The sad story of Bookpoint's death

I was met with three side by side dull grey, overhead steel rolling doors at one of my favourite stores in down-town Nairobi. It was on a Tuesday around this time last year. The afternoon sun was fierce above me. The automobile traffic along Moi Avenue was at a halt. Desperate motorists were beguiled in other mundane activities (clearly not driving since most engines were off) like dozing off, or reading or just staring outside probably wishing to abandon their cars and simply walk to their destinations. This was a complete contrast of the bustling sidewalk human traffic where I was standing.

For me, it was business as usual; out in the city buying home supplies which always involves at least forty or so books at the start of the year. The dusty front floor appeared to have been involved in a bitter fight with water; clearly the two had not seen eye to eye in months! Even the Kidero pavement was far cleaner! Unfathomable, right? I thought so. The dusty steel doors, tightly shutting these premises from the world with heavy padlocks were concealing what used to be my favourite bookstore in Nairobi: Bookpoint.