An Introduction to the Traditional Architecture
of the Arabian Peninsula
by Peter Fagan

VISIT any of the Gulf’s cities and you can see impressive examples of modern architecture. Dubai’s Burj Al Arab and Riyadh’s Al Faisaliyah and Kingdom Centre spring to mind as three of the most impressive of the newest buildings. By contrast, the skylines of many western cities are bereft of exciting new architecture, probably reflecting a combination of conservatism, timidity and financial short-termism.

However, the wealth of exciting new architecture (and some mistakes) in the Gulf’s cities should not be allowed to divert attention from the heritage of traditional Arabian building forms. Throughout the Arabian Peninsula there are varied forms of traditional architecture which combine distinctive decorative features with forms which have developed in response to the region’s demanding climate.

Who could fail to admire the towering apartment blocks of Sana’a, the massive walls of Riyadh’s Masmak Fortress, the elegant facades of Jeddah’s townhouses or the windtower houses of Dubai’s Bastakia district?

The adobe buildings of Al Ain, set amongst the greenery of the oasis city, have an attractive simplicity of line, as do the very distinctive (and often colourful) buildings of Saudi Arabia’s Asir region. In the mountains of the UAE and Oman the simple watchtower is an integral part of the landscape by virtue of its ubiquity.


A fine example of an adobe (mud) house in Al Ain, Abu Dhabi.

The Gulf’s architectural forms have to some extent been limited by two overriding factors - climate and the availability of building materials - but look beyond the predominant sand/mud colour of many of the buildings and there is a wealth of difference in the detail.

The chief feature of Arabian residential (as opposed to military) architecture has always been the measures taken to protect the inhabitants from the overpowering heat of the Gulf’s summer. This led to houses being built with thick walls for insulation, with few windows and with devices designed to take advantage of any potentially cooling breeze.

On the coasts a shortage of other building materials led people to quarry coral reefs for “stone”, and since the porous nature of the coral blocks makes them an excellent natural insulating material these traditional houses were far better insulated than the vast majority of the Gulf’s modern homes.(In fact, although there are some excellent new houses which draw upon local architectural tradition, retaining significant features of both the form and function of Arabian architecture, too many of the region’s villas rely overmuch on airconditioning to compensate for designs and materials which are inappropriate for the region.) The thickness of adobe (mud) buildings such as those of Al Ain or ancient Dirriyah (outside Riyadh) gave them a thermal mass which kept the worst of the heat out.

Coral lumps ready for a restoration project in Sharjah.

Thick, well-insulated walls help to minimise heat gain by conduction, but this needs to be reinforced by reducing the effects of radiant heat - or, in plain English - keeping direct sunlight out of the rooms. Consequently, a common feature of Arabian indigenous architecture is the absence of windows on the exterior walls of a house. Where “windows” do exist in the exterior walls they are often limited to narrow slits (which may double up as loopholes in times of conflict) or small semi-decorative openings such as the triangular piercings which admit light to the interior of the Masmak fortress.

The windows in a traditional “courtyard” house such as can still be seen in Dubai and Bahrain are mostly on the inside, looking in towards the courtyard. The perimeter of the courtyard is generally cloistered and this adds to the shading effect so that direct sunlight will never penetrate the rooms. The result is that - to Western eyes at least - the interior of traditional Gulf homes is characterised by a subdued light level, even in the middle of the day.

Another characteristic of traditional Gulf townscapes was that the buildings tended to be very closely clustered together, separated only by narrow shaded alleyways. This meant that buildings offered each other mutual shading, but this may simply have been a by-product of clustering buildings closely together for greater security within some defensive perimeter or city walls.

The Nabataean civilisation in the Middle East



Right: Narrow, shady alleys are common in the old parts of the Gulf's cities.

Crenellated parapet walls are a common feature of Gulf buildings. In some cases the crenellations are obviously designed for defensive purposes but in other cases the rooftop parapet walls of ordinary residential buildings feature quite elaborate and entirely decorative crenellations.

Parapet walls are a standard safety feature of any flat-roofed building, but in the Gulf they are more than just a means to prevent people from falling off the roof. In the worst heat of the summer the roof is the coolest place to sleep, so by raising the height of the parapet wall considerably above what is strictly necessary for safety a certain amount of privacy can be achieved. This use of the roof as a summer bedroom also explains the design of some of the windscoops seen in Dubai’s older buildings.

The windscoop is a device which channels cooling air into a room. Basically, it consists of a hollow wall panel with openings at the top and bottom. The opening at the top will generally be at the top of the parapet wall (where the windspeed is greatest), and as the breeze blows against the windward side of the wall the air is forced down through the hollow panel and out into the room below. Some windscoops, however, are designed in such a way that rather than channelling the breeze into the house they direct it across the roof at about the height of a low trestle bed.

A far more dramatic device for using the cooling potential of any available breeze is the windtower (badgeer) which in times past was the chief characteristic of the skyline of cities like Dubai and Manama. It is generally thought that the windtower concept originated in Persia, but it was in the Gulf that it found its true home. In these increasingly energy-conscious times it is surprising that the device has not been adopted more widely around the world since it is a very effective ventilation and cooling mechanism.

The windtower has four concave faces so that whichever direction the wind is blowing one side will always capture the breeze. The base of the tower is open (although they can be sealed during the winter months) allowing the wind to enter and provide cool relief to those sitting below (more often than not the men in the house’s majlis). Apart from the positive pressure on the windward side of the tower forcing wind down the tower, there is reduced pressure on the leeward side which sucks air from the room below and thus contributes to the air circulation. Just how important this “sucking” effect is a matter of debate, although a UAE museum curator has told AGM of plans to carry out research to resolve this issue.
A typical Dubai windtower.

Windspeed increases quite rapidly with height (what is known by pilots as wind gradient) and it can be quite surprising to feel the strength of breeze beneath a windtower on days when there appears to be little or no wind at street level.

On occasion the cooling effect would be augmented by hanging wet cloths in the airflow so as to achieve evaporative cooling. The Desert Cooler - a precursor to the modern compressor-based airconditioner - worked on exactly the same principle. The Desert Cooler was essentially a box full of straw (or some similar medium) with a water reservoir above it. Water was allowed to drip through from above, while a fan on one side of the box forced air through the wet straw causing the water to evaporate. The energy required in the evaporation meant that the air leaving the box was cooler than the ambient air. The limiting factor on the Desert Cooler was that it was inherently less efficient in climates where the humidity level was high and thus it was more suited to inland regions than to coastal areas.

The Majlis Al Ghureifa, Dubai.

In larger houses, such as Shaikh Isa’s House in Muharraq, Bahrain, there was the option of taking the room to the wind, rather than the wind to the room. A second majlis might be built on the roof, consisting essentially of a room with decorative wooden screens taking the place of the walls. These screens provided shade and privacy, but still allowed the cooling wind to blow through from any direction. In Dubai the Majlis Al Ghureifa, which is among the city’s restored and preserved heritage sites, is a variation on this principle, with the ground-floor of this purpose-built majlis being not much more than a platform to raise the sitting room to a height where it could benefit from the sea breeze.

While many of the Gulf’s traditional buildings have presented a rather blank exterior face to the world with their focus on the internal courtyard, the main entrance was often rich in detail and texture, as if to compensate for the overall blandness of the walls. The doorway to a large house might be flanked by pillars and a shaded portico while the door itself was a showcase for the art of the local carpenters and blacksmiths, combining carved wood and wrought metal in a strong and decorative object.

Ornate gypsum carving at Shaikh Isa's House, in Muharraq, Bahrain.

That trend is still seen in the Northern Emirates where new houses feature wrought iron gates with elaborate patterns and bright paint schemes.

Carved gypsum plaster was also used extensively in building decoration. The gypsum powder was mixed up to form a plaster - much like plaster of Paris - which was poured into moulds. The resultant panels of plaster were then worked on by skilled craftsmen to produce decorative panels and screens. In some cases the panels simply involved a pattern in low relief, but intricate pierced sunscreens were also common.

In recent years this type of decoration has made a comeback in Gulf although the role of the artist and craftsman is limited to producing the initial design and the master pattern. Actual production is achieved using glass-reinforced gypsum cast in intricate silicone rubber moulds.

Wooden screens were also used widely, both to keep out the sun and to provide privacy. The greatest flourishing of this technique (mashrabbia) was to be found in the townhouses of Jeddah which feature balconies which are wholly enclosed in decorated wooden screens which allowed the passage of cool breezes but which shielded the inhabitants from the gaze of passers-by in the streets below. These rawashin exhibit marked Ottoman influence, and anyone who has seen the old wooden buildings of Istanbul will have noted the strong similarity between these two types of building, even though the actual structure of the Jeddah houses is of masonry rather than timber.

The region still has many fine examples of military architecture, ranging from small watchtowers to Oman’s many fine surs, the husns of Sharjah (more or less completely rebuilt in recent years) and Umm Al Quwain and Riyadh’s imposing Masmak Fortress.

As with residential buildings the form of construction was determined largely by the locally available materials: in the mountains of Oman the forts are built from stone while in the oasis city of Al Ain the impressive structures of the Al Jahili forts complex are made from adobe.

A common feature of all of these defensive structures throughout the peninsula is the use of machicoulis, projecting beaklike structures high up on the towers and walls. These are open at the bottom and allow the defenders to look down at the base of the wall and to shoot at any attackers immediately below them. The shape of the machicouli protects the defender from fire from anyone not standing immediately beneath him, and this puts an attacker at a marked disadvantage as he tries to batter down the door or to make an opening in the wall.

In some watchtowers the attacker’s job was made even more difficult by virtue of the fact that the doorway was not at ground level. There are watchtowers where the door is reached by either an external staircase or stepping stones, and others where a ladder or rope was used to reach the doorway.

Villages frequently have several watchtowers. This means that even in a surprise attack the inhabitants have a reasonable chance of being able to find a place of refuge. It also means that anyone attacking one of the towers is likely to come under fire from the defenders of neighbouring towers.

In many of the surviving watchtowers there are short masonry columns projecting above the roof level. These are the remains of sunshades - the palm frond (barasti) roof having long since disintegrated - which indicate that there were periods when it was necessary to maintain a constant watch for marauders.

If you visit any of these watchtowers you’ll probably be struck by how dark the interior is. These towers were designed for defence rather than for living and their spiral staircases are poorly lit. This is another advantage for the defenders: if the attackers do succeed in forcing the door they are then faced with the prospect of moving forward into pitch blackness. By contrast, anyone waiting inside can see the attacker clearly silhouetted against the light outside (even at night it will be brighter outside than in). The first man in is likely to get a bullet in his chest, and his body then becomes an obstacle for the next man. The problem gets steadily worse since for every casualty taken on the stairs the picture becomes more confused and the attackers can’t be sure whether the bodies they’re climbing over are those of their kinsmen or of defenders playing possum and just waiting for a chance to stick a khanjar between their ribs.

In so many ways the surviving traditional buildings give us a glimpse of the life of the people of the Gulf before the discovery and exploitation of oil and gas sparked off the modernisation process. These buildings are full of memories, whether of internecine strife amidst the mountains and wadis, or of Shaikhs, merchants and pearl traders holding court in an elegant majlis.

Arabian Gulf Miniatures’ ever-growing collection of architectural miniatures is a celebration of this distinctive and important aspect of Gulf Arab culture. It was conceived out of our admiration for Gulf architectural forms - an admiration which we hope you share.

Peter Fagan, a Partner in Arabian Gulf Miniatures, is a former editor of both Middle East Construction and Gulf Construction Magazine, and has also worked as an editor on books about the urban landscapes of Jeddah and Riyadh.

 

Some links of interest

The Nabataean civilisation in the Middle East