Towards A Reimagination of Kenya: In Conversation with Maia Lekow and Christopher King on “How To Build A Library”

How To Build A Library, a Kenyan documentary produced and directed by Maia Lekow and Christopher King, chronicles the transformation of Nairobi’s historic McMillan Memorial Library from its status as a colonial legacy into an all-inclusive public space with provisions that cater to general interests.

The feature-length documentary follows the journey of author Shiro Koinange and publisher Angela Wachuka, two young women who embark on a personal quest to revive the colonial-era institution that has long been abandoned. What begins as a seemingly straightforward renovation project leads to a complicated process involving funding challenges, bureaucracy, conflict of interest and questions over ownership, accessibility and the true essence of such public institutions.

For eight years, Maia and Chris documented the structural forces and setbacks the women faced on their journey toward success, relying on intimate, observational storytelling to capture defining moments of the project. The documentary traces the transformation of the library across its different branches and communities, showing how librarians, visitors, officials, and activists all contribute to the outcome in their own ways.

Culture Custodian sat down with Chris and Maia who reflected on their filmmaking process and other efforts that went into production.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Q: How To Build A Library captures not only the restoration and revitalisation of the library, but also its renewed relevance to the community and the involvement of different segments of society. It unfolds as an extensive body of work, documenting everything from how the two women entered the community, to the bureaucratic processes involved, and the many conversations that shaped the project from start to finish. What inspired you to embark on this ambitious documentary in the first place?

Maia

It all started eight years ago. Chris and I had been part of the Nairobi creative space for many years and had both worked with Shiro and Wachuka in different ways. When Shiro told us they were taking on the management of the MacMillan Library to revitalise it, we decided to go down and see if there was potential for a story. We knew the space, its history, their passion, and that bureaucracy would be part of the process. We followed them from their first day in the library, which opens the film, into their first board meeting. Early on, it became clear the story was not just about revitalising the space, but also about the country’s history, the librarians who had been there for years, and the systems surrounding it.

Chris

For us, it felt like a very contained example of how things actually get done in a city like Nairobi. I do not know how different it is from Lagos, but it felt very specific and grounded. When you talk about big ideas and big concepts, it can be difficult to make them tangible. Focusing on one mission, the people trying to make it happen, and the obstacles they face allows you to see those ideas in a much more granular way. We felt this could serve as an example for many of the issues Kenya is dealing with, and even for places like Nigeria. It opens up conversations about how things could work better, what young people are asking for, and which systems are standing in the way of those changes.

Maia

Nairobi has been home for us, and Chris has been here since 2007. We have been together for twenty years, so this project felt like a natural progression of our lives and experiences.

Chris

One other thing, and sorry if I go on a bit, is that I really care about the international community. There are many aid organisations trying to do this kind of work, but it often feels like they are avoiding the same core issue. That issue is the people whose job it is to make these things happen. Everyone talks about leadership, but not enough attention is paid to how those in charge create space for people with vision to actually thrive. For us, this has been something we have been thinking about for a long time.

Q: How did the length of the timeline, considering working on this for about eight years, shape your approach to telling the story? 

Chris

At the beginning, we had no idea how long the project would take. The plan was to finish within one or two years, raise the money quickly, and complete the renovations, which in hindsight was quite naive. With documentary filmmaking, you are always at the mercy of real life. We filmed around 20 to 30 days each year, never full time, simply following moments that felt important to the story. After three or four years, COVID hit and created a real crisis for us. There was no clear ending in sight, the bureaucracy felt overwhelming, and we also faced challenges around access and how the filming should happen. We took a break for about a year and worked on another project. When COVID eased, the library reopened, and a new government came in, we returned to filming in 2021 and 2022. By then, we were almost six years in with a huge amount of footage. We had an ending we were not fully happy with, but felt we needed to finish the film. In 2023, the royal visit and final gala gave us a natural point to close the story. Even though the larger mission continues, it felt right to end there and release the film.

Q: How did you approach capturing such intimate, seemingly private moments, like the small side conversations and disagreements between librarians, across the different branches of the library, and what guided your decision to include these subtle, personal exchanges in the film’s broader narrative?

Maia

I think it was important for us to try to show both sides of the story. From an audience perspective, it mattered that people could make up their own minds, rather than being led to take one side. Because we had been there for eight years, spending that time with both the librarians and with Shiro and Moshuka, we became very comfortable with one another. By then, our presence felt natural. Whether they were having tea in the staff room or holding meetings, we were essentially flies on the wall, quietly filming what was happening, and they were completely comfortable with that.

Chris

There were also much deeper conversations happening with the librarians at that time. We were aware that they were feeling sidelined, and we were very open with them. At the beginning, they thought we were part of the Book Bank team, but over time we were able to establish our independence. When we asked whether they would be willing to share their honest feelings with us, they were very open to it. I think they felt the project was being taken away from them and that they were being ignored in the process. It was important for us to show their perspective, and they respected that. In fact, they were even more brutally honest than what appears in the film, but we chose not to include everything. Thankfully, they were very comfortable with us being there and filming throughout that period.

Q: In portraying a colonial era library that excluded Black Kenyans, how did you navigate the tension between preserving history on one hand and confronting the uncomfortable legacy of the colonial order on the other? How did you find that balance?

Maia

What drew us in was that the Book Bank team were already uncovering this history within the library, which allowed us to expand the story beyond the building itself. The library is a strong symbol of how exclusionary colonial rule was, especially since Kenyans were barred from entering it until independence in 1963, despite it opening in 1931. At the same time, we wanted to show how young Kenyans are thinking about the future. Much of what was uncovered was painful and unsettling, but we did not want the film to sit only in that space. We were interested in how people are carrying that history while trying to imagine something better. As Shiro says in the film, this history belongs to us, but the real question is how we change perspectives, particularly around leadership. Many colonial systems continued after independence, which means the film looks at both the colonial and postcolonial realities. There is also an irony in talking about decolonisation while these structures remain part of everyday life, from the king’s visit to cultural funding, language, and education. The film reflects on how deeply that legacy still runs today.

Q: Your documentary includes archival footage, especially the photographs for supporting the narrative. Were there specific decisions that guided what archival material you chose to include and what you didn’t?

Maia

Yes, in terms of the archive, we did not want to go too deeply into MacMillan’s full history, but there were moments that felt especially interesting to us. For example, when Siokao, the young researcher, is going through the footage that shows MacMillan’s land and how those images were originally captured. For us, that was a simple but powerful way to show how colonial figures first viewed Kenya. It was also interesting to see how things were portrayed then, compared to how young people today are engaging with and reinterpreting those same images. When we moved into the section around Kenyatta and Tom Mboya’s funeral, that footage felt particularly important because of the tension visible in it. It created a bridge to the protests we later see in 2024. What Siokao says in the basement, while digitising the archive, about how people do not protest the way they used to, really connected those moments across time. So the archive helped us balance what was happening in the past with what we could find in the material, and then link that to what is happening today.

Chris

What became clear during the edit was that whenever we leaned too heavily into long archival sequences about colonial Kenya or independence, the film started to feel contrived. As soon as we moved away from the library itself, we lost something. In the end, we decided to stick closely to what the women were uncovering in front of the camera and use that as our entry point into the archive. The material they were actively searching through became our trigger points for those archival moments. Even the King’s visit worked in that way, as it naturally brought up the 1952 visit by the Queen. So we focused on following what was unfolding in the present and allowing the archive to emerge from that.

Q: Your documentary has travelled widely, screening at festivals like Sundance and generating conversations around social development. While watching it, it felt like a reminder of Open Your Eyes, Neil Sandoz’s documentary set in Kibera, which explores basketball as a tool for social change. Looking at these wider conversations, what do you hope this film can inspire beyond Kenya, particularly around decolonisation, community-led development and restoration, and the future of public libraries?

Maia

For me, the number one takeaway is how people see themselves within their communities, and how that can start on a very small, personal level. It begins with how you see yourself within your family and your immediate surroundings. Is there a library or public space in your area that you feel connected to, or that you feel inspired to help revitalise? Can that lead to conversations with local leaders, or even to volunteering? I think that is the core of it. Yes, the film raises big themes, but it also asks how we see ourselves engaging with cultural spaces going forward. How do we take part in conversations around colonialism from a personal perspective? I do not think we have done enough of that kind of reflection. Then there is the political side. How do we build better relationships with our politicians moving forward? I also think the film should be seen by Kenyan and other African governments. There is an understanding that many of these institutions are dealing with deep histories and a lot of baggage, but the question is how we begin to change things, have more open discussions, and rethink policies. For me, those are the main takeaways.