Many people in the islands spend time right outside on the joali making or preparing their cooking, washing their clothes or simply minding their children; all done in a very social environment and away from electricity needed for the TV and Radio sets.
I just wanted to find an authoritative source of information to back my claims. However, I haven’t been able to find any – because I am just Googling. I am sure there must be some snippets of information in books which I do not have access to because they are not online. All this searching without much luck really keeps saying to me that someone should be writing a book on:
Traditional architecture of the Maldives
Wouldn’t it be fascinating to read something about the physical layout of the traditional houses in Maldives? I doubt if Malé has any of this traditional houses now. But in some islands (I haven’t visited too many) there still exists houses with the badhige (kitchen) as a separate annexure to the dwelling, and the huge gifili (open-air toilet) also sperate from the main dwelling. With the wave of modernisation taking place in the country, soon these will be replaced with “modern” houses. With it will be lost the ways of living that our mothers and grandmothers had experienced. I am sure there would be special meanings attached to the architectural layout (if I may call it that) of the traditional houses.
I have seen glimpses of this discourse in some of the historical accounts written by foreigners. The following is a snippet from the The strode Venturer / Hammon Innes . _ Collins, 1965.
Don Mansoor’s gai or house was built like the rest of coral cement with a palm-thatched roof. There was a well in the forecourt and the interior was lit by a roaring pressure lamp that cast giant shadows with every movement of the occupants. There was a table, chairs and a big, ornate mirror, a dresser with cheap English china displayed. But the thing I remember most clearly was a great swinging bed slung by ropes from the balm bole roof beams. His wife greeted us, slight and dark with doe-like eyes and a beauty that was clearly driven from Ceylon. There were other, older women in the background, and as I sat down a young girl brought me a glass of some pale, amber-coloured liquid. He soft nubile features smiled at me shyly as she moved back into the shadows with a glint of gold at waist and throat. (p. 112).
The family atmosphere, the sense of order and neatness, of a culture and a way of life nurtured and maintained in absolute isolation; it was impressive and strangely attractive so that I felt relaxed and at ease, and as I sipped my drink I found myself falling under the spell of the island. (p. 113)
Isn’t it time that a Maldivian – who is specialised (maybe) in architecture, study the traditional layout of houses and see how well they fitted with the traditional way of life – especially on the islands; and try to understand if there are lessons to be learned from this architecture before we barge into modernising our houses. More importantly, it will be an important addition to our historical collection and an important contribution to our future generation.
I can visualise that book:
Pictures of traditional houses, limestone walls with their myriad designs, their layout, the neat and tidy sand floors, how these designs ventilated and lighted the houses, and the sustainable nature of these designs, etc.
