“These films and the ideas for them are deeply intertwined with our personal lives. When working on them, they become our ‘children’” – Christopher King.
By Jerry Chiemeke
When novelist, Shiro Koinange, and publisher, Angela Wachuka, take on the monumental task of restoring Nairobi’s McMillan Memorial Library, they have no idea that their mission will not only pitch them against Kenya’s complex sociopolitical landscape, but will also take a huge toll on their friendship.
Wife-and-husband duo Maia Lekow and Christopher King’s second feature, How To Build A Library (2025), chronicles this five-year odyssey (2017-2022) with the precision of archaeologists and the passion of revolutionaries, crafting a documentary that transcends its immediate subject to become a meditation on colonialism, cultural reclamation, and the price of idealism.
The McMillan Memorial Library, built in 1931 by colonial settlers and closed to Africans until 1958, stands as a physical manifestation of Kenya’s chequered history. Maia Lekow and Christopher King, whose previous collaboration, The Letter (2019) was Kenya’s official Academy Awards submission in 2021, understand that this crumbling institution is far more than a building; it’s a repository of both oppression and possibility. Their camera work captures the library’s dilapidated state with unflinching honesty, establishing shots that speak to decades of neglect.
The documentary’s greatest strength lies in its patient excavation of both literal and metaphorical archives. As Koinange and Wachuka sift through old paintings and artefacts that speak to “a darker time, a time that came with erasure of Africans”, the film becomes an exercise in confronting historical trauma.
The insertion of archival footage, including Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Kenya, alongside monochrome photographs and video clips, creates a layered narrative that reopens old wounds while suggesting the possibility of healing through cultural reclamation.
Chief Librarian, Jacob Ananda, emerges as the film’s most compelling voice of caution and wisdom. His conversations with the protagonists provide essential historical context while expressing both admiration for their ambition and concern about their naivety. Ananda’s observations about the reading culture on the continent and the uphill battle to replace Eurocentric literature with indigenous perspectives add intellectual weight to what could have been a straightforward restoration story.
The personal dimensions of this journey elevate the documentary beyond mere civic activism. For Koinange, whose grandfather served in Kenya’s first post-independence government and whose mother ran a school, the project became a form of ancestral dialogue.
Maia Lekow and Christopher King’s editorial choices, crafted alongside Richard Acosta and Maya Hawke, create a rhythm that mirrors the protagonists’ mounting frustration with bureaucratic inertia. The film’s 103-minute runtime allows for the slow burn of institutional resistance, as meetings with library staff become exercises in selling dreams to sceptical audiences.
The directors capture the exhausting reality of working within systems vehemently averse to change, showing how the women must navigate not just renovation logistics but the deeper challenge of cultivating interest in the arts among Kenya’s elite.
The most powerful moments in How To Build A Library emerge from its unflinching examination of the concept of documentation and its role in preserving African culture. As Koinange and Wachuka create digital records for thousands of books, the film illuminates how poor record-keeping has been “the bane of African culture and civilisation”. Their effort to repopulate the library with books that allow Kenya’s children to “see themselves” becomes an act of restoration.
Perhaps most courageously, the film doesn’t shy away from the personal cost of idealism. As Book Bunk gains momentum, the friction between Koinange and Wachuka becomes palpable, suggesting that even the most aligned partnerships can fracture under the weight of systemic resistance.
How To Build A Library succeeds as both a historical documentary and a contemporary call to action. Lekow and King create a work that honours the magnitude of their subjects’ ambition, while acknowledging the brutal realities of institutional change. Like the biblical rebuilding of the Jerusalem temple that the film evokes, this is a story about faith tested by circumstance, about the gap between vision and execution, and about the courage required to challenge long-standing structures.
In this exclusive interview with Afrocritik held over Zoom video conferencing, Maia Lekow and Christopher King talk about their motivations for telling the story of the two women, politics in Kenya, and making films together as a couple.
What drew you in and influenced your decision to document Wachuka and Koinange’s mission to dismantle colonial structures?
Lekow: To begin with, I am Nairobi-born, while Chris is from Australia. We moved back to Nairobi in 2007. At that time, Chris was doing a couple of film-related jobs while I was working on my music. During this time, Chris worked with Wachuka since he was doing a lot of filming for their literature festivals. On my end, I worked with Shiro (Koinange) on a festival that featured sound-related projects. So, from the beginning, we both knew them in different capacities.
A few years ago, we were having a conversation with Koinange, and she mentioned that she and Wachuka needed a venue for a literary festival. They went to the library and noticed that though people were still working there, it was falling apart. They also mentioned that across the (African) continent, we mostly reappropriate spaces without interrogating the history of said spaces. They requested that we help them create some promotional videos that could be posted on Facebook.
We decided to visit the space, and we figured that it would make for an interesting longer-form documentary. From then on, we started following the journey. So, what drew us to the story is the power of these two women and the interesting challenge of decolonising the library from filmmakers’ perspectives.
King: Relocating to Africa taught me a lot about colonialism and what the British did. Observing these two women and their commitment to decolonising this library gave us something to follow and capture. It’s not a simple conversation; the direction of the film was influenced by what they found and discovered
To what extent was this a personal journey for Koinange, given her family’s history?
King: I think if we had the leisure of doing a four-hour director’s cut, we would have all the details. I feel it has a big part in her wanting to do something constructive and meaningful. Wachuka also has a history with colonialism; one part of her family included freedom fighters, while the other included colonial collaborators.
Lekow: I think that for her (Koinange), it was her way of attempting to reinvigorate the space. Also, seeing that both of them have interesting ties with colonialism, we wanted to know how far and deep we were willing to go. As we unravelled the layers of their personal histories, we made interesting discoveries and joked that we might need a ten-part series to be able to tell all the stories.
What do you think about the issue of documentation as it pertains to African culture, history and literature?
Lekow: I think documentation can be improved. We tried doing a lot of research through the National Library in Kenya, and it was sad to discover the volume of records and history that have been completely disused.
King: For me, documentation is one of the main concepts that made this project interesting. The library is a way to see specific aspects of Kenyan history through the eyes of white colonialists who built the library and segregated the space. Its previous iteration represents colonial history with all its attendant biases. We wanted to research oral history through the Book Bunk by recording oral stories.
Besides the book project, the Book Bunk was also collecting photo albums and stories of different everyday people and families. They call this project the “Missing Bits.” This project is to accommodate all the other stories, images and people that weren’t originally accepted in the library due to colonialist rhetoric.
Also, it was interesting to learn about how ancient knowledge was destroyed in Europe with the emergence of Christianity. In Africa, although so much has been lost and decimated, I still feel that if things are being recorded now and we can pair that with reaching back to cultural archives (like oral history, for instance), we can have more things documented.
Do you think Kenya has dealt with the uncomfortable conversations around colonialism? Are the right questions being asked, especially considering the tone of leadership in place now?
Lekow: This is a very big question. I don’t know if we have significantly addressed it. But, I feel like as a people, we are individually working on how to rethink issues moving forward. When it comes to governmental institutions, other colonial things are still ingrained. Lawyers still wear wigs and gowns.
The fact that these colonial laws and acts still exist, with no one ready to change them, also raises concerns. So, I feel like on an individual level, the younger generation is dealing with these issues. During the filmmaking process, Chris and I were thinking of ways to deploy these books and historical records as a catalyst for potential change.
Throughout the film, both women have to deal with the dysfunction of a rigid library system. Would you say that this impasse is in some way reflective of the approach to governance adopted by African leaders?
Lekow: To an extent, yes. The librarians work for the government; they have their way of doing things, and they are hardly receptive to alternative methods. There is the additional matter of two women from a younger generation coming with a modern digitisation process; the old guard doesn’t want to be told what to do. For us, it was important to show this intergenerational tension.
King: I think we are also looking at two forms of education. For most of the older librarians, the education they received shows the problem of colonialism; it just teaches subservience and blind followership. There is a huge rift between the two generations. As Kenyans and Africans get more educated and conversations around colonial structures start happening, we are going to have more people opposing the old paradigm.
Lekow: This is already happening. We just need more thinkers to be able to push those thoughts forward.
King: It must also be said that they (Koinange and Wachuka) were naive in their thinking. They started the reconstruction of the library, wanting to show how easy it is to work with the government, and they kept wondering when the pushback would begin.
Lekow: I hope government officials get to watch this film, even if we might get into trouble because of it. I want them to realise how difficult it is working with them. Maybe that will inspire them to find better ways for citizens to collaborate with them.
King: That being said, it’s important to give credit to some of the people in the documentary who happen to work with the government. Ten years ago, it would have been more difficult to do what we did (in making this film) without having to spend a lot of money.
When we made our first film, we went to a different county. We met with the county governor, who created a makeshift NGO and was involved throughout the filmmaking process. They didn’t have to do all of that with Koinange and Wachuka. I believe they have somewhat cracked the system, and this will lead to a desired change.
What do African leaders make of investment in the arts, especially with film and publishing?
Lekow: I don’t want to sound negative, but it’s difficult for the government to support creative initiatives: film, writing, or publishing. Towards the end of the film, Wachuka alluded to the fact that the government is scared of the power that literature can give citizens. I feel like that’s where all this disinterest stems from.
In Kenya, we have a thriving artistic ecosystem, comprising groups that are trying to push boundaries. But, as far as the government goes, there is no sufficient budget allocation for creative initiatives.
In Kenya, art was temporarily expunged from the school curriculum, and this tells you a lot. This also means that for those years that art was taken out of the classrooms, kids can’t access teachings around freedom of speech, creativity and creative thinking.
Did you have concerns about the outcome(s) of the film being directly affected by the tensions in the friendship between both women?
King: For us, it was important because that’s the point of the documentary. For Koinange and Wachuka, it comes back to the reason why they started the project in the first place. They realised that it was more important than any issues they were both dealing with, and I think this helped them weather the storm.
At a certain point, we thought of taking out parts that portrayed their conflict because we were worried about how sensitive and vulnerable certain parts were, but we figured that the film is a sort of instructional video depicting things that happen during a creative collaboration, and people can learn from it. Thus, we retained those bits.
What’s your core motivation for making films?
Lekow: As a Kenyan woman, that intergenerational and cultural dynamic is a driving force. All of our films, even the one currently in post-production, are about strong independent Kenyan women who know what they want and the situation surrounding how they achieve what they want. That’s primarily important to me.
Being born in Nairobi, our first film was set in my father’s community, and as filmmakers, we wanted to capture the cultural roots of different Kenyan communities. Our next film is set in a highly Islamic, patriarchal community where a woman is running for government.
What’s it like making films as a couple?
King: These films and the ideas for them are deeply intertwined with our personal lives. When working on them, they become our “children”. We completely agree on the creative direction, the only points of divergence unfolding during production, administration, and budgeting.
How To Build A Library had its world premiere at the 2025 Sundance Festival. It has recently been screened at the Encounters South African International Documentary Festival (where it was the opening night film) and Sheffield DocFest.
Jerry Chiemeke is a Nigerian-born writer, film critic, journalist, and lawyer based in the United Kingdom. His writing has appeared in Die Welt, The I Paper, The Africa Report, The British Blacklist, Berlinale Press, The Johannesburg Review of Books, Culture Custodian, Olongo Africa, and elsewhere. Chiemeke’s work has won or been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Ken Saro Wiwa Prize, Diana Woods Memorial Award for Creative Nonfiction, Best Small Fictions, and the Quramo Writers Prize. He is the author of the critically-acclaimed short story collection, Dreaming of Ways to Understand You.