BUILDING IN SIWA
An Architect’s Journey Exploring Indigenous Materials and Building Practices
F.Mckie
Published in Cairo Digest V1–FUNDAMENTALS-2025
I first came to Siwa in 2003, driving from Luxor and visiting many of the Oasis and villages on the way. Arriving in Siwa, I was struck by how very different it was from anywhere I’d seen either on the way or anywhere else I had visited in Egypt; the landscape carved into the land is below sea level; the traditional houses, built from Kersheef, which is rock salt mined from the ground around the salt lakes; the Berber people with their own unique culture and language, all made it feel very different. Siwa has a rich history, and the buildings in Shali’s old town hold the stories of the way of life over centuries.
During the following months, I spent time looking at the houses in Siwa, particularly the Kersheef buildings in the old town. I began to notice that although the length of the rooms varied, there was a consistent width dimension of 3.5 meters. This then revealed that the average length of the palm beams used for the roof was approximately 5 meters, allowing 1 meter for wall thickness, which meant the beams could easily span the two walls of the room. This was an important clue, as it is the beams that brace the Kersheef walls, giving them stability. I also learnt that the weak areas of the construction are the corners; these are often strengthened with small olive wood branches laid into the Kersheef on the corners.
For my first house, Bayt Wahed, I decided on a simple Arabic courtyard design with inner outside spaces which provide effective cooling strategies whilst also creating privacy. This plan suited the desert location and the way I would live in it (Fig. 1). I decided to build in two stages: The first stage was the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and stairs to the roof, which are built with Kersheef. This way I could learn more about this indigenous material and the traditional building methods. It also meant that I could move in relatively quickly. Kersheef is built in layers with the main builder sitting astride the wall with the salt rocks and mud being passed or thrown to him as he moves along and up as the walls rise. Palm trunk sections are used for the roof construction (Fig. 2). The second stage was built using mud bricks which were made on site and dried in the sun. We made 18,000 mud bricks, it’s always surprising how many bricks are needed. This became the guest room, Marbou’ah, and enclosing walls, making a porch area, enclosing the courtyard, and the small NW-walled garden (Fig. 3).
The main reason for using these materials was a) they were available in the landscape b) they had very good thermodynamic properties. I also wanted to see how Kersheef and mud bricks compared in this environment. The coolest (summer) bedroom is the Kersheef room in the north, while the warmest (winter) bedroom is the mud brick room in the southwest. In recent years we have had an increase in rain, so I have plastered live lime onto the roof and parapets for protection against this change in climate. I have noticed that the lime adheres better to the mud brick walls and has to be renewed more often on the Kersheef walls. It is difficult to gauge the difference in thermodynamic performance between the two materials because of where they are located, the Kersheef being in the north, so cooler, while the mud brick is in the warmer south. However, the significant fact is that I can live in this house all year round without air conditioning and be relatively comfortable. These materials do work in this climate. Often when I am visited by Siwan friends, particularly in winter, they remark on how warm it is and add, ‘Well yes, it is Kersheef’.
Following the completion of Bayt Wahed (Fig 4), I had the opportunity to work on the renovation of a semi-ruined Kersheef house in the lower edge of Shali. This was a great learning curve, adapting the house to meet the needs of a modern way of living. The biggest issue was, of course, plumbing, as Kersheef is rock salt, so introducing water has to be done with care. Traditional houses did not have running water, showers, or kitchen sinks, so during that time it was not an issue. I decided to stack the two bathrooms in a corner of the building using red bricks and cement to isolate them away from the Kersheef. Water going into the building and drainage out was the most challenging aspect of this project.
Like most of the old buildings, the house had no foundations as it was built directly onto the rocky floor of Shali. We had to shore up some of the 70-cm-thick walls on the ground floor. The walls of these houses taper as they extend upwards. As with most renovations, there are often hidden issues that have to be dealt with. Many of the ruins are infested with termites, which have moved in as the buildings are abandoned. The house had to be sprayed to deal with the termites, and the palm beams, which had been infested and partially eaten, had to be replaced. The renovation was a lot of work and actually more costly than a new build. However, I am pleased to say this house is still being lived in today.
Building with these materials twenty years ago was already unusual. Siwans have largely moved out of the old town and are building with white or red brick and cement, away from the rocky outcrop of Shali. These are the modern new materials that work better with water, are easy to wire up with electricity, and are quick to build. The decision to move away from traditional materials is due to the universal economic pressures people are experiencing. The fact that the new houses are extremely hot in summer and cold in winter is overshadowed by the economics and perceived modernity. These days, air conditioning for these buildings is essential. Although the materials are more costly than mud and kersheef, it is the huge saving on labour costs that adds to its attraction. Generally, much attention is given to the interior spaces, while exteriors are often left unfinished due to the increasing costs.
In recent years, Siwa has become a popular tourist destination. This has unleashed a move towards ‘tidying up’ leading to a kind of homogenisation of the town centre. Most shops in the centre now have the same wood shopfronts and awnings. Above the shops are new thin facades, one brick thick, covered in white cement render with a pinkish/mud colour added in an attempt to look more like Kersheef; there are also swirling finger patterns added to mimic the traditional finish on Kersheef walls. Window openings in these facades sometimes let on to existing upper-floor windows, and if not, they are just left and reveal voids. It is a strange inversion of the usual norm here, where interiors are prioritised, that these facades are all about just that, a façade, like a stage set, and all about the exterior (Fig 5).
There have also been new city walls built around most of Shali; at least they are built with Kersheef, which now hides the ruins from being seen from the town centre. It is said to be for the protection of the old town. I wonder what it is protection from—surely not the rain that falls directly downwards from the sky? Is it protection from being seen? I believe it takes good buildings to make good ruins; they are a thing of beauty. Why are they being hidden, and why can they not just be allowed to be ruins? How do we stop places from becoming a pastiche of themselves, a thin façade of what they actually are? Most of all how do we learn from the buildings of the past and adapt that knowledge to work for us now and in the future? During my early years here, I learnt that Kersheef performs best when built in a curve with fewer corners. I also discovered that the early buildings in Shali often had curved edges; there were many round towers incorporated into the buildings; likewise, the city walls were mainly curved (Fig. 6,7). So my next building was a curve, but that is another story.
Fig. 6,7 Towers in Shali. Photo courtesy of F. Mckie.