– There is a problem, an epidemic even.
Fortresses, strongholds and monoliths of blockwork and high-pitched roofs. That’s what comes to mind on taking stock of the outward and inherent designs of residential buildings across scales and densities and class systems. Our buildings all share a common story; tales of sick, stuffed and insufferably lit living spaces rife across our cities, towns and by extension, little communities. A seemingly-immortal phenomenon that sticks around even as intermittent architectural fads and trends come and go.
A heightened sense of territoriality in our living spaces has and still is playing a major role in how our buildings are designed, constructed and dwelt, holding up quality of life in these buildings. Prophylactic fences and burglar proofs, deficient fenestrations in these walled-in homes are some of the elements used in defining boundaries and assert a sort of security blanket, birthing an architecture based of onion philosophy on steroids.
What this means is that occupants of the average Nigerian home have become habituated -if not indifferent — to the effects of user-unfriendly design so much that the decisions of their architects are not questioned, instead the resultant poorly aired and lit spaces are not seen as a cause-effect construct of the lines of the architect but as socio-political issues. (Cue blaming the heat on lack of electricity but not insufficient window openings). While the socio-politics do exist — the unchecked surge of insecurity in the 80s, a succession of perfunctory governments, etc — and duly affect the way of life of the Nigerian, (See Koolhaas’s works on Lagos), The effecting inability of openings used in our buildings to meet basic needs of human comfort; ventilation, lighting, thermal neutrality etcetera and the refusal of architecture to tender solutions to these needs should be simply unacceptable.
– Not an anachronism, history has proof.
A well-designed courtyard, can be an integral organic building component to collect and redirect fresh air, water and save energy, as it has been for ages hitherto as well as a space of community, of social coming together and of therapeutic benefits.
The indigenous tribes of the construct of present day Nigeria have long had their architecture synonymous with the courtyard space, as an assorted mix of shared functions, place of festivity, of education, receiving guests, relaxation and meetings, as courts of law in palaces, settlement of strife and receiving dignitaries, as water collecting impluvia, making craftwork, shrines amongst other functions.
The courtyard was more than an architectural space but requisite to the lifestyle of the people, so integral it was usually either the most influential or the most used space of the living space, and in some cases both, a correspondence of today’s living rooms (cue “parlour”, “sitting room”). In essence, the courtyard existed.
– A swift, slow death and how it happened.
Enter, the colonials, with a simple singular goal to tinker the architecture to their convenience. Open plans, large windows, french doors, pitched roofs and a lot of wood in construction as well as sheltered, open spaces in forms of balconies and verandas that helped the white masters conquer the heat, rid the rains and still collect enormous volumes of fresh air. Convenience? Check.
While Colonial architecture may still be one of the few positives of the British rule, (No, hand over fist pilfering and leaving behind a deeply divided people in a plastic partition of a country does not count), it also doubles as a ghastly first step in hindsight, the omission of the courtyard space.
The quintessential colonial had no need for it and understandably supplanted it with the veranda. A change of functions, as expected, took place. Where the native man gathered his kin in his culture-bespoke courtyard, the white man had little of kin in his “liberated” (see conquered) land and his doing away with the courtyard becomes quite understandable. The few who brought family over were mostly less belligerent administrators, clergymen and teachers; had their veranda, a place to see over proceedings and shelter. A space for familial bonding became a duty post to watch over subjects, a space of storytelling under the moonlight, counselling, resting after long farm hours and journeys, for taking stock of farm happenings morphed into a place of dictatorial decision making, of receiving instructions, a court of sometimes brute judgement. The disregard for a historical context in the development of this new architecture spilled into the pedagogy of architectonics, from the masters to their draughtsmen and students in workshops and universities.
As their reach spread through the country, the conquered aspired to be like them, bearing gifts of theism, education, power and technology, the native men were of course taken by this all. A Stockholm syndrome masterclass.
Always a reflection of times, Architecture, would not be left out, as the fad was to be like the white man, dress like him, eat like him, pray like him, and essentially live like him. While the British certainly didn’t pass law abolishing courtyards, they however, expediently set its exiling into motion. Come the 60’s, on handover and ‘independence’, the obtrusion on the erstwhile way of living; of building was by now complete.
This evolution spewed out a teeming young and gullible populace who now ate from cans, wore bow ties(why?) and moved to cities, Cities which also had only recently witnessed the absorption of sizable numbers of returning former slaves at the end of the previous century. The burgeoning population of former slaves meant the inflow of new money; With new money came new architecture; new lifestyles. This population either wanted to build like the colonials or the returnees, and when they did, the imported spaces as well as their functions inadvertently solidified their place in the subsequent vernacular architecture of the time; up and replaced was the former centre of the home, in came the modified dining rooms, living rooms, verandas and balconies.
The new spaces fell short of their purpose as they were items of efficiency, tailored to purpose and specifics for the European and his lifestyle, unlike the all-encompassing, courtyard. Where the courtyard cooed accommodation and carte blanche, the new spaces fielded restrictions and a stringency of allowed functions where you could do this in the parlour but not in the dining room, you could do that in the veranda but not in the living room which was becoming less well-lit and aired, had valuable bric-a-brac and needed to be pristine for visitors etcetera. This delineation of spaces created a segregation of sorts in the house and less social interaction as was usually the courtyard’s raison d etre.
Innate sociocultural patterns developed over hundreds of years before the adoption of the colonial style would see its eschewing and the overbearing recall for the courtyard’s functions in the home which were then spread thinly between the new spaces as well as the building’s surroundings. While the veranda, living, dining rooms, kitchen and store to some extent did cater for some part of the courtyard’s functions, their being purpose-built meant the focus and design attention shifted from the users of the space to the function of that space.
By natural selection in the design of spaces, a triumph of the function gave rise to the optimization of the needs of the elements inhabiting the spaces over the needs of its users. Pertinent questions like how many people can this space house and how can enough light and air be provided them? were replaced by statements like this is enough light to illuminate this room, this is enough window opening to get the smoke from cooking out, a room must have a wardrobe, we cannot have two large windows on opposite walls when we could have just one and the wardrobe on the other, etcetera.
The domination of function continued further as its inanimate elements determined how the spaces were used, as their spaces were designed just so, In the living room, it was the presence of furniture, gadgets and the ornamentation on the wall that dictated how much opening the space got, In the dining room, it was the singular function of the dining table with a light usually hanging over to further highlight its dominance. While the dining room takes the cake for the least used space for the disparity between its function and user needs saw its function mostly transferred to other rooms where other forms of interaction could hold concurrently. It has over the years, in many homes simply become an extra, a neglected space of more bric-a-bracs (why not just have a larger living room?).