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.

Bookpoint never closes for lunch, I thought to myself. I nonetheless assumed it was just one of ‘those days’. So I approached the navy blue uniformed security guard sitting on a small stool at the far right of the store’s premises, “What time will the store re-open after lunch?” I said my eyes briefly on my wristwatch then back to him. 

“Hii bookshop ilifungwa kitambo sana.” He said. His bass devoid of difference. He then rose from his stool and walked towards me at a tortoise’s speed. His voice and body frame as disproportionate as it could get. Not to judge a book by its cover, but momentarily there, I wondered exactly how this old man would ever grapple with the warm blooded, young Nairobi robbers given his petite frail frame and advanced age. Is that possible? Anyway, moving on!

“Six months.” I echoed him, utterly confused, galloping for air, seconds after dodging a scurrying, flat-out careless Nairobi pedestrian who either wasn’t seeing me or just didn’t care that he almost pushed me into an open manhole nearby. Six months, my thoughts kept ringing in my head. And I didn’t know. As expected (with most of us Kenyans who are always volunteering details of ‘the story’ to anyone who cares to listen) the petite toothless askari meticulously narrated to me the events that led to Bookpoint’s demise. Family squabbles, something like that, he concluded. I cringed.

At Bookpoint, I was as loyal a customer as I could be, like most people are to their favorite bars. I would shop for books here twice yearly, not counting the occasional window shopping or one-book drop-bys whenever in the city.

Breaking news! Bookpoint collapsed, people!

Bookpoint is no longer with us. It’s gone. Really, gone. This is a eulogy for a monumental establishment.

I buy books everywhere I find them, but until that became so, my one stop book supply was Bookpoint. It was an expansive bright-lit book store in Nairobi’s downtown overlooking Moi Avenue. The premises was air-conditioned, the aisles separating neat well-stocked, well-labelled shelves, were white-tiled and always clean and polished. The smart shoppers were always quiet and navigating with grace. Is there anywhere else you can gather such a brilliant group of people under one roof? And the courteous store attendants! Wow! That was the summit! Well, I would always visit Bookpoint for these reasons in addition to buying books, obviously!

Is there any smell that beats that of a new book? The delirious fragrance that one inhales whilst turning page by page of a new book? From where I sit, there isn’t. It is heaven in every sense of the word. Nothing comes close to the worlds that are brought to life through ink and paper, quite literally. The transportation of a reader to new worlds is the hallmark of happiness.

You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover but surely you can judge a bookstore by its smell, right?

Almost two years on, Bookpoint has never reopened. No one talks about it, not even in hush-hush tones that we speak of Eurobond or CORD-Jubilee dramas, (and I’m nullifying their importance) which just goes to show where our priorities are.

I once read a quote that said: A town is not a town without a bookstore. In the same breath, I’d like to say that Nairobi is no longer Nairobi without Bookpoint.

I’m a reader; a broad and deep reader. I read mostly fiction. Nevertheless, good non-fiction is not out of bounds either. In fact, books that have helped shape my thinking have been largely non-fiction. Biographies and psychological non-fiction works are a must read every two or so months. Malcom Gladwell is good. Steven Levitt and his crazy brother J. Dubner too. They’ve introduced me to new worlds and made me a better human being. In fiction, my-oh- my! Where do I even start? From Achebe to Dr Ogolla to Hemmingway to Rice to E. Gilbert to Fitzgerald to Austen to Archer to Adichie to Shakespeare, name it. Do you ever read your appliance manuals? Or newspaper classified? Ha! Crazy. I know. But I still refer to myself as a fictional monogamist; anything classics to contemporary to historical. You could be a self-help book or biography kind of person. There’s no wrong way to do it. I recommend a book a week for everyone no matter how busy they are. Just one book! Two hours a day. You don’t have to watch that evening soap opera. Back football on matches on Sundays or Twitter, seriously? These can be things of your past.

So reading is my thing, like clubbing, football etc. is for other people.

I believe that as a culture, we should all make reading ‘our thing’. Reading, just for mere the thrill of it. Reading strictly for pleasure, is a skill that’s disappearing faster than the arctic ice. In a society that just can’t seem to shut up, we need hours of quiet and introspection which can only be found in the realms of reading. But I’m not giving up on seeing a generation of more readers, where people can meet and discuss from books.

Bookpoint’s demise means one bookstore off Nairobi’s grid. How many bookstores do we currently have in Nairobi? Can they even fit on one hand? Compare that to the over 300 stores in London! And more in their thousands in New York City alone! I mean Nairobi only has Prestige bookshop and Bookfirst in Nakumatt supermarkets, and the second-hand-book street vendors? At least Nakumatt supermarket has other stuff to sell. Clearly the survival of most bookshops nowadays depends on other commodities besides books.

Books are not only important in the education of any society, but an important avenue for broader and more creative and innovative minds. Readers are a very civilized lot. Actually, readers are very smart people. For this reason alone, Kenyans should develop a reading culture. The West has tapped into this. Because life is increasingly complex and versatile, reading helps people think outside the box. It welcomes life’s mishaps as part of the growth process. There’s no one size fits all solution to trials in life, but reading helps us navigate through our tribulations with considerate grace and compassion. We learn to relate to others’ experiences through the spirit of a book. We question truths we’ve known forever. We challenge theories. We think independently. We learn. We become smart and better, I believe. During the Dickensian era, even people who couldn’t read would assemble around those who could read and be read out loudly to. That’s dandy!

We should encourage reading across the board; from scholars to ordinary folks.

Kids too, develop better communication skills by reading. If you have a child, read to them a bedtime story every time you tuck them in. Stir their imagination! Researchers of child development have discovered that pregnant moms who read, greatly improve on the psychological and physical wellbeing of foetuses inside them. Reading for careers is important, but reading for knowledge is far better. It should be a lifelong expedition from conception to death. Reading is to the mind what food is to the body.

It should not be business as usual when we our bookshops are closing down. It should not be business as usual when our universities libraries are understocked or virtually non-existent. It should not be business as usual when we only have one bookshop or two to servicing a population of over five million city dwellers. It should not, ever be cool that Bookpoint is no longer here with us.