A SAFE SPACE FOR ROHINGYA WOMEN & GIRLS, REFUGEE CAMP, TEKNAF, BANGLADESH (2019) Photo: Rizvi Hassan
RIZVI HASSAN
‘WE TRY TO ESTABLISH COMMUNICATION WITH THE REFUGEES THROUGH THE BUILDING PROCESS.’
Photo: Sancharee Srishty
RIZVI HASSAN
‘WE TRY TO ESTABLISH COMMUNICATION WITH THE REFUGEES THROUGH THE BUILDING PROCESS.’
Photo: Sancharee Srishty
TO RIZVI HASSAN, ARCHITECTURE FOR REFUGEES IS NOT JUST ABOUT A GOOD PRODUCT. “BUILDING TOGETHER WITH REFUGEES BECOMES AN EVENT THAT UNITES PEOPLE AND HELPS TO RESTORE THEIR DIGNITY.”
It doesn’t seem an obvious choice: starting a career as an architect by working in refugee camps for the Rohingyan people, about a million of whom fled from Myanmar to Bangladesh. The circumstances for making good architecture, indeed any architecture, in these camps couldn’t be worse. But the young Bangladeshi architect Rizvi Hassan saw it as an obligation towards society. In a videocall, Rizvi Hassan described what it takes to design for refugees. “We are used to perceiving architecture as it is portrayed in magazines and on line, in other words how it looks through the lens of a camera. And I have to say that I love the quality of space and a beautiful and efficient use of materials. I really appreciate good architecture. But if you focus on the product, the object, you don’t get to see what is behind it: the building process, the large number of people who engage in construction, and the people for whom it is meant. Also, it’s easy to overlook that only a very small percentage of buildings are designed by architects. Architecture can better be presented in a different way, focusing more on technical aspects, design rationales and the philosophy behind the design. An architect can be an influencer rather than the designer of a single object. Instead of creating a unique solution that cannot be replicated, it is more useful to work on solutions that can be applied easily by artisans such as steel and bamboo workers.”
Although you trained as a modernist architect – more traditionally, so to speak – you started work for refugees after finishing your study at the Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology. Weren’t you satisfied with how architecture was being taught there?
“With a few exceptions, the standard at the university was Western architecture. Instead of focusing on design rationales, the curriculum offered mainly Western practices. I felt that the curriculum for architecture studies was not very profound and not very technical. Meanwhile, masterpieces like the Parliament House of Bangladesh by Louis Kahn were met with the utmost adulation. It seemed to me pointless to copy that kind of architecture for a context like ours. As an architect, you have to know why you are doing what you do. You need to have ideas that make sense and that are relevant for the present time. The context is essential, and the relevancy too.”
A SAFE SPACE FOR ROHINGYA WOMEN & GIRLS, REFUGEE CAMP, TEKNAF, BANGLADESH (2019) Photo: Rizvi Hassan
A SAFE SPACE FOR ROHINGYA WOMEN & GIRLS, REFUGEE CAMP, TEKNAF, BANGLADESH (2019) Photo: Rizvi Hassan
“While I was looking for an alternative to the ‘Western’ approach, I found work as a volunteer for the architect Khondaker Hasibul Kabir. He is a landscape and community architect who has worked in the slums of Dhaka. He made a strong impression on me and inspired me a lot. As an architect, he focuses on the quality of life: the life of non-human as well as human beings. That fundamental approach appealed to me. I asked myself how I could contribute to the community and be useful? I realized that the nation didn’t prepare me to be just an architect, but to be an educated person who can contribute to society. I am ready to offer whatever I can offer.”
What in particular did you learn from Khondakar Hasibul Kabir?
“I recall especially how he connected with people and tried to engage with everyone, from children to the elderly. For example, we wanted to redesign some abandoned ponds with community participation. After getting the green light from the mayor, we organized a series of workshops for people of different ages: children, adolescent boys and girls, men and women, and the elderly. It was mostly the children and adolescents who went outside to survey the site and to sketch. They were not biased, they had fresh ideas, and they felt responsible for the project. They made a really wonderful contribution.”
Children, adolescents and villagers don’t normally have the specific knowledge and experience that an architect has. Could they really make a useful input to the design process?
“That was the main lesson I learned from Khondakar Hasibul Kabir. As practising architects we already have preconceived ideas when we start a project. For my first project with him, in Jhenaidah, I came up with some very modern visualizations. He said, that is beautiful, but let’s do something more contextual, something that relates to their culture. I had to stop trying to be the designer. My task was to collect information about the context and the people, to ask about their ideas and then to keep silent for a while. I had to learn when not to interrupt, and when to give my input in the process. Working in this way gives you the chance to come up with something that you would never have thought of by yourself. To give a simple example, it’s interesting to look at the shutters used in nearby buildings. As an architect, you can try to make a better or more beautiful version, instead of importing shutters from abroad that don’t fit in context.”
INTEGRATED COMMUNITY CENTER, ROHINGYA REFUGEE CAMP, KUTUPALONG, BANGLADESH (2019) Photos: Rizvi Hassan
After working in the city of Jhenaidah, you started working for Rohingyan refugees. What prompted you to take an interest in designing for people who may live only temporarily in Bangladesh?
“BRAC, an important development organization in Bangladesh, asked me to survey some existing shelters that needed renovation. I didn’t hesitate to take up the challenge. No architect that I knew could understand what I was planning to do there, because it was a very complex situation where it would normally be impossible for an architect to practice. Everything had to be built very cheaply and quickly, but I also wanted to achieve quality. At that time, just a few years ago, I didn’t consider myself to be an architect. I saw myself more as a technician and I worked closely together with engineers and plumbers. That opened a whole new dimension for me. I learned a lot from them.”
But you were an architect, not an engineer. Was there something you could contribute more to the result, the “architectural surplus”?
“In this refugee camp they needed various structures: a safe space for women and children, community spaces, health facilities etc. It was not the practice to look for an architect to design these facilities. However, replicating the same non-contextual design with a single sloped roof for all these facilities didn’t amount to a solution. It created troubles, rather. We came up with alternative solutions that offered better protection against monsoon rains and better ventilation. We saw other chances for improvement too. These centres were temporary, so after some time they often had to be moved to make space for something else. Because of the poor design schemes, construction led to a lot of wasted resources. Instead, we proposed design schemes that could easily be disassembled and put together somewhere else.” “The fundraisers understood that we were capable of offering practical solutions. Within two years, the architect Saad Ben Mostafa and I had designed over sixty structures in the camps. Most of them were not special architecturally, and often they were just small interventions. But they had a positive impact from user’s perspective. We used materials that could be found in the vicinity of the camps, like bamboo which takes only half a year to grow to full height. The advantage of these materials was that they were readily available and easy to apply. At the same time, we managed to create better spaces too. The common practice was to have one huge room with minimum quality, for use by large gatherings of people. We tried to improve these spaces, for instance by introducing a circular court with a veranda as we did in the ‘Safe Space for Women and Children’. The interior space was itself much smaller, but the court and the veranda compensated for that. These structures can be used in multiple ways.”
COMMUNITY CENTER FOR ROHINGYA REFUGEES, CAMP 03, UKHIYA, BANGLADESH (2020) Photo: Rizvi Hassan
ROHINGYA CULTURAL MEMORY CENTRE, CAMP 18, UKHIYA, BANGLADESH (2020) Image: Rizvi Hassan
Do you also strive for beauty in your designs for refugees? Is beauty relevant for the people, considering the situation they are in?
“It certainly is, but it has more to do with the process of building than with the resulting product. For us, it is all related to mental health. Taking part in the building process and creating a beautiful space together helps the refugees to engage with good things and feel more optimistic about life. Building together with refugees becomes an event that offers a common ground to understand each other; and it restores dignity. We are currently working on a cultural memory centre for Rohingyan refugees. We try to employ artisans from different camps. It has an enormous cultural value for them. They revive their memories and their skills, their culture and their identity, and they pass those qualities on to the next generation as well.”
Does this emphasis on their own culture also create tension between the host community and the builders?
“Of course, tensions cannot be avoided. You cannot solve everything, as an architect. But you can help reduce those tensions and offer a positive environment which engenders better collaboration. It is all a matter of trust: we try to establish a good understanding with them, and to help them. To some community centres, like the Safe Space for Women and Children, the host community has also access. The two communities coexist there. They participate in the same training sessions, and get to know and understand one other.”
And what about distrustful feelings of the refugees themselves? How do they gain the confidence that you really want to help them?
“That can sometimes be a problem too. There is a Hindu minority, the Hindupara, among the Rohingya refugees. They felt insecure about their position as well as about our interventions. As employees of BRAC we were not trusted at first. They were afraid we would do harm to them. More specifically they were afraid that we would do something bad with their temple. But when we tried to connect with them, to reassure them that the place could also be shared for ceremonial worship and religious functions, their distrust eventually waned. It also helped that the women participated in the landscaping. We asked them what plants they would like to be planted for cultural and religious purposes. They came up with a list and planted them on the site. Flowering plants such as Gada, Joba, Golap, Kathal Chapa, Barota, Morichh were selected for use in Puja and other ceremonies. For other purposes they chose Bel, Kola, Tulshi, Aam etc. Another example is the heat insulation of the roof. The widely used insulating material was imported and had brand names on it. We decided to look for an alternative material that looked good and had an apt cultural aura. At the local market, we found mats that were as colourful as the dresses that the women were wearing. They stitched them together so that we could used them for heat insulation: bright, cheerful and with a link to their culture. To sum up, we try to engage the refugees in the building process whenever we can.”
You work with refugees in rural areas. Could your experience apply just as well in a huge city like Dhaka?
“Until I worked with refugees I was less aware that the same issues play a part in the slums of Dhaka. But now I see that there are crucial similarities. Most of the people there originate from villages. They feel alienated from their background; they are insecure about their identity and culture. You can sense how stressed they are in the streets – they came to Dhaka to earn some money but they have to struggle to survive. I am convinced that the same method of working, the same strategies as we use in the camps, could very well be applicable to those slums. As architects, we have to contribute to the quality of life. If that calls for micro-interventions, then we should do micro-interventions. Thinking big doesn’t make sense if it does not serve the people.”