A Day in Narok while attending the Wikimania Conference in Nairobi, Kenya

 

A Day in Narok while attending the Wikimania Conference in Nairobi, Kenya

Yesterday, on the final day of the Wikimania 2025 Conference, we traveled to Narok far from the  conference halls and manicured surroundings of our event venue. At the invitation of Simon Parkesui, we traveled to Narok, a Maasai community located beyond the Great Rift Valley.  

I first met Simon 16 years ago at the United Nations Indigenous Peoples’ Forum in 2009, where he represented the Ogiek. His voice was  focused on the needs of his community , land rights, preservation of their culture and the Mau forest. He is still rooted in his mission.

The drive to Narok took us away from the bustle of Nairobi’s highways into open landscapes, where the altitude was higher and the air was fresh.  As we arrived, the first thing I noticed was the contrast—by the standards of infrastructure, Narok might be called “poor.” Many of the buildings are simple and in need of repair, the roads unpaved and worn. My eyes were drawn to something else: movement, economics, and life.

Small businesses lined the roadsides and paths at the Narok market. There were hundreds of them tailors to the needs of the community and for tourists, women selling fresh vegetables, jewelry, mobile phone kiosks, food stalls selling  roasted maize into the air. The rhythm of commerce was everywhere, vibrant and unpretentious.

It struck me that there was more visible small-business activity here than I often see in many Black communities in the United States. Narok’s economy was woven directly into daily life, with services and goods created right where people lived. It was local, immediate, and community-driven.

There was hustle and bustle, yes—but not the kind fueled by frantic competition or corporate marketing. Instead, it was like a web of necessity and ingenuity, where everyone’s contribution had a place. People were not just earning a living—they were sustaining one another.

As we walked through the Narok market, I thought about how easily outsiders might overlook such a place, seeing only unpaved roads and structures needing repair. But if you listen closely, there is a different story—one of self-reliance, of resourcefulness, and of a community quietly shaping its own future.

Leaving Narok, I carried with me more than photographs. I carried the reminder that resilience often grows in places the world calls “lacking,” and that the true wealth of a community is not only in its roads and buildings, but in the ways its people meet each other’s needs.