend on maritime movement, shaped by the intricacies of tides, seasons, and state security. Following diverse narratives from different groups of people, the research addresses the tension between hopes for a prosperous future and fears of losing livelihoods.









Projects


Maritime mobilities #2304

A Port of Splintered Promise

Mokowe/Lamu/Pate, 2023

Munib Rehman

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“These people”

We arrive in the early hours of dawn and dock at the main jetty of Mokowe, Lamu County’s first mainland town west of the archipelago. From Lamu town, the commute takes a mere 15 minutes, and one does not have to wait long for the boat to garner the dozen or so passengers it needs to make the journey worth the captain’s while. Traffic commences early on this most frequented of thoroughfares, as the movement of cargo, schoolchildren, and government functionaries underlies the island’s dependence on mainland supplies and infrastructure.

Morning cargo on the shore of Mokowe Jetty

One is greeted by heaps of cargo littered about the place, waiting to be loaded onto cargo boats embarking back towards various stations within the Island network. A procession of porters animates the scene, transferring merchandise between lorries and cargo ships.  On-land conveyance awaits further on from the slope of the shore, with vans and buses idling alongside private-hire estate cars and motorbikes.

Porters at Mokowe

A porter frantically waves at us from afar, taking exception to our filming of the spectacle. The man walks up to interrogate our objectification of their drudgery and is unusually verbose for his occupation, asking if we thought they were “imbeciles”. Courtesy obliged us to concede to his protests all too willingly, but the man seemed to relish this break from his labour and continued conversing in practiced English.




We talked of his occupational hazards, and he went through a litany of accidents they had grown accustomed to, including overloading, capsizing, and even fires. Soon this turned towards what the future held, which gave us a segue to mention the prospect of a rumoured bridge between Lamu town and the mainland. This was seen as part of the infrastructural upgradation that LAPSSET brought to the region, and would  streamline the daily commute of many.



However, this proposition was met with a patient sigh, followed by a rather resigned explanation of why this prospect, real as it was, could not materialise. A plan for the bridge was indeed proposed, but the local boatsmen vehemently protested against such inconsiderate benevolence, seeing as a land connection would spell an end to their means of livelihood. Excluding himself as a Kikuyu mainlander, he decried the siege mentality of the islanders:

“They feel like the main government is working with the Chinese, and the Swahili people are kind of just pushed aside. I remember the Chinese proposed to construct the bridge very well – they even came with a map… but these Swahili from Lamu refused it. The main reason is that the bridge would deny them jobs.”

“These people… they don’t like change, they don’t like development, they want the same of what they have – that is why they are against such projects.”

This political rift, mapped onto ethnic difference, has been central to Lamu’s relationship with the national government.


Coastal communities tend to look back on the Omani maritime empire as a period of prosperity for Lamu, in contrast to the marginalization of the region since Kenyan independence. Kikuyu communities arguably bore the brunt of colonial oppression during British rule, and their anti-colonial resistance is foundational to Kenyan independence and post-independence nation-building. However, Kikuyu political elites, with president Jomo Kenyatta at the top, are also widely described as the biggest landgrabbers of Kenya, responsible for the country’s neo-colonial injustices after independence. 

Mirroring the feelings of marginalisation the porter felt in Bajuni-led Lamu, this complex history inhabits contemporary politics and social dynamics. Coastal communities are wary of  state impositions from Kikuyu and other “upcountry Kenyan functionaries, of local real-estate speculation by their investment-savvy middle class, and of the mainland’s vague but consequential conflation of Al-Shabaab with the local community.

The porter occupied us for a rather generous half hour, before we realised he was holding out for some renumeration for his time. This made us realise how little of his exposition depended on our prompts, and why it had all seemed rather rehearsed. Well-meaning wazungu were to be sold a story, or so it seemed.

Infrastructure as a frame of analysis

While the LAPSSET infrastructure project served as both topic and context in our research, we were also inspired to mobilize infrastructure as an analytical lens. By virtue of the vastness of its purview, and the indeterminacy of the boundaries of its causal and effectual spheres of influence, infrastructure evades disciplinary caging. It does however lend itself quite naturally as a site of inquiry to a diversity of social science disciplines such as anthropology, history, human geography, urban studies, and science and technology studies. Each of these offer approaches that addresss particular aspects of such a boundless chain of phenomena.
In short, the challenge confronted by a researcher is first and foremost of delimitation; a matter of honing in on a case through a selection of methods, and then framing it within spatial, social, and temporal constraints.



Ethnographic imprecision

In order to grapple with the effects of the LAPSSET project spread across such a spatially dispersed area - and to accommodate the nebulous phase this inquiry finds itself in - this undertaking calls for a lenient imprecision in its ethnographic approach. The aim here is to document social attitudes, responses and expectations around the construction of the port. 

As Hannah Knox and Penny Harvey summarised the challenge of such a premise, “when studying infrastructure the anthropologist must confront the problem of locating an ethnographic site without limiting the scale of description.”
Following suit, this study aims to take account of the variety and instability of human relations in the shift brought about by this infrastructural intervention within the community, and attempts to offer a snapshot of the social and cultural dynamics of change brought about by the port.







Imaginaries of development

To envisage infrastructure within a public imaginary is to dwell on an aesthetic plane of conception. Framing infrastructure as such relegates its technical function to a separate, secondary concern; the priority instead being the imaginative potential of its image. This implies not only the visuality of the spectacle itself, but also the sense in which it is internalised by its addressees.


Brian Larkin offers a masterful exposition of this potential, pushing back against the trope of ‘infra’ as denoting something hidden and behind the scenes. To be fair, the notion of an out-of-sight network of processes, one that enables the end-user a certain convenience through an unassuming interface, does provide an inexhaustible avenue of research. But Larkin argues that there is no end to the relational webs that one may consider in trying to come to grips with infrastructure, and emphatically states that “discussing infrastructure is a categorical act… a moment of tearing into those heterogeneous networks to define which aspect of which network is to be discussed.”
Drawing license from the clarity of Larkin's declaration, this inquiry’s categorical concern is the connotative baggage of new Lamu port within the local community. Though having enjoyed centuries of prominence as a thriving port city in past regimes, there is a palpable sense of modernity’s belated arrival that the new port announces in the current, Kenyan iteration of Lamu. A “game-changer” as it is so tritely brandished in official pronouncements, the port is held up as Lamu’s fast track ticket to development.

“As a regional gateway to the riches of East Africa, Lamu has the chance to shed its image of a developmental hinterland for a new prominence on the international stage. The proposed LAPSSET project will immensely contribute to the opening up of the County externally to other Port Cities and Nations of the world.”


Such proclamations by government officials imply a tacit admission of feeling left behind so far, and speak of a motivating disjunction sorely felt between Lamu’s as-is, and its desired to-be. The trope of the port as a game-changer therefore is not without conviction,  and is emblematic of the “postcolonial state’s imaginative investment in technology,” dissonant as it might be with the heritage-tinged, donkey-cart romance of Lamu’s Old Town.






Maritime mobilities #2303

Tides of Change


The role of maritime mobility in sustaining livelihoods within the Lamu Archipelago
Lamu archipelago, 2023

Tanja Meier

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"The place they chose to build LAPSSET port is dangerous. Because if the Mkanda channel is closed, Lamu will be finished."


This is how Mohammad Mbwana -  Shungwaya Welfare Association chairman and a local historian - expressed his fear for Lamu's future in our interview. According to Mbwana, disruptions to maritime mobility will be the end of Lamu. The infrastructural development in Lamu is anticipated with both a sense of promise and violence. The government promises growth, modernity, and prosperity for the region against a background of dispossession, displacement, and exclusion.

Lamu County is the northernmost county on the Kenyan coast. It borders Somalia and has direct access to the Indian Ocean. The locals do not perceive this ocean as a border but rather as an extension of the land and life around the islands. Many indigenous communities inhabit the Lamu archipelago. Their cultural identity depends on the natural resources surrounding the archipelago.
Water is of paramount importance, serving as a base for both the fishing industry and mangrove management, two primary means of livelihood within the island network. The sea is often overseen as an environment where people navigate and manoeuvre. However, maritime societies constantly interact between land and sea, and these connections shape their knowledge and practices. Simultaneously, littoral communities, such as the inhabitants of Lamu, are connected to their hinterlands socially, politically, and economically.

LAPSSET may create new markets for Kenya and the region through which state income can be generated. However, these ambitions turn into infrastructural violence around Lamu port, with severe ramifications for various social groups in the wider region.

Honing in on transport

Literature on LAPSSET has focused on the social upheaval accompanying infrastructure, touching upon events of land grabbing, fishing bans, monetary compensations, and other processes that animate analysis on a more local scale.
However, within the broad purview of analysing such a massive international project, the disruption of regional maritime mobility has thus far evaded scholarly analysis.

Given a considerable part of the archipelago experience is commuting by boat, we saw this as an opening to inquire further on a topic that suited the limitations of our fieldwork. We thus honed in on maritime mobility and began by questioning the numerous claims on Lamu’s waterways.

How is Lamu’s maritime mobility disrupted by the ongoing port development?

What effects does this have on livelihoods and the movement within the Lamu Archipelago?

What alternatives, promises, and opportunities emerge to safeguard the future of Lamu’s current livelihoods?



Building up to Mkanda
Mkanda is a channel that connects Lamu East with Lamu West. It drastically shortens the commute between islands and provides a calm, secure alternative to the outer seas. The canal cuts through the mangroves between the mainland and Manda Island.

In the 19th century, the maritime economy of the archipelago was dominated by British colonial rule. After independence, the Kenyan state took control of regulating trade.

“In 1978, mangrove harvesting and export to the Middle East was banned, forcing boat captains to resort to other occupations, such as being tour guides. In this and other ways, government involvment fueled the economic decline of the region.”


Before this curtailment of trade, large dhows crossed the outer sea and sailed around the Lamu Archipelago and
across the Indian Ocean.
The maritime economy was then gradually replaced by steamboats operating between British India and East Africa. Today, mostly small boats circulate the island - and captains keep from the outer seas too hazardous to navigate.




Satellite image of Mkanda channel and Wiyoni town on the bottom left corner

According to fishermen, the government-funded dredging of Mkanda around the year 2000 countered local economic decline and allowed small motor boats to navigate safely within the archipelago. Some people argue that the channel was dug to improve the archipelago’s security, while others interpret it as a precursor to the new port. Furthermore, the dredging allowed for land reclamation near Lamu town, giving rise to the new urban area of Wiyoni. The exact motives behind the government-funded dredging remain unclear; thus, it is hard to distinguish its objectives from both positive and negative side effects. Nonetheless, the channel’s importance to Lamu is undeniable.

The construction of Mkanda also played a role in the transformation of Pate Island. Trade across the Indian Ocean long shaped the orientation of towns such as Pate towards the ocean. However, since the monopolisation of the trans-oceanic trade, these towns were no longer beneficiaries of this trade. This new economic situation led the island to reorient itself towards the mainland side of the archipelago, where smaller boats could more easily dock.
Previously - when the island was still oriented towards the outer sea - places like Shanga and Kizingitini were the main docking places on Pate Island. Now, though, Mtangawanda is the island's main dock, easily accessible as it is through the channel from Amu and the mainland.



Routes going through Mkanda connecting Lamu with Pate Island (Mtangawanda & Shanga)

Today, Mkanda is a highly frequented water passage for cargo, tourists, and public transport. Using the channel to commute between Lamu East and Lamu West saves travel time and reduces fuel costs against the sea route.  Moreover, Mkanda is crucial for Lamu's fishermen to operate all year round and avoid dangerous voyages into the outer sea.

"For the route of Shela (outer sea) - it is seasonal. When the sea is rough, they use the Mkanda fishing route," explains BMU Amu Chairman.

The Mkanda channel is especially important during the rainy season when the sea picks up, and the route through the outer sea becomes dangerous and impassable for small boats. "So, most of the time, when the sea picks up, we try to advise them not to cross there [the outer sea]. The channel is more on this side [inside the archipelago]. So, we try fishing within here," explains the chairman.




Lamu Port from Mkanda

Although Mkanda is at the centre of the archipelago, many other waterways are highly important. Map 5 displays some of the leading maritime routes that are used regularly. The map shows that maritime routes in the Lamu Archipelago are not only used by fisherfolk but are crucial to other activities such as mangrove cutting, cargo shipping, public transportation, and NGO projects.



Main waterways on Lamu archipelago

The Goliath of global trade

Manda Bay was chosen for the construction  of the new port because of its natural geography. The deep sea level here allows several large ships to dock and manoeuvre in the port area simultaneously, which is supposed to facilitate large-scale trade.

Most aspects of the new projects are financed through public-private partnership (PPP), making negotiations complicated. Within this framework, Kenya’s government can contribute by providing land and other investments and profit from the share in (tax)-revenues. Such neo-colonial invitations are not new to the continent. Foreign investors and companies are the primary beneficiaries of the project. Officials are quick to emphasise, however, that this also offers new opportunities for the middle class: 


“You know, Hindi – people have taken land for speculation. Because Hindi is where the project is, and people anticipate it. People know that Hindi will be another place like Dubai in the next 10-20 years.”


The adverse effects of the project are manifold. Environmental concerns and loss of existing livelihoods resulted in various protests and community outcries in Lamu. Coalitions such as Save Lamu understand the community’s worry about the destruction of mangroves and corals and, therefore, the threat to the environment and the livelihoods of Lamu. People are not entirely opposed to LAPSSET but disagree with its violent and exclusionary implementation, with claims of unequal distribution and benefits not being solved.

The port also raises new questions about logistics, ownership and access in Lamu. Increased security measures and the intensified flow of commodities shape transportation patterns. This overlooks local concerns and redirects the focus to a more global economy. It also reconfigures possession and blurs the boundaries of the origin of goods. Moreover, the question of locating accountability becomes more obscure.

Expected change in maritime routes

The County Integrated Development Plan 2023-2027 emphasises large-scale growth in terms of mobility on land and marine. Highways connecting Lamu to the broader region and the port connecting Lamu - and, more broadly, East Africa - to the Indian Ocean disrupts existing mobility patterns. How these patterns may change in the future is a matter of contestation today.

The plan identifies the provision of land for industrial development, but it does not specify future land usage. However, it does anticipate the development a spatial plan in the coming years.

Seasons, tides, towns, and natural resources influence current mobility patterns in the Lamu archipelago. The map below shows the most frequent waterways on the archipelago and the fishing areas and mangroves around the port area.



Mobility patterns in Lamu archipelago

The map below shows the extent of Lamu Port and future development areas. These areas will shift the balance of development to the mainland and affect maritime mobility patterns.

“The establishment of the port may make the existing route via the Mkanda channel unviable. As a result of the LAPSSET implementation, these routes are therefore at the centre of anxiety about the future of the region.”




Maritime mobility patterns and LAPSSET development areas.



The  plan stress the establishment of highways, as well as new towns and commerce centres on the mainland. The focus lies on a solid road network connecting Lamu Port to other parts of Kenya, South Sudan, and Ethiopia.



County Spatial Plan (by County Government of Lamu, 2023)

Once the port is fully operational, access to existing waterways might change, and small-scale boating may face more significant restrictions, as the new port prioritises large cargo ships.

The fear of losing personal investments in small-scale livelihoods is shared among many residents. However, the shift from small-scale livelihoods that provide individual incomes to a large-scale port industry is undoubtedly expected to bring changes in the maritime mobility and the livelihoods on the Lamu archipelago.

Despite the expectations and fears, what remains unanswered is whether the promise of modernisation leaves room for small-scale maritime livelihoods in the future.



Cargo boats docking at Lamu Port

Urban stories of Displacement


How are memories of displacement and hopes of return shared in Lamu? How do they impact political claims to address historical and ongoing injustices?



The streets and walls of Lamu town resonate with the collective memory of displacement—etched deeply in the community. Following the Shifta War, a secessionist conflict held in northeastern Kenya between 1963 and 1967, thousands of people who had to flee due to extreme violence found refuge and stability in Lamu. Neighbourhoods like Langoni and Gadeni emerged in part as a result of this influx, and have become living archives of the hopes and struggles of the displaced. 
In the face of LAPSSET's promise of infrastructure-led development, these memories of displacement and forced resettlement are reactivated and  reworked. This theme explores the urban afterlives of displacement by focusing on the memories and experiences of those affected by displacement. 


Projects



Urban Stories of Displacement #2305

Nyumbani ni Nyumbani (Home is Home) 


Short film


Authors       Amina Omar
                Hajj Shee
                Florence Alder
                Isabella Pamplona




Many internally displaced persons who fled the mainland during the Shifta War live in Lamu town, particularly in the urban areas of Gadeni and Langoni. This project shows how displaced communities grapple with belonging and with political claims to historical redress.

"Nymbani ni Nymbani" is based on a series of life story interviews and urban walks with IDPs and their family members of different generations who currently reside in Lamu.

The film gives voice to these families and  community leaders at the forefront of political struggles for reparations and portrays how they contributed to make Lamu what it is today.
_

Produced by:
Isabella Pamplona, Florence Alder, Amina Omar and Hajj She.

Featuring:
Mohammed Mbwana, Ahmed Kihobe, Hassan Awadh, Esha Adi, Esha Adi's aunt, Mwana Amina Amin, Mohamed Ali and Omar Shamina.

Language:
English and Kiswahili














Urban stories of Displacement #2306

Where is home?


Displacement and Belonging in Lamu's Archipelago


Lamu Island/Pate Island, 2023

Florence Alder
Isabella Pamplona

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"We cannot leave this place here... But we would be happy to go back there."


This quote, by a Lamu resident who identifies as an IDP, captures the complex feelings experienced by the displaced community in Lamu after their displacement from the mainland during the Shifta War. The disappointments of Kenya's post-colonial politics have left them in a kind of limbo where they do not feel full belonging to their ancestral homeland nor fully to Lamu, the place where they currently live. 


“Their attachment to Lamu is intertwined with a longing for a different, parallel reality they claim as their home. In claiming to belong to their homeland, ethnicity becomes a political tool through which they exercise agency and negotiate compensation for the historical injustices suffered during the Shifta War.”

This paper investigates the nuanced sense of belonging among Lamu's IDPs in the context of urban archipelagic life. It explores how their feelings are shaped by the complex interplay between postcolonial politics, the particularities of archipelagic life, and the traumas of displacement. In doing so, it traces their relationship with land, sea, livelihoods, community, and their influence on the urban fabric. Furthermore, it shows how displacement and dissatisfaction with postcolonial Kenya inform the mobilizing of ethnicity as a political tool in seeking reparations.



Mainland ancestries

In numerous ways, IDPs and their descendants establish a sense of rootedness in their ancestral homeland. This encompasses their past lives on the mainland, emphasising the significance of agriculture, fishing, trade, and a close-knit community. It also includes the enduring connections to Lamu's land and coastal waters.

The archipelagic way of life, marked by continual movement and fluidity, shapes their perceptions of space, time, and belonging.



Settling into Lamu

Recent scholarly discussions of migration encompass broader socio-political, political-economic, and cultural processes, seeing the geopolitical dynamics of global capitalism as the ultimate cause of forced displacement. These perspectives challenge the idea that migration is purely voluntary or involuntary, considering the interplay between the factors influencing it. Within this context, the settlement of IDPs in Lamu appears as a complex process, influenced by the interplay of available possibilities and the socio-political and economic factors present.

IDPs belong to Lamu in many different ways. This is evident in their adaptive livelihood strategies, integration into the island's socioeconomic fabric, intermarriage with local communities, formation of new community organisations, and their significant impact on shaping the urban landscape. However, their connection to Lamu is not without  complexity or ambiguity.


IDPs continue to yearn for an imagined home, which is manifested in a sense of detachment from the local community, dedicated efforts to preserve cultural traditions, the perception of being guests in Lamu, and  engagement in political activism to return to their homeland.


In Lamu island, the two areas generally known for hosting IDPs and "immigrants" are the Langoni and Gadeni neighbourhoods. These areas experienced significant growth during the early twentieth century, in part because of the influx of Indians. With Kenyan independence, many Indians left the island, leaving many properties unoccupied. As families and individuals displaced during the war sought refuge in Lamu, locals offered them access to housing in these neighborhoods.

The Gadeni area, which used to be located on the outskirts of the Old Town, held small farming plots with fruits and vegetables, from where Lamu locals sold their produce both in the local market and to the Middle East. This dynamic of urban farming gave the neighbourhood its name of Gadeni, which comes from "garden.” Since the  area was not densely built-up back then, IDPs were given the opportunity to lease the land in the neighbourhood.

"They were given settlement there because they couldn't afford to rent or buy houses in town, so they got them in monthly or annual leases..." 

(Kihobe, A. 2023)
Settling in Gadeni gave the IDP community the opportunity to start building new lives in Lamu. Our interlocutor Ahmed Kihobe further explained that this provided a sense of security and peace for the displaced individuals, as the islands were considered safe compared to the mainland. There, they found the possibility to participate in the social life of the town.  The provision of settlement and opportunities in Lamu brought a bigger influx of IDPs to the area and facilitated the reunion of dispersed families and communities. As they started to feel at ease with the possibilities in their new environment, many of the IDPs contacted others in Pate, Mtangawanga, and Shanga with the aim of bringing their relatives together again.

Settling in Lamu implied a tradeoff for IDPs in many aspects. As previously mentioned, one of the factors that weighed in when deciding to settle on the island was the possibility of access to education for future generations. In the case of Hassan, while he was only able to secure a source of income with prospects in Takwa, having access to education for his children was an essential factor that contributed to his settling and deciding to build his home in Lamu.

In the past years, being able to access education has allowed the younger generation to secure employment opportunities outside of Lamu, especially in the Middle East. Many individuals, including most of Ahmed's classmates and friends, decided to leave Lamu in pursuit of the opportunity for a better life. Ahmed highlighted that some of these friends have been absent from Lamu for almost four decades. Yet, while choosing to stay away, they still provide financial support to their families, "they will send remittance money to help their family, but they don't want to come back again.” Something worth mentioning is the contrasting situation between the children and grandchildren of IDPs. While wishing to move away, the older generation chooses to keep building and investing in the island, which starkly contrasts with many of their children, who have left young and have no intention of returning to Lamu.



The daily struggle

When walking around Lamu, one of the first things we asked was, “Where are all of the IDPs?”. To our surprise, we were told that most of them were at the main square, exactly where we were standing at that precise moment. Most of the individuals, mostly older men, sitting in this public area were IDPs waiting for any small job opportunity. Interestingly, by not actively working in the middle of a weekday, the common commentary was that they were idle. Yet, this scene reminisces older ways of engaging with the city in Lamu:

“Until about 50 years ago, sitting on one of Lamu’s baraza while sipping Arabic coffee formed the epitome of urban flair. Now it is depicted either as an outdated practice by local youth or as an example of Swahili ‘laziness’ by mainland Kenyans.”

(Hillewaert, Sarah. 2017)
This everyday waiting at the main square in Lamu, while they are looking for ways of earning at least 200 KSH to make it through the day, is just one example of the many ways in which IDPs demonstrate a nuanced sense of belonging within the city. Despite their challenging circumstances, IDPs actively navigate their identities and connections to the urban space, finding ways to establish a sense of belonging. While some people actively look for new livelihoods, like walking tourists around or selling tobacco, others are still trying to preserve their traditional livelihoods.



Imaginaries of Home

IDPs construct an imaginary of home based not only on longings for a better life, but also on ancestral narratives, which are passed on through generations. Their sense of belonging is thus in tension between attachment to and detachment from Lamu, with all its aspirations and frustrations. Ethnicity in this context is mobilized as a political tool to demand rights to land and resources and to express dissatisfaction with postcolonial Kenya's politics.
The research indicates that the IDPs strive for inclusion in the local economy and society and aim to overcome their urban marginalization. Their attachment to Lamu is multifaceted, encompassing a connection to the city and the community, a longing for their imagined home, and a desire for justice.

Heritage under Transformation



How do women transform long-standing traditions of dwelling and home-building in Lamu? How does heritage matter in the context of a rapidly changing urban landscape?


Alleys in old town (L) and new neighborhoods (Kashmir) (R)


Recognised by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, Lamu’s ancient Stone Town harbours longstanding dwelling traditions. Yet, the town has experienced fast urban growth in recent years, with the emergence of entirely new neighbourhoods built on the once-agricultural outskirts. How does the old Lamu inhabit this new Lamu? What does dwelling culture mean in this rapidly changing context?

The new homes of Lamu’s emerging neighbourhoods may still be built using coral stone and mangrove wood, but they also feature new kinds of spaces and accommodate new uses. This theme explores this ongoing transformation of domestic cultures and home-building, focusing on the roles and practices of women in Lamu’s historic town as well as its new residential neighborhoods.




Using semi-structured interviews and architectural methods of analysis, our research shows how women negotiate with home builders (fundi) to create domestic spaces that meet their needs even as they aim to preserve their inheritance. In doing so, we emphasise the importance of those who inhabit and transform Lamu’s built heritage. This perspective contributes to the ongoing dialogue about heritage and sustainable development in Lamu. 



Projects




Heritage under Transformation

#2305

Dwelling in Transition

Langoni/Mkomani/Lamu, 2023

Gadsiah Ibrahim

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A key element of the ancient Lamu stone house is the melia setup. This sequence of rooms is characterised by a lack of clear demarcations for multiple uses, fostering the flexible uses of domectic space. The absence of assigned rooms promotes communal use, even for individuals valuing privacy within their homes.

Lamu’s famous Stone Town embraces such adaptive use. Families divide houses among themselves or repurpose the  structures over time. As families grow, houses expand; multi-story structures are constructed to accommodate the increasing number of family members, reflecting the cultural tradition of mita emphasising collective living.

Dwelling entails not just the physical structure of a house but also the profound social, cultural, and emotional connections individuals establish with their living spaces.

Women assume a central role within these spaces as primary users and decision-makers in household arrangements. Furthermore, the expertise of builders contributes to the configuration of these spaces, thus exerting a considerable influence on their design and functionality.


The collaborative synergy between women, serving as users and decision-makers, and house builders, with their expertise, culminates in the creation of living spaces that both reflect and accommodate the unique cultural and social dynamics of Lamu.



Recognising the cultural and historical layers embedded within these homes allows for shaping future spaces that are both culturally meaningful and sustainable over time.



The emergence of new neighbourhoods

Lamu town comprises three areas in terms of architectural and urban morphology. The Stone Town, object of the UNESCO world heritage designation, is the oldest part of town, and is historically home to the town’s merchant elite. The immediately adjacent neighborhoods of Langoni and Gardeni are former agricultural areas that became popular, less affluent neighborhoods. They were initially built up with wattle-and-daub constructions, which have more recently been replaced with more permanent constructions including modern apartment buildings. The third type of built fabric in  Lamu are the new neighborhoods that have emerged on the outskirts, roughly since the 2000s. These areas tend to have homes built on regularized plots, with a size of 30x40 feet. Lamu residents referred to these areas as "bushy" or "forest" before they evolved into well-defined neighbourhoods.

Historically, Stone Town housed the wealthier segments of society, while mud and thatch construction accommodated the less affluent.


These two distinct forms of domestic architecture, however, are interconnected and belong to the same cultural continuum. Lamu residents capture this relationship with the saying "Msitu ni ule ule komba ni wengine," which translates to "the forest is the same, but with different bushes." The differentiation of these two areas has gradually faded away with the replacement of mud by coral blocks. 

The notion that stone signifies Arab culture and thatch represents African culture is erroneous, as Lamu's inhabitants have diverse ethnic backgrounds, and construction materials do not correspond to specific racial categories.


Lamu old and new neighborhoods  boundary in 2003

However, stone houses still symbolise social status and lineage, providing a sense of permanence and privacy within Swahili culture. These stone houses did not arise from an ideal prototype but rather evolved through the amalgamation of materials and practices by various homebuilders over time. They emerged due to the blending and referencing of the existing tradition of using coral stone for the houses of the merchant elite, as art historian Prita Meier has shown. 

The same architectural styles persisted in Lamu for centuries in both towns and houses, characterised by a significant contrast between stone and mud constructions. Lifestyle disparities between the stone and mud towns were evident in the character of the main street, with Langoni displaying a higher density of shops that gradually decreased in number but increased in size as one moved closer to the area of Mkomani.

What changes in spatial organisation, if any, have occurred with this growth?


The new areas, with their regular plot sizes of 30x40 feet, feature new house types. At the same time, many factors influencing the organisation of domestic space remained relatively unchanged in Lamu over centuries. The same construction methods, materials, climate, and plot size continued to shape its domestic culture. However, there were significant shifts in women’s expectations, comfort, and need for seclusion and privacy, and these have become more pronounced in recent decades.






Women & domestic culture

Exploring women's perspectives within Lamu’s evolving domestic culture builds upon feminist approaches to architecture and urbanism. These studies displaced the predominantly masculine lens of previous scholarship, which often reproduced patriarchal conceptions of dwelling culture and urban development.

Dwelling undergoes a natural evolution as inhabitants personalise their homes to align with their preferences and actively adapt their living spaces, fostering a sense of accomplishment, self-expression, and autonomy. The concept of home gradually takes on deeper dimensions, intertwining with a profound sense of belonging, cherished memories, and past life encounters. The presence of relationships, residential history, familiarity, and established routines collectively cultivate the comforting feeling of being truly "at home." 


Amid the numerous studies investigating various facets of dwelling, this research probes women's roles and practices as both agents of change and guardians of cultural heritage. By actively immersing ourselves in their everyday practices and negotiations with house builders, this study examines the evolution of domestic culture and explores how meanings and values associated with home have evolved over time.

Examining the intricate interplay among architecture, gender roles, and spatial dynamics reveals entrenched biases, the profound impact of gender on social and spatial constructs, and some unexpected consequences of urban development.



Typical Stone house (L), typical Swahili house from Kashmir and Langoni (M), and what so-called modern house from Melimani

Security Urbanism



What impact does securitisation have on the lived experiences of community members and on the region's future development?






Given constant vigilance by government security agents in the wake of terrorist attacks, many people in Lamu County may feel more secure. Yet discrepancies in who is afforded safety should be addressed to assure inclusive development.

By engaging with the residents of Lamu, Shela, Manda, Mokowe, and Hindi, this theme aims to explore everyday perceptions of security and how it impacts property relations, social inequality, and urban development in the context of state-sanctioned securitisation.




We emphasise the difference between security and securitisation, and the experiences of residents of the five above-mentioned areas regarding security, both personal and state-sanctioned, differently based on ethnicity, gender and other socio-economic factors.



Projects



Security Urbanism #2303


Al-Shabaab,

Security, and Urban
Development

Lamu, 2023

Ambarin Sultana

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The LAPSSET project has triggered significant development in Lamu County. Stretching across northern Kenyan counties and connecting six Western African nations, it promises to integrate remote communities into the global economy and drive regional economic growth. The project encompasses a new highway, railway system, crude oil pipeline, fibre-optic cable, and a partially operational 32-berth port in Lamu.

With this concentrated development in the region, the government has heightened its focus on security. Located on Kenya's coast, the region shares a porous border with Somalia, where the terrorist organisation al-Shabaab remains active.

Terrorism remains contentious, leading to substantial government and research investments to prevent attacks. However, recruitment, manipulation, and weaponisation of Kenyan youth against their communities continue.

This research paper explores security concerns in Lamu County and residents' perceptions, especially in towns like Lamu, Shela, Manda, Mokowe, and Hindi, where LAPSSET development is significant. Our guiding question explores how securitisation influences daily life, property relations, and social inequality in a state-sanctioned securitisation context.


Securitisation and Community Concerns

To comprehend security issues in Lamu and LAPSSET's impact, we began by examining government priorities with Philip Oloo, Assistant County Commissioner of Lamu. His office coordinates security, conflict resolution, local security structures, and county-level national government functions. Philip highlighted tensions arising from religious and ethnic differences, competition for finite resources among farmers, herders, and pastoralists, and challenges tied to youth unemployment and lack of formal education, leading to social issues like substance abuse and petty crimes.

Philip mentioned a poignant example: "Pastoralists believe that anything green is for the animals to feed on." This simple statement encapsulates the conflicts that can arise from resource scarcity in the region.

Despite increased security measures, Philip pointed out existing vulnerabilities for illicit drug trafficking into Lamu: "We have closed but not managed land borders, open sea borders, and Bajuni communities straddling the Kenya-Somalia border, connected through marriage or involved in illegal drug trade."

While LAPSSET promises massive development, concerns linger due to the potential influx of people from diverse backgrounds, posing security challenges. Land issues within the context of the mega-project also raise apprehensions among locals.


Fate of the shephard

Dagane Diriyi, chairman of the pastoralist association in Hindi, echoes these concerns. New infrastructure construction constrains grazing areas for animals, and despite appeals, the county government has not allocated land to pastoralists. They face harassment near the port when using private grasslands.

However, Dagane is optimistic about the pastoralists' future and believes the port will bring positive change and economic opportunities to Lamu County. Yet many residents fear that job creation and investment earnings benefits may favour "up-country" Christian people in Nairobi over Lamu's indigenous Muslim communities.


Feeling secure

Many in Lamu, Shela, Manda, Hindi, and Mokowe feel safer due to the government's response to al-Shabaab and LAPSSET's presence. Increased security measures and development improvements are evident and generally welcomed.

Khalifah S. Alwi, Chief of Mokowe, expresses optimism about Mokowe's transformation into a bureaucratic hub.

When he first arrived in Mokowe as assistant chief in 2007, the town had "no power, no electricity and no tarmac road," but is now the centre of power in Lamu County. "A lot of good changes are happening… Mokowe will become a second Dubai".


His office in the centre of town is flanked on all sides by the offices of the Kenyan Navy, Coast Guard and the General Service Unit (GSU), the state paramilitary force. Nearby, the Kenya Border Patrol Unit (BPU) and the Rapid Deployment Unit (RDU) are present, and in recent years, security forces and government ministries have established offices in the town owing to its proximity to the port.





Hopes of a working mother

Salma Begum, a quarry worker and long-time resident of Manda Maweni, lives with her six children. Recalling her twenty years in the town, Salma notes that security improvements have occurred. In the past, al-Shabaab attacks in nearby regions forced her to flee into the bushes with her family for days on end. Salma tells us those threats are few and far between now. Still, the presence and availability of drugs and excessive alcohol consumption leave the youth in Manda vulnerable to delinquency and school dropouts, making them ideal targets for inducements and potential radicalisation.

With regard to the development of Manda, Salma, like many others, sees the potential benefit of LAPSSET for the community. Salma believes the increased demand for coral stones from the quarry will surge and hopes that that will guarantee a sustainable income for the coming years.
Salma also recognises that constructing roads and infrastructure will help people move to and from the town, thereby making business easier to conduct.

However, the project has also brought  troubles. Village chiefs are accused of coaxing people to move away from the area "as the land is under private ownership." She also claimed that the KDF's Rapid Deployment Unit's (RDU) camp in Manda Maweni forcibly evicted people in the past to relocate high-ranking government officials. This seemingly ceased with the new government's election when the new Governor ordered the removal of the RDU camp.



Vox populi: apprehensions

Malkia Anyango in Hindi voices concerns over land allocation to wealthy mainlanders and the port's impact on fishing. She laments the loss of breeding grounds and mangroves and is worried about changes in the village such landrabbing by wealthy elites.


About the port, Malkia went on to say: "As a fish trader, it affects me because the area where the fish used to breed is where the port is now. Now, there is no place for fish to breed. Secondly, they are cutting down mangroves, and the remaining area is also not allowed to be cut because it is small, and as the port continues, remember those mangroves will be cut. So, as a fish seller, I will be left without fish, and those who depend on mangroves will also suffer... 200,000 shillings now; what kind of money is that? If you are given 200,000 shillings, you are no longer allowed to go into the sea. If you're caught, you'll be fined or imprisoned. Is that fair?"



We thank you for your service

An army sergeant stationed in Lamu County credits increased security measures and roadblocks with deterring terrorist activities. Militarisation along the highway is evident, with checkpoints approximately every 20 kilometres. While some individuals face scrutiny at checkpoints, others are ignored, and ethnic profiling occurs.

The sergeant emphasises land issues and the need for local education to combat radicalisation. He acknowledges the presence of the US military in Camp Simba but refrains from personal opinions while citing the camp's use for joint training exercises and crisis response.
Given the geographical significance of Lamu, the prevalence of violence in the region, and Lamu's porous borders with Somalia, the presence of the US military in Lamu County is significant. The sergeant mentions Camp Simba, a Kenyan army base at Manda Bay utilised by the US army to train new recruits. As recently as 2020, the base was attacked when al-Shabaab militants led an assault on the Manda Bay airstrip, used by the US and Kenyan counterterrorism forces.


Al-Shabaab

Many in Lamu see the 2014 massacre by al-Shabaab in Mpeketoni, a fertile farming town in Lamu County, as being rooted in  land injustice and social inequality. Nearly 50 people – all non-Muslim, non-Bajuni – were murdered at the hands of terrorists. While they claim it was due to the Kenyan incursion of southern Somalia and the killing of Muslim clerics under suspicious circumstances, it is widely believed that al-Shabaab took advantage of the alienation, disaffection and dissent of Kenya’s Muslim community.
This was not only to radicalise local populations and inflame domestic terrorism but also to displace those who have unfairly acquired their land, to reassert their identity as the minority whose rights have been taken away by the ‘outsiders’. Following bouts of electoral violence, local grievances with the influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) have also made the population more susceptible to anti-government sentiments.