Sahel & Sub-Saharan Africa: The Latest Architecture and News

What happens to a building after the architecture is finished? For buildings intended to serve the public, their continued life depends on more than the physical conditions of their construction. It involves the activities that take place within them, the relationships they allow to develop, the people who occupy and shape them, and the institutional structures responsible for their upkeep. Yet these conditions are not always secured through the act of building itself. They are continually negotiated, often through forms of work that remain outside the conventional understanding of architectural practice.

The Drill Hall in central Johannesburg offers a way of examining this unfinished work. Its history is marked by changes in use, occupation and institutional responsibility, but also by repeated attempts to imagine what the building could offer the city.

+ 7

Every large dam divides as much as it connects, and the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam is no exception. A monumental feat of architecture and engineering, the mega-dam has brought everyone together, for better or worse, to interrogate who gets to declare sovereignty over the riches of the river, be it water or momentum, and to challenge colonial-era Nile treaties.

Inaugurated in September 2025, the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, or GERD, is a grand concrete structure on the Blue Nile, Abay, in western Ethiopia within the Benishangul-Gumuz region, just 30 kilometers upstream along the river and east of the border with Sudan. It is built as a major source of hydroelectric power, generating an estimated 51.5% of total national output in 2025/26, and symbolizes Ethiopia's national sovereignty, rise to exponential economic development, and technological self-determination. So, why has it become the center of a protracted dispute over regional water security and international law between Ethiopia, Sudan, and Egypt?

+ 10

On Tarkwa Bay, off the coast of Lagos, the transformation of an abandoned building offers a way to consider how architecture might emerge from the materials, relationships and conditions already present in a place.

Architecture is often encountered at the end, when the uncertainties of making have been resolved into a building, a surface, a space. Less visible are the conditions that allow these outcomes to exist, the movement of materials, the availability of labour, the knowledge held by people and places, and the negotiations through which an idea becomes possible. On Tarkwa Bay, an island off the coast of Lagos accessible only by boat, these conditions are difficult to separate from the act of building itself.

The crossing from the Lagos mainland introduces a different relationship to access. People, tools and materials move across water; some resources are readily available, others less so. Materials move across water; reclaimed elements carry histories from elsewhere; salt and sun alter the behaviour of surfaces; and the availability of local artisans influences how work unfolds. These are not necessarily prohibitions; rather, they make visible the dependencies that building elsewhere can allow us to overlook.

+ 13

What do architects do? This age-old question reveals the perennial dichotomy between two aspects of building–how to construct, and why to build. Despite its ancient origins and its name deriving from Ancient Greek, the profession is one that has transformed over the centuries. Its present-day form, usually dated to the Italian Renaissance, makes a distinction between the act of building and the intellectual and aesthetic decision-making behind it. However, we may be in the midst of another nascent transformation. The commissioning of architecture has historically remained separate from the practice, but as can be seen in the work of MASS and projects like the Moving Windmills Innovation Center, this distinction is beginning to blur.

+ 11

Videos

"Take your dream suppressants." The opening line in Wanuri Kahiū's Pumzi, directed at our protagonist Asha, enforces the order of severing ties with hopeful futures and ancestral memories in pasts shared to compel her focus on the perpetual present in the Maitu Community's heterotopia of an enclave. The bird's-eye view shot of the Maitu reveals a sterile, drone-like structure with a panoptic sphere at its center where normal human behavior is medicalized. The layout is built around closed-loop recycling systems as apt as a self-sufficient organism, designed to escape the toxic environment of a sickly Earth, where every pipe and corridor is engineered to harvest human excretion for water generation, thereby absorbing the roles of nature and state both. The community's architecture perfectly translates the film's message with its physicality.

Across folklore, film, and art, the same move recurs: architecture translates an elsewhere, whether ancestral, spiritual, or speculative, into form that can be seen or entered. The sections below follow that translation from the Kasubi Tombs to Kizazi Moto, and show that the elsewhere is a way of reading the present.

+ 7

Liberation does not always begin with a monument. It may begin in a garden, a yard, a clearing, a field; in the occupation of land and the possibility of gathering there. Across histories shaped by colonialism and dispossession, space has been more than the setting in which liberation takes place. It has been one of its practices: cultivated, occupied, hidden within, moved through and collectively remade.

Wolff Architects' research Liberation Gardens offers the garden as one way of reading these spatial practices, not simply as planted ground, but as a space through which survival, nourishment and emancipatory imagination can be sustained. The garden in this sense is not defined by landscape design so much as by relationships between people and land, cultivation and knowledge, occupation and autonomy. It can hold cultural production alongside subsistence, and forms of collective life that emerge under conditions of violence and dispossession. Liberation, understood spatially, becomes as much about the possibility of inhabiting differently as it is about arriving at a final condition of freedom.

+ 4

"After all, time is a key ingredient of my profession," states Francis Kéré in his book Francis Kéré: Building Stories. Architecture is constantly evolving and transforming over time. Bricks, doors, windows, walls, stairs, and other elements become the protagonists of a process that begins with a sketch and eventually takes shape as a built work.

Considering that architecture begins when its inhabitants start to make a space their own, Francis Kéré develops his projects progressively, continuing to work on the design even during the construction phase. As his architecture grows over time, integrates with its surroundings, adapts to the needs of its users, and responds to change in flexible and experimental ways, it seeks to become part of the lives of those who inhabit it.

+ 8

Colonial violence in African cities bled through the political dimensions into the spatial realm. It is infused into street grids, land tenure systems, drainage infrastructure and residential zones that continue to organize inequality and displacement today. Kinshasa, Khartoum, and Kampala each carry this afterlife in their urban morphology, at once historical artifacts and an active structure; shaping who has access to services, who occupies flood-prone land, and catalyzing a deepening climate instability that forces this apparatus into entirely new dimensions - including geological ones.

+ 22

Asmara, the capital of Eritrea, sits at over 2,300 meters above sea level on a plateau at the edge of the Great Rift Valley escarpment. Although situated in a country not known for large visitor numbers, the city has gained fame for its unique architecture. In July 2017, it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site, inscribed as "Asmara: A Modernist African City," the first modernist urban site anywhere to be listed in its entirety, and Africa's first explicitly modernist World Heritage Site. Its heritage value came about as a result of a complex convergence of two aspects of Eritrea's history: an intense period of colonial construction as Italy pursued its imperial ambitions in Africa, and a long period of relative isolation that insulated the city from redevelopment.

+ 8

Lagos is a city shaped by time, human interaction, the forces of nature, and its evolving, sometimes uneasy relationship with all three. Nowhere is this more visible than when the rain comes.

Eko sits on a floodplain. Its geographical condition predates the city itself, reaching back to a time before the first road was laid, the first boundary drawn. The drainage systems, the developments that have gradually become privatised waterfronts, are all built on a landscape that has always been, at its foundation, in continuous conversation with water. The flood is not an anomaly; it is the land insisting on a dialogue that was always going to return.

+ 2

This article is part of our new Opinion section, a format for argument-driven essays on critical questions shaping our field.

For centuries, most of the world has looked at itself through a 16th-century instrument of spatial representation. On September 4, the United Nations General Assembly voted to change that, adopting a resolution that asks governments, schools, media organizations, and technology companies to retire the Mercator projection wherever the relative size of countries actually matters, in favor of equal-area alternatives like the 2018 Equal Earth projection. The vote passed 164 to 1. The United States was the sole vote against.

+ 6

This article is part of "Thresholds", a special edition printed newspaper by Cobe Notes x ArchDaily.

Launched in September 2024, the Rediscovering Modernism in Africa series joined a growing worldwide interest in this topic. Previously underrepresented in architectural discussions, the work of architects and researchers on the continent and abroad has continued to tell the story of these high-quality modern works of architecture. These buildings represent designers striving to create locally suited architecture using global concepts and technologies, coinciding with huge political changes as most African countries gained their independence.

+ 8

Nairobi's architectural identity was transformed by Kenya's independence in 1963. As the new nation sought to define itself, the city became a testing ground for a modern architecture that could embody progress while responding to African culture, climate, and local conditions. This opened a period of architectural experimentation, with different approaches emerging to the relationship between modernity, identity, and place.

The Kenyatta International Convention Centre is perhaps the clearest expression of this moment. Its architecture brought together modernist principles with references to African forms, establishing a distinctive response to the ambitions of a newly independent nation. Around it, Kenyan and international architects developed other interpretations of modernism, from the sun-shading facades of Reinsurance Plaza to the sculptural silhouette of Nation Centre, alongside religious, educational, and civic projects that expanded the architectural vocabulary of the city.

+ 11

When African countries gained independence from European colonial rule during the mid-twentieth century, nation-building involved more than establishing new governments and political institutions. Newly sovereign states also needed to establish a built identity that could distinguish them from their colonial past, and architecture became an important tool in this process. Across the continent, monumental civic buildings, universities, conference centers, and cultural institutions were commissioned to embody progress and national unity. Yet this created a fundamental contradiction: many of these buildings adopted modernist and Brutalist architectural languages that had originated in Europe, while some were even designed by architects from former colonial powers. The Maison du Peuple in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, provides a particularly revealing example of how an architectural language associated with Europe could be appropriated and transformed into an expression of postcolonial independence.

+ 4

"Architecture that holds multitudes." This is the phrase Studio NEiDA uses to introduce itself, making its position toward the world clear: to listen to and respect the plurality of existences that move through each context. More than a statement of principles, the phrase seems to function as a method. What does it mean, after all, to design spaces capable of sheltering not only people, but also memories, knowledge, and conflicts?

There is no denying that Studio NEiDA's plural approach is, in part, rooted in its own geographical position. Working between Togo and Germany, the practice operates across two seemingly distinct contexts that are nevertheless historically connected. In a recent interview, Jeanne Autran-Edorh, the French-Togolese architect and co-founder of the studio, alongside the curator and writer Fabiola Büchele, recalls the history between the two countries, noting that, as few people know, before becoming an independent republic, Togo was a German colony that later came under French rule.

+ 7

Few conditions have shaped contemporary architectural discourse as profoundly as uncertainty. Across international biennials, exhibitions, and forums, architecture increasingly imagines its relationship to the world through flexibility, reversibility, and responsiveness—qualities intended to engage with climate emergencies, political instability, and unprecedented human mobility. Buildings are designed to transform, infrastructures to evolve, and cities to accommodate conditions that appear increasingly unpredictable. This emphasis on agility has expanded the discipline's capacity to engage with environmental change, offering valuable strategies for a world in constant transformation.

Yet this evolution points to a deeper shift in how architecture mediates the human condition. Architecture has long functioned as a mechanism for existential orientation—a way for human consciousness to carve an intelligible coordinate out of an indifferent cosmos, anchoring memory and identity to a fixed point. Within much contemporary architectural discourse, uncertainty increasingly appears less as an external condition to be mitigated than as the horizon from which architectural thinking begins. Spatial experience is increasingly shaped by environments designed around the persistence of flux, where static reference points give way to conditions of continuous transformation.

+ 5

Across different climates and building cultures, many contemporary projects are working with local ways of building in new ways. Earth walls, bamboo structures, shaded thresholds, and collective construction processes are being reconsidered not as references, but as tools for the conditions architecture is facing now and will continue to face.

In these projects, vernacular knowledge appears through practical decisions: how to cool a building without machines, how to build with what is nearby, how to make a structure easier to repair, and how to keep construction knowledge within the community that will use it. The conditions making this knowledge necessary are not coming. They are already here.

+ 17