If Dadaab were actually counted as a city, it would be Kenya's third or fourth most populous. Yet it's not counted; it doesn't exist. It's a liminal space, neither here nor there, and its inhabitants exist between worlds interminably.
Sitting down on the bus carrying us out through the stunning Darbyshire countryside to a cavern where we would watch an Opening Night film for the Sheffield Doc Fest, little did I know what the woman sitting next to me would come to represent for me.
Kenya certainly faces legitimate security concerns. And with the country's presidential campaign heating up, it is understandable that the government wants to make its city streets safer and more secure.
We heard stories from motherswho had lost their husbands. Families who journeyed for weeks to arrive malnourished and in need of medical assistance. And parents who had heartbreaking stories of losing children in the flight from famine in Somalia.
Yesterday I spent the day in Dadaab refugee camp, a camp in Kenya near the Somalia border. A camp which has swelled to the size of Bristol. I was both inspired and heart broken by what I saw and heard.