Not for YOU: Nairobi and Exlcusionary Architecture

There used to be a path near Village Market in Nairobi. This path was adorned with acacia thorns, unseemly rocks and random spots of green grass. It was ugly, and a bother to look at. But it was full of life. Every time you passed, you'd see boda boda drivers catching a break before their next ride. You'd see small kiosk vendors conducting business with passersby, arming them with weapons for the day's battles; the odd cigarette, the random biscuit or the necessary energy drink. You'd witness groups of people, coming together to eat and discuss the events of the day. It was life, and it was messy. Emphasis on 'was.' 

That little slice of life is gone. Literally paved over after the management of Village Market rehabilitated the rocky path with grey cabro, tendered to the garden and erected a barbed wire around it. What used to be a colourful slice of human interaction and community is now bland and lifeless; perfectly manicured and just a little less accessible. And I believe this was the point.

Dusting off the ol' English HL skill book, *ahem ahem*, the mere existence of that pathway - next to the sleek, modern and affluent Village Market was a stain on the very existence of the mall. That Village Market, as a monument to opulence and mindless consumption and a temple for the haves, can exist near a pathway populated by those have-nots and those struggling to make ends meet. Put simply, it was a bad lewk, and because of this fact, I understand why Village invested in changing the space. Assuming they did.

So before I get into my discussion, I want to ignore the big question; did Village have the right to do this? (Time to bring in the ol' Law Degree). Surely that pathway constituted an easement which, even if on Village Markets' property, could not be interfered with? I will ignore this because the answer is simple enough: the easement remained, but the people did not. This is what I want to talk about. The removal of the people.

I don't understand why Village Market, assuming they initiated the upgrades, could not create stalls for the vendors who relied on that area or comfy sitting areas for the riders as well. I just don't understand why they had to turn a previously inclusive space into an exclusionary one; one whose very purpose is to cement the class differences between those who live in Gigiri, and those who merely visit (aka interlopers). 

I see signs of this exclusionary architecture everywhere. In Gigiri, public transport is forbidden from entering its interior. This means that to access the homes, or more appropriately palatial mansions, inside Gigiri one must have a car, be willing to walk or have the means to use private transport (Uber, Bolt, Little etc). Even if you work in Gigiri's interior, as a casual labourer, nanny, gardener or house manager and are in need of such public transport.  As a result, this, in addition to practical concerns like the rent - cements the idea that places like Gigiri are not for the, often, African poor. Even though independence was won so that, ostensibly, the most vulnerable among us could reap the benefits of Kenya's wealth; not merely the affluent, the light-skinned or the foreign. You see this pattern repeated in all of Nairobi's wealthiest residential areas; Karen, Loresho, Westlands, Runda, Parklands etc. According to Dr. Mbugua wa Mungai, a Senior Lecturer from Kenyatta University:

"Today the organized built environment has quite obviously become fashionable with some residents of Nairobi. Nothing illustrates this better than the modernist shopping complexes seen in the City today—(former) Westgate, Sarit Center, The Mall, The Junction, Galleria, Yaya Center, Thika Road Mall among others. Built around the all-under-one-roof concept, what these malls have in actual fact done is to enforce the class cleavages of Kenyan society. A stark demonstration of how the haves lead their ostentatious lives, these shopping malls have ended up being seen as extensions of the exclusionary spaces that were introduced through colonialism, a kind of Members-Only club. Only this time, rich Africans can join in the play. Philip Armstrong, an American professor on his first visit to Kenya, captured the ironies these aspects of the cityscape represent when he remarked to this writer: 'These new malls and the neat roads leading to most of them give me the feeling that I could be anywhere in America, yet just a couple of blocks away there is a totally different world with a rhythm of life so unlike what I am used to.'"

This raises the question of when development, as embodied in malls like Village Market, City Mall and Sarit Centre, came to mean exclusion. When did the hallmark of development come to mean creating spaces for black wealth to be expressed, but not creating spaces where we can all profit from that wealth. When did the hallmark of development come to mean the construction of temples of capitalism, but not the creation of communal spaces? Spaces where everyone, no matter who they are, can come together and cement bonds with each other. When did development manifest itself in exclusion, not inclusion? I suppose one could argue that development never meant anything other than exclusion. Even in Europe, the progress of the industrial age came at the cost of the poor, and later the colonised. 

Yet, I understand why people leap to exclusionary architecture in defence of their property values and the character of their neighbourhood. You've worked hard to afford a palatial home in Runda or Karen and you deserve to enjoy it. However, such enjoyment should not come at the exclusion of others. We must recognise that protecting the character of one's neighbourhood means more than protecting its property values. Or devising ways to keep the wealth in-house. At times, it might mean guaranteeing the same rights to decent housing that we take for granted for the have-nots.

In essence, we need to realise that our actions and desires have consequences. Even an action as innocuous as beautifying a dirt road.