{re}THINK{re}BUILD

Piti, piti, wazo fe niche li...

Little by little, the bird builds its nest.

I dedicate this book to my parents, Who I would have been lost without.

I also dedicate this book To the friends and families of those who died December 26, 2004.

I am forever grateful, And forever sorry.

Senior Thesis for BFA Interior Design Corcoran Collage of Art + Design Written and Designed by Alexandra Dobbs

with special thanks to Erin Miller, Design Professor and Thesis Advisor Alice Powers, Writing Professor

Published May 2013

PART I 1

Introduction

3

A History of Post-Disaster Relief

11

Case Studies

27

Interview with Pulitzer Center Journalists Kem Sawyer and Meghan Dhaliwal

37

Research Conclusion

PART II 45

Concept Statement

47

Further Research

55

Application and Final Design

65

Closing Thoughts

66 68 69

RESOURCES 8.1 Bibliography 8.2 Image Sources 8.3 Additional Resources

“What does it mean to be safe? Safety, I have learned, is not only anchored in better technologies or better buildings.

Safety lies somewhere beyond shelter, in the freedom of being secure enough to relax, play, aspire, and dream for generations.�

Mary Aquilino

1.0

INTRODUCTION

Of these three phases of recovery, the design of temporary housing is problematic and requires special attention (Nigg, Bradshaw, and Torres 119).

Temporary shelters1 are often occupied for much longer than intended, and conditions within these units are often inadequate in many ways; both in the physical make up of the interior environments, and in the psychological stress on the inhabitants that results from prolonged living in cramped and insufficient conditions.

T

he recovery process which follows a natural disaster is commonly thought to occur in three phases (Nigg, Bradshaw, and Torres 119). During the first phase, emergency shelters are provided to survivors. These shelters are intended to provide the bare and basic essentials for living, to get people through the first few days after the disaster.

In the second phase, some form of temporary housing is established, which should allow people to return to their daily activities. The temporary shelters are intended for occupation lasting only up to six months, or in some cases one year. In the final phase, permanent housing is erected and the community is rebuilt.

The recovery process is also complex in that natural disasters occur in a wide range of locations, and the design of temporary housing should be specific to the climactic, cultural, and demographic needs of the afflicted community.

As the architect works to enhance the external built environment, interior designers are responsible for the internal environments. These environments define the experiences of the occupant, and require thoughtfulness and sensitivity. Therefore, interior designers are crucial to the design of temporary housing in order to effectively create livable environments for survivors of natural disaster.

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CHAPTER 2 A history of post-disaster relief

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“Many feel that sitting at a screen sweating over the design of handrail details for the next cute downtown boutique hotel just doesn’t make sense when more than 150,000 people have lost their lives, more than five million people have been made homeless and whole towns have been swept away.”

Cameron Sinclair, co-founder of Architecture for Humanity

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2.1

DISASTER RELIEF AT THE START OF THE 20TH CENTURY

O

n April 18, 1906 an earthquake and subsequent fires in San Francisco claimed the lives of an estimated 1,500 to 3,000 people, beginning a conversation about disaster relief and the role of the designer. This conversation would continue throughout the 20th century, raising questions which are today more prevalent than ever.

The 1906 earthquake in San Francisco was significant because it “marked one of the first major disasters of the industrialized age” (Stohr 33). Furthermore, it introduced the idea of temporary housing as a vital part of the reconstruction process. Over a month after the earthquake, “40,000 refugees were still living in makeshift tent camps throughout the city” (Stohr 33).

The city of San Francisco enrolled a civilian committee to come up with a solution to what they wisely foresaw as a possible permanent settlement of squatters. The solution was the introduction of temporary housing: the Army Corps of Engineers designed a small wooden cottage, which ranged in size from 140 square feet to 400 square feet, each consisting of two to three rooms and which were extremely easy to relocate (Stohr 34).

A refugee camp set up after the earthquake in San Francisco, 1906. 1

The success of this example was largely due to it being centered on community involvement. The importance of community involvement will be further examined in later sections.

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2.2

THE RISE OF THE NGO

I

Post-war housing in Britain: A newly completed prefabricated temporary house with outbuilding. 2

n 1945 the world was faced with an unprecedented destruction of cities and widespread emergency shelter became a global priority. The end of World War II resulted in more civilian deaths than military deaths, and millions of people suddenly found themselves displaced or homeless (Stohr 39). But for post-disaster architecture, the most significant outcome of World War II was that it brought with it the rise of the NGO, or non-governmental organization. “From this point on, NGOs would play an increasingly larger role in providing emergency shelter to refugees as well as responding to natural disasters” (Stohr 40). Essentially, NGOs became “specialized service providers” in the humanitarian field, and although architects were sometimes involved, most NGOs “depended on engineers to design and oversee the construction of projects” (Stohr 40). Today the trend has grown into charging these organizations with the task of rebuilding communities and homes, despite the fact that they are neither designers nor architects, and very few in fact have a solid knowledge of the design and construction process (Harris 13).

The rise of the NGO was also a critical turning point as it marked the beginning of the divide between the fields of relief and development, and architecture and design. Kate Stohr, co-founder of Architecture for Humanity, speaks of this divide in her essay “100 Years of Humanitarian Design”.

Stohr explains that “this disconnect would eventually lead to a crisis of faith: What role should design play in providing basic shelter? How could architects best address the needs of the displaced and disenfranchised? And, at the heart of these questions: Should design be considered a luxury or a necessity? This issue would plague not just architects but also planners, policymakers, and aid organizations struggling to

6

balance the logistics of providing shelter with the human longing for a place to call home� (Stohr 34).

By the 21st century, the role of the designer in postdisaster aid had become almost completely obsolete. In 2004, the Indian Ocean tsunami killed nearly 300,000 people and displaced millions more across eight different countries. The scale of the disaster and the desperate need for rebuilding was unprecedented, and “it quickly became clear that the skills of architects were not being employed in this effort; worse, they were being neither offered nor sought� (Harris 15).

Less than a year later, Hurricane Katrina displaced over one million people from the central gulf coast, and left nearly 2,000 dead. Four and a half years after Hurricane Katrina, another one million people were left homeless when an earthquake struck Haiti in January 2010, killing an additional 316,000.

The response to all three disasters will be discussed in the three case studies that follow. But what has rung consistently true throughout the past decade is that problems arise when the aid communities, design communities, and local communities are not working together.

The Lustron Home retails for $7,000. Despite a government pledge of $40 million, only 2,498 homes are produced before the company forecloses in 1951. 3

7

A tower of trash looms over one wretched camp for displaced people, where this woman walked a dirt path between makeshift shanties in Haiti. 4

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2.3

THE HAITIAN EARTHQUAKE: GENERAL BACKGROUND

I

n Haiti it has been two and a half years since more than a million people were made homeless by the earthquake. Today, “about a third of them are still living in 575 displaced- persons camps, where the living is miserable: dangerous, dirty, lacking toilets and showers, vulnerable to landslides and flooding” (editorial). Here, the disconnect between the design community and the reconstruction process is painfully apparent.

Pulitzer Center journalists Kem Sawyer and Meghan Dhaliwal travelled to Haiti two years after the earthquake.

(See section 4 for a full interview transcript) Both described an unimaginable scene of “tent cities” that were literally “everywhere” (Sawyer, Dhaliwal). The tents, which have acted as transitional “housing” for the past two and a half years, provide little protection from the elements. Sawyer followed a sixth grade girl, Cynthia, who lives with her parents in one of the tent cities. “Everytime it rains,” Sawyer explains, “they don’t sleep” (Sawyer, Dhaliwal). The spaces are cramped and poorly lit, leading to high instances of rape. The total lack of amenities and the small footprint is what struck Dhaliwal the most. “It was just crazy to go and visit them and get in this tent and go wow, people live here, and cook here. You know they sleep there,” Dhaliwal says, “But... they live there” (Sawyer, Dhaliwal).

2.4

LOOKING FORWARD

I

t has been over 100 years since the San Francisco earthquake first alerted us to this idea of post-disaster sheltering, and it is clearer now than ever that the role of the interior designer is absolutely essential to the reconstruction process.

Interior design is a relatively new and largely misunderstood field of design, but the involvement of interior designers would be greatly beneficial in creating spaces that are safe and can fulfill human needs as survivors move forward to rebuilding their lives.

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CHAPTER 3 Case Studies *

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“A small dwelling is not just a structure, a house, but . . . also a home. Being a home makes it in the location of the family relationships, of general ties, of socialization of children, and of the construction of meaning. These aspects are more critical to restore after disasters than are broken roofs.�

(Dynes 67)

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3.1

TAMIL NADU: THE IMPORTANCE OF LOCAL HOUSING CULTURE

I

n 2004 the Indian Ocean Tsunami took the lives of 300,000 people across eight countries. In the Nagapattinam District of Tamil Nadu on the southeast coast of India, approximately 6,000 people were killed in the tsunami, 196,000 people were displaced, of which more than 28,000 were sheltered in temporary relief camps (Arlikatti, and Andrew 36). Several studies were conducted on the post- disaster reconstruction that took place in this region. The results of these studies give us rare insight into the complex nature of post disaster housing, and the quality of life experienced by displaced survivors.

Jennifer Duyne Barenstein conducted an intensive survey in the Tamil Nadu region four years following the tsunami. She interviewed locals to gain an understanding of where they were failed by the reconstruction process, and her findings reveal the importance of maintaining a sensitivity to the local housing culture during reconstruction.

In her introduction, Barenstein phrases this best: “The dwelling is the theater of our lives, where the major dramas of birth and death, of procreation and recreation, of labor and of being in labor play out. Yet in times of emergency, culture appears to be a luxury, beyond the means and priorities of response” (Duyne Barenstein, 186).

A similar study was carried out by Sudha Arlikatti and Simon Andrew in which they conducted a random sample survey in seven affected villages in Tamil Nadu “at two points in time, first

Fishing culture, Tamil Nadu 8

in 2005 and then again in 2008” (Arlikatti, and Andrew 34). The goal of the study was to analyze the emotional recovery of victims throughout a four-year time span following the tsunami.

In this study, Arlikatti and Andrew discuss the varying consequences that occurred depending on whether the reconstruction was carried out by non- governmental organizations (NGOs) versus self-built housing or housing reconstruction in which community participation was emphasized.

As in Barensteins study, their findings reveal the importance of considering and designing to the local housing culture. Furthermore, they concluded that “houses built by [NGOs] or public agencies failed 13

Traditional House with tiled roof in Tamil Nadu, India 6

to take into account local housing culture and built away from original settlements, quickly leading to the new houses abandonment by beneficiaries” (Arlikatti, and Andrew 35).

In response to these findings, Arlikatti and Andrew acknowledged the importance of involvement from architects and designers. They indicated several housing plans which were successful in catering to the local housing culture.

Such successes were achieved by architects and designers recognizing the needs of the rural poor, “which consisted typically of a front porch, a single living room, a kitchen, a bathing area, and toilet, and open spaces at the neighborhood level for congregating... [These] designs were adapted to mirror local needs and housing customs, such as adding a prayer room, a staircase to the roof to allow for future building expansion, a flat roof for drying fish easily, and access to the toilet from outside the house” (Arlikatti, and Andrew 35-36).

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State-built cement houses in Tamil Nadu, India with little air or light 7

Barenstein’s study focuses on the cases in which survivors were failed by the reconstruction process. She explains that “there was such disregard for housing culture in the way the new, postdisaster settlements were designed and built that serious physical and mental health problems [arose for] the fisher families of Tamil Nadu” (Duyne Barenstein 186). She cites several critical deficiencies which created psychosocial problems for residents, including the absence of a room large enough to allow an average family to gather together in one space, which led to isolation and depression among many interviewees. Another critical design flaw was the absence of the veranda, which she claims was “the most important space in [pre-tsunami] selfbuilt houses” (Duyne Barenstein 191). Arlikatti and Andrews findings further support this. Both studies also examine building materials, notably the use of concrete and stone masonry. Barenstein believes the destruction of “undamaged vernacular homes” along with the “felling of all the trees” to be “the

“

Before, I could share my sorrows, now I cannot and it affects me mentally and physically; sometimes I cannot sleep and sometimes I cannot eat food, because I keep everything in my heart; sometimes I think about suicide and what is going to happen to my children”

most serious negative consequence of post-tsunami reconstruction” (Duyne Barenstein 191). Arlikatti and Andrew go on to explain that the homes which were built with stone masonry and concrete were shown “to have poor ventilation compared with the thatched roofs and open plans of prior vernacular architecture” (Arlikatti and Andrew 41-42).

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the surveys were direct quotes provided by Barenstein, in which survivors describe their mental and emotional struggles. In regards to the lack of a communal space within the home and the subsequent isolation and dissolution of social dependencies, a young mother of three describes: “Before, I could share my sorrows, now I cannot and it affects me mentally and physically; sometimes I cannot sleep and sometimes I cannot eat food, because I keep everything in my heart; sometimes I think about suicide and what is going to happen to my children” (Duyne Barenstein 191).

A middle-aged fisherman also comments on the lack of social support due to the new housing projects: “The trees are missing. Now the friends are not sitting together and helping eachother with the nets, and maybe that is why the people drink. The fact that there are not trees and that people are either inside the house or in the hot sun when they work on the nets leads to more tensions and this in turn leads to a higher consumption of alcohol” (Duyne Barenstein 191).

The case of Tamil Nadu shows us the importance of considering local housing culture, which is far better achieved when designers are involved in the reconstruction. These studies prove that when buildings are erected haphazardly with no regard for local needs or customs, there are serious repercussions in the long-term mental healing of the survivors.

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3.2

FEMA TRAILERS: LESSONS OF HEALTH AND SAFETY

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he aftermath of Hurricane Katrina is undoubtedly one of the most notable examples of poor disaster response in this country. There is extensive literature about the failure on behalf of US agencies to provide adequate shelter to Hurricane survivors. In this case study I will focus on the FEMA trailer and the negative impacts it had on its inhabitants.

The most widely known consequence that the FEMA trailer presented was the presence of formaldehyde and the direct cause which this had on the physical health of the residents. Several months after moving into the trailers, residents began reporting unusual sicknesses relating to respiratory issues, in some cases causing death (Hsu). The culprit, formaldehyde, is a colorless chemical gas often found in construction materials such as particleboard flooring, plywood wall panels, composite wood cabinets and laminated countertops.

According to an article in the Washington Post, formaldehyde emissions “are greatest in warm weather and when trailers are newly constructed, the conditionsexperienced by Katrina victims on the Gulf Coast” (Hsu).

Although no single party has seemed to accept the blame for the presence of the formaldehyde in the FEMA trailers, it is clear that the expedited rate at which the trailers were manufactured and shipped is an underlying cause for the oversight in construction (Hsu). Additionally, because the trailers were intended to be temporary, they were not

Overcrowding in FEMA trailer parks. 9

required to adhere to the same codes as permanent housing would.

Joseph Hagerman, a Federation of American Scientists expert, points out the startlingly low level of requirements set forth by FEMA at the outset of manufacture. A mere 25 lines of specifications were outlined for the $4.9 billion dollar purchase of 300,000 trailers (Hsu; Hallick 77). “There’s not much you can do in 25 lines to protect life safety,” Hagerman stated, “There’s over 20,000 parts in these homes” (Hsu).

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Four years after Katrina, many FEMA trailers are still inhabited. 10

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In addition to the issues of physical health, the FEMA trailers created issues surrounding the mental health of residents, as well as safety issues.

A 2006 survey of 400 FEMA trailer residents revealed that the rate of depression in the trailer parks was seven times higher than the national average, and suicide attempts were 79 times higher than they had been before the Hurricane (Kromm and Sturgis 15). In her 2012 dissertation on transitional housing, Jennifer Hallick explains how the design of the trailers played a large role in the psychological damage. The small size (and sometimes total lack) of windows provides residence with very little natural light (as well as lack of ventilation), an important element in enhancing the perceived livability and size of an already small space (Hallick 88). Furthermore, the 280 square foot one bedroom trailers do not allow for appropriate private, or shared communal, spaces; this layout lends itself to further psychological issues relating to crowding (Hallick 88). Another 2006 survey by Save the Children organization supports this theory with findings that “the cramped trailers and densely populated camps led to community tensions and heightened family conflicts� (Kromm and Sturgis 15).

Furthermore, the FEMA trailers posed great safety risks, with studies showing that domestic violence in camps had tripled since displacement, and rape was being reported at nearly 54 times the national average (Kromm and Sturgis 16).

Exterior of FEMA trailer 11

Overall, the FEMA trailers greatly failed the survivors of Hurricane Katrina. The needs of an already suffering community were completely ignored by irresponsible planning. At a time when survivors most needed to feel safe and secure, it is nothing short of a tragedy that they were forced to endure so much more strife. The only positive thing that can come from the situation is an understanding that great lessons must be learned about disaster relief housing and changes in policies and practice must be put in place.

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3.3

THE GINGERBREAD HOUSES : LEARNING FROM HAITI’S ARCHITECTURAL HERITAGE

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n the shambles and destruction of today’s Port-au-Prince, few structures stand as reminders of Haiti’s architectural heritage. One of Haiti’s most prized treasures is the ‘gingerbread house’. There are roughly 200 of these homes, scattered throughout the neighborhoods surrounding downtown Port-au-Prince, but they stand as reminders of the native vernacular, and they hold significant information about Haiti’s cultural history (Katz). By looking at these homes, and understanding the past, we can move forward in the rebuilding of the future.

The importance of the gingerbread house is two-fold. In 2010, a 7.0 magnitude earthquake leveled roughly 40 percent of the buildings in Portau-Prince. Amazingly, the gingerbread houses were largely spared from this destruction: “fewer than 5 percent of the gingerbreads partially or totally collapsed” in the earthquake (Katz). Conor Bohan, founder of the Haitian Education Leadership Program, discusses this phenomenon. He points out, “in an environment like this, nothing sticks around for 100 years by accident” (Katz).

The gingerbread houses were mostly built towards the end of the 19th century, with the last one built in 1910 (Katz). First and foremost, these aged structures teach us important lessons about the materials and methods that withstood such intense seismic forces. In 2011, the International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) and the World Monuments Fund (WMF) released a

Drawing of Gingerbread house 12

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A man sits inside his Gingerbread house, which was once owned by a former Haitian president. 13

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A look inside Vivian Gauthier’s bedroom in Port-au-Prince’s Tergeau neighborhood. 14

report stating that “traditional Haitian construction – particularly braced timber framing and colombage, which features that same framing with masonry infill – withstood seismic loads far better than more recent structures made with rigid Portland cement” (Sokol). Olsen Jean Julien, project manager for the Haiti Cultural Recovery Program, believes that analyzing the design techniques of the past is “key to the country’s reconstruction efforts” (Katz). “The gingerbreads are a strong witness of our history of the 20th century,” Julien says, “Their architecture shows us that the people who built them had the memory of hurricanes and the first earthquake in 1770. They respected seismic codes even before they had been written” (Katz).

But there are other reasons why we must analyze the gingerbread houses, as they give us important clues about Haitian vernacular design, and cultural traditions that represent the people of Haiti and their memories of their own history.

Former Haitian Prime Minister, Michele PierreLouis, describes the gingerbreads as being “an issue of identity, Haitian pride, and history” (Katz).

The construction of the houses, both exterior and interior, show the intent and understanding that the original architects had of the Caribbean climate: “High ceilings and touret roofs direct hot air above the inhabitable space, windows on all sides create a 23

“As poor as we are, these houses are special to Haiti; they don’t exist anywhere else. It’s part of our responsibility to give something to other generations, to show them where we came from. If no one does anything, our heritage will be lost” cool cross-breeze even during seasonal stretches of blistering heat, and the frame’s tractability weathers powerful storms… In other words, gingerbreads were sustainable long before the word became fashionable” (Katz). Although the precise origins of these structures is ambiguous, their design shows influence from French Creole architecture dating back to the 1700’s (Daniels).

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In analyzing the origins of Creole architecture, we can also gain a better understanding of the interior spatial layouts that inspired the modern domestic vernacular of Haiti. “Descriptions of the prerevolutionary houses of Port-au-Prince [include] a rectangular plan divided into three parts. The center salon was the largest and the two flanking bedrooms might be subdivided into smaller spaces to accommodate the requirement of living arrangements… The front gallery functioned as a place of meeting for family and friends before dinner, and the rear gallery was used as a dining room; both could be opened or enclosed by jalousies. Small offices were located on the rear galleries and could be transformed into bedrooms. The area under the house was used for storage” (Edwards 179).

There are many things that we can learn from an understanding of the past. Such lessons can be applied to the design of transitional housing in Haiti.

For example, it is clear that ventilation is important, as are high ceilings when possible to enhance the livability in such a humid climate. Many descriptions of original Creole homes also include some sort of gallery or porch space that spans the floor plan, and allowed “people [to] move around the periphery of the building selecting the most comfortable microclimatic zone for any time of day” (Edwards 188).

We also see the recurrence of a large gathering space, both in the Creole architecture of the 1700’s and the 19th century Gingerbread houses. Perhaps it is possible to incorporate these ideas in transitional housing. Allowing room for gathering would be particularly ideal.

Images of the interiors of the gingerbreads also give us a narrative about the colors and materials that give the occupants that feeling of “home”. Wood is commonly used, and the colors are vivid but dark in tone. There is space for the inhabitants to personalize their interiors with religious and personal objects that define their identity. Above all, the gingerbread houses are evidence that the people of Haiti have a strong cultural identity that they do not want to lose.

One gingerbread resident, Vivian Guathier, still lives in her 125-year-old house which survived the 2010 earthquake (Katz). Guathier, aged 93, has been living in her house since 1932, and has made plans for it to be turned into a museum when she eventually passes on (Katz; Daniels). “As poor as we are,” she says, “these houses special to Haiti; they don’t exist anywhere else. It’s part of our responsibility to give something to other generations, to show them where we came from. If no one does anything, our heritage will be lost” (Katz).

Vivian Guathier inside her Gingerbread Home 15

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CHAPTER 4 Interview with Pulitzer Center journalists Kem Sawyer and Meghan Dhaliwal *

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This interview was conducted at the Pulitzer Center in Washington DC, at 2 pm on November 1, 2012. The interviewees were Kem Sawyer, a freelance writer who has spent time in Haiti covering the conditions in Port-au-Prince and the surrounding regions. Sawyer also spent time following a day in the life of Cynthia, a sixth grade girl living with her parents in one of the many tent cities in Port-au-Prince.

Also interviewed was Meghan Dhaliwal, a recent graduate of Boston University and intern at the Pulitzer Center. Dhaliwal travelled to Haiti for the Pulitzer Center in January 2012 to report on the cholera epidemic, and also has experience with the local community. This section includes highlights from the interview.

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ABOUT

DEMOGRAPHICS

AD: Because I’ve never been [to Haiti] it’s hard for me to understand specific information about the various needs of the

communities and where the tent camps are and what neighborhoods they’re in. Speaking about climate; for example, if you were to build a temporary shelter in Port-au-Prince versus Cite de Soleil, would those two areas be the same climate, would they both require the same kind of ventilation and water-proofing? Or is there kind of a wide array?

MD: I think if you’re talking specifically about going downtown Port-au-Prince versus Cite de Soleil, Cite de Soleil... I think

that because it’s right on the water temporary housing would have to be a little bit more stable or a little bit more water proof. And the housing in Cite-de-Soleil, some of it is concrete but some of it is the tin shacks that people live in. Whereas in downtown Port-au-Prince, you can find people, I mean just driving down around you’ll see little squares where there are just tents with lines and sheets thrown over them. So they’re a little less sturdy but I think that’s okay because they’re on solid ground whereas in Cite-de-Soleil you can be walking around on just a layer of garbage and water.

KS:

Well, in terms of the demographics too, I think that, first of all you find that the temporary shelters, which are really tents, all of the tents are stamped with names of the different NGOs. And in the family that I visited, Cynthia, she just said every time it rains, they don’t sleep, because their tent is flooded and the tarp is not waterproof. So you know that must just be pretty hard. But then you see her and she’s going to school, and she doesn’t look like she hasn’t slept, and she looks like she cares a lot about her appearance so does everyone else.. so they get through the flooding.

MD: But just a very small tent, and it was Cynthia, her mom, and her dad, staying there, and it was just crazy to go and visit them and get in this tent and go wow, people live here, and cook here. You know they sleep there, but they live there.

Which is the most interesting part.

AD: [In terms of demographics] is there a wide range of variables that needs to be considered? For example are a lot of people employed in one area and unemployed in another area, or is it pretty much even across the board? And the average house size…?

KS:

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Well people living in the tents could very well be employed. The family that we visited the father was a taxi driver. And I think he did reasonably well and his family could eat and he gave his daughter money for lunch every day, but they don’t really have any expectation of moving, because you have enough to get by on, but you don’t have enough to go out and rent a house. And we did meet people, like Andre, who were fine. And they were affected for a few weeks I think by the earthquake, but then they could move back into their house. And this is not at all a scientific study, but I sort of got the idea that if you owned your house, you sometimes managed after a few months to find housing... and you asked a little earlier about where these temporary shelters, so the tent camps, are, and that was the other astounding thing is that they are everywhere.

Cynthia was a sixth grader living in one of the many tent cities surrounding Port-au-Prince. Sawyer and Dhaliwal visited Cynthia and her parents while Sawyer was reporting on a project, Children At Risk, which can be found on the Pulitzer Center Website. 16

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ABOUT

LOCATION

MD: They are everywhere. You sort of start to relax with the

scenery and not everything shocks you but you’d still be driving and it was just tent city, tent city, tent city. [Our guide] Andre was saying that the tent cities were getting smaller and pointing at the squares saying these people are starting move out... and [the Haitian President is] trying to get people onto properties that are less convenient, you know they’re not in downtown Port-au-Prince, and I think there’s been some land issues where he’s trying to get people onto land, or giving people cash stipends so they are able to rent, and that could either be coming from the government or from private donors.

Thirteen-year-old Cynthia, pictured here with her mother outside their tent near Port-au-Prince, Haiti. 17

AD: Well it interested me what you said about how he relocated them to places that weren’t convenient. So in your

opinion, ideally the transitional housing would be in walking distance to their schools or it would need to be in downtown Port-au-Prince?

MD: I think so, I mean Cynthia’s dad is a taxi driver so that’s a bad example, but people don’t have cars, getting a taxi can be expensive, a lot of people walk…

KS:

Yeah there are pretty much those schools everywhere, I went to so many schools and you couldn’t go five or six blocks without finding a school. Cynthia has a longer walk than most people, maybe a twenty minute walk, but that’s because she wanted to go to the school where she had been before. And so, she moved into a tent that was a little farther away than her home. So that’s why she had such a long walk. But I didn’t get the feeling that it was a problem to find housing near a school.

MD: I think some of the problem is that some of the transitional housing is ending up way on the outskirts.

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ABOUT

SAFETY

AD: Do you think that temporary housing, if it was properly built, could address issues [of safety]? Did you see anywhere that it was successful?

KS:

Well I think that the tent cities that are smaller are probably safer, and the one near the airport is I think one of the bigger ones. And the one where Cynthia lived which is sort of in the shadow of this church is sort of small. So I think she was safer than many girls. But I think that’s true any place you know, when something is small there’s more of a community, people look out for eachother. I’ve been to refugee camps in Kenya and Sudan that are huge and the same thing happens, you know, the risk to women because they’re just so big. So people are anonymous. But if it’s a smaller place you’re not anonymous.

And then a lot of it is the lighting, that there’s no good lighting.

AD: Throughout the cities? Or even in the – KS:

In the tent camps. I mean you have lanterns but –

MD: The power grid in Haiti, I mean in Port-au-Prince is a mess, I mean everybody that has power all the time has a generator and a back-up generator. Because the city will lose power at certain times of day and night –

KS:

Right I guess they did have electricity in the tent camps, but it was not reliable at all.

MD: Yeah I think electricity and I think the other thing, and this doesn’t go for safety, like physical safety, but I think having latrines that are working and clean are super important, especially with the diarrheal diseases which are spread really easily –

KS:

Well, Cholera.

MD: Yeah and I mean these diseases which are spread so easily in communities like this if the water infrastructure isn’t there.

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DESIGNERS: KS:

SHOULD WE BE INVOLVED?

I say, go architects.

MD: Same.

KS:

But, you know I think it’s easy to say that NGOs can mess everything up but I also think they can do a lot of good and if you get grassroots organizations working hand in hand with NGOs that theres a lot of good that can come out of that. An example, and this is a tiny example but La Difference, and it’s a very small area in Cite de Soleil but it was very successful. And the people got together in order to do recycling, and through the recycling they were able to get enough cash to actually clean up this five block area. They painted all the houses.

AD: But that’s with the community involvement.

KS:

Oh yeah. And I think the only reason they thought it worked is because it was very grassroots. And they have clean water.

MD: I think the danger comes when people parachute in, like NGOs parachute in after a disaster like this without any knowledge of the country and without attempting to engage the community that they’re trying to help. I think that’s where you start hearing horror stories. But a lot of the places that are still around and that you hear a lot about in Haiti are actually doing a pretty good job. Partners in Health is great, they’re end goal is to not be needed anymore. The Americans are training Haitian doctors and… I just think it can be really chaotic when something like that happens. Jonathon Katz is a reporter who just wrote a book, I think it’s called The Big Truck That Went By, and it’s about people who parachuted into Haiti and then just left it worse off than it… you know not worse off, but they left it in a bad situation.

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AND IF SO, KS:

WHAT IS OUR ROLE?

Well I think designers do very practical things as well. So they can certainly help solve problems, and that basically a designer solves the problem, and if the problem needs to be solved in an economical way, that may be harder for the designer but the designer can do it. And when you say luxurious that may imply it’s going to be expensive, and maybe some of the things would not be necessary. But I think that to find sort of a simple solution that could be done economically would be brilliant. And that’s the work of a designer.

MD: I know, not anyone that was working on the tents, but my mom’s an interior designer, and it’s funny I was help-

ing edit her blog... and her first blog is about, ‘Interior Designers - these are the reasons you should hire an interior designer.’ They’re going to problem solve very quickly, they’re going to do it in your budget which – in an emergency setting designers are trained to think in the budget that they’re given, and they’re trained to do it right. They think of things that... I don’t know like, medical professionals that are just helping put up these temporary structures would never think of. You know, things like lights! (laughter) Lights in a temporary shelter are extremely important for a number of different reasons and I think that’s something that, had designers and architects been involved... it does have that air of luxury when you say ‘you know we should get designers and architects involved’ but in reality what they’re trying to do is extremely practical and would probably be very helpful in a disaster scenario.

KS:

And you have a limited amount of space, how do make the best use of that space. You know that’s a question that an interior designer could answer. Because the places are going to be small, they’re going to be close together. [But] I can’t tell you how exciting I think it is that you’ve chosen this project, and that designers are working in Haiti, I mean it’s – this makes so much sense!

MD: It makes so much sense. And it’s cool to hear you talk about it because it’s well-thought out. Even just the way you’re asking these questions it’s just like wow! Yeah!

AD: Aw that makes me feel so good!

KS:

Yeah and we talked about lights but I also think what Meghan said about the water issues – you know a designer slash architect could get involved in that too. You know, where do the latrines go? There’s not going to be one per family, then are they, how many families share them? Or what if –

MD: What about if they’re divided by sex – that’s another thing because unisex latrines can be dangerous in large tent city situations. You know it’s like things that you never really think about –

KS:

And you need handwashing stations too, that’s very big – and the designer has to work with the engineer to find the best one that’s going to work in that particular climate.

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“

...it’s very bright, it’s vivid, it’s gorgeous”

Vibrant colors of Haiti 18

34

HAITIAN CULTURE: WHAT

ASPECTS SHOULD HOUSING ADDRESS?

MD: I think the two things that would have popped into my head I’ve already mentioned but that’s electricity and

having the latrines – it’s so funny like before I went down to Haiti, thinking about bathrooms and latrines, it never would have even crossed my mind – but down there they are just so important in keeping people healthy and keeping people safe… where bathrooms are placed and how they’re designed. So I think that’s super important.

KS:

Those are all the practical things, I guess also if you’re just thinking about how you would design a space – you know that Haiti is famous for its artists, I mean you know this right, Haitian art is wonderful, and the colors are incredible. So, I don’t know how you work this in, exactly, but I think paying some attention to the aesthetics of the country. Because when you’re in a country where art and color are so important, and you go places and they have these huge parades with paper mache creatures that they’ve made – so spend some time, look at books, look at the colors. You know if you were going to design something you would want it in that palette, so you have to find out what that palette is. And it’s very bright, it’s vivid, it’s gorgeous. Because I think that would be important in any country, but it’s especially important in Haiti.

MD: Yeah, I think also its just, Haiti, even though they’ve been through a lot as a country, they’re really proud, and

I think that giving a thought to the aesthetic, even if its whatever color the tarp is going to be for the tent, you know that… it helps. Because they are proud of their country and they’ve been independent since 1804 and it’s the only slave uprising that ever succeeded, and that just sets a precedent for keeping their chins up for everything I think. And so I think it would mean a lot to the Haitian people if people thought about things like that.

KS:

And maybe it’s not you as the designer making those choices but maybe its consulting with the community, and the artists there.

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CHAPTER 5 Research Conclusions *

*

*

“The biggest challenge is yet to come . . . Now there is beauty on the outside; how do we come back and build the infrastructure within the human soul?�

Alice Coles President, Bayview Citizens for Social Justice

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Geoffrey Dobbs in Galle, Sri Lanka. Damage after the 2004 tsunami 19

T

he 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami created unprecedented devastation, the likes of which our world had never seen. When it struck the coast of Sri Lanka at 9:15 am, the morning after Christmas, I was with my family on the southernmost tip of the tear-drop island where my uncle lives in the small fishing village of Weligama.

My parents and uncle were swimming in the bay, and it was by nothing more chance and luck that they lived when so many others died. The things I saw and the people I met there changed my life forever.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, the tsunami’s rippling effects would also produce immense change amongst the design and international aid communities, which have been separate entities for too long. Victoria Harris is the former CEO of Article 25, a UK based charity for humanitarian design. “Before the 2004 tsunami in the Indian Ocean, architects had hardly figured in the task of post-disaster aid,” Harris says. But the magnitude of the destruction across eight countries created what Harris describes as an emergent need for shelter “on an unprecedented scale”. She explains, “it quickly became clear that the skills of architects were not being employed in this effort; worse, they were being neither offered nor sought.” (Harris 15) Initially, the goal of my thesis was to investigate the design of temporary housing in disaster relief. However my research has continuously led me, not to the question of how designers can

help, but to whether designers should even be involved in the process to begin with. In an opinion piece for Architectural Review, Ian Baldwin writes that “the question of how – or even if – designers should respond to humanitarian catastrophes touches many nerves” (Baldwin). Despite her commitment to humanitarian design, Harris also admits that, “at best the public sees architects as artists, at worst as superfluous – profligate spenders charged with executing the whims and fancies of a client’s vision” (Harris 13). This view of architects has even worse repercussions for the view of interior designers, whose presence in the recovery process has been virtually non-existent throughout my research.

Despite this historical absence, I feel more strongly now than ever that interior designers are vital to reconstruction, especially in the design of temporary housing. Critics will argue that design is a luxury, and is therefore unnecessary to such an urgent issue as disaster relief. But to me, such a view is archaic. I think that luxury relates to things that are lavish, exquisite, and excessive. On the other hand, I think of design as relating to things like innovation and problem-solving. As we move forward into the 21st century, it is time to discard dated notions about the role of the designer. Design should not be synonymous with luxury. Design should be a vehicle through which we can better our world.

The field of interior design is new, and largely misunderstood. Some see interior designers 39

as glorified interior decorators. These notions too must be discarded, and our role as a profession must be made clear as we move into the future. The first three years of my undergraduate education were spent studying architecture, and I do believe that the two professions are inherently intertwined: one cannot exist without the other. However there is a distinction between the two professions. The architect’s role is the built environment, in the buildings themselves and how they interact with one another, and how we interact within this constructed environment. Meanwhile, the interior designer’s work is in the inhabited world. Interior designers create the internal spaces and experiences which shape the way people interact with their dwellings, the way they interact with their friends and families, and the way they identify themselves within their communities. Interior designers have the knowledge to make these experiences positive, as well as negative. To completely disregard interior design is to say that the spaces in which we live, play, and grow, are unimportant.

My feelings on this matter were only confirmed during my interview with Kem Sawyer and Meghan Dhaliwal. Both shared my sentiment that designers are essentially problemsolvers. It is true that design can be used for high-budget, luxury projects. But the same principles of practicality and innovation and an understanding of human needs can be applied to any budget. “Designers are trained to think in the budget that they’re given,” Dhaliwal explains, “And they’re trained to do it 40

right” (Sawyer, Dhaliwal). Furthermore, interior designers are trained to space plan efficiently, and in an environment such as transitional housing, where space is limited, an interior designer’s job is to know how to effectively use that space to create a livable environment that promotes safety and well-being.

There is no doubting the complex nature of recovery. Political unrest, widespread cholera, and a total misplacement of funding by NGOs, are just a few of the reasons that make Haiti such a complex environment. Over the past two and a half years, William Booth, journalist for the Washington Post, has extensively covered the rebuilding – or lackthere-of – in Port-au-Prince Haiti. His articles are filled with heartbreaking accounts of the frustration and struggles felt by the people of Haiti still living in tent camps. As disparaging as these stories are, they serve as another reminder that it is time for the design community to intervene. It is time to work together with NGOs so that funding can be properly allocated and transitional housing can be built quickly and efficiently. It is time for temporary housing to provide better living standards, as well as being culturally and demographically sensitive.

It is therefore also time for us to unite with local communities, in order to understand their needs and customs, and to provide locals with jobs to enhance infrastructure.

All of this is possible, but only if we are all working together. The future of disaster relief must be a combined effort of international aid

communities, design communities, and local communities. The reasons we’ve failed in the past lies in the separation between these three entities, each of which is crucial to successful rebuilding.

The NGOs bring with them international funds, but in the past that is where the process stops. The designer is the cultural translator, the missing link between the NGO and the local community. Our involvement in the process is essential. The question of how this will happen, I cannot yet answer. I am only one voice, and I am only beginning to understand the vast complexities myself. But I know that this is the beginning of something right. As the next generation of problem solvers, it is time for us to get involved. It is time to come up with a better way forward.

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{re}think {re} build 42

PART II. DESIGN CONCEPT STATEMENT

FURTHER RESEARCH: UNDERSTANDING HAITI LESSONS LEARNED

APPLICATION FINAL CONCLUSIONS

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6.1WHY WE NEED TO CHANGE OUR APPROACH TO DISASTER RELIEF

AID COMMUNITIES, DESIGN COMMUNITIES, INTERNATIONAL COMMUNITIES:

T

emporary Housing in the past has been thought of as this phase where people are given a shelter that is slightly more structurally sound than the tents that they had in the Emergency phase, so that people have a more stable place to live until permanent rebuilding is achieved. In theory, temporary shelters are not intended to be occupied for longer than a period of 6 months to a year. But in reality we’ve seen in Haiti and in New Orleans that these shelters, which are really unsafe and unfit for living, are being occupied 3 and 4 years after the disaster. And in Haiti we see that these temporary shelters are essentially becoming permanent slums, and we can’t seem to get to this final stage of permanent rebuilding.

be a building block for the community itself to grow and rebuild and recover. And all of these reasons are WHY it is so important that the design community, architects, engineers, and interior designers, are involved during this step.

Designers are problem solvers, and they are also; if they are good and responsible; partially anthropologists. It is important to remember that design is not neutral; it affects human life either positively or negatively. In order to design things which are beneficial, it is crucial to understand the people being designed for.

In my opinion, the reason that we have this gap is because the idea of permanence has to be considered a long time before we get to the point where we are we are building permanently. And in that sense, this phase of temporary housing is redundant and what we need instead is some type of transitional housing that basically lays the groundwork for the permanent rebuilding.

My proposal is a core structure that is climactically appropriate, that provides the users with a sense of ownership, that isn’t disruptive to their domestic culture and fits their needs, and also is built, not only with this idea of permanence in mind, but it’s built with the overall community in mind so that it can really 45

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A Haitian Marketplace 20

6.2

FURTHER RESEARCH: HAITIAN DOMESTIC LIFE

A

major turning point in my thesis arose when I came across an article

by Landscape Architect, Patti Stouter. The article, entitled Haitian Wisdom for Aid Buildings gave me the insight into Haitian domestic life that I had been searching for.

My thesis hinges on the idea that community involvement is important not only to rebuild infrastructure, but because the local community knows their needs better than anyone else.

Having never been to Haiti I knew I was at a disadvantage. The ideal scenario would be to bring designers and locals together, in order to assess and understand the social and cultural dynamics of the community, so that innovation could begin to emerge in appropriate and non-invasive ways.

This section focuses on several of the key aspects of Haitian domestic life which gave me a foundation from which I could begin my design process. Stouters article was a crucial research aid for my final design.

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“The architecture of the Caribbean is first and foremost an architecture for life out-of-doors. Daily activities take place in spaces that are mostly outside the framework of the house itself. And even the framework is open to the outdoors, offering protection only from the sun and rain.�

Jack Berthelot and Martin Gaume

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Know the climate. More importantly, know the limitations created by an under-developed power grid.

Incorporate passive cooling and adequate ventilation.

Climate affects the core, as well as community layout:

Orient buildings with the shortest sides facing east/west. Likewise, ensure enough shading on the south facade, and consider the verandahs placement to optimize shade and comfort.

Also, understand what activities take place outdoors. Cookstoves, for example, pollute the indoor environment with extra heat and smoke. Many Haitian homes use outdoor cookstoves, however there is often a pantry for storing dry food and space for eating and gathering which occurs in the homes nearby interior space.

Personal sketch

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Understand environmental issues: deforestation is a major problem.

An excellent alternative to wood is bamboo, which is already being harvested for interior use as well as for structural use.

explore materials that are sustainable, innovative, and locally available Additionaly, understand other limitations created by the local climate and environment. As of 2010, the World CIA Factbook estimated that 76% of the urban population had no access to improved sanitation facilities. In the rural population this figure rose to a staggering 90%. In areas without a developed sewer system, outdoor latrines reduce the risk of cholera and other airborn diseases. These issues are crucial for designers to understand.

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Aerial view of the border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic. The country on the left is Haiti, showing the shocking reality of the severity of the deforestation 21

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Understand the color palette.

Art is very important in Haiti.

Hire local artists, Include paint in your budget.

life is colorful and vibrant celebrate this

Colorful carnival, Haitian toddler 22

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Repeat familiar housing types.

Understanding the native vernacular and re-building in that style creates a sense of belonging.

Remember that home is a feeling that cannot be artificially replaced.

Respect and learn from the past, design with the local community

Personal sketch of two basic traditional building typologies in Haiti

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Personal sketch of traditional Kay House with repeated element in the facade

6.3

APPLICATION AND ADAPTATION THE KAY HOUSE, FINAL DESIGN

D

uring my research I studied Haiti’s native building typologies, in particular three main types: the Gingerbread House, which was the subject of one of my early case studies, but also the more common housing typologies, the Kay House and Creole House. Certain aspects can be found that are consistent among all three housing types, these aspects were reaffirmed by further research as being significant spaces in Haitian domestic life. The first is the presence of a porch or verandah, which is an extremely important part of the Haitian home. The verandah is street facing, and traditionally it is the first part of the house that is built. Behind the verandah, Haitian homes have a living room which they call a Salle. The Salle is the main room of the home; it is somewhat open to the verandah, but there is a greater sense of privacy.

The differences between the Gingerbread house, Kay house, and Creole house are mostly distinctions based on socio-economics, but for the most part, the functions of the living spaces that make up this idea of home are visible across all the types. The advantage of the Kay House is that it is the least expensive to construct, and also it is the easiest type for the homeowner to manipulate. It’s one room wide and usually is expanded by the owner simply adding on rooms at the back as their family grows or their economic situation changes. This is the way that Haitians typically grow their homes, they do it themselves.

Early sketch of final floor plan, laying out ideas and dimensions

For these reasons, I decided to base my design on the Kay House. As an adaptation of the original design, it contains some innovation which is needed in Haiti, but I was careful not to deviate from the aspects of the original design which are important and basic to Haitian life. The final stage of my design is broken down in this section using systems diagrams, exploded axonometric building study, a solar study, and interior and exterior renderings.

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Main exterior view showing the front entry to the house (personal rendering)

EXPLODED AXONOMETRIC BUILDING DIAGRAM

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RAINWATER HARVESTING: north facade (NTS)

View of outdoor shower with recycled rainwater (personal rendering)

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View from Verandah into Salle, shows raised area for dry storage created by roof insert. Operable shutter here allow hot air to escape, while maintaining protection from the elements.

PASSIVE COOLING: section AA (NTS)

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SOLAR STUDY SOUTHERN FACADE

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7:00 AM

9:00 AM

3:00 PM

5:00 PM

12:00 PM

7:00 PM

View from side porch into house showing basic partition types with opportunity for homeowner to easily manipulate (personal rendering)

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Piti piti wazo fe nich li . . . . . . little by little, the bird builds his nest Haitian Proverb

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7.5

CLOSING THOUGHTS AND MOVING FORWARD

There is no end point, there are only deadlines. In further explorations my intent is to focus on the broader community. The goal of creating a “core” structure is that it is not just a foundation for a home with permanence, but it is the core of the community, and it’s usefulness is voided without the greater context of the community.

Especially in Haiti, community is highly important. Neighborhoods are formed organically, and the principles of climate and privacy and culture are equally relevant at the community level. I briefly explored development of the community which this shelter would fit into: this is what I plan to focus on as I continue to refine my thesis.

Personal sketches of possibilities for further exploration

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8.1

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ali Javan Forouzandeh, Mahmood Hosseini and Maryam Sadaghzadeh, eds. Guidelines for Design of Temporary Shelters After Earthquakes Based on Community Participation. The 14th World Conference on Earthquake Engineering. 12 – 17 Oct. 2008: Beijing. Print.

Architecture for Humanity, ed. Design Like You Give a Damn: Architectural Responses to Humanitarian Crises. New York: Metropolis Books, 2006. Print.

Arlikatti, Sudha and Simon Andrew. “Housing Design and Long-Term Recovery Processes in the Aftermath of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami.” Nat. Hazards Rev., 13.1 (2012): 34-44. Web. 5 Oct. 2012. <http://ascelibrary.org/action/ showAbstract?page=34&volume=13&issue=1&journalCode=nhrefo>.

Aquilino, Marie, ed. Beyond Shelter: Architecture and Human Dignity. New York: Metropolis Books, 2011. Print.

Baldwin, Ian. “Architectural Responses to the Haitian Earthquake Reveal Misplaced Motives.” Architectural Review.

227.1357 (2010): 21-22. Web. 13 Oct. 2012. <www.dec.org.uk>.

Daniels, William. Haiti’s Gingerbread Houses: Rediscovering an Architectural Movement That Could Help Shape the Caribbean Nation’s Reconstruction Efforts. TIME Photos. Web. 13 Oct. 2012. <www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,2004148,00.html>.

Duyne Barenstein, Jennifer. “The Home as the World: Tamil Nadu.” Beyond Shelter: Architecture and Human Dignity. Ed. Marie Aquilino. New York: Metropolis Books, 2011. 186-195. Print.

Dynes, Russel. “The Socio-Cultural and Behavioral Context of Disasters and Small Dwellings.” Disasters and the Small Dwelling: Perspectives for the UNIDNDR. Ed. Yasemin Aysan and Ian Davis. London: James & James Science Publishers Ltd., 1992. 67-71. Print.

Editorial. “Haiti’s Unnatural Disaster.” New York Times. 23 Aug. 2012, n. pag. Web. 23 Sep. 2012. <http://www.nytimes. com/2012/08/24/opinion/haitis-unnatural-disaster.html>.

Edwards, Jay. “The Origins of Creole Architecture.” Winterthur Portfolio. 29.2/3 (1994): 155-189. Web. 13 Oct. 2012. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/1181485>.

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Hallick, Jennifer. “Designing for Disaster: transitioning from house to home.” Diss. University of Manitoba, 2012. Web. <http://mspace.lib.umanitoba.ca/handle/1993/5257>.

Harris, Victoria. “Introduction: The Architecture of Risk.” Beyond Shelter: Architecture and Human Dignity. Ed. Marie Aquilino. New York: Metropolis Books, 2011. Print.

Hsu, Spencer. “Safety Lapses Raised Risks In Trailers for Katrina Victims.” Washington Post. 25 May 2008, n. pag. Web. 1 Oct. 2012. <www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/05/24/AR2008052401973_pf.html>.

Katz, Marisa. “The Gingerbread Reclamation.” Wall Street Journal. 28 Apr. 2011, n. pag. Web. 13 Oct. 2012. <online.wsj. com/article/SB10001424052748703551304576261440650733446.html>.

Kromm, Chris, and Sue Sturgis. “Hurricane Katrina and the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement.” (2008). Web. 6 Oct. 2012. <www.brookings.edu/~/media/events/2008/1/14%20disasters/0114_issKatrina>.

Nigg, Joanne, Barnshaw, John, and Torres, Manuel. “Hurricane Katrina and the Flooding of New Orleans: Emergent Issues in Sheltering and Temporary Housing.” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science v. 604.

(2006): 113-128. Sage Publications. Web. 8 Aug. 2012. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/25097784>.

Sawyer, Kem, and Meghan Dhaliwal. Personal Interview. 01 November 2012.

Sokol, David. “Haiti’s Gingerbread Houses Focus of Preservation Efforts.” Architectural Record. 01 Jun. 2011. Web. 13 Oct. 2012. <archrecord.construction.com/news/2011/06/110601-Haiti-Gingerbread.asp>.

Stohr, Kate. “100 Years of Humanitarian Design.” Design Like You Give a Damn: Architectural Responses to Humanitarian Crises. Ed. Architecture for Humanity. New York: Metropolis Books, 2006. Print.

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8.3

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Building Codes:

“Humanitarian Charter and Minimum Standards in Humanitarian Response.” The Sphere Handbook. N.p.. Web. 15 May 2013. <http://www.spherehandbook.org/en/how-to-use-this-chapter-2/>.

Haitian Domestic Life:

Stouter, Patti. “Haitian Wisdom for Aid Building.” (2010): n.pag. Web. 15 May 2013. <http://www.greenhomebuilding. com/pdf/Haitian Wisdom.pdf>.

Helpful Links on Bamboo:

http://architectureforhumanity.org/updates/2011-05-17-bamboo-in-haiti http://www.oreworld.org/bamboo.htm http://haitireconstruction.ning.com/page/bamboo-stop-erosion-in-steep

Helpful Links on Outdoor Cookstoves:

http://www.cleancookstoves.org/countries/america/haiti.html http://cookstoves.lbl.gov/haiti.php

Helpful Links on Rainwater Catchement:

http://www.dadychery.org/2011/11/05/rainwater-harvesting-reasonable-for-haiti/

Helpful Links on Sanitation, Sewers, and Latrines:

http://www.oursoil.org/ http://www.ecosanres.org/pdf_files/PM_Report/Appendix1_The_Arborloo_book_a.pdf

Other Projects for Inspiration:

http://openarchitecturenetwork.org/ http://www.solardecathlon.gov/

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