This interview features Salima Naji born and raised in Morocco, an architect and anthropologist was introduced to vernacular architecture at a young age and pursued advanced studies in Europe, earning a Ph. D. in anthropology.
Her methodology represents a significant advancement for the local construction sector: it revitalizes forgotten traditional methods and integrates new techniques adapted to the specific characteristics of each site.
In this interview, Salima Naji discusses her professional background and the intersection of architecture and anthropology, exploring her method of paleo-innovation and its application to vernacular and earthquake-resistant construction.
She reflects on her work restoring granaries and ksour, the challenges of navigating conventional procurement and funding systems, and the development of the Tiznit Heritage Interpretation Center.
Tell us about your background, and what led you to combine architecture with a PhD in anthropology.
It stemmed from my intention to work in Morocco and the realisation that architecture alone would not be enough. Looking back, I realise how right I was to trust that need to learn more!
Born in Rabat in 1971, I began by studying art at Paris VIII before turning to architecture—a field that had captivated me since childhood.
I earned an architecture degree from the École de Paris-La Villette and then continued my multidisciplinary journey at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (ADVANCED STUDIES: EHESS)—an institution with a highly selective admissions process that requires excellent academic standing.
I earned a doctorate in social anthropology, focusing on communal granaries and heritage-making processes in the Atlas Mountains and pre-Saharan Morocco—an 800-page thesis that resulted from over five years of fieldwork refining my research on historic kasbahs and ksours.
I subsequently used my own funds to save a good dozen of these structures; for me, it was only natural to give back the treasures of human ingenuity I had received from the mountain and oasis communities of pre-Saharan Morocco.
This dual background shapes my entire approach: I first understand societies and territories, then feel equipped to support their preservation or development—without altering their essential character.
Throughout my career, I have worked to preserve Morocco’s vernacular architecture—*ksours*, *kasbahs*, and communal granaries—driven by a commitment to restoring structures at risk of disappearing. I did not want us to lose what I call the “Oasis civilisation.”
Initially, alongside my work as an architect, I began restoring—much like saving something fragile destined to vanish forever—structures such as the granaries of Amtoudi and
Stone and wood earthquake-resistant techniques at the Agadir reception platform.Salima Naji ©.
Innoumar, and the series of projects that followed: various buildings in the village of Tiguemmi n’Mourabitin and the postern gate in the village of Ait Kin (undertaken after the granary in that same village had been saved thanks to the U.S. Ambassadors Fund).
A first trip to Mali in 1995 made me realise that vernacular architecture could remain alive, in use, and passed down to future generations. Why couldn’t the same be true for Morocco?
What are the visions, goals or principles behind your method of paleo-innovation? How do projects reflect them?
Rejecting a linear view of progress, I experimented early on with forgotten practices within a contemporary context: generations may forget, disown, or lose parts of their past, yet remain capable of summoning them back in the face of uncertainty.
For the Agadir project, the public viewing platform utilises an earthquake-resistant stone-and-timber construction method—a technique from the High Atlas mountains that proved highly effective.
1) Design: Salima Naji ©.
2) Stages in the earthquake-resistant wood and stone construction of the Timenkar High School in the village of Aourir, High Atlas, Marrakech-Haouz region. This isolated High Atlas plateau, situated at an altitude of 2,100 meters, is inhabited by farmers who remain active despite the proximity of Marrakech. Cut off during the winter months, the villages are linked by tribal ties to a larger hamlet where a 1,000 m² middle school serving all the villages is scheduled for construction starting in April 2024. The idea was to consolidate and support—at a time of unprecedented rural crisis—hamlets that remain inhabited and continue to develop or maintain specific agricultural practices, such as summer alpine grazing involving semi-transhumance. Photo: Mohamed Rouay © 2024.
Central to this “regeneration” are the skilled artisans—the maalmines—who act as conduits for intergenerational tradition.
At each site, they reinvent a new element, thereby perpetuating a fruitful “lineage of generation” (Tim Ingold).
This process reinvents a future born of collective reflection, extending the office-based preparatory models and prototypes into the construction phase.
It involves on-site experimentation as the project unfolds, for the building site remains an arena where thought expands—where a project conceived in the studio takes on a life of its own through its interaction with material.
Architecture acts as a catalyst for collective intelligence, renewing itself through the dialogue between the design phase and the act of making.
Conversely—and for those same reasons of deep respect—it also knows when to step back and create distance. It moves away from imposing a functional graft—such as reinvented materials or a transformed structure—and instead chooses to recede, fostering a better coexistence.
Your structural designs have had to work their way through public procurement systems built for concrete contractors, not craftsmen. Can you expand on that struggle?
There are two issues here. First is the need to have competent master craftsmen— maalmines—by my side; I hired them for my studio, and they support my projects (staying on-site with the contractors to train them).
I do masonry work myself and understand the techniques, so I can demonstrate and explain exactly what I want—imposing a construction process that is both technically effective and beautiful!
The second issue involves testing and refining the technical specifications (Specs); I drafted and insisted on these myself, thanks to my command of both the technical and theoretical aspects.
Finally, the associated inspection agencies shouldn’t be left out of the loop—they ultimately sign off on the work, and I meet people who are just as passionate as I am! However, I always have to go back to the ministry to try to get them to incorporate these incredible techniques.
This large-scale government-funded hydro-agricultural project for the Yssi Valley—Ait Mansour (Tafraout-Tata, Tiznit Province)—aims to improve rural tourism trails and infrastructure while enhancing the palm groves and water supply and collection systems. The start, midpoint, and end of a 14-kilometer trail were laid out as paved circles using traditional techniques and materials, executed by workers drawn from the valley’s 2,500 inhabitants. All interventions blend into the landscape and highlight the surrounding villages, enhancing the site’s beauty while allowing the architect to virtually recede into the background.
Aga Khan Trust © Amine El Houari.
What are some of the challenges you’ve faced persuading officials and institutions to fund vernacular, earthquake-resistant construction over conventional development, and how have you overcome them?
2 projects :
In Timenkar, the biggest hurdle came at the very end—after the magnificent project was completed—when insurers refused to grant the mandatory ten-year structural warranty for the building! A new law took effect in 2025, and we were unpleasantly surprised to run into it just weeks later, as it effectively excluded stone construction!
Fortunately, the highly competent inspection body resolved the issue by requiring an even higher level of commitment from us. It is baffling that architecture capable of enduring for a millennium should face such obstacles!
In Agadir, we ultimately weren’t permitted to use timber roof structures and had to accept steel instead—the authorities deemed it stronger than wood. The construction world is sometimes governed by mere beliefs.
Tell us about the Tiznit Heritage Interpretation Centre, which took more than a decade to complete.
The Tiznit Living Heritage Centre is a major contemporary architectural project constructed entirely from raw earth (rammed earth) and local materials.
The centre showcases vernacular techniques and the heritage of Tiznit’s centuries-old medina, positioning these methods as a viable approach for the future.
It is situated in the heart of the medina, directly abutting the historic ramparts of a pre-existing citadel (dating back to 1810).
Geo-sourced and bio-sourced materials: The project highlights eco-friendly materials (earth, stone, wood tataoui) through direct collaboration with master craftspeople.
Rooted in a region where I have restored numerous monuments and built around thirty new structures using earth and stone, my approach to innovation does not seek novelty for its own sake; instead, it draws its strength and future potential from a deep understanding of existing heritage.
What are you working on now?
I have gradually made earth, stone, and local craftsmanship the pillars of an architecture that is simultaneously contemporary, rooted in its context, and deeply human.
My latest project is the earthquake-resistant Timenkar Plateau secondary school, recently inaugurated in the Al Haouz region at an altitude of 2,100 meters.
In this area, which was struck by the earthquake, I once again prioritised local materials and traditional skills. One must have confidence in one’s identity and origins in the face of the omnipresence of concrete.
We shifted from an architecture produced by the local economy to an industrialised architecture no longer created by the society that had originally shaped it.
Over time, traditional skills were lost, and concrete became the obvious choice—despite being inefficient in terms of climate and sustainability, and—in this snowy region—ill-suited to withstand earthquakes!
What’s a piece of advice you’d give a young architect who wants to build a career on vernacular knowledge, in a profession that often doesn’t respect it?
Learn these techniques and strengthen your conviction. Focus not on money, but on constructive intelligence!
Interior of the communal space, Tablaba Colonial Souk, rammed earth and unfired brick, Guelmim-Oued Noun Province, 2007–2014 © David Goeury.
Which project have you worked on that is the closest to your heart and why?
The Agadir project, which is massive (8,000 m²): the Agadir Oufella fortress (Agadir)—spanning everything from the archaeological excavation to the site’s enhancement following rehabilitation—includes a semi-underground, earthquake-resistant visitor reception platform and a cable car (the country’s first), built between 2017 and 2023. Sixty years after the 1960 earthquake, I am working alongside the victims and survivors; for them, the process of mourning and healing also involves reinventing memory—specifically through the rediscovery of earthquake-resistant techniques and the architectural secrets used to build the original citadel-city of Agadir.
The Agadir Oufella fortress (Agadir)—spanning everything from the archaeological excavation to the site’s enhancement following rehabilitation—includes a semi-underground, earthquake-resistant visitor reception platform and a cable car (the country’s first), built between 2017 and 2023. Sixty years after the 1960 earthquake, I am working alongside the victims and survivors; for them, the process of mourning and healing also involves reinventing memory—specifically through the rediscovery of earthquake-resistant techniques and the architectural secrets used to build the original citadel-city of Agadir.
Abdelkarim Msaad © for DSRT Souss Massa Agadir ©.
Meet the Shortlist series is a compilation of interviews with those who have been shortlisted for our awards. Saliha Benmessaoud is on the shortlist for the Women in Architecture and Construction Award, which recognises women who have made outstanding contributions to architecture and the built environment across the Near East and North Africa.
Meet the Shortlist: Hadeel Ayed Mohammad, Dr Hiba Alkhalaf, Jomana Baddad, Meisa Batayneh, Nuha Dandis, Ronak Roshan Gilvaei, Saliha Benmessaoud, Salwa and Selma Mikoü, and Dr Zahra Hussain.
Tamayouz Excellence Award is sponsored by 99 Properties Development, Coventry University, Dewan Architects + Engineers, the Mohamed Makiya Foundation, Bonair Ltd, Aji Group, and Round City Magazine.