Unequal Scenes - Nairobi

Upwardly mobile Kenyans live in planned, gated communities. Often these abut the poorest of slum communities, like this one in Loresho.

Aerial photographs of Nairobi reveal how inequality is etched into the growing city’s fabric — stark divisions between wealth and poverty appear in the form of walls, roads, and rooftops. These images document the quiet violence of urban planning, where opportunity and exclusion coexist in plain sight.

Statistics on inequality and poverty are ubiquitous in the developing world. They are often underwhelming, however, in their impact. “It has been estimated that the richest 10 percent of the population of Nairobi accrues 45.2 percent of income, and the poorest 10 percent only 1.6 percent,” according to a 2009 study on urban poverty by Oxfam.

But what does 45.2% of income look like? What does “urban poverty” look like? As, of course, every statistic is relative. Whatever the answer, inequality in Nairobi is definitely visible from above.

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The Royal Nairobi Golf Course, next to Kibera slum, one of the most famous slums in Africa.

An informal settlement next to the rich suburb of Parklands. Pockets of informality are commonly found within, and next to, neighborhoods that rely on them as a source of cheap labor.

Loresho.

The Viwandani slum, near an industrial estate in the city centre, is part of the massive tapestry of a city growing by leaps and bounds. The rapid urbanization of cities like Nairobi is due to the fact that Africa is growing, one of the only places on Earth where populations are still increasing, and several mega cities are projected to become amongst the world's largest in just a few short decades. How are planners making sure this huge migration to the city is done equitably?

Amazing geometric patterns emerge from the air in Nairobi's suburbs.

Floods and forced demolitions destroyed thousands of homes along the Nairobi River in 2024.

The verdant farmland of the Kenyan highlands juxtaposed with the rapacious urban sprawl of Nairobi.

On one bank of the Motoine River in Nairobi, the tight iron roofs of Kibera press to the water's edge; on the other, large houses stand on open, green plots along Omollo Road. The river, which flows on into the silted Nairobi Dam, is all that separates the crowded settlement from the comfortable homes across it.

New suburbs being built in one of Nairobi's wealthiest neighborhoods, next to slum communities which exist to service them.

Loresho.

The Dandora dumpsite is one of Nairobi's grim landmarks, roughly thirty acres that still swallows some two thousand tonnes of waste a day, decades after being declared full. Thousands of waste pickers comb its smoking hills each day for metal, plastic and anything else they can sell or recycle. The mound has grown so vast it has spilled into the Nairobi River running alongside, choking the channel with garbage and leaching into the water.

Parklands and the "Deep Sea" slums.

Twice a day, a passenger train barrels through Kibera slum, less than a meter away from people's homes and businesses. Next door, people play golf at the Royal Nairobi Golf Course surrounded by greenery.

The Unequal Scenes I have found in Nairobi are a mixture of traditional “rich vs. poor” housing images, but also depictions of how infrastructure constrains, divides, and facilitates city growth, almost always at the expense of the poorest classes. Infrastructure, I've come to realize, represents the physical manifestation of inequality better than almost any other visual element - what Eyal Weizman calls "the surface of human inscription". Further, it seems to make the reality of back-room discussions and planning meetings actually real. It's where decisions, usually taken around a table by a group of powerful men, come alive.

For example, the Kilimani-Langata road extension that bisects Kibera, estimated to have displaced over 11,500 people and destroyed over 598 structures, including schools and clinics. Of course this road helps alleviate the city’s traffic problem, but does it cause more problems than it will solve? For example, just to the south, a new road has already cut off part of Kibera, causing people to cross it illegally, resulting in many deaths. Additionally, the benefits in the form of improved connection times for residents of Kibera - most of whom take packed minibuses called matutus - is unclear. From interviews with residents, it seems that the planned infrastructure upgrades haven't even taken into account the public opinion in a meaningful way. Is this the price we need to pay for progress? Are some people just born to lose?

It's important to understand that Nairobi is tasked with difficult choices. A vibrant, educated middle class is quickly growing, turning the city into a center for innovation and tech industries, not just on the continent but worldwide. It needs to grow. How can it be done equitably? Is it happening fast enough?

The Kilimani-Langata road connector was an audacious plan to bulldoze right through the middle of Kibera, Africa's "largest slum". In 2018, it happened two weeks before I arrived.

Viwandani after the flooding and demolitions of 2024.

Kibera.

Loresho.

Huruma Village, on the edge of Karura Forest.

The dense settlement of Riara fits together with Imara Daima estate like two puzzle pieces.

These barriers, whether concrete or imaginary, represent an entire class separation, one that may not be surmounted for generations to come.

The scars of bulldozing through Nairobi's largest slum are clear. The initial stats: 11,500 people displaced, 598 structures destroyed.

The Mukuru Kwa Njema slums, next door to the Imara Daima estate.

The chaos, noise, and density of the slum is neatly juxtaposed with the orderly calm green of the Royal Nairobi Golf Club, which opened in 1906.

Looking at homes slated for demolition, Kibera.

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