Architecture in children’s shelters serves a purpose beyond building physical spaces; it is about creating refuges that nurture healing, protection, and growth. For vulnerable children, designing these environments plays a vital role in their emotional recovery. Every aspect—from natural lighting to room layout—works together to create a secure and welcoming atmosphere, supporting their physical well-being and psychological and social development.
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Faced with trauma, neglect, and difficult living conditions, well-designed architecture helps restore dignity to children by providing the stability they need after losing a safe home. In this context, the layout of spaces, careful choice of materials, and thoughtful design of indoor and outdoor areas are key to creating a welcoming environment. Bright, naturally lit, and well-ventilated spaces with soft colors help reduce anxiety and stress, while open, airy areas encourage freedom of movement and self-expression.
Around the world, many shelters have been built based on these principles, from iconic projects like Aldo van Eyck’s 1960s Amsterdam Orphanage to modern ones like the award-winning Girls’ Orphanage by ZAV Architects, built in Iran in 2014. These initiatives, whether public or private, aim to promote the common good through architecture, offering material support and emotional and psychological care.
These shelters are found worldwide, and regardless of their budget or location—whether in rural Africa or major European cities—they share a common goal: to offer a temporary home where children can heal, grow, and find hope for the future. These initiatives emphasize the role of humanitarian architecture, transforming spaces into powerful tools for social change and ensuring that vulnerable children can rewrite their stories in environments that promote dignity, protection, and overall development.
Check out the these 10 shelter projects for children in vulnerable situations around the world.
This article is part of the ArchDaily Topics: Designing for the Common Good. Every month we explore a topic in-depth through articles, interviews, news, and architecture projects. We invite you to learn more about our ArchDaily Topics. And, as always, at ArchDaily we welcome the contributions of our readers; if you want to submit an article or project, contact us.
In collaboration with to.org, Counterspace, led by Sumayya Vally, has revealed its latest project, “Regenerate Kakuma,” aimed at promoting holistic well-being in one of the world’s largest refugee settlements in Kakuma, Kenya. This regenerative wellness and fitness hub blends fitness, agriculture, and cultural spaces for over 285,000 refugees. The settlement, known as one of the largest globally, primarily hosts individuals from 19 countries, including South Sudan and Somalia.
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The project is inspired by the unique cultural tapestry of Kakuma’s diverse inhabitants. The settlement, whose name comes from the Swahili word for “nowhere,” has long been a symbol of resilience and survival amidst harsh conditions. Refugee populations are often at high risk for developing mental health conditions, with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) affecting up to 47% of those displaced by conflict. Regenerate Kakuma aims to mitigate these effects by providing a space that nurtures creativity, movement, and emotional healing, helping residents cope with their traumatic experiences.
Kampala Kasubi Tombs. Image Courtesy of Creative Commons
At the heart of the design is a focus on combining cultural heritage with natural materials, ensuring the project respects the community’s identity while creating functional spaces for growth and interaction. Vally’s design draws on sacred and vernacular architecture from the regions where Kakuma’s people originated, including the rock-cut churches of Lalibela in Ethiopia and the Neolithic rock paintings of Laas Geel in Somaliland. These references are woven into the structure, creating a space that feels connected to the cultural roots of its inhabitants.
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The architectural concept integrates natural elements and local materials, with the building being constructed primarily from Turkana stone, known for its thermal properties that help regulate indoor temperatures. The building’s form is a stepped stone structure, featuring thick walls that rise in a gradient, allowing for natural light, ventilation, and movement throughout the space. The design emphasizes harmony with the surrounding landscape, ensuring the center is both visually striking and practical for the environment.
Courtyards and openings punctuate the building, providing areas for reflection and interaction, while a stepped roofline creates distinct functional zones, from meditation spaces to outdoor fitness areas. These design elements are intended to foster both individual well-being and social cohesion, offering spaces for calm reflection as well as physical activity.
The Regenerate Kakuma facility will house a gym and outdoor fitness spaces, vital for supporting the athletic talent emerging from the settlement. Kakuma has produced several international athletes, including middle-distance runner Perina Nakang and Dominic Lobalu, who competed in the 2024 Paris Olympics. The fitness center will offer a fully equipped gym and outdoor sports areas, including a basketball court, to nurture future talent and promote physical health.
Courtesy of Counterspace
In addition to fitness facilities, the project emphasizes mental well-being through a meditation hall and outdoor reflection spaces. These areas are designed to promote mindfulness and emotional recovery, key to addressing the trauma many refugees experience. Open courtyards allow for community gatherings, adding a social element to the peaceful environment.
A key component of the project is sustainability. In response to environmental degradation caused by climate change, the facility will include agroforestry and market gardens. These green spaces not only provide fresh produce but also serve as a form of education, teaching residents sustainable agriculture practices that help combat flooding, soil erosion, and pest issues.
Facade of Bet Abba Libanos Rock-Hewn Church. Image Courtesy of Creative Commons
Architects and urban planners have long played a crucial role in addressing humanitarian disasters, designing spaces that not only provide immediate relief but also foster long-term resilience and community rebuilding. In other similar news, Shigeru Ban Architects, in collaboration with Voluntary Architects’ Network, recently developed an improved version of the temporary housing developed to help those affected by the recent Turkey-Syria earthquake. Similarly, following the extreme floods that affected Pakistan in 2022, architect Yasmeen Lari the Heritage Foundation of Pakistan pledged to help build one million resilient houses in the country. Finally, The Türkiye Design Council (TDC) has gathered 13 design practices, including Foster + Partners and Bjarke Ingels Group, to contribute to the revitalization of the historic province of Hatay, an area severely damaged by the 7.8 magnitude earthquake in February this year.
Harvard University Graduate School of Design (GSD) has just announced Thandi Loewenson as the winner of the 2024 Wheelwright Prize. The prestigious $100,000 grant is dedicated to supporting innovative research in contemporary architecture with a global perspective. Loewenson’s project, “Black Papers: Beyond the Politics of Land, Towards African Policies of Earth & Air,” explores the social and spatial dynamics in modern Africa.
Courtesy of Harvard Graduate School of Design
Unlike traditional analyses of land in African liberation movements and postcolonial governance, Loewenson introduces a framework titled “The Entanglement of Earth and Air.” Expanding the concept of land to include overlapping terrains, from rare metals within Earth to the digital cloud in Earth’s ionosphere. The project also investigates how colonial capitalist systems of radicalization, dispossession, and exploitation persist across these intertwined realms. The Wheelwright Prize will fund her study to utilize aerial surveying techniques and “mine technology metals” to create a comprehensive network that underpins a global system of digital dispossession.
Presented in the form of “Black Papers,” the study aims to influence policy discourse and public perception through drawings, films, performances, and critical creative writing. “Redefining architectural research,” Thandi’s project will focus on seven African nations: the Democratic Republic of Congo, Ghana, Kenya, Senegal, South Africa, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. Moreover, her work “connects scholarly research with material practice, extending its impact through creative policy proposals.”
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Born in Harare, the Wheelwright Prize laureate is an architectural designer and researcher who utilizes design, fiction, and performance to encourage emancipatory political thought and collective action. She holds a PhD in Architectural Design from The Bartlett, UCL, and was selected from a competitive pool of international applicants, with the jury also commending finalists Meriem Chabani, Nathan Friedman, and Ryan Roark for their research proposals. Additionally, her installation, “The Uhuru Catalogues,” was featured in the 2023 Venice Biennale, which was focused on Africa as a Laboratory, also reflecting this innovative approach.
Courtesy of Matteo de Mayda / Courtesy of 18th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia
Architectural awards and prizes recognize and celebrate design excellence, fostering innovation across the discipline. In other similar news, the Tokyo International Forum, designed by Rafael Vińoly Architects, has just been honored with the prestigious AIA Twenty-five Year Award. Additionally, the European Collective Housing Award has recently selected the winners for the 2024 cycle. Similarly, New York-based architecture office WEISS/MANFREDI has recently named the 37th recipient of the Louis. l. Khan Award.
There’s a well-known catchphrase – “Cape to Cairo” – that has spawned numerous books and piqued the imagination of countless travellers of the African continent. The phrase’s origins are of imperial nature, birthed out of an 1874 proposal by English journalist Edwin Arnold that sought to discover the origins of the Congo River. This project was later taken up by imperialist Cecil Rhodes, who envisioned a continuous railway of British-ruled territories that stretched from the North to the South of the continent.
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Today’s independent African states have built railways of their own – such as the Tanzania-Zambia railway constructed in 1975 as Zambia sought to eliminate economic dependence on white-minority rule in Zimbabwe and South Africa. However, a large number of railway networks and stations on the African continent have colonial origins, and even though the “Cape to Cairo” railway never came to be, railways on the African continent tell the stories of architecture used to further imperial ambition, and of urban development that forever changed how certain settlements functioned.
This imperial ambition is best encapsulated by one building in particular – the Central Railway Station in the Mozambican capital of Maputo. Designed by Portuguese architects Alfredo Augusto Lisboa De Lima, Mario Veiga and Ferreira da Costa, it is an ornamental structure, with a decorative façade punctured by arches in a Baroque Revival style. Topping the building is a statement piece – a dull-green dome with a globe made up of metal strips. This statement piece is a reflection of how Mozambique functioned as a Portuguese colony in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
In this period, the introduction of railways in the African continent had facilitated the resource extraction that drove colonialism. Mozambique was uniquely placed – and it functioned as the de-facto trading centre for goods coming out of Southern Africa such as gold from Johannesburg and minerals from Katanga. The Railway Station served as the principal gateway to the Southern Africa hinterland, and for the Portuguese colonialists, served as a symbol of the imperial prowess of the young port city of Maputo.
The opulent, grandiose design of the railway station, from the ornamented pediments to the floral plaster detailing around the clock tower belie the colonial abuses propagated by the imperial regime. Mozambican society during this time was built on the back of a Chibalosystem – forced labour imposed on the Black African population. Roads and railroads, and by extension structures such as the Railway Station, were built under this abusive system.
A few years before the Maputo Railway Station was completed – sixteen to be exact – a building of similar scale was opened to the public. This was in South Africa, and it was the Johannesburg Park Station, designed by architect Jacob Klinkhammer. It was a feat of engineering, 154 metres long and 17 metres wide, designed with cast-iron pillars, detailed ironwork, and a glass-domed roof. Johannesburg Park Station and the Maputo Central Railway Station, nonetheless, are two structures that exist within the larger context of colonial urbanism stimulated by railways on the African continent.
The Eritrean capital of Asmara has captured the attention of many contemporary urbanists, and the city’s origins are traced back to a railway. The historically important Massawa port city was the capital of the Italian colony until the year 1900 – when the village was Asmara was viewed as a strategic location for a new capital. The Eritrean Railway was thus constructed, connecting the seaside city of Massawa to what would become the burgeoning city of Asmara.
Asmara’s urban plan was meticulous – responding to the natural topography by combining radial and grid street patterns. The city was divided into differing urban functions, but like all colonial urban planning, this was later used to differentiate the city by race.
Further south of Eritrea, the British railway connecting the coastal port of Mombasa to Uganda created the Kenyan capital of Nairobi. Established as a rail depot, the planning of the city was a calculated effort of exclusion. The early days of Nairobi as a railway town saw a settlement that was catered to European and Asian traders, and European employers in the railway. Asian labourers and Africans were all but abandoned, which in effect gave rise to the informal settlements that still exist in present-day Nairobi.
In Zimbabwe, the capital city of Harare was developed after the construction of a railway linking the city to the port of Beira in Mozambique. In similar fashion to the colonial planning of Nairobi, Harare was envisioned and executed as a divided settlement, Black Africans were forcibly moved off their land, and the city was arranged with low-density residential suburbs reserved for Europeans.
The Maputo Central Railway Station today is still much very in use, while the old Johannesburg Park Station was closed to make way for a newer structure. The railway networks that inform urban connections between many African cities and countries today sadly were borne out of colonial reasoning and sensibilities. Military domination drove the construction of African railway networks, and if not that, then European mining interests and exploitation of African cash crops.
African cities are infinitely varied in how they function today. However, it is illuminating to see how the spatial patterns of so many contemporary African settlements have formed as a consequence of one urban network – the colonial railway.
Kenyatta International Conference Centre. Shutterstock Image.
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The modern and futuristic architecture of Sub-Saharan Africa reflects the aspirations and progressive spirit that dominated the early years of independence for many countries in this region between the late 1950s and early 1960s. This architectural production, coinciding with economic growth, employed complex construction methods in designs that seamlessly blended interior and exterior spaces (thanks to the tropical climate), focusing on form and expression of materiality. From this fusion of specific conditions emerged architectural masterpieces of unique value that demand ‘rediscovery,’ among them the Kenyatta International Convention Center (KICC) in Nairobi, Kenya.
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Amidst the atmosphere of freedom, the art and architecture of Sub-Saharan Africa were infused with the need to express national identity. These countries became bustling construction sites, erecting banks, stadiums, universities, independence memorials, and conference centers. An architectural boom that imprinted national history with bold constructions, simultaneously embodying the dilemmas of the independence process. After all, to what extent were they grand modernist projects propelling the nation forward, versus vanity projects dictated by authoritarian politics?
Kenyatta International Conference Centre. Shutterstock Image.
The project for the KICC was commissioned by Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta, around 1962, when he engaged Norwegian architect Karl Henrik Nøstvik and Kenyan architect David Mutiso. Nøstvik had been sent to Kenya as part of a Norwegian aid package, proving appealing due to his origins in a country without a dark colonial past. As will be seen later, he was responsible for introducing expressive concrete and sculptural light into the design, characteristics happily freed from the cumbersome needs of windows and thermal insulation in Northern Europe. However, despite Mutiso’s involvement in the project, the selection of a Norwegian architect sparks debate about the genuineness of a new national identity generated through architecture from abroad.
In the wake of controversies, it’s important to note that the president’s idea was to create a new and luxurious headquarters for his party, the Kanu (Kenyan African National Union), with four floors. However, as the project meetings unfolded, the architects realized that the president wanted to create more than just a simple headquarters; he had envisioned a landmark building that would symbolize independence and capture the essence of African civilization. Additionally, another factor was crucial in its escalation in size.
Kenyatta International Conference Centre. Shutterstock Image.
Midway through the design process, the World Bank decided that Nairobi would host its annual meeting in 1973, and the KICC was chosen as the venue, triggering a surge in growth and a change in the program requirements. As a result, the modest four-story headquarters nearly tripled in height, evolving into a 32-story skyscraper. Simultaneously, a striking auditorium shaped like a flower was added, formally mirrored by the top of the tower, which would house a revolving restaurant, all interconnected by expansive landscaped outdoor areas adorned with the founder’s sculpture.
Construction began in 1967 and was completed in 1973, divided into three phases: the base, the tower, and the auditorium. The envisioned spaces included government offices in the tower, an amphitheater with a capacity of 800 people, which has been a popular venue for international meetings, a plenary hall accommodating 4,000 people, and conference rooms of various sizes. Additionally, three levels of underground parking were provided, along with an outdoor parking area with a total capacity of 1,000 cars. On its rooftop, as mentioned earlier, there was until the early 1990s a motorized revolving restaurant that completed a full 360-degree rotation in 76 minutes, offering different panoramic city views. It is assumed that one of the reasons for its deactivation was the inconvenience caused by the constant flow of visitors to the government building.
Towering high and proud, the watchful tower over Nairobi has become one of the country’s most significant landmarks and a cornerstone in architectural history, blending a unique mix of tradition and modernity. The exposed concrete structure, devoid of any polishing, embodies technological innovation, resulting in a solid and platonic overall form. Cuboids, employed in both the amphitheater and the tower, shape the architectural design and evoke the traditional conical houses found in most Kenyan cultures. Tradition is further expressed through the textured terracotta facades, paying homage to the country’s vernacular architecture. Noteworthy in the finishes are the intricate wooden ceilings, possibly influenced by Nordic design.
Kenyatta International Conference Centre. Flickr image licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
In this convergence of cultures and influences, controversies surround the origin of its design, with some attributing to it the organic analogy of the lotus flower, while others draw parallels with its phallic shape. Nevertheless, these controversies add depth to its narrative, emphasizing the intricate interplay between symbolism and the artistic interpretation of an architectural landmark.
Just like the KICC, other projects exemplify the architectural effervescence that was occurring in Africa during this period. One such example is the Foire Internationale de Dakar, or FIDAK, a vast exhibition center built in the capital of Senegal in 1975 to host the country’s international trade fair. The mysterious complex, which seems to materialize what might have happened if the Mayans had discovered reinforced concrete, was designed by the French architects Jean-François Lamoureux and Jean-Louis Marin. Like most of these projects, despite its striking architecture, it remains relatively unknown worldwide.
As an invitation to witness the beauty and possibilities of the country, the Kenyatta International Convention Center (KICC) stands alongside iconic architectures that immortalize this pivotal period for African nations. Despite acknowledging the authoritarian intentions behind these works and the blend of influences, one cannot deny that they represent architectural and social freedom, embodying the optimism of a region still basking in the departure of colonial powers and crafting a bold, imaginative, and unconventional image of Modern Africa.
This feature is part of an ArchDaily series titled AD Narratives where we share the story behind a selected project, diving into its particularities. Every month, we explore new constructions from around the world, highlighting their story and how they came to be. We also talk to the architect, builders, and community seeking to underline their personal experiences. As always, at ArchDaily, we highly appreciate the input of our readers. If you think we should feature a certain project, please submit your suggestions.
It almost sounds like a fairytale: a tiny ant dramatically impacting a giant lion. But thanks to a study that reveals just how interconnected all life forms really are, researchers have just figured out that it happened on the savannas of Africa.
Sometime around the turn of the last century, an invasive ant species known as Pheidole megacephala, believed to come from the island of Mauritius, began to establish itself in earnest at the Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya. These big-headed ants, as they are more commonly known, started to set up shop in the local whistling-thorn trees, where they kicked out the local native acacia ant population.
The problem is that the native ants had a symbiotic relationship with the trees. In exchange for shelter and nectar, the ants protected the trees by biting invaders and releasing formic acid, a caustic chemical found in many insect bites and stings as well as in the stinging nettle plant. The native ants were particularly good at protecting the trees from the local elephant population, swarming up the noses of any elephant unfortunate enough to come in for a snack.
As the big-headed ants took over, they didn’t offer the same protection to the trees. As a result, the elephants began to feed on the trees, with scientists estimating that the giant herbivores grazed on and broke the trees at a five to seven times higher rate than when the acacia ants were in residence.
From plants to animals
With the trees disappearing, the landscape changed dramatically. In particular, it eliminated much of the hiding areas used by lions when stalking zebras. As a result, the lions changed their hunting strategy and began to eat the slightly slower-moving buffalo in the area. In fact, from 2003 to 2020, the number of zebra kills by lions declined from 67% to 42%, while the number of buffaloes killed by the cats climbed from 0% to 42%, showing just how dramatically one tiny insect can change the entire local food chain.
This was all revealed in a study led by University of Wyoming graduate, zoologist Douglas Kamaru, and recently published in the journal Science. Kamaru was joined in the work by researchers from institutions around the world, including The Nature Conservancy, Duke University, the University of Nairobi, the University of Glasgow, and others.
“We show that the spread of the big-headed ant, one of the globe’s most widespread and ecologically impactful invaders, has sparked an ecological chain reaction that reduces the success by which lions can hunt their primary prey,” the researchers wrote.
Interestingly, while the effect of the ants has been bad news for buffalo, it hasn’t affected the number of lions at the conservancy, as may have been expected – especially because buffalo are a more difficult and dangerous prey to bring down.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen going forward,” said Kamaru. “It’s very difficult for lions to kill buffalo. It’s a lot of energy compared to [hunting] zebra, and sometimes buffaloes kill lions when they’re fighting.”
Despite any future impact on the local lion population, for now, the entire study has offered researchers a fascinating look at the mesh of interconnectedness in a specific ecosystem, and can lead the way towards future work examining similar small changes with major impacts.
“This study was a beautiful snapshot of how complicated ecosystems can be – this idea that you pull on a single thread and the whole system reacts,” said Meredith Palmer, an ecologist at Fauna & Flora International who was not involved in the work, but commented on it in an article for Science.
