The Fragile Beauty of Northern Architecture

northern

PHOTOGRAPHY: AHMAD ABDULLAHI / THE REPUBLIC.

THE MINISTRY OF ARTS / ARCHITECTURE DEPT.

The Fragile Beauty of Northern Architecture

An exploration of traditional northern Nigerian architecture takes you into Zaria City, where you experience centuries-old tradition and the march of modernity. Through the eyes of a traditional builder, a modern-day architect, and everyday residents, you learn about the meaning of these historic buildings and the issues threatening this rich heritage.
northern

PHOTOGRAPHY: AHMAD ABDULLAHI / THE REPUBLIC.

THE MINISTRY OF ARTS / ARCHITECTURE DEPT.

The Fragile Beauty of Northern Architecture

An exploration of traditional northern Nigerian architecture takes you into Zaria City, where you experience centuries-old tradition and the march of modernity. Through the eyes of a traditional builder, a modern-day architect, and everyday residents, you learn about the meaning of these historic buildings and the issues threatening this rich heritage.

You set up a meeting with Sarkin Magina, the head of the traditional builders’ guild in Zaria, in early September 2024. Muhammed Dahiru Jafaru has been a builder in Zaria all his life—like his father before him, and his father before him. No birth certificate exists to attest to Jafaru’s age, but rough approximations are that he is 75 years old. His grandfather, Babban Gwano, was renowned for his craft, building palaces in nineteenth-century Kano, Katsina, Zaria, Bauchi, and Sokoto. This has been the family business for 172 years.

Jafaru takes you through the process of building a traditional Hausa structure, using a walk-through of his house as a visual reference. The wooden door of the house bears an inscription heralding who lives there: ‘Gidan Sarkin Magina Balarabe Zaria.’ It was built with a mixture of sand, clay, and jinka, a type of grass local to the area. Another type of grass, tukke, is used for measuring during the building process. The first room you meet is the zaure, an entrance hall typically used to welcome visitors, especially male guests who would not usually have access to the main house in order to preserve the privacy of female occupants.

The house features vaulted ceilings with arches, wooden beams, exposed brick termed ‘tubali’, earthen floors, and even a nook for placing lamps for reading. Jafaru explains that demand for buildings like his is dwindling with time for several reasons. They are built only during the dry season because of the materials in use, and the influence of more ‘modern’ (and often Western) structures has meant a growing abandonment of such traditional structures. You had hoped to catch a building in progress but see this is not possible considering the time of year. In September, the rains should have halted already, or at least have been dwindling considerably. This year is different. Meteorologists earlier in the year forecast that it would rain until November; and while you were initially in doubt, it seems they were correct.

You hand Jafaru the kola nut you brought as a gift, say your goodbyes, and set out to find more buildings to capture. On a narrow street, with the sun still high in the sky, you see some men at work on existing structures. Both buildings are old, built in the traditional way. The first man, Jamiluis covering the walls of his building with cement. The other man, Dahiru, is using mud. The materials used for these structures are susceptible to the elements and require constant maintenance, something not everyone cares enough for. Some builders select cement because of its durability and its minimal maintenance demands. Others opt for the original material to preserve the building in almost its exact form.

MOSQUES, MODERNITY, MELDING

As you venture slightly further, you witness some of the ways in which the old and new are melding. Traditional and modern structures share a street, sometimes even a fence. Old structures carry the elements of the new, and new structures carry traditional designs. The most notable is Dagin Arewa. It is a symbol of northern Nigeria, made popular by Sir Ahmadu Bello, the late Sardauna of Sokoto and premier of Nigeria’s then Northern Region, and part of its origin story links it to Christian missionaries from the fifteenth century. It is not used as often as you remember from a childhood spent in Kaduna and Katsina. The star-shaped motif is usually ‘embossed’ on walls and doors.

The day is about to end, and you call up an old friend you went to school with, Abdulaziz. You had told him you were coming to photograph traditional architecture and wanted suggestions. He said there was a mosque that would catch your eye and that is how you both end up at Unguwar Dan-Madami. From the street, the building he points to doesn’t look like what you came for. It looks like the conventional building a child would draw in their class work: rectangular with a triangular roof, a central door and windows flanking it. The interior, however, catches your breath and holds your gaze. It features thick pillars that you don’t see in most modern buildings and embellished arches. The mosque was, in fact, constructed by Muhammed Jafaru’s great-grandfather. Its modern exterior was introduced as a more sustainable way to maintain the mosque within.

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It reminds you of another mosque in Zaria that collapsed in August 2023, claiming eight lives. The Mal Abdulkareem Central Mosque, popularly called Masallacin Fada, ‘Palace Mosque’ (because of its proximity to the Emir’s palace), was built in the 1830s and was an important site representing faith, tradition and community. Time, heavy construction around the area, and lack of maintenance had taken a toll on the building, affecting its structural integrity and evidenced by increasing cracks over time. It was eventually demolished after the collapse of a section, with the intention to build a new mosque. A fundraiser was organized by the community but work on the building is yet to start. According to the Zaria Central Mosque Appeal Fund, the reconstruction project, ‘aims to honour the heritage of the original mosque while incorporating modern elements to ensure its sustainability for future generations.’

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PRESERVING A DYNAMIC HERITAGE

Malam Jafaru told you earlier in the day that his way of preserving this heritage is by passing down the skills and crafts he inherited to his own children. You consider your way to be capturing these traditions and sharing them with others who might, perhaps, learn to appreciate not just their beauty and uniqueness, but also the practical functionality of traditional Arewa buildings. Designs with motifs like Dagin Arewa go beyond aesthetics; they serve as crucial unifying symbols for the community. The dakali, a protruding section of the wall that provides seating, enables people to sit and interact with visitors and neighbours, enhancing social connections. Traditional building methods also work with, not against, the environment; evident in the higher floor-to-ceiling heights of rooms, which promote natural ventilation. In Zaria, where rainfall patterns are heavier, dome-shaped roofs allow water to run off more quickly, whereas in Katsina and Sokoto, where the climate is drier, flat-roofed houses dot the landscape.

An architect friend, Hauwa Mahmoud, answers some of your questions about preserving traditional Northern culture amid modern tastes and demands. She explains that one often-effective approach is to use modern technological tools, such as computer-aided design and Building Information Modelling, to help document existing conditions accurately and facilitate experimentation before any restoration work begins. Technology such as 3D scanning and printing, including printers that work with clay, could also be valuable for preserving traditional buildings in a more precise yet less labour-intensive way. Hauwa emphasized that raising awareness about the benefits of traditional techniques—such as using thick walls to naturally cool interiors—could shift perceptions of what ‘modern’ should look like in Nigeria. This, combined with effective policies and investment, could ensure that traditional architecture remains not just a relic of the past, but a living, functional part of the present.

Nothing remains static in the movement of time—not people, and not the buildings they inhabit. You hope, however, that what endures is an appreciation of people’s ways of life; and that where and how they live, school, worship, and commune, reflects this eternal value. You hope they can share it with others: preserving their heritage and contributing richly to identities as they transition across generations 

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