Towards Barefoot Social Architecture: A Conversation with Yasmeen Lari, Part 2
This is the second article in a series of two. Follow this link to read part one.
The Urdu version can be found here.
Yasmeen Lari has had her finger on the pulse of the architectural profession in Pakistan for over sixty years. In 2020, she received the Jane Drew Award, which celebrates female architects. What follows is the second part of a conversation I had with her over the past few months, edited for length and clarity.
Kishwar Rizvi (KR): The roots of your interest in environmentalism and conservation can be seen early on in your career. And since you are always in the field as an architect or a researcher you are well-aware of how precarious and at risk the environment is. Could you speak about how you moved towards disaster relief and environmentalism?
Yasmeen Lari (YL): There have been many natural disasters in Pakistan over the past twenty years and the impact of climate change has become more and more apparent. I could see it happen in front of my eyes and I felt we need to find ways to mitigate it.
In 2005, while I was at the Lahore Fort, a massive earthquake struck Azad Kashmir, in Pakistan. The earthquake really brought everything into focus for me. Suddenly you realize what is important and what needs to be done. I often say this—you’re very lucky if you’re able to help people during life-changing moments. The generosity of people in Pakistan is amazing. Once they knew we were there they would bring out the chaharpai (woven cot), the best linens they had, tea and biscuits that had been given to them by the World Food Program, and eggs. This was all they had, and they would share it with us. I’ll never forget that.
At the time of the earthquake, I had given up my practice in Karachi and didn’t really have an office. I had no funding or experience in disaster relief. All I had seen was my mother, who at the time of Partition (1947) would help out in the refugee camps. People came to earthquake affected area from all parts of Pakistan, but also from all over the world: students, professors, architects. A friend of mine from Queen Mary College in Lahore, Justice Nasira Javed Iqbal, was so worried for me that she would drive up from Lahore and we would travel in an old Suzuki.
I partnered with Nokia Corporation and set up a base camp in Hazara (Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, in northwestern Pakistan) where we were able to experiment with different materials and building techniques. At first, the goal was to build quickly, with lime and mud, and wooden joists from the debris. When I first used bamboo in 2009, I realized that it not only had a low carbon footprint but was perfect for use in emergencies. People were cutting trees all the time and it was disturbing to see—bamboo regrows every two years and is sustainable. It is the poor man’s building material, most households in Pakistan build with it. But as a professional architect, I never even thought about it. Bamboo construction is now a mainstay of what we do, because it can withstand earthquakes and floods (Figure 1). I have set up workshops where we train a lot of people, mostly in Sindh (and close to the Makli Necropolis which is itself a heritage site). Over the years we have designed several building prototypes. The latest—prefabricated bamboo panels—were implemented in 2015, for the earthquakes in Dir (also in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa).
Figure 1. Women’s Shelter, Sindh (2011). Photograph courtesy of Heritage Foundation.
“People were cutting trees all the time and it was disturbing to see—bamboo regrows every two years and is sustainable. It is the poor man’s building material.”
The 2010 floods caused great devastation in much of Pakistan. Wherever you’d go, those same people who had been displaced, would be there for you. You realize that everything you have can be gone in seconds. Almost twenty million people were affected, one million houses destroyed. So many schools were washed away, and children lost. I was also concerned about the women, who were then confined to their homes—they were really suffering.
KR: In Pakistan, almost twenty-five percent of the population lives under the poverty line, and many more are homeless. There are vulnerable people often hidden in plain sight, in local communities.
YL: In fact, they are also displaced because of natural disasters. They are environmental refugees and many of them have still not been settled. Since 2017, I have been working with beggar communities near Makli, Sindh, who I was introduced to through our work on conservation of the fifteenth-century tomb of Sultan Ibrahim. We were funded through the U.S. Ambassador’s Fund grant and UNESCO and were able to train over 230 people from eight villages in pottery and ceramic crafts. We are now teaching the women how to make terracotta tiles, which have over a 3000 psi strength. They are used to making chapatis (flat breads) and working with dough; they’re thus able to manipulate the clay easily! And they put so much dedication into their work.
Figure 2. Low-income toilet, Makli (2021). Photograph courtesy of Heritage Foundation
At first it was difficult to make entrée in the beggar community. However, everyone, especially women, want privacy, and many became interested in acquiring the low-cost toilets that we had designed (Figure 2). We found one woman, Karima, who became interested in acquiring a low-cost toilet and also took up our offer to train her in the craft of making miniature glazed (kashi) tiles. Above all, she wanted to be independent and earn a living. Soon she got another two women to help her, and so it went, and many of them started working, rather than begging. She finally managed to make more money selling tiles than she could by begging.
I designed the “Pakistan chula,” an elevated earthen stove which is flood-proof, economical, and provides a clean and efficient space for women to cook (Figure 3). In 2014, we trained another woman, Champa, and her husband Kanji, who hail from Mirpur Khas, to help housewives build these simple structures. Champa and her husband are “barefoot entrepreneurs,” and they teach others as well. Of the sixty or seventy thousand chulas we’ve helped build, this couple themselves has made thirty thousand. They must have faced so many difficulties, and yet they have succeeded. They charged 200 rupees and by 2019 they’d earned 6,000,000 rupees (US$37,500). This is 125% more than what they used to earn earlier. This example proves that affordable products by the poor for the poor can lead to economic and social empowerment.
Figure 3. Pakistan Chulah, Makli (2015). Photograph courtesy of Heritage Foundation.
KR: How are you helping them to be self-reliant and improve their lives?
YL: There are basic, primary needs for everyone, and they are a matter of human right. The Chilean economist Manfred Max-Neef writes about the unmet needs of the poor, which I have found inspiring. Many people in Pakistan have no sanitation, running water, health care. What is important to me is to see that every family has shelter. This is especially true for the women, who must also have at least one safe room. And a toilet, even if that is a shared one. And they must have the chula and potable water near their home.
At Makli, we have trained 230 people who earlier earned their living through seeking alms, in what we called the “Barefoot Incubator for Social Good and Environmental Sustainability.” My motto is low cost, zero carbon, zero waste. The villagers are taught green skills, like how to make thatch panels and earth bricks, bamboo, and terracotta products, etc. (Figure 4). In fourteen months, just before the pandemic, seventy percent had risen above the poverty line, of which fifteen percent were beggars, some of whom are deliberately disabled. No one believed that we could do this.
“My motto is low cost, zero carbon, zero waste.”
Figure 4. Zero Carbon Campus , Makli, Sindh (2018). Photograph courtesy of Heritage Foundation.
KR: Many of your villagers live in jhuggis (temporary dwellings)? Is there pressure that they need to be removed from the area?
YL: Yes, sometimes all they have are four poles and a cloth. It doesn’t happen often that they are forced to leave, since these are unwanted areas which are flood-prone. But yes, they can get displaced. It is a very tough situation for them. The structures we have built have been resilient, but others often got washed away. Everyone must understand that displacement happens because the places they live in are vulnerable. A lot of times, we can’t do anything because the disaster is beyond what we’ve expected. But I’ve also seen that even with six inches of water, people can be displaced: because their shelters are so poorly built. Displacement is the worst thing that can happen to a family and especially women and children. Because for four or five months they are unable to return home or to work, setting off a terrible cycle of dependency. In 2018 we started a green shelter program in some villages, where they are provided with a safe shelter, sanitation, water, and chulah and in return residents provide voluntary service for improving the village environment (Figure 5).
Figure 5. Zero-Carbon Housing, Sindh (2013). Photograph courtesy of Heritage Foundation.
KR: What do you see as the most urgent issues for architects today to consider?
YL: The most important thing to consider is the carbon footprint of what you’ve built. But just as importantly, how can we empower the poor (Figure 6)? How can we do this without handouts and outside money? Why aren’t we doing disaster preparedness? Why aren’t we letting people build their own structures strong enough that they’re not displaced? My hope is to improve the quality of building, so that structures can survive. Everything that I do has to be disaster risk resistance (DRR) compliant. I’ve designed for two disasters—earthquake and floods—with mud, lime, and bamboo, and learned that you don’t need much else if these are built with efficiency.
“Poverty is a reality; urban disparity is a reality; climate change is a reality that everyone has to think about, especially the younger generation.”
Figure 6. Zero Carbon Campus, Makli, Sindh (2017). Photograph courtesy of Heritage Foundation.
KR: Are you able to document what you have done for the next generation of architects, for students?
YL: It is important to document your process and share your knowledge. Universities have to change their curriculum to reflect changing priorities. Poverty is a reality; urban disparity is a reality; climate change is a reality that everyone has to think about, especially the younger generation. Architects used to think that they just needed to build the building—but this is not true. We’re hoping to make tutorials about how to set up a workshop, on disaster relief, for example. My dream is that every university will have a lab, where students can have hands-on experience to see the potential of green sustainable materials and find solutions for the great inequities facing the world.
The authors would like to thank Yasmin Bergemann and Zaib un Nisa Aziz for their assistance in the transcription and translation, respectively, of these articles.
