Tending the commons

A story of a Dhome

Dhome,

Friday 18th of July

The Dhome is a traditional Mijikenda practice of community gathering and collective decision-making, where people come together — often under a sacred tree — to share updates, reflect on challenges, celebrate progress, and plan for the future. It is held in a spirit of openness, where every voice matters, and actions are rooted in relationships. Closely linked to the Dhome is the practice of Mwerya — a rotating labor system where community members help one another with tasks like farming, building, or caregiving. The Dhome often becomes the space where Mwerya plans are made and coordinated, turning shared ideas into concrete acts of mutual support. Together, these practices keep the social fabric strong, grounded in cooperation, care, and local leadership.

In our village, we take turn in hosting Dhome. Here, Mr Evans Kazungu Msinda hosting the circle.

Village wisdom,

Something we rehearse,

again and again,

under trees, in courtyards,

by firelight and song,

in the humble, holy act of gathering well.

As I entered the space, I felt a deep joy rising. I arrived alongside a few groups. I enter and greet everyone, first the cooking crew, where laughter mixed the smell of firewood and food. Then I joined others already gathered in circles, exchanging early reflections, setting intentions. The fireplace was being prepared with care, and all around me, the space felt lovingly tended. Some brought big cooking pots from home, others laid out mkekas (woven mats) and chairs, while others still arrived carrying drums, shakers, and the songs and dances that would guide us into rhythm. There was no separation between preparation and participation, everything was part of the gathering. Each of us brings what we can, the space becoming something more than any one of us could create alone.

It was a time to hear about all that has been built: farms, houses, trust, friendship … and to mourn the loss of some community members and celebrate the birth of new ones. We discussed the way forward: the Mwerias to come. And we refelected on the past.

As the collective discussion started, I watched each person invited to speak standing to introduce themselves, many with humor, most with theatrical presence and a deep sense of pride in representing the collective. There was a shared happiness in the air, a gratitude for being together and celebrating this moment. I appreciate the ease of expression all around me, the joy of simply showing up as we are, bringing what we have, and being fully seen in it. Later on, I sat beside the fire. We would have moments of discussions and having music and dance sessions one after another. We were now invited to turn our attention and gather in small groups to reflect on our shared vision, mission, goals, and action steps for the coming weeks and months. After the group discussions, we regrouped everyone to put in common what had been spoken in smaller circles, to connect the threads, and begin to prioritize the steps ahead in our common future actions.

A multigenerational moment

As we cycled with our bikes toward the Dhome, me, my partner, and our daughter, we passed a group of children who lit up with excitement. “Tonight there’s a celebration! There’s music!” they shouted with wide smiles, their energy already part of what was to come. Later, at the gathering, I noticed more children arriving, some still in their school uniforms, lingering at the edges with curious eyes, watching the dancing and singing unfold. They stood quietly at first, unsure whether they belonged, shy or simply taking time to understand the rhythm of what was happening. But as the evening stretched on — with its warmth, openness, and the natural invitation of music — they slowly stepped closer. Some sat among us, listening intently as the elders spoke. Others found their way into the circles, joining conversations, tapping along to rhythms, or showing off their own dance moves. A few picked up instruments with joy and played alongside others, their presence lighting up the space.

Discovering the Giriama culture

Over the years, I’ve lived and learned within different cultures and community-led collectives, each one revealing new dimensions of ritual, coordination, presence, and belonging. That journey has led me here, to this village where I now live on the Eastern Coast of Kenya, near Kilifi town, where I find myself deeply immersed in many layers of community life. I help organize intentional gatherings, contribute to defining collective work protocols, and participate in co-designing our shared ecosystem at the village scale. At the same time, I join in song and dance, exchange greetings and laughter, and slowly learn the local proverbs and sayings that carry the wisdom of the Giriama people. Here, connection lives in words, movement, sound, and the daily acts of showing up together.

Bring instruments, you will get music!

In our village, traditional dancing, singing, and the playing of local instruments have, in many places, been replaced by loudspeakers and modern disco music. Yet, the memory and movement of ancestral rhythms still live on, carried by a few dedicated villagers and chama members who continue to hold the traditional songs, steps, and sounds. A living archive of the local stories that I can witness and hear in all the Dhome gatherings I have participated in, like this one.

At one point, during this Dhome, while I was dancing, one of the mamas gently invited me under a lesso, a brightly colored piece of fabric that has so much meaning and many uses here. They are worn as skirts, headwraps, or shawls, used to carry babies, to bundle goods, to sit on, or even to decorate sacred spaces. Often printed with Swahili proverbs or blessings, they carry both intentions and local wisdom. As I stepped under the lesso, surrounded by laughter and rhythm, other women joined too, wrapping the cloth around us in a circle. Dancing together beneath it, felt like being welcomed into a quiet heartbeat of sisterhood, held by the joy, strength, and grace of the women around me.

"When Joy Finds Its Voice"

On the Swahili Coast, women often express collective joy, support, or agreement through a distinct vocal gesture, a high-pitched, rhythmic ululation or trill that rises suddenly from a group, often in unison. It’s not spoken as a word, but sounded — a celebratory vibration released through the tongue and lips, sometimes called vigelegele in Swahili more broadly. I wish this sound would be the soundrack of this article as it keeps resonating in my head while I am writing these words.

Here,

we act for the commons,

we speak in rhythm,

we remember:

the future is shaped

by many hands and hearts.

Nashukuru (I give thanks)