THE PROJECT
When I landed in Nairobi in November 2008, I did not expect this project to take on the life that it has. As a photographer working on stories about human rights abuse and social injustices, creating the work is only a part of the process; getting the work out there, into the eyes and consciousness of others, is of equal if not greater importance.
The first old photograph of the Nubian community was shown to me just days after I arrived. Sitting in his family’s home located in the Kibera slum, a Nubian elder handed an old, framed photograph to me and said, “These are my ancestors and you know, we have lived here in Kibera for over 100 years.” Over the next month, one family after another would share similar photographs, each triggering not only nostalgia for better times and a reverence for past generations but also a sense of disappointment in how the course of their community had changed so dramatically.
For decades the identity of the Nubian community in Kenya has been questioned and challenged, and in many ways, history and the interpretation of this history by everyone involved has played a significant factor in influencing the identity (or lack thereof) and the status of the Nubian community today. But as is often the case, especially when related to the issue of statelessness, if we are to understand today, it is essential to look to the past.
People in the Nubian community today look to their past to provide not only the evidence needed to secure their rightful place in the present and in the future, but they also look to their past as a way of holding on to that strong sense of community and identity that for any number of reasons is threatened with every passing year. For the older generation, the old photographs collected during this project construct a portrait of how they believe other Kenyans, as well as younger Nubians, should see this community in Kenya’s history. For the younger generation of Nubians, the old photographs construct a portrait of their community that reconfirms their right to belong to, be recognized by and fully participate and have equal rights in the country and on the land of their birth.
When the Nubian elder showed me that old photograph, he was taking the first step in constructing a visual history of his community that had not previously existed. His contribution was followed by the contributions of nearly 100 other Nubian families in Kibera. Individually, each of the old photos provides an important piece of information. Collectively, they expose a story of the past, and this defined how important it was for me to create a photographic essay that not only would document, record and expose the stories and struggles Nubians live with today but would also show what this community had lost. Although this book, along with the 350 old photos collected by a group of Nubian youth in Kibera during this project, as well as my own work does not attempt to present an exhaustive or authoritative visual history of the Nubian community in Kenya, as a collection, it does present a portrait and a story of this community that many Nubians and most people in Kenya have never seen before.
Time and again I am reminded of the strength photography possesses: as documentation, as evidence, as preservation, as expression. While a photograph, a written story, a sculpture or a painting regardless of it’s date of creation, are inherently open for interpretation and scrutiny, one thing cannot be denied: they all, in one capacity or another, provide a voice. Together, we hope this book and the photographs within this book will provide a new platform for Nubian voices and stories to seen, heard and acknowledged.
