Remember that primary school trip to Bomas of Kenya? You probably went there, walked through those traditional huts, watched some dances, took a few photos, and checked it off your educational bucket list. Most of us did. But that’s where we completely missed the point.
When Barack Obama Sr conceived Bomas of Kenya in 1971, positioning it near Nairobi National Park was strategic, but it also created dependency on external validation. The ongoing renovation presents an opportunity to redesign these spaces first for domestic cultural education.
Yet we stand at a crossroads: continue treating culture as weekend entertainment for tourists, or recognize it as essential infrastructure for building strong, rooted communities. Losing culture isn’t just about forgetting dances or languages; it’s about losing the wisdom that made our communities resilient for centuries, and that should be a worrying trend.
Kenya is losing its soul, one forgotten mother tongue at a time. As Ngugi wa Thiong’o powerfully stated, “If you know all the languages of the world but not your mother tongue, that is self-enslavement. Knowing your mother tongue and all other languages, too, is empowerment.” We’re raising children who stumble through their native languages while speaking fluent English, treating their cultural heritage as something quaint rather than essential.
We’ve turned cultural preservation into a tourist performance. Schools dutifully march children to Bomas of Kenya like it’s a rite of passage, but what are we really teaching them? That culture is something you visit on a Tuesday morning field trip? That our traditions belong in glass cases and staged performances for foreign tourists who pay premium prices while local families can’t afford entry? This backwards approach has created what I would like to note as:
Kenya is a very tourist-rich country, but the worst thing is that we import these tourists, with domestic tourism taking a hit, because these places are expensive for the local mwananchi and they do not really see the need to visit these cultural centers.”
We’ve priced ourselves out of our own heritage, making cultural education a luxury rather than a necessity.
But imagine walking into one of those traditional ethnic houses, a proper Kikuyu homestead, a Maasai boma complete with manyattas, a Luo compound, and actually understanding what you’re seeing. The architecture tells stories of community structure, gender roles, spiritual beliefs, and environmental adaptation. These huts represent libraries of indigenous knowledge that took centuries to develop.
Take the Luo homestead structure at Bomas. The positioning of each hut, the materials used, the social spaces, and everything else reflect sophisticated community living principles. The central courtyard represented more than just empty space; it was where decisions were made, disputes resolved, and knowledge passed down. Yet most visitors see quaint village life instead of advanced social engineering.
Duncan Arimi is one of those who understands the importance of going back to culture. This has translated into a project for Gravity Boma, a cultural center along the Eastern Bypass. This represents a fundamental shift, where we create spaces specifically designed to teach culture rather than merely display it. This is especially important in a country where there is cultural alienation; it would be good to have centers where we take our children and remind them of our rich culture.
Gravity Boma embodies this intentionality, recognizing that cultural transmission requires deliberate, sustained effort and spaces designed for learning rather than spectacle.
This approach acknowledges that we must intentionally create spaces to teach culture if we want to reverse the tide of cultural erosion. Imagine if cultural events like Ngemi were held at proper venues designed for artistic authenticity. Cultural events like Ngemi and Korom festival among others would have a space to hold their events in actual cultural centers that would contribute to the overall aesthetic of the show, that is going to the roots of culture. Plays that pay homage to specific figures in certain cultures, such as Wangu Wa Makeri, would also have a place to stage. Instead of generic conference halls and event spaces, performers could use spaces that honor their heritage and enhance their artistic expression.
Cultural preservation is built on countless small actions, parents teaching children their language, communities maintaining traditions, and institutions creating accessible spaces for cultural learning.
