First, read “

An Introduction to Indigenous African Architecture

” (PDF, 8.4 MB). Next, address the following questions.

In the beginning of Labelle Prussin’s article, she states that “the subject of African architecture was, and indeed still is among many, not considered worthy of recognition.” Discuss why Prussin argues African architecture is worthy of recognition and study, and describe how she suggests we should approach the study of architecture from an African perspective.

Society of Architectural Historians and University of California Press are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve
and extend access to Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians.

http://www.jstor.org

An Introduction to

Indigenous African Architecture

Author(s): Labelle Prussin
Source: Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 33, No. 3 (Oct., 1974), pp. 182-

205
Published by: on behalf of the University of California Press Society of Architectural

Historians
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/988854
Accessed: 23-02-2016 19:27 UTC

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at http://www.jstor.org/page/
info/about/policies/terms.jsp

JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content
in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship.
For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org

http://www.jstor.org/publisher/ucal

http://www.jstor.org/publisher/sah

http://www.jstor.org/publisher/sah

http://www.jstor.org/stable/988854

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

An Introduction to

Indigenous African Architecture

LABELLE PRUSSIN Department of Architecture, University of Michigan

L’habitation africaine est plus qu’un fait glographique, davantage qu’un
fait social. Elle constitue une remarquable manifestation religieuse. Elle
est un phenomene total. La vie mat&ielle, familiale, sociale, spirtuelle,
des individus et des groupes s’y deroule dans le cadre d’un symbolisme
present a tous les moments de l’existence dans toutes les parties de l

a

maison etjusque dans les details les plus infimes.1

Introduction

UNTIL QUITE RECENTLY, the Western world accorded
no place in its architectural schema to Africa-with the

exception of Egypt. The subject of African architecture
was, and indeed still is among many, not considered worth

y

of recognition. To be sure, the existence of “shelter” in
Africa has been admitted by all-all human beings require
some kind of shelter-but the studied neglect or denial of a
discrete, viable architecture in Africa can be illustrated with
innumerable references. Since the lacuna itself is most re-
vealing for this introduction, some of the reasons for it
merit our attention.

Several years ago, a leading American popular journal
sent a team of photographers to Africa to document a
feature article on the great epochs of African history with
monumental architectural illustrations. Upon returning,
their first comment was, “All we could find were a bunch
of mud huts!”2 The reaction they voiced was merely the

echo of an attitude which prevailed a century ago when
three prominent explorer-travellers, each reporting his
experiences and impressions from different parts of West
Africa, all used an identical drawing to illustrate indigenous
housing.3 Thus, although the reality in the three regions
was vastly different, the reportage reflected the European
mental image of the times: all were identical.

Equally expressive of this general attitude (although per-
haps more directly stated) is the initial response by students
to a course in African architecture: “I didn’t know there
was any!” The student response unfortunately is not unique.
It reflects the thinking which prevailed until quite recently
in the academic world expressed in articles by such re-
spected scholars asJulius Gluck and E. A. Gutkind.4 African
architecture has been characterized as “primeval,” as ur-
architektur-an architecture devoid of'”sacrality”‘ ‘-meriting
only a description of building technology and techniques.
African architecture, it has been suggested, lacks “a feeling
of space as we understand it,” and “Africans have never
made an attempt to use space itself as a building material.”
Even the most sophisticated ethnographic surveys of the
cultures of Africa often failed to transcend “material cul-
ture” in their descriptions of the forms and structures of
buildings.” The traditional approach which explains or

Although the knowledge embodied in this introduction has ac-
cumulated over a number of years, the synthesis evolved in the
course of recent doctoral dissertation research. I am deeply grateful
to the Department of the History of Art and the African Studies
Center at Yale University for their support of that research. I would
also like to thank June Budden, Department of Architecture, Uni-
versity of Michigan, for help with the graphic illustration.

1. Jean-Paul Lebeuf, “L’architecture africaine traditionelle,” Col-
loque, ler Festival Mondial des Arts Nigres, Dakar (Paris, 1967), p. 324.

2. The comment reflects a generally prevalent attitude that monu-
mentality and permanence are prerequisites to architectural defmi-
tion and that vernacular architecture is lacking in both identity and
meaning.

3. The plate first appeared in Eugene Mage, Voyage dans le Soudan
Occidental (Paris, 1868). The same plate appeared a second time in
J. A. Skertchly, Dahomey As It Is (London, 1874), to illustrate a
Mahi village in northern Dahomey, and a third time in Lt. Pietri,
Les Franfais au Niger (Paris, 1885), with a completely different
location claim.

4. Julius F. Gluck, “African Architecture,” in Many Faces of
Primitive Art, ed. Douglas Fraser (Englewood Cliffs, 1966); E. A.
Gutkind, “How Other Peoples Dwell and Build-Indigenous
Houses of Africa,” Architectural Design, 23 (1953), 121-124.

5. See for example Notes and Queries on Anthropology, 6th ed.
(London, 1960), compiled by a committee of the Royal Anthropo-
logical Institute of Great Britain and Ireland as a manual for field-
work researchers.

18

3

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

182

:8?~

; $
~T:::~~: –

~

?

?

i

9;? ~i”l-~”lf~'”

:

~~ MV~;`Rn ~_”n~ ~;SJI~ 1?~ -~? : ~_a?’ 8~”; ~s~

.:-“i

i”k- .
5:”u;

~~

~;o?:

:?~ “i~ ~~– ~iii a

,

,,

B;f &gZ~_;; ~ “~ -i xx:?;~

;`;;X

~?

~rl~ii “~X$b ~F:.~~.J

:?rr~
:-eD

~319??~ P~li “~:”~E?~i i: ~Dlai”

i”..t-. . -i–;~i~”; –

….- “6:ii S~a~
:

i:ra “-~ _?~

tl

Iqt~
?i~6?8;:

_ a:’ .
?.?:;

~1?

~:%-;”

r0;::i::?
~??- :ii?- ‘ii
i, ~i~ :??a~i?, -“r

P ;,
~ “g ?,;i- ~?~

.1~::1 –
i- ;g , “l~a~ :s.I~s~

= ” :::~:
Z ;~4~?i??. Ij

~51″~~~ ~?p: b
!;x? “*k. bih. n

;dY~:

~ ‘
?…:::a?

R~I ”

=

P~ ??

Fig. i. A recently constructed Bozo saho or boys’ age-set house at Kolenze, Mali (photo: author).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

184

defines African architecture in terms of the primitive or in
terms of building technology per se also leads logically to a
limited perspective which can only speak of shelter. That
this attitude still prevails is evident from a recent collection
of essays entitled Shelter in Africa.6

These approaches have severely restricted the develop-
ment of a true understanding of the African architectural

phenomenon. They account, in great measure, for the
failure of the Western world to admit its very existence.
But more than mere oversight and ignorance, they are the

progeny of a marriage between conceptual fallacy and
Western ethno- and egocentrism. Traditionally, the West-
ern world circumscribed architecture in terms of perma-
nent, monumental, public structures which could be docu-
mented in time and space. Courses in architectural history
were (and still are) divided by subject matter into a chro-

nology which began with the written word. Preliterate or
nonliterate societies were, until recently, not considered

respectable residents on the typological plateau of”civiliza-
tion” established by Western thought, because the written
word was used as a critical measure. During the second
half of the nineteenth century the Western world, in-

spired by Darwinian theories of evolution, engaged in
numerous attempts to establish an evolutionary model for
the range of disciplines which comprise world knowledge.
The various efforts to classify the races and cultures of
mankind and its achievements into an evolutionary model
were paralleled by typologies which classified architectural
efforts into an evolutionary sequence. Viollet le Duc’s
The Habitation of Man Through the Ages and the Paris Ex-

position Universelle of 1889 became the models for Sir
Banister Fletcher’s “Tree of Architecture” and Bemis and
Burchard’s The Evolving House.7

The study of the visual arts in the Western world has

traditionally been divided into sculpture, drawing, paint-
ing, and architecture. Consequently, when the arts of
Africa began to attract world attention at the turn of the

century, not only was the architecture of Africa further
divorced from the other visual arts, but it was in turn
robbed of its meaningful elements. The feverishly increas-

ing pace of colonial expansion in West Africa coincided
with a search for new forms of expression in the art world.
It was hardly coincidence that the fauvist movement which
initiated twentieth-century Primitivism was born in France,
since at the turn of the century France was more actively
involved in African colonization than any other Western

nation, and by 1900oo she was in control of the major sculp-
ture-producing regions of the African continent. Increasing
numbers of “artifacts” and curios pilfered and pillaged
during the decades of colonial expansion appeared in Euro-

pean museums and bistros, inspiring Picasso, Modigliani,
and others.8 But, while one might carry off sculpture and
decorative art for display to the Western world, architec-
tural elements are more difficult to transport. Early in the
nineteenth century, the museum-piece collecting, archaeo-

logical mania, focussing on the classical world, successfully
carried off such segments. Despite their weight, Egyptian
obelisks, Greek architraves, and Roman columns, severed
from their sites, could be transported. In an architecture

composed primarily of vegetal or earthern materials, as was
the case in Africa, only wooden elements were removable:
carved wooden columns, plaques in wood or metal, dec-
orative roof pinnacles, doors, doorposts, doorframes, and

locks, all architectural components, were removed from
their contextual surroundings and reclassified as sculpture.

The absence of transportation facilities on the African
continent further contributed to misinformation and mis-

interpretation. Although wooden, metal, terra-cotta, and
even stone elements might be carried down from the inland
savannahs to the Guinea Coast and shipped by boat to

Europe, their size was limited to what could be carried by
man since transport, until well into this century, still de-

pended upon human portage. In fact, until the turn of the

century, few Europeans had even penetrated beyond the
coastal rain forests. The European image of West African
architecture was thus heavily conditioned by observation of
only a narrow strip of tropical coastline. The savannah city

6. Paul Oliver, ed., Shelter in Africa (New York, 1971), is a collec-
tion of essays on the architecture of various African peoples. The
irony of the term “shelter” is most striking on the dust jacket of the
book, where the title is superimposed on a color photograph of one
of the most spectacular examples of West African architecture: the
intricate arabesque bas-relief faqades bursting with symbol and
meaning on Hausa building faqades in northern Nigeria.

7. Eugene E. Viollet le Duc, The Habitation of Man in All Ages,
trans. by Benjamin Buckall (Boston, 1876); Sir Banister Fletcher,
A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method, 14th ed. (New
York, 1948), p. iii; A. F. Bemis and John Burchard, The Evolving
House, 3 vols. (Cambridge, 1933). Fletcher’s classic text on archi-
tectural history on which every aspiring architect of the first half of
the twentieth century was weaned, condescendingly accorded three
pages in a thousand.to the whole field of vernacular architecture, and
hardly many more to the entire non-Western, nonclassical world.

The Exposition Universelle of 1889, while better known for its
Tour Eiffel, also boasted a large-scale exhibition on the bank of the
Seine River, entitled “The Evolution of Architecture and Habita-
tion.” Its subject matter included examples of the “primitive” level
of earlier stages in evolution from the newly colonized, far-flung

exotic societies, presumably affording a contrasting diorama to the
glorious achievements of Western civilization and technology which
the Eiffel Tower symbolized.

8. See Robert Goldwater, Primitivism in Modern Art, rev. ed. (New
York, 1967), for a detailed exposition on the development of
Primitivism.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

185

of Djenn6 in Mali for instance, a mediaeval entrep6t on
one of the tributaries to the Niger River equal in import to
Timbucktu, was not accurately located on a European map
until 1893 when the French conquered the city. When
earlier explorers such as Ren6 Cailli6, Heinrich Barth, and
Anne Raffenel did traverse the interior, their interpretive
drawings and renderings could only convey egocentric
impressions, since photography as an accurate reporting
tool was still in its infancy, and the use of photographs in

publication was a late nineteenth-century development.9
In the early twentieth century, interest in African arts

went hand in hand with the European art world’s search
for a new theory and new forms of artistic expression. The

increasing interest in African architecture today can also be

explained in part by a revolution in architectural theory and
the current reevaluation of concepts and definitions for the

discipline. In contrast to the traditional classical stance
which severely restricted the field to singular, monumental
edifices, recent architectural thinking has begun to reflect
the broader frame of man-built environments generated by
current concern with the total spectrum of man’s relation-

ship to the world around him. The essence of recent in-

terpretations, pioneered by architectural critics, historians,
and practitioners such as Allsop, Rudofsky, Rapoport,
Alexander, Jencks, Baird, and Norberg-Schulz, rests on the
basic assumption that architecture includes the total man-
built environment and its quality derives from “man’s

identifying himself with what he builds, using it as a means
of self-expression. .. .”10

By considering a universal frame in which man’s de-
limitation and enclosure of space not only defines his phys-
ical needs butjustifies his raison d’etre as well, then all aspects
of the man-built environment may be viewed in the con-
text of aesthetic expression and the boundaries of archi-
tectural definition can be extended and redefined. Such an

approach permits us to view the African materials in true
and accurate perspective, to accord them a recognized

place in the universal framework, and to discard the nar-
row, denigrating boundaries which previous typologies
have imposed upon us.11 Indeed, it is no coincidence that
the authors cited above, almost without exception, have
illustrated their theoretical position not only with examples
from the field of vernacular architecture in general, but
from the African world in particular.

An understanding of African architecture requires spe-
cific examination of the physical, technological, socio-
cultural, and politico-economic environments which con-
stitute concrete reality. But it is also essential that one con-
sider the process whereby man, as a thinking, symbol-
making animal, abstracts those realities into a meaningful
and ultimately religious or symbolic schemata of architec-
tural philosophy. Phrased another way, the physical en-
vironment provides the raw material of concrete space, the

technological environment provides man with the tool kit
to manipulate available material resources, and the socio-
cultural, politico-economic environments provide the
framework for restructuring the natural environment into
a man-made one. The distinction between shelter and archi-
tecture rests precisely on differentiating between real, con-
crete space and philosophic, existential space. Ultimately, it
is the changing pattern of their interrelationship over time
which constitutes the fabric of architectural history.

The Concrete Environment

Sub-Saharan Africa encompasses the widest diversity and

range of physical settings. By extension, the architectural
forms created on its landscape are equally diverse and

complex. Imagine for the moment a longitudinal axis

following the Greenwich meridian from Accra, Ghana,
through Timbucktu, Mali, in West Africa. The trace
would cut across a series of horizontal climatic belts: humid
rain forest near the coast, a derived woodland savannah
inland gradually becoming a grassland savannah and finally
turning into a semiarid desert (Fig. 2).

The climate of the humid coastal rain forest belt, where
there is little temperature change between day and night or
even between wet and dry seasons, calls for a shelter with a
maximum of cross ventilation to ensure bodily comfort.
To achieve such a design, the indigenous coastal builder
will strive to incorporate some variant of louvered or
natural openings into the house he builds (Figs. 3-4).
Bamboo walls simulating openwork screens are designed

9. Rene Caillid, Journal d’un voyage a Tembouctou et a Jenne, 1824-
1828, 3 vols. (Paris, 1965); Heinrich Barth, Travels and Discoveries in
North and Central Africa, 1849-1855, 3 vols. (New York, 1857);
Anne Raffenel, Nouveau Voyage dans le pays des Negres, 2 vols. (Paris,
1856). A more poignant example of overt racist bias toward African
subject matter appeared in the interpretive renderings of Riou, a
French caricaturist who specialized in illustrating the ubiquitous
chronicles of the late nineteenth-century French military accounts of
the Guinea Coast of West Africa.

to. Bruce Allsop, The Study of Architectural History (New Yor

k,

1970), p. 83. See also Bernard Rudofsky, Architecture Without Archi-
tects (New York, 1965); Amos Rapoport, House Form and Culture
(Englewood Cliffs, 1969); Christopher Alexander, Notes on the
Synthesis of Form (Cambridge, 1971); Charles Jencks and George
Baird, Meaning in Architecture (New York, 1970); Christian Nor-
berg-Schulz, Existence, Space and Architecture (New York, 1971).

11. It is important to distinguish the question at issue from build-
ing technology per se as well as from technological resources avail-
able in structuring the environment, both of which do follow an
evolutionary development.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

186

i mb Desert

100

Equator
Accra

Fig. 2. West Africa, showing the horizontal pattern of environ-
mental belts (after R. J. H. Church, West Africa [London, 19571).

to encourage air circulation. Floors are often raised high
off the ground on platforms to catch the ocean breezes.
The traditional rectangular building form found in the
rain forest is, by virtue of its easy adaptation to a cardinal
orientation, more suited for the exploitation of cross breezes.
Early British and French colonial settlers and administra-
tors, recognizing the merit of indigenous solutions to
climatic comfort, emulated them by raising their expa-
triate mansions high above the ground and by developing a
wall system composed of louvered doors and screened
verandahs. Many examples can still be seen in Abidjan,
Accra, Lagos, and Dakar.

eld

Fig. 3. Jewie Wharf, a coastal lagoon village near Half Assini,
Ghana (photo: author).

The inland savannah climate by contrast is composed of
a brief annual rainy season and a long, dry season during
which the dessicating desert harmattan winds blow down
from the Sahara. The daily temperature change may be as
high as 30 to 350 Fahrenheit. Savannah climates require a
solution which can cut the cold and biting winds and at the
same time provide a cool respite from the intense heat of
the midday sun. The earthen roundhouse with its insulating
walls can accumulate and store the heat of the day for
evening comfort (Fig. 5). The circular form, in contrast to
the rectangular, helps to concentrate thermal radiation in a
central, enclosed, interior space. Rather than strive for
maximum ventilation, the savannah builder will shun win-
dow openings and limit the single door opening to the
smallest possible dimension so that the thermal properties
offered by the thick earthen walls will be maximized.

i:•?

i

I

…..

,•,
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ i II …. o•• .. •……

?f~~?….

Fig. 4. House construction at Half
Assini (photo: author).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

187

ii6

Fig. 5. A Tallensi compound at Tongo in the savannah of northern Ghana (photo: author).

The same climatic diversity also generates differences in

light intensity. The tropical forest cover acts as a light
filter, subduing the brilliant rays of the sun, filtering them
into a play of deep shadows so that the sharp corners of

rectangular forms are less disturbing to the eye. The ma-

jestic, towering forest growth, emerging from the lush

tropical undergrowth, also modifies the heat. On the other

hand, the absence of dense stands of timber and forest vege-
tation in the savannah permits a more intense sunlight. The

intensity is further accentuated by the sand crystals sus-

pended in the atmosphere during the dry season and by the

barren, reflective surfaces of the landscape. The softly
rounded, curvilinear surfaces and rough textures of earthen
walls typical of savannah architecture eliminate the harsh,
irritating contrast between light and dark created by per-
pendicular intersecting planes, and convert it to softly
graded shade and shadow.

Climate conditions the growth of vegetation-the nat-
ural resources of building materials. Along the coastal belt
of rain forest the availability of palm and bamboo dictates
the rectangular, carpentered building forms. Trees grow
straight and tall, lending their branches to easy alignment
and to forms composed of straight vertical and horizontal
elements. Such is the case along the Guinea Coast of West

Africa, among the Fanti, Ewe, Mende, Adja, Fon, and
Wolof peoples.12

Earthen walls, when they are used in the humid tropics,
require an armature; otherwise, heavy rains and perennial
humidity would wash them away. Consequently, in the
transitional belt between forest and savannah, the tradi-
tional building wall is made of wattle and daub. The vertical
wattles of bamboo or palm frond, tied horizontally, are

packed with an earthen daub. Such is the case for traditional
Ashanti, Baule, Ibo, Urhobo, and Yoruba housing.

As one moves out of the rain forest into the woodland
savannah, tree growth is stunted and irregular. Agricul-
tural practices of “slash and burn” further deform and

gnarl the trunks. Building timbers are unsuited to rec-

tangular building forms and as one moves further north,
timber becomes scarcer. Not only is earthen construction

12. While it is true that the peoples along the Guinea Coast of
West Africa were in contact with Europeans and European building
practices for many centuries, and their architecture may have been
influenced by European geometry, it seems more plausible to sug-
gest that their rectangular, carpentered forms were dictated by the
available vegetal materials. Consequently, it was easier for them to
incorporate European spatial configurations into an already existing
template. European contact merely served to enlarge their archi-
tectural repertoire.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

188

more suited to the demands of climate, but the dryer cli-
mate itself permits the use of earthen materials without

supporting structural reinforcement. Curvilinear earthen
walls are then capped with either flat, trodden earth terraces
or with thatch bonnets to become the ubiquitous solution
to the sedentary agriculturalist’s savannah domicile. The

rectangular, carpentered, rain forest prototype is replaced
by an earthen, curvilinear, savannah roundhouse proto-
type, found equally among the Malinke, Gurunsi, Mossi,

Dogomba, Somba, Hausa, and Musgu peoples (Fig. 6).13
In the northern reaches of the savannah grassland, the

stunted tree growth is gradually replaced by acacia brush
with its thorny mesh and short, spindly branches. The
acacia cannot be adapted to a structural frame, unless it is

gathered into bundles or fasces and used as ribbing for the
nomadic tents which the Fulani, the Songhai, and the

Tuareg utilize in their transhumance. Finally, in the Sahara

desert, the mobile architecture of truly nomadic peoples,
such as the Tuareg, is composed of woven textiles and

leather. Such tensile structures reduce, to an absolute mini-
mum, the number of timber struts and poles required for
shelter and structural stability (Fig. 7).

Geologic formations have also contributed to structuring
African architectural form. The clayey, lateritic soils of the
rain forest and woodland savannah gradually give way, in
the north, to a Saharan sandcover. Clayey soils are the
material par excellence not only for pottery, but for the
earthen banco construction of the savannah roundhouse.
On the other hand, sandy soils lack cohesiveness, and the

13. Eduard F. Seklar, “Structure, Construction, Tectonics,” in
Structure in Art and in Science, ed. Gyorgy Kepes (New York, 1965),
p. 94, has suggested that the eggshell-like conical houses of the

Musgu people in northern Cameroon represent “an almost perfect
realization of a structural principle in terms of a most appropriate
and efficient construction while at the same time, a clearly related

unequivocal tectonic expression.”

??.: 2 ;~IB 1~1:~~1~~

~l$~i

??
i ~h t

.a
~~3i~sZ~1S~i~E~ ~1C” P ~lbi~: ~? ~~`

,;;`;: )Ye-s~.lm~.Q~lg~l~h~~??~~ :

it
3?~~u? ia

Ef
~Saa~.~, ,i

Ih?*:

~ldlll~QG~YI ~YiZE~ii~ C~ Pl~f~ P~~-tS~i~a~P~ii

:~. ~ :???1

Fig. 6. Musgu housing in the northern Cameroon (from J.-P.
Beguin et al., L’habitat au Cameroun [Paris, 1952]). The elaborate
built-up entrance is an expression of both structural requisite and
spatial cognition.

C –

— -p4

Dr

y

o,

SO

Fig. 7. Tent structures. A: Songhai mat tent (after G. Brasseur, Les
Etablissments humans au Mali [Dakar, 1968]); B: Fulani mat tent

(from a photograph in the Musde de l’Homme, Paris); C: Tuareg
skin tent (after J. Nicolaisen, Ecology and Culture of the Pastoral

Tuareg [Copenhagen, 19631).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

189

further north one travels, the deeper one must dig below
the surface sands to find a soil of adequate consistency.
Again further north, the natural adhesive and hardening
agents, such as cow dung and vegetal juices, also become
scarcer. Granitic outcroppings, oxidized laterites, and lime-
stones gradually replace the clayey earth as a preferential
building material in some areas. Not only were the medi-
aeval urban centers of West Africa, the ancient entrep6ts of
trans-Saharan trade, and the seats of the ruling dynasties in
the great African empires built of stone, but so is the cur-

rently inhabited Dogon housing nestled against the granitic
escarpment of Bandiagara, Mali (Fig. 8).

One of the difficulties in building with stone is that the
tool kit available to the builder in regions where building
stone abounds is not adequate for dressing the stone, i.e.,
for trimming and cutting it into regular building blocks.

Therefore, the stone can only be laid as a rubble masonry,
depending upon a heavy bed of earthen mortar to take up
the rough, random faces. Such is also the case with the
oxidized laterites and granites. The coursed, “squared stone”
construction found in the ancient capitals and trade centers
such as Koumbi Saleh, Tegdaoust, Walata, Tichit in Mau-

retania, and even Timbucktu was made possible by the

locally available, stratified sandstone which, easily split,
left even, flat surfaces for regular ashlar coursework (Fig. 9).

Finally, even the geography itself will have an influence
on both the materials of construction and the forms de-
rived from them. Peoples living close to the riverine sys-
tems such as the Konkomba and the Sorko (Bozo) who
have settled along the banks of the Niger, the Oti, the

Volta, and the Bani rivers utilize the shells and fishbones as
a hardening agent in their earthen mortars. The river shells
are ground into a limelike substance and mixed with earth

lending not only a concretelike hard and impervious sur-
face to their earthen walls but providing a smooth, fluid
surface for easier wall and surface decoration.

The different physical environments demarcated by
these horizontal belts also account, in measure, for the

range of economic pursuits practiced by their inhabitants,
pursuits which in turn influence, even dictate, particular
architectural forms. For example, in the rain forest, the
subsistence crops are tubers: cassava or manioc and yams.
Tuber crops do not require either annual storage or storage
facilities in the form of a container; they can be stacked. In
the savannah, however, the agricultural staples are cereals:
maize and millets. Long-term storage which will house and

preserve the annual crops from one harvest to the next is
essential to life. Hence, the earthen granary, characteristic
of savannah architecture, is rarely encountered, if ever, in
the humid tropics. Indeed, the care and expertise called

upon for its construction transcends that of almost any
other traditional architectural form (Fig. lo).

In contrast to the sedentary agricultural pattern generated
by the savannah, the semidesert of the sub-Saharan belt

provides ideally suited grazing lands for pastoral activities,
in turn dictating the presence and function of various
mobile architectures, such as those of the Fulani, the Song-
hai, and the Tuareg. Their materials of construction reflect
the paucity of vegetation. The leather skins, the woven

grass and fiber mats, and the large textiles used to con-
struct the tents are designed for easy portability.14 Com-
pactness and portability are critical, and the importance of

singular structural members, both poles and skins, is ex-

pressed by the lavish care which attends their creation

(Fig. 11).15

14. Jean Chapelle, Nomades Noirs du Sahara (Paris, 1957), PP.
227-238, describes in detail how the tents of the nomads are packed
and transported on the back of a single camel.

15. Jean Gabus, Au Sahara (Neuchatel, 1959), illustrates the de-
tailed carving of wooden tent supports and discusses the symbolic
meaning of the designs woven into the tent mats and embroidered

?i??jr:

– – – – – . . . . . .

Fig. 8. Dogon stone construction at Sanga, Mali (photo: author).

C;T~ fC~- .”
~ *r?; ~.3 5

1~ — ” ~ r-
~2;Y;I~r”~r

*II
~C)-~r” .;”;–? ~31;4 r 6_ LrC~

?It; – _ ~k~i~?~S1
?~c-,-a~-?-:

re ** — _r rlL
?~r?

~g~c~ .*-

r
i-,.

Id
i~l~T~:

-~. — ii *” ” j? -L.
~r~

Lr

r .S?
t*; “‘ i ?.?~~

*C, , sl. 9? 1 ~s’ c r,

r cCJ*~~ L?
clc;rt~?*

d *j
~?r;lF~ ?! ?;~, -~dL “t ~;P~ul

Fig. 9. Stone construction at Tichit, Mauretania (from Dj.Jacques-
Meunid, Cites anciennes de Mauretanie [Paris, 1961]).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

19o

k,

ii i ;: 2

:

.4u~
ct?

~;?u?
: ?”~i”: -i~ll61*~C~P”?L~~-?~q~S~a~E~~

?.??r~- ?? :._~:it~~

71 “~st

?,
:~ ~”;” :

‘I S
t;l” ‘ ‘;; ~R

~1~i:
??;c=

vr-o?— -? ??;.
;?

i~Y-; ?C1′ %~” rX””’ ~1.?
Ivc??, ;r+c~ ~s~? cn ?t,

Fig. io. Basket granaries inside a Bambara compound near Djenn6, Mali (photo: author).

, 4

4-t

Fig. 11. Interior of a traditional
tent built by the Wogo, a Son-

ghai related people, at the Mus6e
du Niger, Niamey (courtesy:
Musde du Niger).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

191

It has been suggested that an African residence is no more
than the physical projection in space of the social organiza-
tion of the family which inhabits it.16 By extension, the
location of family compounds and homesteads on the

landscape, forming nucleated or dispersed settlements as
well as urban centers, is itself a sociogram of the kinship
groups which have established their territoriality on the
terrain. The plan of a West African compound will reveal
to the careful observer not only the size of the occupant
group as a whole, but the precise hierarchical and jurisdic-
tional relationships which exist among its members, male
and female, young and old. The distribution of cooking
spaces will reveal the relationships between wife (wives)
and husband, between children and parents, defining areas
of responsibility and territoriality as well as ownership of
or jurisdiction over crops and livestock. The disposition of
room units will reflect not only the relationships between
residents but their relationship as a whole to the extended
homestead which they farm (Fig. 12).

The compound residence is also unique in its kinetic

quality, reflecting the changing relationships which the
domestic cycle of family life undergoes during its lifespan.
As the viable family grows with the acquisition of spouses
and offspring, the compound expands by the addition of
new, enclosed, or clearly demarcated extensions in space.
Nonpermanent building materials are particularly well
suited to accommodate such change over time. Eventually,
as members of the extended family unit leave, die, or
establish new economic and/or social ties elsewhere, these

changes are again easily accommodated by physical al-
teration. Room units will be abandoned, left to crumble
back to earth; the personal spaces will realign themselves to
accommodate the changing human relationships.

The physical and social environments which have been
considered above in turn structure the prevailing systems
of building technology. The technological environment is
itself conditioned by the “available tool kit.” It is their
tool kit which enables people to utilize the available natural
resources. As has been suggested elsewhere in reference to
Roman architecture, technology can also become the hand-

ii: ? Ji;?~
… ,•.:

…. ?7•,• .-,•

.. s

3b 3d

a onwn w4ou 1,10
“is

o in fed
IF.• ,•i e:.~ !••.• .

Fig. 12. Plan of a Konkomba compound, northern Ghana (after L.
Prussin, Architecture in Northern Ghana [Berkeley and Los Angeles,
1969]). The shaded areas indicate the territorial jurisdiction of each
of the four wives, and the alphabetical sequence indicates the growth
of the residential complex in space and time.

maiden to new architectural imageries.17 Building technol-
ogies therefore, in combination with building materials,
are directly related to the creation of architectural forms.
Under building technology, one ought to consider not
only the tools themselves but the specialization of skills, the
division of labor, and distinctions between individual and
communal building processes. Their relationship to each
other is critical to an understanding of the development of
African architecture.

The building process in sub-Saharan rural Africa is a
communal process. The construction of a new domicile or

compound involves not only the owner but members of
his extended family as well as the community at large. But
the owner is the master builder only for his own com-
pound; the building skills are in the hands of all partici-
pants, so that the owner of each new compound will in
turn be his own architect. In the savannah, for example, the
earth is brought by the men and boys from the adjacent
borrow-pits; water is carried by the women for mixing the
earth into proper workable consistency; and kneaded mud
is then formed into spherical, conical, or cylindrical balls
and handed up to the owner-the “architect-mason”-
who sets them, coil fashion, in place. The prescribed divi-
sion of labor between men and women is not mere chance,
but reflects the more basic division of labor which char-
acterizes many rural African societies. Jurisdiction over the

on the tent “skins.” The prevalence of textiles in the architectural
repertoire of the nomadic peoples of sub-Saharan Africa was clearly
illustrated in an exhibition of African textiles at the Museum of
Modern Art in New York in 1972. A number of the textiles on
exhibit were, in fact, floor coverings and wall hangings: the archi-
tectural components of a mobile architecture. The way in which
they are hung, forming a tent

fa;ade,
can be seen in Rend Gardi,

African Craftsmen (Wabern, 1970), p. 158.
16. Meyer Fortes, The Web of Kinship among the Tallensi (London,

1949), pp. 49-63.
17. William L. Macdonald, The Architecture of the Roman Empire

(New Haven, 1965), p. 5.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

192

&o 1

oQ.o 0coo

O..•”6 o.:oc .o ::.,-
dQQ Q’0:o… ..

B ~ ‘= o~~~ 0

Fig. 13. Traditional masonry patterns and types of hand-molded
bricks (author).

earth relates to the agricultural responsibilities assumed by
male members of the community whereas water carrying
and provision relate to the domestic domain, a woman’s
responsibility.

The traditional method of earthen construction in the
West African savannah is a wet-mud process called banco,
closely related in concept to that of coil pottery. Coil
pottery is also the basis for earthen granary construction.
The structural strength of a round drumlike form derives
from the continuity of its circular wall. Consequently,
there are few openings, for structural as well as climatic
reasons. Again, windows are nonexistent and the small
round or oval doorways are cut into the wall after it has
been erected, because otherwise the wall would collapse.
The flat, earthen terrace-roofs built by the Kassena, Tal-
lensi, Lobi, Gurunsi, Somba, and other Voltaic-speaking
peoples serve to further strengthen the wall system. How-
ever, the flat, earthen roofs are possible only in areas where
strong timbers, needed to carry the heavier, earthen roof
load, are easily obtained.18 The more common solution is a
conical thatch roof which utilizes the grasslands vegetation
and requires fewer, lighter members.

Although banco construction continues to be the norm
for rural housing in the savannah, it is often used concur-
rently with an earthen brick, cast in a rectangular mold and
dried in the sun. The cast, sun-dried brick has replaced both
banco construction as well as spherical handmolded bricks
in the traditional West African urban centers such as Segou,

Djenn6, Timbucktu, and Gao. As a basic building unit, the
spherical brick dictates a curved wall: it is technically im-
possible and conceptually illogical to create a rectangular
building form with spherical brick units. On the other
hand, the introduction of a cast, carpentered brick leads to
an entirely new spatial concept: cubism. Whereas the rec-
tangular building forms of the rain forest might very well
have resulted from or been dictated by vegetal materials,
the rectangular buildings which appeared with increasing
frequency in the savannah urban centers resulted from the
introduction and diffusion of a new form of building block
from Islamized North Africa, via the centuries-old trans-
Saharan trade (Fig. 13). It is no coincidence that it is pre-
cisely in those urban centers created by the trade that the
carpentered brick is the norm.19

Although the cast earthen brick is becoming increasingly
more common, it remains a sun-dried brick. Very rarely
does one find kiln-dried bricks in West Africa: their use
was and continues to be limited to the urban milieu.20 The
absence of kiln-dried bricks can perhaps be accounted for
by limited environmental resources, the nature of the
specialization of labor in rural Africa and the absence of any
need for concrete permanence. To fire an earthen brick

requires an abundant fuel supply, but as has already been

suggested, fuel is in scarce supply precisely in those areas
where earth is the primary building material. The limited
fuel supply is more critical for the blacksmith’s smelter
than for housebuilding which by its very nature makes no
demands for longevity beyond the normal lifespan of the
house residents. The single major advantage of kiln-dried
bricks is their permanence.

In those instances where bricks and other, secondary
building elements are kiln-dried, they are made and fired
by the women potters, who in turn are also the wives of the

18. Flat terraced roofs not only create problems of roof drainage
but necessitate a system of parapet walls. Among some peoples, the
flat roof carries meaning above and beyond that of function, and is
socially prescribed for particular members of the extended family.

19. A number of scholars of Islam have discussed the role of
Islamic trade and commerce as a catalytic agent in the instigation of
a new urban landscape. See, for example, G. E. von Grunebaum,
Islam: Essays in the Nature and Growth of a Cultural Tradition (Lon-
don, 1955), pp. 141-158, for the structure of a Muslim town. See
also Ibn Khaldun, The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History, trans.
by Franz Rosenthal (New York, 1958), vol. 2, for a commentary on
the role of Islam in urbanization and the accompanying necessity for
the “Craft of Architecture” in sedentary civilization.

Precise building prescriptions for the rectangularity of structures
are set forth in Khalil ben Ish’aq, Mukhtasar, a set of Malekite com-
mentaries on the Koran. Malekite law prevails in all of West Africa.

20. It should be noted that the absence of kiln-dried bricks is in

sharp contrast to the abundance of terra-cotta pottery and sculpture
which archeological investigation has begun to uncover in Africa.
The only area which has so far revealed a concentrated use of kiln-
dried brick is the Chad region, the site of a number of urban con-
centrations developed by the Kanem-Bornou empire. J.-P. Lebeuf,
Archdologie Tchadienne (Paris, 1962).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

193

blacksmiths.21 Again, just as it is the women who carry the
water needed in banco construction, their socially assigned
responsibility for domestic fuel collection accounts in some
measure for their specialized role in pottery making-and
by extension, the firing of bricks. The domestic foundation
of this labor specialization persisted so strongly that, de-
spite numerous attempts by the French to introduce and
encourage the use of brick kilns in order to obtain a more
durable building unit, they were unsuccessful in almost all
instances. The French-introduced brick kilns apparently
threatened the balance of the traditional division of labor.
Furthermore, they were associated in peoples’ minds with
either the blacksmith’s smelter or the potter’s kiln, both
symbols of a tightly structured, supranaturally endowed
caste system. In the eyes of the prevailing, indigenous social
order, permanence was far less critical than potential social
disruption. On the other hand, the newly emergent urban
society, which also carried within itself the seeds of a
specialized building skill, was able to integrate the new
technology into its system without disruptive consequences.

The division of labor and the traditional patrilineal,
exogamous family structure which prevails in much of
sub-Saharan sedentary agricultural life has further ramifica-
tions for the creation of architectural forms. In patrilineal
societies, not only do the men build communally, but it is
also they who exercise jurisdictional rights over the resi-
dence, rights validated through genealogical and ancestral
ties. Construction expertise is transmitted socially along
the male lineages. Alternatively, it is the women, both
those who marry into the community and those who
eventually leave it upon marriage, who individually apply
the finish to walls, and then the surface design. Again, this
division is an extension of their domestic responsibility.
As a consequence, although traditions of building construc-
tion tend to be conservative and change very slowly, the
decorative surface elements of the architecture are more
sensitive to changing imageries, because the women are
involved in more frequent and diverse social interaction
resulting from exogamous marriage patterns.22

In contrast to the sedentary savannah peoples, the norm
among a number of nomadic peoples such as the Songhai-
Dyerma, the Fulani, and the Tuareg is a matrilineal society.

Once again ownership of, and control over, the domicile
dictates the shape as well as the rate of change in the archi-
tectural imagery of it. The tent is owned by the matriarch
of the family unit. Although the men will install the post(s)
which establishes the center point of the tent, the women
not only weave the mats and textiles which make up the
tent “walls,” but it is they who also erect the tent structures.
In some instances, such as among the Wogo, a Dyerma-
related people in Niger, where a sedentary life-style has

gradually begun to replace the traditional nomadism, the
tent itself is literally encased in earthen walls erected by the
men of the community. A transfer of ownership occurs, so
that while the tent itself, in the form of a canopy bed, con-
tinues to belong to the wife, the stationary earthen shell is
the husband’s property.23

The gradual specialization of skills and the increasing
division of labor which occurs in the process of urbaniza-
tion find concrete expression in the use of specialized build-

ing tools. The indigenous rural builder makes use of the
same tool for both his daily agricultural activities and

housebuilding. The same adze is used to ridge and furrow
his fields and to break up the clods of earth used in con-

structing his house. The same clay pots used to carry and
store water for cooking are used to carry water needed to
mix the clayey mortar. The hands are the tools which
form and shape the spherical, conical, or cylindrical build-

ing blocks. But in those instances where an acknowledged
group or caste of builders practice their metier, such as the
bari of the Inland Niger Delta or the maduga of northern

Nigeria, one also finds special tools used only in building
construction. The yar bundi, the baramin, and the sasire are
the mason’s hallmark. These specialized tools, travelling
hand in hand with a discrete building skill, are components
of a newly emergent technological environment. The cast,
carpentered brick referred to above, for instance, depends
upon both new tools and new skills. Rectangular earthen
construction, in turn harbinger of a new architectural im-

agery, could not have developed without the carpentered,
rectangular brick (Figs. i and 14).

The discussion so far has focussed on what are essentially
elements of concrete, measurable reality in space and time.

Although the focus of our attention has been West Africa,
the West African reality is representative of much of the
continent. In order to understand the architecture of Africa,
however, it is also necessary to consider some of the philo-

21. In cities of the Inland Niger Delta, such as Goundham and
Djenn6, the women potters make and fire small paving bricks,
water spouts, and clay pipes as well as the large clay pots used to line
wells and water closets.

22. Ernst Fischer, The Necessity of Art (Baltimore, 1963), p. 153,
has suggested that “forms which evolve from collective work
processes-forms which are social experience solidified-tend to be
extremely conservative.”

23. For a discussion of the erection and ownership of Tuareg
tents, see Johannes Nicolaisen, Ecology and Culture of the Pastoral
Tuareg (Copenhagen, 1963), PP. 350-392. For the Songhai-related
peoples, see R. P. Prost, “Notes sur les Songhay,” Bulletin IFAN
(Series B), 16, 1-2 (1954), 167-213.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

194

ixp~e~
i

,r 1 r

..1 -jr

aC’ .*xr,?VsF.I I””)
t~rr ?3 _

5
i

a

~ ~- -~ -2*L 1IGrC-~l=~I~Zf: -ICI ~?;~?T~i~i~f;ii~*;~CZr~L-~,-C ?-~r ~ 1 “c~r-, ~ sft”
il~lL jni ff ~St; ?~c*

rl”
~d**; ?~nrJ”r

“I ” ?~, /zt ‘”*1~F11

” 5?b
r- ̀i~~~dF~”~Z;’f~,i~t~%iE~B f~j ‘ -~d~~ b”~9 “-~j~ ~C1~C-t~ ~ isr

sl r-r ~lr g t;;C5 ,;:~??P r r
s-~ ~i~

“‘ -~J~i”
yr; ci:?

i u~

c~ i
C’ ”i “i? ;;

n” i”
9?? pS1J

P

?j

~~ ~: “Y?-~~*Y

4~
r _Ir~

“lr
3*: ~~r. I, A; ?J

t I
i .t?ii ~J?I

*i% f. irr+ I

,ad I :$,
~pp;j?-~_ IiI

“.~e; ~?g ~ r?r” *
*?;~?P r, iv

j?f’r L3r
-‘ rl i

I;”~?~i’ c
1::

cr
ii rZ i) ” ~”~”a

“””” ‘ ,?
a9-,xn rJ:

c
i,

Bk -~ i,
I i ,-e in

,.rj , , -J i d;;~~I, I

-PI.?r.Y
“L~:b

11
?i:e:~

f, :p~’~

~5~;. ,cl ;x,
~u ~c ,., -:??~ ~ -?L

v~I~ ~?; `. -c?`” ??cl:;::; :t~ ?C-
r plr

bf r~?lr ‘ ? -. I :?s~F,
b*RSg.: J ~~:F “?Cl~b~ ? i

dl?i~ir;r~~ ~ ~4: i 1 “0~-
I fk’i pi :I.f

i:i

.R :X?’l ? 741, f.t”,e.mJ ,
b ~,?Jj’,

I

Q: “1

ad~~;.:,

-s:T1+P;*~j~a~r~l~g

cf-
b~B~, ii:Pr ?*::

b ,I
Ar*? :,, ,:5’b*pBS~ II

::?~3*1

Fig. 14. True arch construction in
an abandoned saho or boys’ age-set
house at Djenn6, Mali (photo:
Marli Shamir).

sophic aspects of space, aspects which, by investing the
concrete, physical reality with meaning transform it into a

meta-language, whose symbols communicate to user and
viewer alike.

Existence

Since time immemorial, man has thought of the world as

being centralized. Legends and myths of origin throughout
the world attest to a belief in the “center” as a point of
birth, a point of origin.24 The center takes on a sacred

quality: it is an ideal. To reach the center is to become
initiated, to achieve a consecration. The center is the point
from which man acquires his position as a thinking being
in space. The belief, equally widespread in Africa, is often

expressed concretely as a tree or pillar symbolizing a ver-
tical world axis.

Among the peoples who inhabit the Cross River area
between southeastern Nigeria and the southern Cameroon,
the center of the internal courtyard of the family domicile
was marked by a pair of carved wooden pillars, obaschi,
chained to each other, symbolizing the primordial union
which marked the beginning of the world. The communal

meeting house or egbo often had a carved post or ekwom
24. For a major discussion of the symbolism of the “center,” see

Mircea Eliade, Images and Symbols (New York, 1969).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

195

L27?I T~rL~hrh117]L7JLL717rLub~5

LLLP~L]I7mTL17L711

El lI'”`”T J~”ZT 9

Fig. 15. Plan of a Banyang village and its egbo showing the location
of the ekwom (after F. Staschewski, “Die Banyangi,” Baessler-Archiv,
8 [19171).

~I~i ~~ ?s~t: :i ~s~
II II TCt;?;S?;~

.5?~
\\ II u~
\\ /I `rr~

i:;
~Jr

~
~r
w ~

~ 9
~i ~t~

~
sz~
~t is?i
~i ~

2~ r. ~
~ ss~l

~
~ ~

~i ~
t ~tts .s? ?i~~

~s:~i ~r~?~? ?’ ?f. f5f?
:f~ ?/

f?~ f”‘ f;?
???

:t;? ?~?’~ ~ ~ts~ “I/ “I r r
~ r. ?~?
~ ~~~ I?r ~ (~? ?? ?C?? ???? ‘?? E~S’

?~?~? f ‘?.?,
?”

z~s’
5~ r

r .? :f~ ~ ??
t~3 ? ` I~B .. f~

~r
‘~s;.?; ?? zt~

;f~t~z. ~ C?? .?.
Y??? ???

5~t~ ‘” ~t~t2f ~r~?? iS?~ ;~~r~5fr?ff :f?:;~ftS;~i~.f~ :?;2?25′?5?f?5?; ,?;?1 ~?~?.?.~.?t, ~s.5′ ~)~.? ~:t~,,,,.I?55??5?????;”?~?;?’3~?’Zi
f:f’ ‘2;’?’ ST~ t~ss: ~t~

‘1555””’iSS’

D
.~?z.T: ;?;?ffff~ ???? ZZ;?2?”?~?f:?~?f~S;:;~;~;:;

T~5~i~ ?.?f~:l:~2?????~?f~:~ ~ i’Z2?~?~?~?~?~?f;~.~;2??;_?~~1~:~::~:~2- T-?!;r;~?~?s~;r;r;?t?rt??.~.?:?r?r~r:;:; ~t~i:~:;:~s?2;???????~;~?t~s?:?:?:?:?:?:? rs?.,~:~i~:: T~f~ ~55~ 2~~S~fS f:f??;?;?f2;55555′ 555?t?lt;?;lfZ5??I?!?5?;.I?~?!?~;?~;?fr 555′-i`~`5?f.?~`’-‘5`?`.’. ??~ iS?~??f;~;’i?;?;?;5??~??
?f;

.~.f:ff;?:?;?~:1;~;I;~ ;?f~?~?’.~?..~?’??l? -?? i5~5f5~.~:;..I.r?ss-~22~’~’~?~;5
f5’2.55′.55””’.”-‘5?;f????f~?~?51??f~ ~I?5~f~ 5,55; f;?;’ ~_~tl;z~.2~i ?55?.-. ~ ~,.I~r;~5f5’ff~t ~~;~;?;r;?tt~5?~;.~,,,,,5??Ss

-??:?t;?;?;?z;.z;?;r?;r?I?r? 555
~t~.:?~z~s?t;?~ ,~.:.:.~.ss?~:~~ ~l;fr;.;f~;.f;?f;.;f?;f?”C’CC’

T~
.ssst?-? ;r~?.?~?z2~?r?-? .I.r.r~?..’;’5f;:;~2.’;55′;55′?5′?’ 5?f~??f??;?f;?f;

t:~:~:~:~::~:~ ?-.~.~?f5s`.s552f??’r~?rr? ?;?;?I;?;?;
r~.~?~.~.r;5r…’;~;’~?”~I’;?.’;?; “?ts?~.tss”sst?..:~:~:~:~:~:)::~:~.?~?:

h1?5~.1?1?5?;?.:~:~?.:~:t?f,? (? ”2~.~2ztt;?Tt;…;.z.ss~.?t:;;: ‘5’;’ ?;?~?2.?.?;5?ffti555f???f??.’ ?;?;?li????f~?;?;?;?;?.5?;C?ss~?;5~f5?;5 ?1?5?iZ??I?rf?5?;????`?~?~? 5???;?ff;f?..,?~?~?;?;f-cc?-??1~?5??555555`??2;?;?2???55?f?:tS;????? 5.~.?.?~?~?. ‘?’fS:~:,,.~;:~::~:::~:~.~.:;~,.~:~:~::~ rrr~stl~ ~;::I~;~;~:~;~;~.~?~?.?2~;2~?.?.~.?.~?~. ….. ‘.s’~I?57??.?;?T’I?~rZ;?~?;5??~? ?~?~
~

Fig. 16. Section through a Fali granary in the northern Cameroon
(after J.-P. Lebeuf, “Labrets et greniers des Fali,” Bulletin IFAN,
15 [19531).

resting on a mud base located in the center of the space.
This house was always built first when the village was
settled, and the carved post was used as a point of reference
to lay out the length of the village. Direction was estab-
lished from the center (Fig. 15).25

According to Marcel Griaule, the Dogon in Mali struc-
ture their territorial organization in accordance with the
cosmologic principle that the world developed in the form
of a spiral, emanating from a center formed by three ritual
fields which were assigned to three mythical ancestors. The
Dogon village, itself a symbol of man, sits in the center of
the spiral and is considered as an anthropomorphic en-

tity.26 The plan of the compound is itself a representation of
man, each of its architectural components representing
elements of the human body. The architectural form of the
Dogon granary is believed to embody the concrete order-
ing of the world: it serves as a model for the definition of
geometric volume, representing the realization of an ideal.27
Since the sustenance and continuity of life depend upon the
successful construction of a granary, it is imbued with
meaning of the highest order.

Among the Tallensi as well as the Tayaba, the granary is
located in a man’s compound, the center of his universe.28
Internal walls radiate like the spokes of a wheel from its
central, fulcrumlike position in space, demarcating the
sacred male domain from the profane, women’s subcom-
pounds. The granary, giver of life and fertility, guarantor
of continuity, is itself imbued with a life force by means of
sacrifices and libation ceremonies. In this same context, a
number of peoples, such as the Fali in the northern Camer-

25. P. A. Talbot, In the Shadow of the Bush (London, 1912), chap.
25; A. Mansfeld, Urwald-Dokumente (Berlin, 1908); Charles Par-
tridge, Cross River Natives (London, 1905); F. Staschewski, “Die
Banyangi,” Baessler-Archiv, 8 (1917).

26. Marcel Griaule and Germaine Dieterlen, “The Dogon,” in
African Worlds, ed. Daryll Forde (London, 1954), PP. 94-99.

27. Marcel Griaule, Dieu d’Eau (Paris, 1966), pp. 28-29, 37-38.
28. Meyer Fortes, The Web of Kinship, pp. 56-57; Paul Mercier,

“L’habitation
‘

itage dans l’Atakora,” Etudes Dahomeennes, i (1954),
54, 75ff.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

196

oon and the Lobi in the northern Ivory Coast, actually
represent the granary anthropomorphically with feminine
attributes.29 Within the pregnant female “body” a smaller

clay pot, symbolizing the unborn child, is placed to house
the seminal seed for the next year’s planting (Fig. 16).

Islam, which over many centuries has slowly permeated
indigenous African thought, also embodies the concept of
center as an ideal. The Sacred House or ka’aba at Mecca is
seen by Muslims as a place of origin, as the center of the
universe, and it is the ultimate goal of every devout be-
liever to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, the hajj, during his
lifetime. A devout Muslim should always face Mecca when
he performs his daily prayers and the quibla wall of every
mosque, in which the mihrab (wall niche) is located, must
be oriented toward Mecca (Fig. 17).30

For many African peoples, the center of the universe is
the Earth itself, in which their ancestors reside and from
which their ancestors came. Thus, among the Tallensi there
are no myths of migration from elsewhere. Among the
Bobo as well as the Bambara, there are numerous semisub-
terranean shrines and cult houses which are attributed to
the ancestry, reinforcing a belief that man emerged from a
“hole” in the ground.31 Finally, it is the ardent desire of

every man to ultimately return to his place of birth and

origin, the abode of his ancestors, i.e., his “center.” That
return validates his existence, since the Earth is sacred.

The concept of the Earth’s sacred quality is particularly
relevant for the savannah, where the Earth itself is the

primary building material. Those who handle it are con-
sidered in a particular light, and are endowed with special
magical powers. Such is the case not only for the black-
smiths and their wives the potters, but for the builders as
well. In many instances, the special skill of erecting an
earthen wall is interpreted as a gift from supernatural
forces. Traditionally, masons were not specialists by virtue
of their empirical expertise, but by virtue of special powers
granted to them by the deities of the Earth and their an-
cestors. In order to guarantee the success of the building
process, a number of propitiatory rites must be addressed to
them. “A Lobi, before he may construct a house, goes to a
diviner to call upon his Ancestors .. .”32 Only if the augur
mediates a favorable response will the owner proceed with
his plans for new construction. Then the owner “takes a

chicken, goes with it as an offering to the ‘mason’ and says
to him: I have come to ask you to go to build my house.
And the mason responds: If God wishes it, if my ancestors
wish it, you will see me.” The mason referred to above is
not a mason by trade, but a farmer. Because of his specially
endowed power of magic, however, he is considered to
possess a special skill in building.

Just as the early development of the arts was itself en-
veloped in magic and ritual, so was the beginning of a

specialized building skill.33 With urbanization and the evo-
lution of a special caste of builders, the belief in the par-
ticular occult powers noted above persisted. Charles Mon-
teil, in his 1903 description of the masons or bari at Djenn6,
Mali, made particular reference to the belief in that super-
natural power held by both the bari themselves and the
community at large.34 As recently as 1971, Sekou Bokari,
the master mason at Goundham, Mali, related the follow-

ing tradition:

Once when I was small, I saw a wall which was starting to fall
down. The owner of the wall went to my grandfather, the mason,
to ask him what to do. My grandfather came to look at the wall
and pointing to it, instructed it to remain standing. So it did. The
next day, the owner came again to seek help, and my grandfather
asked: Why did you come? As long as I have instructed the wall to
stand, it will remain standing. And so it did.35s

Belief in the existence of a “center” as a sacred place
implies boundaries, distinguishing what is sacred from what
is profane, what is known and ordered from what is un-
known and chaos. The corollary to the center is a circum-
ference which defines, by means of walls, the boundaries
and enclosure of a known domain. Walls become archi-
tecture where the contiguity occurs. The walls of houses,
the walls around villages and cities, even national borders

designated by benchmarks and milestones, define domains
at various levels of existence. Just as the mediaeval walls of a

European city defined the familiar from the unfamiliar,
providing psychic as well as physical security, so the com-

pound or village walls of an African community, despite
the fact that they may be built of nonpermanent materials,
communicate the boundaries of a domain.

The Dida people who live in the rain forest of the south-
ern Ivory Coast used to build their wattle and daub com-

pound walls in a true circle. Along the inner radii of the
inscribed circle, they projected the individual room units of

29. Jean-Paul Lebeuf, “Labrets et greniers des Fali (Nord Cam-
eroun),” Bulletin IFAN, 14, 3 (1953), 1327.

30. Gustave E. von Grunebaum, Medieval Islam (Chicago, 1946),
p. 78.

31. G. Le Moal, “Les habitations semi-souterraines en Afrique de
l’Ouest,” Journal de la Socie’t des Africanistes, 30 (1960), 193-203.

32. Henri Labouret, Nouvelle notes sur les tribus du rameau Lobi,
Memoires IFAN 54 (Dakar, 1958), p. 201.

33. Ernst Fischer, The Necessity of Art, pp. 35-38.
34. Charles Monteil, Mongraphie de Djinne (Tulle, 1903), p. 196.
35. Author’s fieldnotes, February 1971. The intimate relationship

between the Earth and those who manipulate it undoubtedly also
explains the fact that frequently gravedigger and mason are one and
the same person. Both the Earth and the ancestors buried in it are
sacred.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

197

:~-*”E,
“-?-rp”
`r.u”f

x

?s~~
,,r*

” -~plr *ffz q

“lj~:”~t~

II
r-

~s:~fr~~i”~~’~?6:~ ~ t `;
?–l:?~ii5?~ b .lic~~~

t, c ? . ~~
1:1~1;;111!111 :: :;:

,,

i:~

i$d

– _;l-i “l ~”??

..-; I~ 1-i- ~u-; _i~ii:
~:I::-:;:::: :,1-:-; ,.;;. :: – . :

I~saa~~~~~ai,~
i~i”‘;;~??:”ii””

?:-::: : . 1~ i.;-..:. ;.”‘ – : :-~: :I.;??s:~e ~;-5
c

-‘i i-?
: :’:?i~.i

~i~F

~?tf ,*~ ~~
r:!~”WR

?~ :

~e?n dr!
3i:k .`: “~C~~7;

; ; P~~sp?t ?a.
`~~f:~pr!

~ -?i~is i;, ,. arREi’ ~.~.~5?
.asl

cs?a;i ,????i -:;*-: ; 4. 1~
;a~5~~

r-;’Cle

.a:

g~N~i?D:IY~I– -?l?~-C~-~
” ?~s ‘(S~j~c~-c-u II -~i

~7

_,d : –

~ ICl~br–l~dd ” ll;e pr
~”_3*r ‘~r?

% ,I

~$ .–i:

?r?”~t

?dr
P;

3

: ~L ? – –C ?~ : . ?
“;

,., ::: ~:~
i-_~- .. ~:.::-;r ;.- ,:: ?::I::: ::i:l?il;:::::? ?. –.-

i , rC a
I~-?i;-

Fig. 17. The quibla wall of the Great Mosque at Djenn6, built in 1907 (photo: Marli Shamir). The mihrab is expressed by the central tower.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

198

Sol

Fig. 18. Detail of an entrance fagade at Zaria,
northern Nigeria (photo: author).

enclosed, habitable space.36 When the French came, they
were encouraged to abandon their circular compounds and
to substitute instead discrete, rectangular units. The need to
define and enclose the internal space persisted, however,
and the newly built rectangular units, grouped around the
internal courtyard, were linked together with curved walls
of matting.

Among the savannah peoples, this definition of space is
still more evident. Even in instances where room units do
not form the wall itself, they are linked to one another by
either an earthen or a mat wall system. Examples can be cited
from the peoples of northern Ghana, the Mossi of Upper
Volta, the Somba of northern Dahomey, and the Malinke

throughout Mali. It was often been suggested that the walls

are built as protection against marauders, both men and
beasts. While this may be true in some instances, it is

equally common for such walls to be seen in the light of

psychological and spiritual protection. For example, when
the Dogon relate their myth of the origin ofarchitecture, they
refer to the great “teeth” which were placed for protection
around their dwellings, in imitation of the termites.37 These
teeth, in reality the conical earthen pillars which mark
ancestral presence, provide not physical but spiritual pro-
tection to the Dogon compound.

If, as has been suggested, the walls define the known
from the unknown and are therefore an architectural event,
the surfaces of such walls would be assigned particularly
important meaning. Such walls communicate meaning to
the observer, and thus the extensive surface patterns found

36. Edmond Bernus, “Ahouati: Notes sur un village Dida,”
Etudes Eburneennes, 6 (1957), 213-229. 37. Marcel Griaule, Dieu d’Eau, p. 26.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

199

i~iiiii’l4~iiiii ii?iijl-1ii r!ii~iii:~l~f?i~j
:%i-s~-l-~- jaii~

i~:
i

iD~ii:iiiiir.iii:~~i
i: :i?i?iii: ~ i~ii~ii~iiliiail:iii i’niiii’i,?i.:i~li i~l

Fig. 19. Ancestral shrines at the entrance to a Lobi compound,
northern Ghana (author).

~~ s~,,., ):Y:. ~ rrj
\ ~?~i~i~:t8~8I11P~s~::~:::

” ~ tn ?, ~ffj B ~~i~i ~ ~
. ~ ,, ~~~~?~~- ~2; ~ ~?t~ ~2~ ~ ” -?s–~ ~j ~2;. .ii..i.i ip~

: w ~i~-
~

Fig. 20. Entrance to the residence of a Gurunsi peo, or chief, Leo,
Upper Volta (after K. Dittmer, Die Sikralen Hauplinge der Gurunsi
im Ober-Volta Gebiet [Hamburg, 1961]).

on so many savannah compounds and residences, both in
rural and urban centers, can be easily explained. Perhaps the

examples most striking to the Western observer are

rapidly disappearing surface designs on Ashanti shrines

(abosomfie) and palaces in Ghana, or the intricate bas-relief

arabesque on the walls of Zaria, Bauchi, and Kano in
northern Nigeria (Fig. 18). Among the Kassena, the entire
surface of the exterior circumference compound wall is
covered by a striking bold black-and-white geometry.
Among the Bamileke, major dwelling units such as those of
chiefs and age-set groups are surrounded by a ring of carved
wooden pillars, pillars whose subject matter derives from
their totemic pantheon.38 These pillars serve no structural

purpose today, although the framing of a Bamileke house

suggests that at one time they may have. Obviously, their

present function is symbolic protection.
Any enclosed space, whether physical or conceptual, re-

quires an opening: the corollary to the meaningful spatial
definition of an “enclosed” space is an entrance into it. The
entrance is the mediator; it marks the point where man
makes the transition between exterior and interior, be-
tween the unknown and the known. A classical example
from the Western world is the Roman gateway to the city
whose lintel was crowned by a representation of the two-
faced god Janus. As the god of entrance into a new division
of time and space, he was also the god of all going out and

coming in, and his image occurred at all points of mediation
between the past which was known and the new, yet un-
known future. Throughout West Africa, all rites and rituals

relating to change or transition in man’s existence occur at

the entrance. “Outdooring” or naming ceremonies an-

nouncing the birth of a child, hence its entry into life, are

performed at the entrance to the compound. Funerary rites
take place at the compound entrance and strangers are
received in the antechamber located at the entrance to the

compound. Also located at the entrance are the earthen

pillars (often thought to be phallic symbols by Western

writers) which mark the ancestral shrines of the lineage,
confirming the existence of the compound (Fig. 19).

A related aspect of “entrance,” one illustrating the inter-
face of myth and reality, merits further mention. Reference
has already been made to the similarity between banco
construction and coil pottery with the concomitant limita-
tion on large openings. Consistent with the erection process
is the tradition of cutting openings in to the enclosed space
after the walls have been built and allowed to dry. The act
follows a sequence of, first, the delimitation of a space and
second, the creation of an access into it. While it may be
that structural and concrete reality account for the building
process, that reality has been transposed to a higher, ab-
stract level by the Mossi. According to their myth of origin,
the first ancestor of the founding Mossi lineage descended
from the sky in a house without a door.39 There was a
noise inside. Those who heard it cut an opening in the
house wall and found within an Earth Priest fully equipped
with the accoutrements of his office. Embodied in the myth
is the acknowledgement of existential space. The relation-

ship between myth and reality clearly illustrates an inter-
face between art and science in building.

Even a rapid, cursory glance at the West African savan-
nah, particularly in the Voltaic and Upper Niger regions,
will reveal the ubiquitous presence of man-made, conical
earthen pillars. They may be found singularly or clustered
at compound entrances; frequently, they are incorporated
into the entranceway itself, and often they can be seen

38. Raymond Lecoq, Les Banmileke (Paris, 1953), p. 65. See also
Paul Gebauer, “Architecture of Cameroon,” African Arts, 5, 1
(1971). 39. Peter B. Hammond, Yatenga (New York, 1966), p. 168.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

200

A-1

4*t

E oil”
’77- 77

Fig. 21. The Friday mosque at Bobo Dioulasso, Upper Volta (photo: author).

projecting, like engaged pillars, from the wall surfaces of
sacred structures, such as granaries, within the compound
itself. They are the hallmark of the so-called “Sudanese

style” in African architecture; more important, they are a

symbol of continuity and fertility. Among the Dogon, the
earthen pillar is used both to mark the ancestral shrines

deep in the cave recesses of the Bandiagara cliffs and to

represent the mythical ancestors of the Dogon founding
lineages, in the form of earthen finials above the fagade of
the ginna, the residence of a Dogon elder or hogon. Among
the Tallensi, tall conical pillars located at the entrance ap-
proach are symbolic grave markers, while among the
Kassena two such tapering earthen pillars, enlarged, frame
the opening into the compound’s circumference wall. This
latter pair not only symbolizes the viability of a farming
unit, but mediates the transition from a profane, unknown,
to a sacred, familiar realm (Fig. 20).

Eventually, under the impetus of Islam, these same an-
cestral pillars were transposed not only on to the multitude
of Dyula mosques found in these regions, but on to the

portal fagades of Djenn6’s urban architecture to become the

sarafa har or quoins (Figs. 21-22). The architectural trans-

formation was thus no more than a reflection of the way in
which libations addressed to the ancestors at the threshold
of the doorway were transformed into the saraka or alms

giving among those cultures which adopted Islam.40

Just as Islam, in its role of urban catalyst, generated the

unfolding of a new architectural imagery out of indigenous
tradition, so the development of highly structured political
hierarchies among the Yoruba, the Fon, and the Ashanti

instigated new architectural definitions of space. Since rul-

ing dynasties were validated by divine gift, and the political
domain was in many ways the counterpart of the religious
domain, there was a continuum from the sacred to the

political realm. Instead of the earthen representations of

genealogical ancestors, it was the mythological heritage
which formed the subject matter represented on palace
walls and entrances. The brass plaques on the palace walls of
the rulers of Benin, the earthen bas-relief sculptures on the

pillars of the Fon palace at Abomey, as well as the arabesque
motifs on Ashanti shrines reflecting the rich proverbial lore
of the Akan peoples, while different in form are equivalent,

40. Louis Tauxier, La Religion Bambara (Paris, 1927), p. 459.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

201

Fig. 22. The classic Djenne potige
fagade with its flanking sarafa har,
or quoins (photo: Marli Shamir).

i;

-“. /R:J-
:?*i?;- r~ik.

i: t i

1E\
a,

– :i.+? i: c

in concept and function, to the sara fa har on the Djenn6
facade.

The sacred quality of the entrance is often extended,
logically, to the means of closure itself: the door and its
lock. The best-known example, perhaps, is the wooden

Dogon door, to be seen today in every respectable museum
collection of African sculpture. The anthropomorphic rep-

resentation of the primordial ancestry of the Dogon clans,
carved in horizontal registers on the door itself and em-

bodying the entire Dogon cosmology, by association re-
inforces the sacred quality of the entrance. By the same
token and similar logic, the wooden carved lock itself

symbolizes the union of male and female, since fertility and
continuity are the counterpart of ancestry (Fig. 23).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

202

… :: ;. :_i. – – , :: i? :-~?:iil:- ‘_:
?? ;

?-~?-;?
~L?:__;?-?;

: r
::i:-

~F-~b~
I~Fli

BR~

~-::
;c?-

~i”B”
;I ~ ?1 I ” ? ;

“.

Fig. 23. A Bambara lock from Koa,
Mali (photo: author).

~? J” “‘ r?? r.
?:

:t rs?? ..cs ??
~

?
x

Fig. 24. Section through a Tayaba compound, northern Dahomey
(after P. Mercier, “L’habitation

‘
stage dans l’Atakora,” Etudes

Dahomeennes, 11 [19541).

Since time immemorial, the vertical direction has been
endowed with special meaning: it is the sacred dimension of

space. The vertical axis implies not only the conquest of

physical gravity, but it also implies a path and a direction,
connecting the realm of the earth below and the sky above.
The primeval Egyptian hillock which became the pyramid,
the obelisks at Axum on the Upper Nile, the elliptical stone
tower at Zimbabwe in East Africa, as well as the more
familiar Stairway to Heaven and Jacob’s ladder in the
Christian world all symbolize man’s desire and ability to

conquer nature.
The central position of the granary and the symbolic

meaning of the earthen pillar have already been referred to;
the examples cited can also be used to illustrate the concept
of verticality. Among the Tayaba of northern Dahomey,
the granary, instead of resting on the earth itself, has been
lifted high into the air and placed upon the primordial
ancestral pillar which was located precisely in the center of
the compound (Fig. 24). The essential meaning of the sara

fa har on the fagade of Djenn6 is expressed by its height. Be
Sao, the master mason at Djenn6, when he singled out
what he considered to be the most beautiful fagades sug-
gested that, “It is the most beautiful because it is tall and

straight, like a man.” His definition of an African aesthetic

brings to mind not only Ibsen and Serlio, who saw the
vertical column as a symbol of victory and defeat and
as an expression of man’s power of creation, but a sugges-
tion by Bollnow that “by standing up, man gains stature
in the world.”41

Another example of the way the symbolic meaning of
the vertical direction is concretely expressed is the use of

height to distinguish one’s political position in society.
One “caprice” of the Fon king at Abomey was that “no

person is allowed to build his house of more than four tiers
of swish,” whereas his own palace walls were built of five
tiers.42 Two-story houses were the exclusive right not only
of the kings there, but of those at Kumasi, the capital of the
Ashanti kingdom, as well as at Benin, seat of the Bini in
southern Nigeria.

The three concepts which we have so far considered,
i.e., center, boundary, and verticality, merge to form the
dome. The conical form has been associated throughout
world history with the sacred-with ancestral, divine,
royal, and celestial abodes.43 The same symbolism appears
in West Africa as well. One has only to cite the persistence

41. Norberg-Schulz, Existence, Space and Architecture, p. 21, quot-
ing 0. F. Bollnow, Mensch und Raum (Stuttgart, 1963), p. 171.

42. J. A. Skertchly, Dahomey As It Is, p. 444.
43. See, for example, E. Baldwin Smith, The Dome (Princeton,

1950).

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

203

of rounded structures for the bedchambers and mausoleums
of the Fon kings at Abomey in Dahomey, the shrines of
Ashanti gods such as that of Tano at Nkoranza, Ghana, and
the circular Bambara shrines, all in the midst of traditional

rectangular housing (Fig. 25). Baldwin Smith’s suggestion
that the ciborium or traditional Tent of Appearances was

transposed into the domical vestibule of Roman palace
architecture has another parallel in West Africa, however,
one providing us with further insight into the history of
African architecture.44 Mention has already been made of
the Fulani and Songhai mobile architecture which often
takes the form of a domical tent structure. Reference has
also been made to the urbanizing role played by Islam in
its advance across the Sahara into the northern savannah of
West Africa.45 Urbanization went hand in hand with
sedentarism. In the early nineteenth century, the Fulani

jihad or holy war, born in the Futa Jallon of Guinea, swept
across West Africa, to establish the Fulani-Hausa Emirates
of northern Nigeria. Nascent Hausa urbanization was given
added stimulus, and many of the Fulani, carrying their
nomadic tent tradition with them, became sedentary urban
dwellers. Their traditional tents were gradually transformed
into stationary dwellings along the lines we have already
described for the Dyerma. During this same period the

major trans-Saharan route stretched from southern Tu-

nisia, where the dome is perhaps the most commonly used

44. E. Baldwin Smith, Architectural Symbolism of Imperial Rome
and the Middle Ages (Princeton, 1956), pp. 198ff.

45. A large number of the great mediaeval African cities such as
Timbucktu, Djenn6, and Kano were entrep8ts on trans-Saharan
trade routes and much of that trade was in the hands of Islamic
families.

A .

IL,

Fig. 25. Monuments raised to the Fon kings of Abomey (after
A. Le Herisse, L’ancien royaume du Dahomey [Paris, 1911]).

. …. .. . …. ..

… …. … .?:~

…. … …

Fig. 26. “Hausa Vaults” (after Y. Urvoy, L’art dans le territoire du
Niger [Dakar, 19551).

Fig. 27. Great Mosque at Zaria,
northern Nigeria. Interior vault-

ing (photo: author).

14, “WAN,

-4R

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

204

.Uc

— G. i-” re a

” I?~;:?~
?-i ~8~Baw~gL~e—– ~;?’i ? I

‘-;?~~s I? Irr~~iii

~???I:;.: :?:?-

-Wr_ nra
~ ?., ‘B

a;-
;2. “_

a’
U

r JI ” :~~ BE ~.

Fig. 28. “Hausa Vault” under construction at Tahua, Niger (courtesy: La Documentation FranCaise, Paris).

structural frame, and where Kairouan marks the seat of
Islamic Malekite law, to Hausaland in northern Nigeria.
The “pumpkin” domes of the mosque at Kairouan, them-
selves perhaps originating from a tent, reinforced the al-

ready familiar concept of domical space suggested by the
Fulani tent frame. The traditional tent structure was infused
with a new, now preferred, architectural imagery sym-
bolizing Islamic adherence. The bent branches and timbers
were gradually encased in earth, creating the characteristic
ribs of what are today called “Hausa Vaults.” Two superb
examples of them can be found at Bauchi, in the Council
Room of the Emir’s Palace, as well as at Zaria, northern

Nigeria, in the vestibule of the Great Mosque there (Figs.
26-27).46

The circular Fulani tent, however, conflicted with the

prescriptions of Malekite law, which insists on a square or

rectangular jami or Friday mosque. In the Futa Jallon, this
conflict was resolved by constructing a rectangular space
under the great, traditional circular roofs. In Hausaland, the
answer to the conflict between traditional round forms and

the ideological prescriptions for rectangular forms was the

Songhai tent in which bent, arched struts extend from a

rectangular floor plan into a curved armature above (Fig.
28). The sacred quality attributed to the ancient, primordial
domicile was thus translated into a cosmic symbol, the
koubba or dome of Islamic worship.

Finally, although permanence has historically been con-
sidered as a traditional canon of architectural quality, recent
concerns with mobility in contemporary society have gen-
erated a new interest in the kinetic aspects of architectural
form. Here too, the African scene offers abundant resources.

Except for the stone ruins of a number of mediaeval cities,
there is little evidence for an African architecture in per-
manent materials. The concept of permanence exists per-
haps only insofar as it marks the “place” made sacred by
ancestral habitation.

The very concept of dwelling is seen primarily in the

light of family continuity and its social organization. The
Tallensi term yir refers to both the residential compound
and the family unit itself. To dwell implies a temporal
continuum. The house, as the central place of human

existence, as the place where man finds his identity, is also
a concrete expression of the continuum which marks the

46. Y. Urvoy, L’Art dans le territoire du Niger, Etudes Nigeriennes
2, (Dakar, 1955), pp. 27-34.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

205

life cycle of the family unit inhabiting it. The walls of the
house are seen to exist when the spaces they enclose are
occupied, just as the fields in one’s custody are “owned” on-
ly when they are being cultivated. A room unit without an
occupant is lifeless, and it will be allowed to crumble back
to earth unless it is imbued with a sacred meaning which
will justify its continued maintenance. This quality of
nonpermanence in a material sense extends beyond the
house itself to the village. Among the Abour6 people of the
Ivory Coast, for example, entire villages moved every
generation, in order to “make room for the deceased
ancestors, who also need a place to live.”47 Nonpermanence,
however, does not presuppose the absence of a stable sys-
tem of “places”: rather, it connotes renewal, rejuvenation,
and rebirth.

Summary

The foregoing discussion has touched only briefly on a few
of the aspects underlying African architecture. The percep-
tive reader will rightfully question whether the traditional
canvas which has been painted is equally applicable to con-
temporary architecture in Africa. A number of illustrations
could be cited to demonstrate that while environments
have changed in recent decades, the underlying cultural
format continues. For example, the current proliferation of
tomb construction among the Ashanti could be interpreted
as a modified aesthetic continuum developing out of the
traditional temple shrines. Further, the driving need to

erect monumental structures symbolizing the newly born

viability of African states after independence, e.g., the

presidential palaces at Abidjan, Ivory Coast, and Aburi,
Ghana, the transformation of Christiansbourg Castle into
the seat of Ghana government, or the Emir’s palaces in the
Hausa capitals of northern Nigeria, is no more than a
political expression of the acknowledged symbolic role
which architecture plays in reinforcing political and social
structure. The difference is one of degree, not kind, be-
tween the lavish surface decor of a traditional chief’s
compound and the marble-faced, gilt-edged walls of the
current seats of power. While it is true that stylistic ele-
ments may vary, since meaning and content itself will

change in time, the underlying principles remain the same.

Norberg-Schulz has suggested that basic to all building,
traditional and contemporary, is man’s need to establish a

meaningful, coherent, and stable image of architectural

space, space with which he can identify and relate to,
define his existence, and thus remain human.48 The con-

cepts of center, boundary, path, direction, area, and do-
main are not unique to Africa; they exist equally as well in

highly sophisticated, technologically advanced societies.
What is unique to Africa are the ways in which these con-

cepts manifest themselves. An understanding of those mani-
festations will in turn provide us with innumerable insights
into what is already on the horizon: a truly universal theory
of architecture which can embrace the whole of our man-
built environment.

47. Georges Niangoran-Bouah, “Le Village Abour6,” Cahiers
d’Etudes Africaines, 2 (May 1960), 113-127. 48. Norbert-Schulz, Existence, Space and Architecture, p. 114.

This content downloaded from 204.168.144.64 on Tue, 23 Feb 2016 19:27:15 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

• Article Contents

p. 183
p. 182
p. 184
p. 185
p. 186
p. 187
p. 188
p. 189
p. 190
p. 191
p. 192
p. 193
p. 194
p. 195
p. 196
p. 197
p. 198
p. 199
p. 200
p. 201
p. 202
p. 203
p. 204
p. 205

• Issue Table of Contents

The Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 33, No. 3 (Oct., 1974), pp. 182-272
Front Matter
An Introduction to Indigenous African Architecture [pp. 182-205]
The Montezuma Hotel at Las Vegas Hot Springs, New Mexico [pp. 206-213]
Note
Notes on the Columbian Exposition’s Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building [pp. 214-218]
Documentation
Letters between R. M. Schindler and Richard Neutra, 1914-1924 [pp. 219-224]
Abstracts of Papers Presented at the Twenty-Seventh Annual Meeting of the Society of Architectural Historians [pp. 225-243]
Books
[Editor’s Note] [p. 244]
Review: untitled [pp. 244-245]
Review: untitled [p. 245]
Review: untitled [pp. 245-246]
Review: untitled [pp. 246-247]
Review: untitled [pp. 247-248]
Review: untitled [p. 248]
Review: untitled [pp. 248-249]
Review: untitled [pp. 249-250]
Review: untitled [p. 250]
Review: untitled [pp. 250-251]
Review: untitled [p. 251]
Review: untitled [pp. 251-252]
Review: untitled [pp. 252-253]
Review: untitled [p. 253]
Review: untitled [pp. 253-254]
Review: untitled [p. 254]
Review: untitled [pp. 254-255]
Review: untitled [pp. 255-256]
Review: untitled [p. 256]
Review: untitled [pp. 257-258]
Review: untitled [p. 258]
Review: untitled [pp. 258-259]
Review: untitled [p. 259]
Review: untitled [pp. 259-260]
Review: untitled [p. 260]
Review: untitled [pp. 260-261]
Review: untitled [p. 261]
Review: untitled [pp. 261-262]
Review: untitled [p. 262]
Review: untitled [pp. 262-263]
Review: untitled [p. 263]
Review: untitled [pp. 263-264]
Review: untitled [p. 264]
Review: untitled [pp. 264-265]
Review: untitled [p. 265]
Review: untitled [pp. 265-266]
Review: untitled [pp. 266-267]
Review: untitled [p. 267]
Review: untitled [pp. 267-270]
Review: untitled [pp. 270-271]
Review: untitled [p. 271]
Letters to the Editor [pp. 271-272]