MT: Yeah. So the thing is, one part is obviously the design. On one hand, you have a donor willing to give money but the whole prototypical model doesn’t really work. When you’re building somewhere, you have to acknowledge the style of that area, the aspirations of the people. I think the design part needs to be addressed. When I talk about changing the model, I mean that the donor needs to focus more directly on the beneficiary. A direct connection would help.


For example, we pitched for grants on some projects where we were building houses in the chars (riverine islands) and other areas, and now we are building community spaces like the ones we built in refugee camps. There are international NGOs offering grants for causes like climate justice. It could work similarly for religious buildings or other needs hygiene, cleanliness, libraries, schools. It’s all interconnected with Islamic principles, not just mosques. The idea is: someone working for the beneficiaries (like us) would pitch for funding, presenting a specific design based on research and consultation. We’d say: This is the design. This is what people need. This is how much it will cost.


Then, the grant donors, whether focused on humanitarian, religious, or social causes, could review the proposals. Instead of the traditional top-down model ("I have money, here’s the model"), it would be a bottom-up model. The end-user side or those working closely with them would propose projects that the donors then review. In our case, we first submitted our portfolio showing who we are, what kinds of projects we’ve done. The foundation then shortlisted those they believed were genuinely committed to community work, not just posing as NGOs. Once shortlisted, we submitted specific project proposals: We want to build a mosque for a community without one; this is the mosque style appropriate for the region; this is the expected number of users; this is the estimated budget. If you go through a bottom-up process like this, the donor gets to review many real, grounded proposals and can choose which ones to fund, rather than simply imposing standardized models.

AA: In your experience, how can we effectively advocate for the value of local materials and construction methods to the donors?


MT: Yeah, no, I totally understand. It's difficult to grasp, for sure, and I completely get it. To think of bamboo as a serious building material will take time especially in the Middle East and Gulf region. It’s about mental conditioning, and it will happen slowly. Why bamboo? First, because it’s a natural material. Second, because in those areas, it’s the best possible option you can provide. Instead of building with materials that people can't move like brick or concrete you offer something flexible. People often don't have land ownership, and they need to be able to move their homes from one location to another. A brick or concrete house wouldn't allow for that.

It also needs to be affordable. Another important point the donor needs to understand is that nowadays, we don't want to simply donate to people. When you give people something for free, it often isn’t valued in the same way as when they collaborate in the process. It needs to be a partnership maybe a 60/40 partnership, maybe 80/20 but one where people are brought on board. When they participate, they feel ownership; they feel it’s not just a gift handed down to them, but something they helped create. It’s about dignity. It’s about giving people importance. Donor agencies must begin addressing this. The models you’re questioning the old top-down, gift-giving approaches simply don't work anymore. They have failed in many ways. Even if donations are made with goodwill, the end user often doesn’t truly benefit, and the impact is minimal.

If you want your money to make a real impact, you have to change your approach. You have to understand what’s actually needed. Because at the end of the day, you’re making an effort—your time, your resources, your money and if it doesn’t create change, then why do it at all? It needs to be addressed.


AA: In the context of designing for displaced communities, how can spatial decisions such as orientation, circulation, and thresholds be genuinely co-authored with users, rather than imposed through assumptions made by architects? What mechanisms or design processes have you found effective in facilitating this participatory authorship?


MT: Well, we do community engagements. We sit with the community, and we listen to them to understand their needs. In a way, you have to take on the role of a social anthropologist. The donor won’t do it, but someone like an architect can. The architect can act as a social anthropologist, using the skill of observation: seeing how people behave, how they use spaces, and what their needs are. From there, you can make more intelligent decisions.

You also bring them on board by asking about their aspirations and needs. Keeping those in mind, you then come up with an idea, something you can share with them and ask: What do you think? That’s how you bring people into the conversation, how you get them on board. You create something together, it could be a prototype, a one-off design, it doesn’t matter. What matters is involving people in the decision-making process. When you do that, there’s much less chance of making a mistake.


AA: Since prioritizing the community has always been central to your approach, how do you ensure that this principle guides every stage of the design process?


MT: I wouldn’t say that I always knew this. I graduated from a school where it was very much a top-down system. That’s what I was taught to believe that you, as the architect, know better. That you’re the visionary. Over time, I realized that this might work when you’re building in a city, working in the corporate world, or designing a museum. But when you’re working with communities at the grassroots level you have to understand their needs, because that’s something we often don't know.


I don’t know what it’s like to live in a sandbed or in a refugee camp. I don’t. So if I want to offer something meaningful, if I want it to have an impact, then I have to listen and understand what their needs are and only then give something back. In these cases, there are many layers: you have the donor, the agency overseeing the project, and then the beneficiary the person who will use what is being built.
Your real client is the end user, the beneficiary. You have to listen to them, rather than simply listening to the donors.


AA: You’ve spoken about architecture as a vessel for light, wind, and spirituality, especially in the context of temporary shelters or spaces for displaced populations. How can these ephemeral and sincere qualities be embedded without compromising on speed or budget? How do you effectively argue that these are not privileges, but essential to dignified design?



MT: You know, at the end of the day, let’s take an example: suppose a donor wants to donate a mosque in Kenya. They often come with a certain model a prototypical design that can be built anywhere. It’s easy for them because it’s standardized. But that model doesn’t speak about Kenya; it doesn’t reflect the place. It just says who donated it, and you see the same model spotted all over Kenya. And it’s not that people won’t pray in it people will pray in any space you give them, actually. But donation is one thing. If you want to make a donation dignified if you want to bring dignity and respect to the people you are giving to that’s something that needs to be brought into the conversation with donors.


You can ask: Would you build such a mosque in your own country? Would you pray in such a basic mosque if it were in your own? For me, it’s simple if there’s a dress I wouldn’t wear, I wouldn’t give it to someone else. A gift should be something you would use yourself. It’s about creating the right arguments. At the same time, we have to recognize that donors are providing the money, and money can buy bricks, concrete, glass any material. It’s ultimately up to the designer how that money is used.


Instead of applying a prototypical idea, with the same amount of money, you could create a beautiful, spiritual space something that evokes a feeling of dignity, using light, air, ventilation, atmosphere. Good design doesn't necessarily cost more; it’s about thoughtful ideas. But for that to happen, the donor must be open willing to give the architect the freedom to design, rather than stamping any place with a prefabricated model. That shift would not only be more humanitarian, but it would also align more deeply with the Islamic ethos these donations claim to represent. Islam teaches humility. When you give, you do it with humility, and that’s something we need to remember.