Malak Elwy Dissertation by PDF Uploads

Reviving Egypt’s Islamic architecture: an investigation into Hassan Fathy’s vernacular style, the roots of Islamic architecture and their applicability in contemporary society

180316412 Malak Elwy Dissertation tutor: Ben Bridgens Dissertation word count: 8,781 COVID statement: pg. 7

Table of Contents

List of Figures

Acknowledgements

Part 1

About the Author & COVID Statement

Introduction

Vernacular Technology in Egyptian Architecture

FEI in Residential and Small-Scale Commercial Architecture

Part 2

The Controversy of New Gourna

FEI in Urban Architecture

Part 3

Contemporary Approaches

Conclusion

Glossary

Bibliography

List of Figures Figure 1

Downtown Cairo, 1920s. (Egypt Cairo by Granger, n.d.)

Figure 2

Downtown Cairo, 1950s. (El-Khawaga, 2019)

Figure 3

Cairo, Present. (Streets, 2013)

Figure 4

Diagram indicating amount of heat lost and gained in a room. (author’s own, original from Fathy 1995)

Figure 5

Illustration comparing the sahrigi and the maymony mashrabiya. (author’s own, original from Fathy 1995)

Figure 6

Photograph of a malqaf in Cairo. (Khani, 2017)

Figure 7

Photograph of a shokhshekha in “Bayt al Suhaymi” in Cairo. (Abdelkader and Park 2018)

Figure 8

Illustration showing heat exchange in courtyard house. (Dunham 1960)

Figure 9

Section of the qa’a of Muhib Ad-Din Ashaf’i Al Muwaqi. (Fathy 1995)

Figure 10 Analysis of airspeed and airflow direction through elements of the qa’a working as a system. (Fathy 1995)

Figure 11 Manzal Al-Amasili location within an aerial view of Rasheed. (Google Maps)

Figure 12 Photographs of Manzal Al-Amasili’s exterior facades. (Unger 2003 and Metwally 2017)

Figure 13 Photograph of zaghrafa on ceiling in Manzal Al-Amasili. (El-Tokhy 2017)

Figure 14 Manzal Al-Amasili Front Elevation. (Kadry 1985)

Figure 15 Manzal Al-Amasili First Floor. (Kadry 1985)

Figure 16 Manzal Al-Amasili Ground Floor. (Kadry 1985)

Figure 17 Manzal Al-Amasili Second Floor. (Kadry 1985)

Figure 18 Location of Wekalet Ghoury within the dense urban environment of Cairo. (Google Maps)

Figure 19 Wekalet Ghoury Ground Floor. (Bureau 2016)

Figure 20 Wekalet Ghoury Second Floor. (Bureau 2016)

Figure 21 Wekalet Ghoury First Floor. (Bureau 2016)

Figure 22 Wekalet Ghoury Third Floor. (Bureau 2016)

Figure 23 Typical drawings for small apartment in Wekalet Ghoury. (Bureau 2016)

Figure 24 Wekalet Ghoury, photograph of the entrance facade. (Bureau 2016)

Figure 25 Wekalet Ghoury, photograph of the sahn. (Sailko 2015)

Figure 26 Original site plan of New Gourna. (Fathy 1946)

Figure 27 Aerial photograph of old Gourna. (Bertrand, n.d.)

Figure 28 Aerial photograph of New Gourna. (Google Maps)

Figure 29 Typical floor plans and elevation for a house cluster of two families in New Gourna. (Fathy 1946)

Figure 30 The completed portion of the original New Gourna site plan in detail. (Fathy 1946)

Figure 31 Photograph of modified original building in New Gourna. (Allen 2011)

Figure 32 Close-up of collapsed load bearing walls for a two storey residential building in New Gourna (Allen 2011)

Figure 33 Section and back elevation of houses in New Gourna, highlighting the relative building heights. (Fathy, n.d.) 38 Figure 34 Close-up drawing of New Gourna housing block. (Fathy 1946)

Figure 35 Illustrations of different iterations for madkhal monkaser. (Ibrahim 2017)

Figure 36 New Gourna Khan plan view in context. (Fathy 1946)

Figure 37 Photographs of Fayoum House. (Korachy 2017)

Figure 38 Section A: Illustrating the main entrance, inner court, summer living area and jacuzzi. (Korachy 2017)

Figure 39 Section B: Illustrating the summer terrace, the corridor, summer living area and bathroom. (Korachy 2017)

Figure 40 Fayoum House ground floor plan. (Korachy 2017)

Figure 41 Fayoum House first floor plan. (Korachy 2017)

Figure 42 Original Bayt al Suhaymi photographs. (My Year in Egypt 2012, Tripadvisor 2021)

Figure 43 Digital illustrations of how voids develop visual connectivity across planes. (El-Sayary 2011)

Figure 44 Digital illustrations of how void design allows for sufficient air circulation. (El-Sayary 2011)

Figure 45 Digital illustration of roof solar panels. (El-Sayary 2011)

Figure 46 Thermal map of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: Ground Floor. (El-Sayary 2011)

Figure 47 Thermal map of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: First Floor. (El-Sayary 2011)

Figure 48 Thermal map of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: Second Floor. (El-Sayary 2011)

Figure 49 Digital illustration of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: street view of the exterior facade. (El-Sayary 2011)

51 5

Acknowledgements

This dissertation would have gone in a completely different direction if I had done it on my own, and it would not have done the topic at hand justice. I am most grateful for the many hours my best friend, Mahmoud Shash, spent translating and explaining every Arabic text I needed. He sat patiently with me and studied the topic as if it was his own, while listening to my endless thoughts and questions about Hassan Fathy and the roots of Islam in architecture. He guided me towards researching valuable resources to produce a dissertation which truly grasps the complexity of the topic as much as possible. I am also thankful for the support of my tutor, Ben Bridgens, who encouraged my research and helped organise all my thoughts into a clear, concise sequence to ensure clarity throughout. I would also like to thank the architects I have interviewed, including Samer El-Sayary, Mariam Korachy, Dr. Neveen Hamza and Leila El-Wakil for bringing light to concepts that were then unfamiliar to me, but helped shape my perspective of the topic from different points of view. Lastly, I would like to express my gratitude to my parents who constantly supported my research. They were fascinated I took so much interest in something deeply rooted not only in our history, but our religion, and how eager I am to revisit what has gradually been forgotten in today’s society.

Part 1

“the convenience of modern forms and materials makes their use attractive in the short term. In the eagerness to become modern, many people have abandoned their traditional ageold solutions to the problems presented by the local climate and instead have adopted what is commonly labelled ‘international architecture,’ based on the use of high-technology materials such as the reinforced concrete frame and glass wall” (Fathy, 1995: 8)

About the Author & COVID Statement

My whole life I only knew one home. I was born and raised in Cairo, Egypt, and only recently when I started university did I stay abroad for the longest intervals. Over the past 20 years, I have observed how the hierarchical gaps in society have only gotten bigger. I am now old enough to notice these trends as issues within a monopoly of large firms which are money driven and funded through large commercial projects certainly not meant for those struggling financially. I realised this during an internship I had last year where we were financed millions of Egyptian pounds to create a fashion district as an extension to a pre-existing mall. A huge part of the problem is the inadequacy of proper architecture which is efficient, low waste and sustainable. Lack of sufficient housing leads to additional costs in the long run towards health, infrastructure, education and basic necessities, all of which only make the poor man’s life more difficult than it needs to be. I pursued this dissertation to recognise the roots of the problem and hopefully a potential solution to remedy the inequitable division of architecture in Egypt. My initial response to the current architectural methods were that they were ineffective and had no contextual response. They are copycats of more successful countries in the pursuit of appearing developed and technologically advanced. I feel, however, that it is much simpler to mimic those who are progressing faster towards modernity rather than celebrating heritage and historical crafts. The beliefs Hassan Fathy, the Egyptian architect I will be looking into, adopted were difficult to refute. However, to achieve clarity, both ends of the spectrum needed to be analysed to establish grounds where both the westernised Egyptians and those still intact with their heritage can be satisfied while still constructing low-cost and energy efficient buildings based on traditional values. Working during COVID did not have much of a negative impact on this dissertation. Having to return back to Egypt during the pandemic was in my favour, as I was surrounded by all the resources I needed that aren’t available anywhere but in Cairo. I had access to the only collection of Hassan Fathy’s archives specifically donated to the American University in Cairo. Other publications, whether hard or soft copies, also only available in Egypt, were now readily available at little to no cost. However, I do wish I was able to visit the case studies as planned. When I was still in Newcastle, working in isolation meant I had more time in my schedule to fit virtual interviews because less time was wasted during the day. Although it was difficult to focus as much from home, writing my dissertation about my culture in my environment drove my passion a bit more. Instead of writing this dissertation to discuss an observation, it has become an opportunity for me to bring light to a topic that may not be familiar to the reader and educate them about it as best as I can.

Introduction It is disappointing seeing how Egyptians no longer depend on our heritage to satisfy contemporary desires. Egyptians have always had the ability to build thermally efficient, affordable homes from the earth upwards (Figure 1). These design methods came from a vast field of knowledge understanding and teachings of Islam’s precise rulings and its ambiguous smaller matters, known as fiqh al Islam. These then tie in with architecture, which combine into what is known as Fiqh al Emara al Islameya (FEI). It is how the core principles of Islam are applied as a way of life through architecture in the Arab World. Not only does it focus on the needs of the individual, but how it will impact the needs of the community on a social and cultural level and its effect on core values of privacy, respect and humbleness. The most critical core value I will be referring to frequently is privacy, known as khososeya. However, in FEI, khososeya can’t be limited to a single English term. It is an overarching set of ethical principles which dictates the execution of every design feature, whether on an urban scale or down to a single residential unit, to guarantee the collective right of privacy through sound, sight and comfort. Now, Egyptians build costly concrete, brick and curtain wall buildings which turn houses into exposed greenhouses during the summer and freezers during the winter. The population has become caught up with the “westernised high-tech future” that they forgot they are not part of the western world. Our cultural footprint was lost in search for an identity that can never belong to us. Our architecture is no longer a response to our climate, but a copy from completely different one. Egypt underwent industrial and architectural changes first ignited by the rule of Muhammad Ali in the 1800s, who attempted to drive the highly traditional country towards modernity in hopes of pushing it to reach the same advancements as Europeans nations. Under his rule, “[Egypt’s] architecture was designed by foreign architects and exhibited alien features” (El-Shorbay 2001: 20). He was the first of all precedent rulers to impose European lifestyles by creating European style school systems and educational trips abroad for Egyptian elites. With travel, the elites brought back foreign architectural movements, primarily the movement towards modernity (Vatikiotis 1985: 58). This was the beginning of the deterioration of Egyptian architecture. After Muhammad Ali’s reign, his grandson, Khedive Ismail, aspired to have Egypt associated with Europe, not Africa. The European lifestyle became prominent during his rule between 1863-1879 through the arts, architecture (Figure 2), and technological advancements to name a few (El-Shorbagy 2001: 20). These changes were driven by the desire for an evolution within infrastructure, which inherently encouraged European firms to establish partners and branches within Cairo around 1903. European influence was no longer a temporary guest, but rather coexisted and integrated itself into anything it could make its way to (Ibrahim 2017: 21). After years of experiencing an identity crisis, it seems that Egypt’s cultural celebration has been diluted. Buildings are no longer works of art but rather mass produced blocks of concrete (Figure 3). Egyptian architect Hassan Fathy, born in the year 1900, studied this issue throughout his career to propose a solution. He trusted how the local climate was analysed through years of trial and error for centuries to maximise efficiency. He grew up seeing the process of 12

Egypt adopting European ways of life. Because of this, he believed in looking back in time and observing Egypt’s tradition “through the use of construction techniques and specific materials, [and] developing an unseen opportunity for a much needed Egyptian architectural identity” (Guittart 2014: 168). This dissertation will investigate the functional purposes of Egyptian vernacular design features and how they correspond to FEI. Two urban residential projects in Egypt and Fathy’s most controversial project, New Gourna Village, will be analysed. I will ultimately research contemporary approaches in an attempt to reach a conclusion as to what path Egypt’s architecture can take for its future.

Figure 2 Downtown Cairo, 1950s

Figure 1 Downtown Cairo, 1920s

Figure 3 Cairo, Present 13

Vernacular Technology in Egyptian Architecture

The climate in Egypt is warm, dry and occasionally humid across most seasons. The magnitude of heat exchange is greater than anywhere else, so every element in Figure 4 has to be taken into account (Dunham 1960: 663) as thermal comfort is of great significance. The fallaheen - farmers - and bedouins spent centuries perfecting their construction techniques to regulate interior temperatures efficiently all year round. Fathy investigated their methods and reintroduced them into his designs to promote their practicality and low cost. It is seen that each feature served as a decorative element, when really each feature was ingrained in the functionality and internal comfort of the house. By combining natural sources of energy, much greater harmony is created with the “human physiological functions than such modern means as electrically powered desert coolers and air-conditioners” (Fathy 1996: 37). Contemporary architects place a window or curtain wall in a room for ventilation, natural light and nice views. Unfortunately, our climatic barriers need a system that can not be reduced to a mere window. Fathy re-introduced architectural elements which, when combined together, form a coherent system that maximises interior thermal comfort. We can only understand the effectiveness of these elements by recognising they work hand in hand, and not independent of one another. This chapter will discuss the functions of the mashrabiya, the shokhshekha, the malqaf, the qa’a and the durqa’a and how they all play a role in establishing proper lighting, ventilation and temperature regulation. The mashrabiya is a lattice wooden structure which acts as the window. It is most commonly made with khashab khart, known as turned wood (Azab 1997: 73). Without any additional adhesive, the mashrabiya was made out of multiple small pieces expertly dovetailed together to protect the lattice screen’s integrity. According to Fathy, the mashrabiya serves five functions: controlling the passage of light, controlling air flow, reducing the temperature of the air current, increasing the humidity of the air current and ensuring privacy (Fathy 1996: 47). The mashrabiya was a series of openings that varied in size depending on the diameter of the baramiq, known as balusters. Baramiq soften the entry of light so as to not dazzle those inside. The lattice structure, however, is still capable of letting in enough sunlight to keep the interior space lit up without permitting an overwhelming amount of solar radiation. The size of the interstices - the spaces between the baramiq - varied depending on the purpose of the mashrabiya. If the mashrabiya is placed at the south facade, where sunlight enters directly at large angles with high intensity, the mashrabiya would exhibit a maymoony style screen which is made of small interstices and large baramiq as shown in Figure 5. This screen is also placed at lower levels so that residents are not seen by outsiders in order to protect their khososeya. Mashrabiyas with larger interstices and smaller baramiq, known as sahrigi pattern, diffuse less light and are placed at the north facade where direct sunlight is not a problem. These are normally placed above eye level so residents are not seen by the public, in accordance with FEI. Regardless of the size of the openings, air flow is not restricted. The wood’s porosity increases the humidity of the air passing through, cooling it upon entry, and therefore establishing a comfortable interior temperature. In order to maximise the benefits of both the maymoony and sahrigi mashrabiya 14

Figure 4 Diagram indicating amount of heat lost and gained in a typical room.

baramiq interstice

Figure 5 Illustration comparing the sahrigi and the maymony style mashrabiya screens according to interstice size between the baramiq. 15

without compromising air flow and reduced glare and solar radiation, the mashrabiya was often made in two parts. The upper half would be made of a sahrigi pattern, while the lower half would be made of the maymoony pattern. Putting the mashrabiya in context, Cairo is a dense urban environment of crowded apartment buildings. Neighbouring buildings prevent proper air flow, so a malqaf is implemented. It is an essential device which catches the wind from a high point where it is cooler and stronger, rather than depending solely on the mashrabiya for ventilation. (Fathy 1996: 56). The malqaf, known as the wind-catcher, portrayed in Figure 6, was created for air movement and ventilation without the need for a window. Due to the high temperatures in Egypt, curtain walls and windows will create interiors with no thermal comfort. Curtain walls would also go against FEI, as they would negatively impact the neighbour’s privacy from one another and not fulfil khososeya. Windows will also provide a greater cost to the builder as they would have to over-compensate with expensive HVAC systems to counteract the immense solar gain and loss. A single glass wall on its own, if exposed to direct sun light, can admit at least 2,000 kg/cal per hour (Fathy, 1972: 10). So, the architect must design a building with minimal windows, and if any, they must be very small. However, this would reduce natural light and views to the outside, which would hinder how well the building serves its functional and decorative purposes. To counter this, the malqaf was created for air circulation and ventilation. It is useful as well in reducing sand and dust coming in from prevailing winds, which are a problem in Egypt (Fathy 1995: 56), because its screen adopts the lattice structure of the mashrabiya (Fathy, 1972: 10). Positioning of the malqaf is critical. It can not be placed in whichever orientation, it must be placed at the highest point in the house, at the northern end of the qa’a - the central hall of the house - facing the coming wind from the North and Northwest (Fathy 1970: 143). If the malqaf were to be placed the opposite direction facing South, there would no longer be air flow but rather air suction (Hamza 2020). Neighbouring buildings also play a role in its positioning. It is safer to assume the region is densely populated considering the socio-economic class makeup of Cairo. In this case, nearby buildings can greatly alter the direction of wind flow, and thus need to be taken into account to position the malqaf so it can fulfil its function. Although it provides a cooling effect, the malqaf ’s function would not be sufficient without a shokhshekha, known as the skylight. The shokhshekha, shown in Figure 7, is an elevated dome with small windows along the perimeter of a squinch for light entry. These small windows are screened with the mashrabiya lattice structure which provides adequate ventilation and lighting to the space it is set above, allowing the shokhshekha to simultaneously function as a warm air absorber. As cool air enters the space through the malqaf, it replaces the warm air within which rises, whether it be natural thermal energy or body heat. If the warm air rises and can’t escape, the interior space will overheat. The shokhshekha filters out the warm air through the small windows (Samy 2019). The air within the space now properly circulates within the unified system of the mashrabiya, malqaf and the shokhshekha.

Figure 6 Photograph of a malqaf in Cairo, illustrating lattice structure and placement on the roof.

Figure 7 Photograph of a shokhshekha in “Bayt al Suhaymi” in Cairo as though you were to look at it from the bottom upwards. Highlights the small screened windows that allow for ventilation and lighting.

Similarly to how the malqaf has a dedicated location in the house, so does the shokhshekha. In order to preserve and maximise their functions when placed together, both are situated most commonly above the durqa’a, a small recessed interior courtyard. The durqa’a rests in the centre of the qa’a which shelters the durqa’a, malqaf, shokhshekha and mashrabiya. Its ceiling is raised high above the rest of the house where the shokhshekha rests. The qa’a (Figure 9) is the central hall of the house which hosts an iwan - hall - on either side of the durqa’a. The qa’a is essentially a progression of the initial sahn - open courtyard - which was custom amongst the bedouins. As they lived in the desert, the only opening they could have without impacting their comfort would be upwards. Any openings on either side of the house would be a disadvantage: dust and sand would constantly disturb their peace. They kept an opening in their ceilings where they could see the sky, as shown in Figure 8, and so any heat from the ground or the walls can be redirected upwards, cooling the interior space (Dunham 1960: 666). The connection established with the sky was fairly important, as Arabs tend to incorporate connections to nature within their design whether it be through technical features or views. Since this dissertation is mainly referring to residents within the city, an opening in the ceiling would damage their khososeya, and is not practical. Therefore, the shokhshekha was developed covering the ceiling as a resemblance of the sky (Fathy 1971: 16). We can observe an example of a qa’a in the sectional analysis in Figure 10. The air flows in and is cooled from the malqaf and mashrabiya. It is then directed downwards towards the durqa’a, where the warmed air rises and makes its way through the shokhshekha, and the cycle repeats. Each component has its function, but they all come together in a central space to complement and enhance their respective functions.

Figure 8 Illustration showing heat exchange from how cold air on the roof sinks into the sahn at night(left), while collected cold air from the protected sahn cools the house during the day (right). 18

shokhshekha

malqaf

iwan

iwan durqa’a

Figure 9 Section of the qa’a of Muhib Ad-Din Ashaf’i Al Muwaqi.

Figure 10 Analysis of airspeed and airflow direction through elements of the qa’a working as a system. 19

FEI in Residential and Small-Scale Commercial Architecture

Irrespective of scale, when FEI is incorporated into design, the same values are shared between residential and commercial buildings. Both of the case studies described below, Manzal Al-Amasili and Wekalet Ghoury, employ these values equally as effectively despite difference in scale and location. Manzal Al-Amasili is a residential home built in 1808, located in a port city left of the Nile Delta called Rasheed, east of Alexandria (Kadry 1985). This is not one of Hassan Fathy’s works, as his were mainly private villas on the outskirts of the city, so they are not the best examples of what could actually be applied in dense urban environments. Rasheed’s built environment (Figure 11) is similar to that of Cairo, and so is an appropriate case study. It was built with locally sourced red brick and wood similar to its neighbouring buildings (Figure 12). In interior

Figure 11 Manzal Al-Amasili location within an aerial view of Rasheed. This site map is emphasizing the dense urban environment of the area as well as the site’s proximity next to the Nile, similar to Cairo’s plan. 20

Figure 12 Photographs of Manzal Al-Amasili’s exterior facades. 21

spaces, ceilings were decorated with zaghrafa - ornamenting (Figure 13). This is the eastern alternative for grand western chandeliers, and are a low-cost, humble way for those of lower socio-economic class to still live in beautiful architecture (Fathy 1971: 13). In the ground floor plan, Figure 15, guests enter a closed off reception. They are directed up the stairs and are met with a door to their right to enter the sala - living room - on the first floor. To maintain FEI, it must be designed to redirect guests from any rooms other than the sala. Women can continue up to the second floor, but not male guests. The sala takes the role of the qa’a: it is central and all rooms are connected to it. It is a large space, making any other smaller spaces less inviting due to the narrow hallways that lead to them. In the second floor plan, Figure 17, at the south end there are two dolab aghany: enclosed balconies where women sit and listen to conversations below as they could not sit with male guests to protect their khososeya. These are no longer applicable because this is no longer as great of a social concern. Since this is inside an apartment building, there is no space for a shokhshekha or malqaf, which were more common in villas similar to those Fathy designed. All windows are mashrabiyas as illustrated in Figures 12 and 14. Respecting FEI, at the ground level, the mashrabiya is placed above eye level so no outsiders can peak through, and uses a sahrigi screen as it is also the least private floor in the house. The first floor mashrabiyas exhibit both the sahrigi and maymoony screen. The top floor is the most private, as that is where women mainly reside, so all windows have the maymoony structure. Within this home, the mashrabiya and sala served the most critical roles amongst the other features discussed, as they were central towards protecting khososeya and views within the house. From how the mashrabiya is implemented, it ensures that any outsider will not be able to see the activities happening indoors. A maymoony pattern is set in place so the residents can see outdoors quite clearly, and the sahrigi pattern is incorporated correctly and not at a low level to permit ample light without exposing those inside. These design features could easily be incorporated in contemporary society to replace windows which can be too exposed in dense urban areas. Manzal Al-Amasili has proven that the Egyptian vernacular style and FEI can be implemented in any household, whether in a very dense urban environment or in private residential areas such as isolated compounds or districts.

Figure 13 Photograph of ceiling zaghrfa in Manzal Al-Amasili. 22

toilet stable

Figure 14 Manzal Al-Amasili Front Elevation

toilet

Figure 15 Manzal Al-Amasili Ground Floor

toilet

kitchen

room

living room

storage

Figure 16 Manzal Al-Amasili First Floor

living room

enclosed balcony

Figure 17 Manzal Al-Amasili Second 23

The second case study, Wekalet Ghoury, is a commercial and residential hybrid located in the heart of Cairo (Figure 18). The first two levels were public trade spots, and the top three levels were strictly private residential spaces. A wekala is a small commercial plot with a central sahn, a courtyard meant for greater lighting, ventilation and temperature regulation (Ibrahim 2017: 86). They used to be government owned buildings placed outside commercial districts, but when the economy started to weaken, they were given to the population as residential and commercial buildings and began to flourish within the city (Alaa 2016: 5). It sheltered a diverse range of crafts and became a central place of gathering. Figure 18 L o c at i o n of Wekalet Ghoury within the dense urban environment of Cairo. This site plan illustrates the built environment of the case study.

Despite its size, Wekalet Ghoury did not extend beyond five levels so it does not rise higher than surrounding buildings; it fits within context without boasting superiority through height. Doing so protected hoqooq al gar - the neighbour’s rights - as it does not overpower them (Alaa 2016: 7). It was built with the same materials as its surroundings: locally sourced stone and wood which were not overly ornamented to preserve its humbleness (Alaa 2016: 7). This ties in with FEI as it prevents takabor, known as vanity (Azab 1997: 70). The wekala had three different entrances: the main, the tannery and the residential, each labelled in Figure 19. The main entrance is the largest at the centre of the north facade, while the residential entrance is the smallest and isolated to the far left. It was made to be the least attractive so outsiders don’t feel tempted to enter, thus protecting the resident’s khososeya. To further preserve their khososeya, smaller, closed off windows were placed at the exterior while larger mashrabiyas faced the enclosed sahn (Alaa 2016: 11). The mashrabiyas of each level indicate their level of privacy. On the first residential level, the mashrabiya is a sahrigi screen as that is normally where only men occupy the house, while on the second residential 24

dehlez

sahn

residents tannery

main entrance

Figure 19 Wekalet Ghoury Ground Floor

Figure 21 Wekalet Ghoury Second Floor

Figure 20 Wekalet Ghoury First Floor

Figure 22 Wekalet Ghoury Third Floor 25

level they are maymoony screen to respect the khososeya of the residents when they are in their bedrooms (Figure 24). All spaces face inwards to the sahn. Because it was a fairly large space, as seen in Figure 25, this is also where everyone gathered together to pray and use the space for istikrar serenity (Ibrahim 2017: 90). Once inside the sahn, the ground and first floors are open. A dehlez - corridor - wraps around the perimeter and is visible from the archways. To reach the second floor, which is the first residential level, each household had their own entrance and private staircase to respect their khososeya. This is where the male resident could invite other traders to negotiate deals. The second residential level is where the women mainly stayed. All residential spaces were at least two floors so the woman is not revealed to male guests. These duplexes were very convenient because you could only reach upper interior spaces through the inside of the house and not the outside for privacy, a key link to FEI. Due to the advancements of technology and online shopping, wekalat are no longer needed now as they were back then. Rather than abandoning or demolishing the building, it underwent ea’adet tawzeef, known as re-purposing, and began hosting festivals as a celebration of heritage (Alaa 2016: 6). 26

Figure 23 Typical drawings for small apartment in Wekalet Ghoury. The drawings illustrate, from top to bottom, a section of both levels, the ground floor and the first floor.

Figure 24 Wekalet Ghoury, photograph of the entrance Figure 25 Wekalet Ghoury, photograph of the facade. It demonstrates the privacy given to residents sahn, illustrating the interior architectural language facing the street as well as how grand the main entrance is. differentiating between the public ground floor marketplace and the private residential levels above.

Both case studies are examples of residential and commercial buildings that were placed in the heart of the city and show not only the practicality of Egyptian vernacular design features, but how they maintain core principles in accordance with FEI. Each level had mashrabiyas implemented according to level of privacy required. The building materials were locally sourced and in no way boasted wealth or superiority amongst its surroundings. They were humble and respected neighbouring buildings. The designs also gave women their much needed khososeya which was expected at the time. Keeping the women separated from male guests is no longer as great a concern now, but is still a concern. The arrangement of individual spaces, notably like in Manzal Al-Amasili, can still be implemented in modern-day society to preserve the necessary khososeya and direct guests away from more private spaces.

Part 2

“It’s painful. Ever so upsetting. And not just Egypt. Most Eastern countries have been dazzled, and blinded, by the glitter of Western civilisation. We’ve abandoned the creativity of our forefathers, the inspiration of our environment, and the inventions designed to serve us.” (Fathy, 1991A: 144)

Figure 26 Original site plan of New Gourna. Only about a fifth of the original plan, marked with a white border, was complete due to multiple opposing factors. 31

The Controversy of New Gourna Considered Fathy’s most controversial project, New Gourna Village was the mass project that would change our point of view on vernacular architecture and its place in contemporary society. It would be the turning point in environmentally conscious housing with improved living standards and infrastructure in an inexpensive way (Steele 1997). This was Fathy’s opportunity to reject mass produced fired red brick and concrete, and instead succeed by using mud-brick, which was highly available due to proximity to the Nile. However, New Gourna was never fully completed, and because of this, there was a notion that Fathy’s style is impractical and does not work as it was built using “non-industrial materials and traditional skills.” (Fathy 1973: 149). The race to become more western diluted the idea of restoring our architectural identity through our culture, tradition and most importantly FEI. The project began in 1945. Fathy was commissioned by the Egyptian Department of Antiquities to design a village meant for the relocation of those settled in Old Gourna and to facilitate tourism development (Allen 2011: 6). Their relocation was set in place in hopes to establish a new economy, where the new methods and materials produced could increase industrialisation (Guitart 2014: 167). For many years, Old Gourna was fairly secluded as a small village opposite of Luxor. The site chosen for New Gourna was located about four kilometres away from Old Gourna and was chosen specifically for its proximity to tourist traffic and to avoid isolation (Guitart 2014: 171). The Gourniis were not just a single group of people, but five tribes: The Hassassna, the Atteyat, the Horobat, the Ghabat and the Baerat. Each tribe was placed next to amenities related to them in quarters meant to preserve their ways of life. For example, the Horobat, meaning warriors, were active, and so were placed next to the marketplace and crafts school (Fathy 1973: 71). To house them, Fathy built from the earth upwards using mud-brick. This was meant to make the village more environmentally appropriate with materials readily available, and in turn reduce the overall cost of housing. Fathy designed each house in its own way depending on the varying needs of their respective families. Two different floor plan arrangements can be observed in Figure 29. New Gourna included a range of amenities. The original plan (Figure 26) was meant to be around five times that of what was completed (Figure 30), before the project came to a halt in 1947. It revolved around crooked streets, uneven layouts and narrow roads within residential zones. Essential amenities including the mosque, village hall, crafts centre and sporting club were central. Fathy placed the souq, known as the marketplace, in its own corner to the far-right, which deviates slightly from the norm where it is placed at the heart of the community for easy access. This was a decision taken in order to respect the terms of FEI with a slight alteration, which will be discussed in the next chapter.

Figure 27 Aerial photograph of old Gourna, showing how spaced out houses are from one another in tribal areas.

Figure 28 Aerial photograph of New Gourna, showing the difference in spatial layout and context compared to Old Gourna. 33

Figure 29 Typical floor plans and elevation for a house cluster of two families in New Gourna.

The first problem with the relocation of the Gourniis was Fathy’s inability to recreate an environment for their daily activities and societal traditions. The tribes lived almost in rivalry in Old Gourna. Fathy designed New Gourna in blocks divided by tribal hierarchy with only two main roads which was not enough compared to the divisions in Old Gourna (Figure 27), and led to social tensions (Dávid 2016: 99). It seemed as well, after analysing the case study, that Fathy applied what he practiced for private villas and implemented them into the design but with mud-brick to reduce costs. After interviewing Dr. Neveen Hamza, professor and researcher at Newcastle University, she brought to light how “Fathy, with good intentions, did not tackle the social element at hand. He was working with construction style ethics: ‘I’m the engineer I know what is to be done,’ but the residents were diggers and they had their own social expectations.”(Hamza 2020). Not much of an alternative was provided, but rather they were given a market which also acts as a trading hub in hopes of changing their ways to become more like fallaheen (Damluji, 2018: 216). The failure of New Gourna, therefore, was in part tied to the Fathy’s “inability to understand the world view of the villagers he was working with,” which regrettably compromised his intentions (Hamza 2020). The Gourniis were also a traditional community. Once they settle in one house, that same house is meant to accommodate for future generations. It was traditionally common, in this case, that families build vertically to accommodate the additional family members. When Fathy designed these houses aside one another and with qobas - domes - and vaulted roofs, he prevented them from expanding with ease. The loose layout of Old Gourna permitted easy expansions horizontally and occasionally vertically (Dávid 2016: 99). The vaults themselves, although aesthetically pleasing and allow for more air ventilation, are extremely costly to build, so they were fairly out of context when Fathy placed them in a village for

Figure 30 The completed portion of the original New Gourna site plan in detail. 35

those of lower socio-economic class. In his writing of The Cairene House, Fathy states how “the chief obstacle in peasant house building is the roof. It needs building materials that take tension and bending, like wood and steel, which are too expensive for the majority of peasants,” (Fathy 1970: 146) and that if done with just mud-brick, it must be made expertly so that the vault can work in compression and not collapse. Fathy’s craftsmen worked with a single tool because their “adze is enough,” (Fathy 1973: 9), but it seems they greatly underestimated the complexity of the dome structure, which is why they are now collapsing. In the Nubian culture, where Fathy learned how to make these structures, the domes were restricted to just religious purposes. Using them casually within housing automatically deemed them out of place in addition to being costly and inadequately constructed. The second problem is that the ashlar limestone building foundations and infrastructure lacked durability in New Gourna’s specific climate (Figure 32). Sixty years later and the foundations are disintegrating and need constant repair at least every 3 months, according to a New Gourna resident, which in turn costs a fortune (World Monuments Fund 2010). The land on which New Gourna was built is in a hot and humid climate, and groundwater wasn’t too deep below them. With humidity, Fathy’s foundation stones gradually dissolved. Load bearing walls are no longer structurally efficient due to increasing groundwater, which “increased the capillary rise of moisture and salt migration, contributing to the disaggregation of

Figure 31 Photograph of modified original building in New Gourna. 36

Figure 32 Close-up of collapsed load bearing walls for a two storey residential building in New Gourna.

limestone within foundations,” (UNESCO 2011: 38) and thus the obstruction of the mud-brick’s integrity. The residents then resort to repairing the foundations themselves with fired brick or concrete (Figure 31), despite knowing it would impact Fathy’s temperature regulation, as that is what they found more resistant to their climate (World Monuments Fund 2010). In addition to the degrading foundations, a disease known as bilharzia, typically infested itself particularly in areas of poor hygiene and local water bodies. To tackle this problem, Fathy planned to build an artificial lake so as to protect the residents from the parasite found in the Nile and other natural bodies of water (Fathy 1973: 104). This lake, however, would not have been enough as the problem itself was greatly due to poor infrastructure (Allen 2011: 35). If there had been an adequate sewage system, this would have not only tackled health-related concerns, but mitigated the groundwater conditions which have been compromising Fathy’s project. The final few problems were because he was not supported. Fathy, despite being a romanticist, saw potential in our most marginalised social group and their capabilities. In return he faced slander from the Gourniis who also resisted their relocation. Their lifestyle was comfortable, and it was even harder to relocate because of their ancestral connection to Old Gourna. To ensure they would like their new homes, Fathy sent out a young social worker, Hussein Sery, who interviewed around two hundred of the families to find out which specifications they seek for their homes, but families grow and change overtime. He was dedicated to creating the perfect village for them, but there’s more to architecture than that. He missed the social aspect behind their transition, and planned a village meant to suite that climate and society in that time period, and that time period only. When Fathy built a theatre for the residents, it was fairly out of place. It became run down and was restored and closed by the government for foreign visitors and American tourists (Damluji, 2018, p. 218). The theatre ended up being nothing but financial and social gain through tourism for the consumerist system Fathy was fighting against. New Gourna was never destined to be a long-term solution, but a model of what could potentially be done with mud-brick. Fathy himself recognised the failure of New Gourna, but he also brought to light how “because New Gourna was never finished, the whole theory of mud-brick construction and the attitude towards rural housing by the use of non-industrial materials and traditional skills was condemned as cranky and impracticable” (Fathy 1973: 149). Nobody was there after him to keep his practice. According to Mariam Korachy, an Egyptian architect interviewed for a case study in Part 3, noted that “Fathy did research, published works in great detail, provided so much information yet he needed people to carry forward his ideologies.” (Korachy 2020). It would be unjust to say the attempt would have resulted in failure regardless due to it being made of mud-brick. Wrong or right is not something easily evaluated in architecture as the topic itself is highly subjective. An attempt was made to prove a point, but the attempt itself was never complete and so never functioned according to its full potential. New Gourna is a lesson learned that could have been adapted over the years, but was set aside and existed as a topic of debate for decades after. Despite the slander and controversy, Fathy built himself a house in New Gourna where he lived for 15 years. 37

FEI in Urban Architecture After studying the root causes New Gourna’s failure, I was more fascinated in critically analysing not only the practicality of his thought process and designs, but to what extent they actually adhere to FEI. A residential block in New Gourna and the site plan as a whole will be examined for both a micro and macro scale analysis. In the community there are three types of roads: share’ ‘am - highways, share’ ‘am khas - main roads, and share’ khas - residential roads (Azab, 1997: 26, 27). Highways have zero privacy, and their activities are dictated by the government. Main roads have slightly more privacy and circulate around residential and commercial areas, and their activities are dictated by city council. The residential roads are the most private ones. They consist of alleys and walkways designed for man and the residents are the ones who decide on what happens in these roads. Communities used to be made of tribes, known as qaba’el (singular: qabela), so the alleyways between residential buildings were not only walkways but social spaces for a qabela to mingle. Fathy designed New Gourna in districts for the qaba’el to maintain their social arrangements. He took into account the customs of the residents on a traditional level and kept them separated to prevent disputes amongst one another. The housing block plan in Figure 35 is composed of five houses for five separate families, and each enclosed looking inwards towards a hara, a long alleyway. This is where mingling would take place between residents in private, respecting their khososeya. Although each house is facing one another, none of the entrances face each other. Assuming they were, they would need to follow a principle connected to khososeya known as tanqeeb where the neighbours can not see the activities happening beyond one’s entrance. To do so, a madkhal monkaser (Figure 34) is implemented. It guarantees the necessary level of privacy for a home and a sense of comfortable settlement for the residents, where any activity taking place beyond the entrance is unseen. Its purpose is to provide security from intrusions through sight and curiosity of outsiders. Regrettably, the modern architect when designing a home aims for maximised space, and so disregards the madkhal monkaser along with its significance in FEI and psychological impact on the residents (Ibrahim 2017: 84). Fathy designed each house with a madkhal monkaser in addition to not having the entrances face one another,

Figure 33 Section and back elevation of houses in New Gourna, highlighting the relative building heights. 38

Figure 34 Illustrations of different iterations for a madkhal monkaser.

Figure 35 Close-up drawing of housing block in New Gourna meant to house five separate families. Legend translation: House contents 1. Courtyard 2. Reception room 3. Loggia, living and service 4. Wash-room 5. Cattle barn 39

effectively maintaining khososeya. Fathy also kept building heights similar, so none are superior over the other as shown in Figure 33. It is evident that Fathy had a clear understanding of FEI on a residential level. Within the community are several amenities, including the souq - market - and the khan - a residential building with shops at the ground floor. Their placement critical, as they dictate whether or not respect towards khososeya and hoqooq al gar have been achieved. The purpose of a souq is to ensure that all essential goods are easily accessible within close proximity (Azab, 1997: 55). Souqs normally specialise in certain categories (fish, metalworkers, perfumes, etc.), or a group of specialties within the same category (beef, fish and chicken, for example). If a trader’s products may cause any disturbance whether through smell or sound, they are grouped near the outskirts of the neighbourhood out of respect for FEI. In the New Gourna plan, Fathy provides a single souq at the edge of the village when normally the souq is central. Instead, he placed a khan at the heart of New Gourna (Figure 36). A khan is very similar to a wekala, but offers a greater range of activities and diversity of merchants, specifically foreign ones. It is a temporary residence for travellers free of charge as a way of giving back to the community and encouraging the spread of knowledge, whereas the wekala is commonly where the owners of the ground floor shops live with their family. For Fathy, the khan was to encourage an apprenticeship way of teaching where the craftsmen would not feel intimidated by potential competition from his students (Fathy 1973: 65). It was meant to serve New Gourna as a hub for trade, crafts and money flow. Placing it at the heart of the village allowed it to be symbolic of the potentially robust activities it can host to support the community. It also meant that the products of each craftsman could be easily accessed due to its location. At first glance it appears it might cause a disturbance to the residents to its East, but to the West of the khan are public buildings and a share’ ‘am, so its positioning is appropriate. However, since the khan is traditionally used to invite foreigners and international traders as well as store cargo (Ayoub 2014), that is where I feel the error lies. Placing an amenity which encourages traffic especially from outsiders, would disturb the peace of the community and hoqooq al gar (Azab 1997: 62). It also may compromise the khososeya of the residents as outsiders will constantly have access to the village. The community at hand is tribal and territorial. Having foreigners within the territory is disruptive. It is also out of context and unrealistically ambitious for Fathy to present them with a khan when the concept was never introduced to them. Fathy also built them a theatre which was an extraneous amenity. Theatrical performances rooted from Greek traditions. Fathy’s intention was that it would be a place to gather and perform to expand the sense of community (Damluji 2018). However, because it is far from traditional and did not respond to their context, nobody used it. Because New Gourna was never complete, the khan became derelict and only the front section is now used as offices for government agencies and vehicle parking (Allen 2011: 48). Contrary to its intended function, the khan did not stimulate any sense of craftsmanship. It is an idea Fathy implemented from studies of wealthy merchants, making them out of place and forced into disuse (Guitart 2014: 172). The souq then got closed off because the residents found no use for it, so it underwent ea’adet tawzeef and is now used as storage. This happened a few times in New Gourna, especially with the houses, indicating how, culturally, Fathy’s design may have included all the amenities on the checklist, but they were not suitable for the specific social class or climate he was dealing with. 40

Figure 36 New Gourna Khan plan view in context

Part 3

“before inventing or proposing new mechanical solutions, traditional solutions in vernacular architecture should be evaluated, and then adopted or modified and developed to make them compatible with modern requirements” (Fathy 1995: 37)

Contemporary Approaches The first case study, Fayoum House, is a humble project located just south-west of Cairo designed by Egyptian architect, Mariam Korachy, in 2014. It is a residential adobe house designed for an EgyptianFrench family who dreamed of having a house in the Tunis village of Fayoum as a getaway from the busy city. The house is made entirely out of natural, local, re-purposed materials for a feel of intimacy with the context (Korachy n.d.). As observed in the floor plans and sections (Figures 38-41), the house’s bearing walls are fairly thick. The foundations themselves were made of stone. To avoid erosion, lime was used instead of concrete as mortar (Korachy 2017). The brick core was plastered along the interior with mud and straw, while cement was used on the exterior. The thick walls, similar to traditional vernacular design, allow for proper insulation year-round as well as adequate ventilation with the high ceiling mezzanine (Figure 37). Based off our interview, Korachy also highlighted that the mezzanine takes on the role of the malqaf, as it uses the wind coming through the windows on the ground floor to regulate temperature and maintain air circulation (Korachy 2020). The space beneath the mezzanine would be the equivalent of a qa’a, which is where people are welcomed at the entrance before navigating towards another room. From the ground floor plan (Figure 40), at the inner sahn, the residents or guests are met directly with public social spaces: the dining room then after it two living rooms, one for the summer and one for the winter. The more private spaces, like the bedroom and bathrooms, are accessible from the small corridor south of the dining area. Since the master bedroom’s entrance faces the wall opening for the bedroom corridor, Korachy made a small madkhal monkaser to protect the residents khososeya. Rather than incorporating mashrabiyas into the design, Korachy placed a series of small windows above eye level for light entry, not too large that they permit an excessive amount of solar radiation. For bedrooms, since they look outwards to their private garden, they had normal windows with no mashrabiya. What was interesting is that almost everything had a place formed for it in the original structure such as the shelves and seating (Figure 37). This allowed the house to be more cohesive without the intrusion of “out of context” furniture. The interaction with the house and the materiality was critical so that residents and guest felt connected to the cultural heritage more through architectural language. Aside from thermal regulation and the use of local materials, the house “holds high significance with recycled materials. The roof’s wood was purchased from a company which had these old pieces of wood and the floor tiles were from local houses which were destroyed from previous times” (Korachy 2020). She emphasised how they significantly reduced energy consumption and waste by using materials which were already used before. This particular attribute allows the design to line up with FEI through not only its materiality which minimised takabor, but through ea’adet tawzeef.

This case study is a good example of a small-scale private home that can be applied in more private areas, such as private residential compounds or at the outskirts of the city, rather than the heart of the city where population density is much greater. Building from locally sourced materials agrees with the humble values of FEI, where the design portrays no vanity. In regards to FEI, this home dealt more with materiality and functional spaces rather than the technical details that come with a mashrabiya and a shokhshekha, for example. The inner temperature is still regulated, and it does its job without adding features that may not have been as essential in this design.

Figure 37 Photographs of Fayoum House

South facade: main entrance.

Corridor leading to the bedrooms.

Mezzanine at entrance, highlighting the Qarun stone, local to Fayoum, and reused wood.

Photograph of the winter living room, emphasizing “built-in” furniture.

Figure 38 Section A: Illustrating the main entrance, inner court, summer living area and the jacuzzi.

Figure 39 Section B: Illustrating the summer terrace, the corridor, summer living area and the bathroom.

Figure 40 F a y o u m House ground floor plan.

Figure 41 F a y o u m House first floor plan. 47

The second case study was designed by Samer El-Sayary, a practicing architect and currently an assistant professor at Beirut University who has won over thirty awards including the Hassan Fathy award, twice (El-Sayary 2020). He studied Fathy’s approach and formed a hybrid with contemporary design not through designing with mud brick, but through transferring the heritage and our social and environmental values into his work. His design was inspired by the original Bayt al Suhaymi built in 1648 (Figure 42). It is far from what the average Egyptian could afford, but it is undoubtedly a design highly influenced by social patterns and environmental context. Although El-Sayary’s design could not be built due to the Egyptian revolution of 2011 (El-Sayary 2020), it won the Hassan Fathy award in 2011 and First Prize for Self Sufficient Islamic House in 2013. It exhibits passive cooling, zero carbon, self-sufficiency and low waste while respecting FEI.

Figure 42 Original Bayt al Suhaymi photographs. 48

El-Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi was meant to be located in a private compound with twelve houses that lined up along a central hara as houses traditionally were. This hara was not only meant for vehicle navigation, but for social interaction where kids would play football or families set up tables to dine together (El-Sayary 2020). The design’s technical aspects are highly functional because of the spacial layout. El-Sayary developed his design around a central sahn with a pool. When the pool is met with solar radiation, it releases water vapour which disperses amongst the rooms around the sahn for a cooling effect (Figures 46-48). The layout of each floor allows for proper ventilation from the increased air circulation across the terraces (Figure 44). El-Sayary designed an extensive roof farm so residents can be more self-sufficient and depend on their own produce. The rooftop, which has no access, is covered with thirtynine photovoltaic cells (Figure 45) which generate 7-8 watt daily for the energy demands of 5 family members (El-Sayary 2020). As a desert climate with constant solar radiation almost all year round, they were quite useful. El-Sayary’s house achieved great self-sufficiency, but khososeya was more critical to analyse how effective the design is in accordance with FEI. I observed that a lot of the house is open space, meaning anyone in the street or neighbouring houses could see residents walking from one space to another through the multiple voids. After interviewing El-Sayary, it became clear that these voids were left so residents can expand for future generations or for their own reasons without increasing the house volume. Assuming this house was not designed for just one family, the practicality of building within voids can be applied easily to communities of lower socioeconomic class, where each void could accommodate a family and different generations (El-Sayary 2020). Relating back to Fathy’s New Gourna, this design approach would have worked greatly for the Gourniis in place of the domes. Upon entry, guests are met with a madkhal monkaser to maintain the resident’s privacy

Figure 43 Digital illustrations of how voids develop visual connectivity across planes.

Figure 44 Digital illustrations of how void design allows for sufficient air circulation.

Figure 45 Digital illustration of roof solar panels. 49

Figure 46 Thermal map of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: Ground Floor.

Figure 47 Thermal map of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: First Floor.

Figure 48 Thermal map of El Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: Second Floor.

Figure 49 Digital illustration of El-Sayary’s Bayt al Suhaymi: street view of the exterior facade.

from their neighbours and an entrance that does not face another house’s entrance. It was a policy in this compound to protect each neighbour’s privacy. In addition, no house could rise higher to the point where it would compromise hoqooq al gar, which again lines up with the values of FEI as it prevents takabor. In order to go upstairs, one must use the staircase within the sahn, separating the stairs from the guests unless the residents direct them towards it. When the first floor is reached, the staircase leads off to a kitchen and living room while more private spaces, like the bedrooms, are kept hidden at the back end. Once led up to the second floor, all spaces are public. The louvres, which are meant to be an impression of the mashrabiya, are manually controlled so the resident can control whether they want to allow sun entry, divert it, or completely block it. During our interview, El-Sayary reflected on how the design does protect the resident’s khososeya and emphasised that only social spaces, such as the living room, were placed at the street side of the house. The house is elevated 1.5 meters above street level and the reception is 3.5 meters high (El-Sayary 2020). It would be difficult for outsiders to see those walking on the footbridges and the staircase. The only case where they could be seen would be from the neighbours, and even then the residents would not necessarily be mingling in these spaces. The areas where khososeya is critical are those which El-Sayary kept sheltered from outsiders. This case study is a good modern approach to vernacular design as it does exhibit values of FEI and takes cultural tradition into consideration while appealing to the Western design many Egyptians of higher socio-economic class desire. Despite this, it does not fulfil a distinction from basic modern design found anywhere else in the world (Figure 49). The cultural element of the design would therefore be harder to grasp if one is not aware of how a house should be designed according to FEI. 51

Conclusion

There is no right or wrong approach, but there are those that work more effectively depending on context. The path towards modernity is subjective. Modernity can look like high-technology western ideas, and it can also take on a humble approach for minimalism. Nonetheless, there are critical values which should not be marginalised for the sake of fitting in amongst those we do not belong to. El-Sayary has portrayed through the skin of his design what many Egyptians of higher socio-economic class aspire to have: luxurious designs which are completely isolated from what is traditional to us. El-Sayary, however, unlike the majority of contemporary architects in Egypt, managed to elegantly incorporate values of FEI, making his extremely modern house is not so modern at heart, but rooted from values that Egyptians have historically adhered to. Korachy has done something similar, but with emphasis on re-purposed, local and humble materials. Observing both case studies, which can clarify as both ends of the spectrum, it is surprising how well both houses work in accordance with FEI, even if they both exhibit completely different materiality and scale, and that both can be altered to accommodate different socio-economic classes from how they were constructed. Regardless, an identity can no longer exist if it survives off the influence of others instead of the history that built it. It is hard to admit that the world is changing, however with it, our fundamental present needs are still very much like those of our ancestors, maybe now more than ever in the movement towards efficiency. “Westernization of the world and of architecture is part of a contested colonization. It swept a multitude of local solutions that were more appropriate to address society, the climate and environment, and the result is appalling” (El-Wakil 2020). This dissertation has greatly shifted my interpretation of what architecture in Cairo should and should not be. Buildings do not have to be constructed with mud brick to fit the criteria. It could be more thermally efficient at a low cost, but mud-brick itself can not support the size of private homes or apartment buildings nowadays. It was efficient for when the population was a couple million, but now the Egyptian population is approaching the 100 million mark. The goal should no longer be to build so the architecture can look the way it did centuries ago, but so that it can accommodate the needs of present and future generations to come while respecting FEI. With a population increasing so rapidly, the societal gap is only getting bigger. Those of lower socio-economic class build for the sake of having a roof over their head with whatever they can afford. Egyptian architects can not keep striving to achieve modernity through high-tech western building methods only for those who can afford it. Aside from money, “concrete is not comfortable as it has the notion of being super fast and mass produced. Thermal comfort and critical ideas are sometimes not taken into account with mass production,” (Korachy 2020). FEI is not just another concept that can be left behind as we progress forward. It is the very thing that architects must adhere to for successful, long-term designs. Once we start building for generations appropriately according to our climate and not another passing trend, only then can architecture in Egypt find its way back to FEI, be accessible regardless of socio-economic class and serve true function without compromising comfort and the environment.

“When the full power of human imagination is backed up by the weight of a living tradition, the resulting work of art is far greater than any artist can achieve when he has no tradition to work in or when he wilfully abandons his tradition” (Fathy 1991A)

Glossary ‫ﺑﺮاﻣﻖ‬ Baramiq: balusters of the mashrabiya which soften the entry of light ‫دھﻠﯿﺰ‬ Dehlez: a long corridor/passageway ‫دوﻻب أﻏﺎﻧﻲ‬ Dolab aghany: a protruding interior balcony enclosed with a mashrabiya screen on upper levels, meant for women to sit in and listen to conversations taking place in lower levels. ‫درﻗﺎﻋﺔ‬ Durqa’a: a small recessed square/interior courtyard covered with a shokhshekha or qoba. Traditionally, it would have a small fountain where residents and guests can wash up for prayer. ‫إﻋﺎدة ﺗﻮظﯿﻒ‬ Ea’adet tawzeef: re-purposing something rather than abandoning or demolishing it. ‫ﻓﻘﮫ اﻹﺳﻼم‬ Fiqh al Islam: a vast field of knowledge that deals with everything from Islam’s major precise rulings and small ambiguous matters. It deals with the “why” rather than the “what” in religion. ‫ﻓﻘﮫ اﻟﻌﻤﺎرة اﻹﺳﻼﻣﯿﺔ‬ Fiqh al Emara al Islameya (FEI): how the core principles of Islam are applied as a way of life through architecture in the Arab World. It focuses on the needs of the individual, and how each design feature will impact the needs of the community on a social and cultural level and its effect on core values of privacy, respect and humbleness. ‫ﺣﺎرة‬ Hara: narrow street with residential buildings and a main gate that remained locked at night. Each hara was traditionally named after the tribe that lived there. The gate would stay locked to prevent those from other tribes from trespassing and causing disputes. ‫ﺣﻘﻮق اﻟﺠﺎر‬ Hoqooq al-gar: a resident must not harm the neighbour’s peace through sound, smell or sight, and should not deal with them with takabor. They are the important matters one must take into account when dealing with their neighbour to maintain harmony between them and respect both the resident’s and the neighbour’s rights. ‫إﺳﺘﻘﺮار‬ Istikrar: serenity ‫اﯾﻮان‬ Iwan: a vaulted hall with three sides and one side completely open, and is normally where guests are seated in residential buildings. ‫ﺧﺎن‬ Khan: an inn for foreign traders, meant to serve as a temporary residence free of charge as a way of giving back to the community and encouraging trade. ‫ﺧﺸﺐ ﺧﺮط‬ Khashab khart: turned wood. ‫ﺧﺼﻮﺻﯿﺔ‬ Khososeya: in architecture, it is an overarching set of ethical principles which dictates the execution of every design feature, whether on an urban scale or down to a single residential unit, to guarantee the collective right of privacy through sound, sight and comfort. ‫ﻣﺪﺧﻞ ﻣﻨﻜﺴﺮ‬ Madkhal monkaser: a diverted entrance which guarantees the necessary level of privacy for a home and a sense of comfortable settlement for the residents, where any activity taking place beyond the entrance is unseen. Its purpose it to provide security from intrusions through sight and curiosity of outsiders.

‫ﻣﻠﻘﻒ‬ Malqaf: the wind-catcher, created for air movement and ventilation without the need for a window. This design feature is placed at the highest point of the house facing North and Northwest to catch the wind where it prevails. It is closed with a mashrabiya screen.

‫ﻣﻨﺰل‬ Manzal: house. ‫ﻣﺸﺮﺑﯿﺔ‬ Mashrabiya: a lattice wooden structure made of turned wood which regulates temperature, air circulation and indicates levels of privacy. The wood’s porosity increases air humidity of the air passing through, cooling the air. It also controls solar radiation depending on its style, whether it is maymoony or sahrigi. ‫ﻣﯿﻤﻮﻧﻲ‬ Maymoony: a mashrabiya screen with large baramiq and small interstices. This type of screen is placed at lower levels to preserve the privacy of the residents. They are also most commonly located at the south facade where sunlight enters at large angles with high intensity to reduce solar radiation. ‫ﻗﺎﻋﺔ‬ Qa’a: the central hall of the house that shelters the durqa’a, malqaf, shokhshekha and mashrabiyas. ‫ﻗﺒﯿﻠﺔ‬ Qabela: tribe. ‫ﻗﺒﺔ‬ Qoba: dome. ‫ﺻﺤﻦ‬ Sahn: an open, uncovered courtyard which acts as a temperature regulator. ‫ﺻﮭﺮﯾﺠﻲ‬ Sahrigi: a mashrabiya screen with small baramiq and large interstices. This type of screen is placed at higher levels to maximise air flow and ventilation. They are most commonly located at the north facade where direct sunlight is not a concern. ‫ﺻﺎﻟﺔ‬ Sala: living room. ‫ﺷﺎرع ﻋﺎم‬ Shera’a ‘am: public roads, mainly highways. ‫ﺷﺎرع ﻋﺎم ﺧﺎص‬ Shera’a ’am khas: semi-private roads, consisting of main roads smaller than highways. ‫ﺷﺎرع ﺧﺎص‬ Shera’a khas: private roads, mainly residential and most commonly pedestrian. ‫ﺷﺨﺸﯿﺨﺔ‬ Shokhshekha: a domed skylight with small windows along the perimeter of a squinch which allow light entry. It is placed directly above the durqa’a as an imitation of the sky, which roots back to traditional courtyard houses built by bedouins in the desert. ‫ﺳﻮق‬ Souq: a marketplace specific to a single category (i.e., for meat, for dairy, for metalworkers, etc.) ‫ﺗﻜﺒﺮ‬ Takabor: vanity ‫ﺗﻨﻜﯿﺐ‬ Tanqeeb = concept where if two doors are in front of each other (not mandatory with public roads, but most important to do with private roads) ‫ﺗﺎﺟﺮ‬ Tager: trader ‫وﻛﺎﻟﺔ‬ Wekala: a commercial and residential hybrid where those who trade on the ground floor live in the same building. It is a practical amenity which also becomes a place of gathering within the community. ‫زﺧﺮﻓﺔ‬ Zaghrafa: ornamenting.

Bibliography A * indicates the source has been translated

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