Decolonising African Cities: Embracing Indigenous Urban Planning

African cities today face a legacy of colonial urban planning that has left deep scars on their form and function. During the colonial era, European powers designed African cities in their own image – with orderly grids, segregated quarters, and infrastructure to serve colonial administrators and settlers. These cities were built by and for the colonizers, often with a “dual city” structure: a well-planned European core and neglected indigenous peripheries.

After independence, African leaders inherited urban layouts and governance systems ill-suited to the needs of the majority. In the 50+ years since, many of these cities have struggled to provide adequate housing, services, and economic opportunities for rapidly growing urban populations. Cities from Kinshasa to Lagos and Maputo to Luanda now grapple with vast informal settlements, crumbling infrastructure, and stark inequalities between wealthy enclaves and impoverished slums. This report explores how colonial planning has failed African cities in the post-colonial era, and discusses solutions for reversing that legacy through African-led urban practices. It asks: Can African cities be reimagined and restructured using indigenous knowledge, cultural identity, and local priorities? Is such a transformation feasible – and even if so, is it desirable? The answer, as this report will argue, is an emphatic yes.

By prioritizing African thinking – and only African thinking – in urban development, cities can become more inclusive, culturally resonant, and economically vibrant. In doing so, African societies may choose to focus on cultural identity and economic development as primary goals, rather than importing external notions of “sustainability” that may not address the urgent realities of poverty. The sections below provide a comprehensive analysis of the problem and chart a path forward.

The Colonial Legacy in African City Planning

Under colonial rule, urban planning in Africa was explicitly geared toward European needs and sensibilities. Colonizers introduced European urban models – geometric street grids, monumental architecture, and segregated zoning – onto African soil. Indigenous settlement patterns, which had evolved over centuries to suit local climates and social structures, were overridden. In British colonies, for example, the doctrine of indirect rule produced cities with a clear racial-spatial divide: a well-serviced colonial township for Europeans and a separate “native” quarter with minimal infrastructure. The “real” city was considered the European section, while African areas were relegated to an afterthought, often treated as villages or labor camps rather than integral parts of the city. French colonial planning, under assimilation policies, aimed to civilize by implanting French-style institutions and layouts, again centering European needs and ignoring local ones. In Portuguese colonies like Angola and Mozambique, a similar pattern emerged: the coastal capitals of Luanda and Lourenço Marques (Maputo) were divided into the “cidade de cimento” (stone or cement city) for Europeans and assimilated elites, versus the “cidade de caniço” (reed city) – sprawling shantytowns of African residents built from mud and thatch on the urban periphery. These dualities were by design. European quarters featured paved boulevards, parks, and sturdy buildings, projecting an image of order and modernity, while African quarters were largely unplanned, denied investment, and seen as temporary camps for migrant labor.

This imposed urban form created structural inequalities that persist to this day. Colonial authorities strictly limited the migration of Africans into “white” cities (through pass laws, racial residential ordinances, etc.), resulting in severe housing shortages for Africans in urban areas. When independence came (mostly in the 1950s–1970s), the new African governments suddenly found themselves in charge of cities whose layouts and land ownership patterns served a tiny affluent minority. The vast majority of Africans, previously kept out or confined to slums, began to pour into cities seeking opportunity – only to encounter urban plans that had never anticipated their arrival. The seeds of today’s urban crisis were sown in this colonial era.

Crucially, colonial city planning also introduced an ideological bias against indigenous African urban forms. The European view equated African “tradition” with rural village life, not city life. Urbanism was seen as a Western import; African culture was presumed incompatible with modern cities. This false dichotomy – cities as Western/modern vs. villages as African/traditional – justified excluding African people and practices from urban centers. It “gave credence to the belief that ‘African culture’ was that of the village,” as historian Coquery-Vidrovitch noted, thereby erasing the rich legacy of precolonial African urbanism. In reality, Africa has a long history of cities (from Cairo and Timbuktu to Kano and Benin City) with indigenous planning principles. Some precolonial cities featured circular layouts of compounds around central marketplaces or palace courts, reflecting communal spatial arrangements. Others, like the Hausa and Swahili city-states, had intricate organic street patterns, clustered ethnic quarters, and vibrant public realms suited to their context. Unfortunately, colonial rule disrupted these homegrown urban trajectories. By 1960, most African cities were stamped – either partially or wholly – in the image of Europe.

Post-independence, African leaders initially continued many colonial planning paradigms, often equating them with “progress.” Eager to build modern nations, they saw European-style master plans and grandiose projects as symbols of development. In the process, they perpetuated imported urban ideals – wide boulevards, high-rise downtowns, secluded residential suburbs – while neglecting indigenous approaches. This continuity has reinforced colonial spatial hierarchies even under African governance. Today one can find glass skyscrapers and luxury malls rising in African capitals – from Nairobi’s new office towers to Accra’s gated estates – reflecting aspirations of global modernity. Yet as one design scholar observes, “this architectural bravado often fails to reflect the cultural and spiritual lives of the residents. Imported urban aesthetics rooted in colonial legacies dominate design standards, creating a disconnect between physical spaces and local identity.” In other words, the modern African cityscape frequently feels alien to its own people – built but belonging nowhere, to paraphrase the scholar’s critique. The next sections examine how these colonial urban forms have fared over the past 50 years, and why many have effectively “failed” to serve African populations.

Post-Colonial Urban Challenges: The Collapse of Colonial Models

In the decades since independence, most African cities experienced explosive urban population growth that quickly overflowed the confines of the colonial city plan. Rural-urban migration, combined with high natural population increase, led to cities doubling, tripling, and even growing tenfold in a short span. For example, Maputo (Mozambique) began the 20th century as a tiny colonial outpost of 6,000 people; by the 1960s it had 400,000 as a segregated “pleasure city” for colonial elites, and after independence it swelled to over 1 million residents within a few decades. Similarly, Luanda (Angola) had around 500,000 inhabitants in 1975 when Portuguese rule ended – but decades of civil war drove millions from the countryside into the capital, pushing Luanda’s population to nearly 5 million by 2000 and about 10 million today. Kinshasa, designed by Belgian colonizers for perhaps 100,000 Europeans and a controlled number of African workers, now hosts an estimated 15 million people and continues to grow at 4–5% per year. Lagos (Nigeria), once containing a colonial core on Lagos Island for tens of thousands, has exploded into a megacity of over 20 million across the mainland and islands. The story repeats across the continent: cities like Nairobi, Dar es Salaam, Accra, Kano, Abidjan, Khartoum, Kinshasa, Lagos and more are several orders of magnitude larger than their colonial-era footprints.

This uncontrolled urbanization has utterly overwhelmed the colonial urban infrastructure and plans. The European-designed portions of the city – typically central business districts, government zones, and some residential neighborhoods – remain, but around them have mushroomed vast unplanned settlements to house the burgeoning populace. Lacking sufficient formal housing or affordable land, newcomers did what people must: they built their own shelters, informally and often illegally, on whatever open land they could find (usually the urban fringe, steep hillsides, floodplains, or between planned neighborhoods). The result has been the emergence of enormous slums and informal settlements that now dominate African cityscapes. By the 2000s, over half of Africa’s urban population was living in slum conditions, lacking at least one basic service like clean water, sanitation, durable housing, or secure tenure. In many cities the proportion is far higher. Maputo’s slums – the “reed cities” of periphery barrios – house roughly 80% of the city’s residents. In Luanda, despite Angola’s oil wealth, around 70% of the population still lives in informal musseque settlements with little to no formal infrastructure. The capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Kinshasa, has an estimated 75% or more of its residents in slums – leading observers to warn it may become “the world’s largest slum” by 2030 if current trends continue. Even in Africa’s most populous nation, Nigeria, the overall share of urban dwellers living in slums was about 62% as of 2010, barely down from 75% in 1990 despite some improvements. These statistics are staggering: in effect, the majority of residents in many African cities live in what were once pejoratively termed “native” or “informal” quarters – underserved areas that colonial plans deliberately excluded. What were once peripheral shantytowns have become the city itself.

The proliferation of slums represents a fundamental failure of the colonial urban model in Africa. Those plans never intended to accommodate millions of Africans, and post-colonial governments (often with limited resources and administrative capacity) struggled to retrofit or expand city infrastructure to serve the masses. The result is cities where “the vast majority of inhabitants live in precarious conditions in a specifically urban form: slums.” Basic services are glaringly lacking – half or more of urban residents have no access to clean water, electricity, or adequate sanitation in many countries. Transportation is another crisis: formal public transit is often scant, so most poor residents walk for miles or rely on informal minibuses, spending hours navigating chaotic traffic. In Kinshasa, for example, around 80% of trips are made on foot due to lack of transit, contributing to social and economic isolation of the poor. The city’s road network and transit supply are so insufficient that large areas are effectively cut off from job opportunities, reinforcing unemployment and poverty. Meanwhile, colonial-era central districts that once symbolized modernity have decayed or become exclusive islands. Often these downtowns now cater only to elites or expatriates (with fancy hotels, banks, embassies), whereas the majority toil in an informal economy on the streets and open-air markets.

Spatial inequality in African cities is at extremes, earning descriptions as “oceans of poverty containing islands of wealth.” Nowhere is this more visible than cities like Luanda or Lagos. In Luanda, gleaming high-rise office buildings and gated luxury condos for the rich have sprung up – sometimes built right on land where slum communities were bulldozed – yet just a few miles away lie sprawling settlements of tin-roof shacks with no water or power. The juxtaposition is striking: “fancy multi-story buildings are erected just miles away from massive slums”, as a World Bank observer noted of Kinshasa. Such cities exhibit “the most unequal conditions in the world”, according to UN-Habitat, with extreme segregation between affluent enclaves and the destitute majority. The colonial city core – originally built for a tiny white minority – has effectively remained an enclave for the post-colonial elites (politicians, business magnates, expats), while the African majority live in peripheral “townships” or slums that often “do not even have the remnants of globalization; they are simply excluded, condemned to informality and insecure tenure.” This “pattern of oceans of poverty and islands of wealth” is now characteristic of many African urban regions.

Compounding these challenges, several African cities suffered destructive conflicts and governance crises in the post-colonial era, which further eroded urban infrastructure. Luanda and Maputo both endured decades of civil war (Angola’s war lasted until 2002, Mozambique’s until 1992) that halted urban investment and sent waves of refugees into the cities. By war’s end, Maputo and Luanda’s urban development was “chaotic” – city planning institutions had collapsed, and massive slum belts formed as war-displaced families squatted wherever they could. In Luanda, war-time urban growth not only expanded slums but also imprinted ethnic divisions on the city’s geography, as migrants from various provinces clustered together for support. Post-conflict governments, despite newfound oil wealth in Angola, largely neglected these informal communities. The absence of any coherent housing policy meant slums kept expanding even amid an economic boom. In fact, the Angolan state often viewed slums as a nuisance to be removed – forcibly evicting thousands of poor residents from centrally located musseques to make way for high-end condos and shopping malls for the elite. Such actions, described as “violence towards slum populations” by researchers, perpetuated a system of exclusion and “domination of the poor” rather than integrating them into the city fabric. Other countries similarly oscillated between neglect and brute-force removal of informal settlements, rather than upgrading them. The result by the turn of the 21st century was the entrenchment of slums as a permanent feature of African cities – effectively the default mode of urban growth. As one analysis put it, “slums…are becoming the sole development model of West African cities, in spite of many investments and plans by the World Bank”, with cities expanding primarily via informal fringes. In short, the imported colonial planning approaches have proven incapable of coping with the realities of African urbanization, leading to cities that many observers bluntly label as “failing” to deliver a decent quality of life for most citizens.

Yet, amidst this bleak picture, there is also resilience and vibrancy from the African people themselves. Even in the worst slums, African urban residents exhibit remarkable ingenuity and cultural vitality. For example, in Maputo’s xikelene market or Lagos’s vast street markets, one finds bustling entrepreneurship, music, and social life that testify to urban Africans crafting their own city experience despite the formal planning void. Kinshasa, though lacking infrastructure, is famed for its music and fashion subcultures (e.g. the Sapeurs) thriving in the informal city. These examples hint that African urbanism is not simply a story of failure – it is also a story of adaptation and emergent order outside the colonial blueprint. This realization is crucial for solutions: instead of treating informality and indigenous practices as problems to be eradicated, African cities might harness them as the foundation for a new, homegrown urban model.

Case Studies: From Colonial Cities to Urban Slums

To illustrate the trajectory and current state of African cities, it’s worth examining a few specific cases across the continent:

• Kinshasa, D.R. Congo: Founded as Léopoldville by Belgian colonists, Kinshasa was planned for colonial administration and trade on the Congo River. It had orderly avenues in the European section and tightly controlled African worker quarters. At independence in 1960, it was a city of fewer than 500,000. Today Kinshasa is a teeming metropolis of over 12 million (projected to reach 30 million by 2030). Shockingly, only 6.4% of Kinshasa’s area consists of planned, well-serviced neighborhoods – essentially the old colonial core and a few adjacent districts. The rest is an unplanned expanse of informal neighborhoods. Vast communes like Makala, Ngaliema, and others are essentially self-built cities lacking adequate roads, drainage, or utilities. Kinshasa’s authorities have been unable to extend services to these areas; most residents rely on informal water vendors, pit latrines, and generators if they have electricity at all. The city’s distinctive geography (built on low-lying river plains and hills) combined with poor drainage leads to frequent flooding and erosion in slum areas. People have settled in flood-prone zones because they have no other option, worsening their vulnerability. Socially, Kinshasa’s layout has produced extreme exclusion – an example of spatial injustice where people in peripheral quartiers are cut off from decision-making and economic opportunity. The downtown Gombe area boasts glitzy buildings and expat enclaves (with prices among the highest in Africa), but the majority in the “other” Kinshasa live in poverty so acute that the city has been called “Kinshasa la poubelle” (Kinshasa the garbage can) by locals. Without major intervention, the World Bank warns Kinshasa could earn the “dubious honor of the world’s largest slum” in coming years.
• Lagos, Nigeria: Lagos presents a slightly different story. As a former British colonial capital, Lagos had a core on Lagos Island with colonial administrative buildings and some upscale neighborhoods (Ikoyi, Victoria Island). Africans were largely confined to the mainland (like Ebute Metta) or peripheral islands. Post-independence, Lagos exploded due to oil boom migration and became notorious for slums such as Ajegunle and the floating shanty of Makoko on the lagoon. By 1990, over 75% of Nigeria’s urban population lived in slum conditions, many of those in Lagos. The Nigerian government took the drastic step of relocating the capital in 1991 to Abuja (a newly planned city in the interior) to reduce pressure on Lagos. While Abuja is far smaller and more orderly, Lagos continued to grow as the commercial hub. There have been some efforts to upgrade Lagos’s infrastructure and reduce slums – for instance, slum clearance drives under various military regimes, and more recently, the Eko Atlantic project building a new luxury district on reclaimed land. These have had limited impact on the average Lagosian. By 2010, the slum proportion in Nigeria had improved to about 61.9% (from 75%), indicating some progress in housing and services. But Lagos still contains massive informal communities. In places like Agege or Mushin, dense informal housing intermixes with formal city grids. The government’s attempts at world-class projects (mega highways, bridges, city rail) struggle to keep up with growth. Nevertheless, Lagos shows that slum conditions can be reduced with concerted policy – though in its case, much of the reduction came from reclassification and some economic growth lifting incomes, rather than a fundamental re-planning of the city. Lagos also exemplifies the tension between globalized development and local needs: it has flashy malls, international banks, and even a tech sector, yet millions of street vendors and artisans operate in an informal economy, often at odds with formal plans. The city’s planning is still heavily influenced by Western models (for example, trying to emulate Dubai or Houston with big expressways and skyscrapers), which often clashes with the organic informality that actually keeps Lagos functioning.
• Maputo, Mozambique: Known as Lourenço Marques under Portuguese rule, Maputo was built as a port city with a Mediterranean flair – wide jacaranda-lined avenues, cafes, a seaside promenade. Europeans enjoyed modern apartments in the “cement city,” while Africans lived in expansive suburbs of reed huts (the caniço). After independence in 1975, most Portuguese left and the city had to absorb a flood of refugees during the civil war. With scant resources, the socialist FRELIMO government initially tried to maintain some order, but by the 1980s Maputo’s “cidade de caniço” had exploded. “Flimsy houses of the reed city, where 80% of the population exist, most without running water or electricity,” came to define Maputo’s landscape. Even as Mozambique stabilized and experienced high economic growth in the 2000s, the benefits were uneven. Today Maputo has luxury enclaves and mansions springing up – the Polana district, for example, now hosts gated communities and million-dollar homes. Yet right alongside, children scavenge for food in bins on dirt streets, illustrating the parallel worlds of rich and poor. Maputo’s urban form remains largely dictated by the colonial imprint: a small planned core and a vast unplanned periphery. Municipal authorities, with support from donors, have tried some slum upgrading (providing water standpipes, paving a few roads), but still the majority live in crowded neighborhoods like Chamanculo or Xipamanine with inadequate services. The “historical roots of under-development” in Maputo’s urban form – meaning the legacy of colonial neglect of African areas – continue to shape the city’s challenges today. One positive aspect is that Maputo’s informal settlements are not entirely disconnected – many are relatively central, allowing residents to access city markets and jobs (albeit with difficulty). But this also means informal settlements occupy valuable land, and there have been tensions as investors eye those areas for development.
• Luanda, Angola: Perhaps the most extreme case of a city of contradiction, Luanda encapsulates the outcome of colonial planning meeting post-colonial resource wealth and inequality. The colonial city of Luanda had a picturesque center on the bay (the Marginal) and adjacent fort and administrative quarters. Africans were pushed to musseques around the edges. After 27 years of civil war, Luanda’s population ballooned with displaced people. With peace and an oil boom in the 2000s, money poured into Luanda – but mostly into glitzy projects for the elite. The city now ranks among the world’s most expensive for expatriates, yet roughly two-thirds of Luandans live in poverty in informal settlements. Musseque neighborhoods like Sambizanga, Cazenga, and Viana house millions in overcrowded conditions. The government built some shiny new satellite towns (e.g. Kilamba Kiaxi, a Chinese-built city of apartment blocks), but these units were often too costly for slum dwellers, or simply too far removed from people’s livelihood sources. Thus, many apartments sit half-empty while musseques persist. Luanda’s dualistic structure is striking: “physically, socially and economically determined by its slums and the rich parts of the city”, yet not neatly separated – many slums are interwoven even within central areas. This pattern (slums amid high-rises) is somewhat unique and has led to frequent evictions as mentioned. Researchers Barros and Balsas (2019) argue that the Angolan state’s neglect of slums despite ample resources is a deliberate form of governance – using “housing policy based on neglect…as a means of coercion and domination of the poor.” In short, Luanda’s condition is not due to lack of money but lack of inclusive planning and political will to uplift the majority. The lessons from Luanda underscore that without a radical shift in urban priorities towards the African populace, even wealthy cities can become “little more than slums” for most residents.

These case studies, spanning West, Central, Southern, and East Africa, all highlight a common theme: the failure of colonial planning to accommodate post-colonial realities. Rigid master plans, zoning laws, and land tenure systems inherited from the colonial era proved either irrelevant or actively harmful when faced with the massive influx of urban poor. In many instances, attempts to enforce colonial-style order (through slum clearance, relocating hawkers, etc.) only deepened the problems – evicted communities would simply reestablish elsewhere, and the cycle continued. The persistence of large slum populations indicates that incremental, organic urban growth has outpaced formal planning. As UN-Habitat noted, “as the fastest urbanizing continent, Africa is not only confronted with improving the lives of slum dwellers but also preventing the formation of new slums” – a task that will be impossible unless the approach to city-building changes fundamentally.

The Need for African-Centric Urban Planning

Given the dismal outcomes above, it is clear that “business as usual” in urban planning will not secure a brighter future for African cities. Continuing to view African cities “through the lens of the European city model” has led researchers and policymakers to misdiagnose problems and prescribe inappropriate solutions. For decades, the default approach to African urban issues was to apply Western planning solutions – formal master plans, modernist housing estates, big infrastructure projects – often funded by international agencies. Yet many of these efforts failed to make a dent in the underlying issues of informality, inequality, and cultural disconnect. In fact, scholars like A. Malaquais and architect Rem Koolhaas have provocatively suggested that instead of forcing African cities into a European mold, the world should learn from African cities: “better to think about the city in general, taking African cities as a starting point – the prototypes of a kind of global urban planning in gestation”. Lagos, for instance, with its adaptable, decentralized, and networked informality, might be seen not as a “failed” city but as “a generic model” of how megacities could function in resource-constrained environments. This perspective flips the script, positing that African urbanism – with its flexibility and communal creativity – has lessons for the world.

Whether or not one agrees with that extreme view, there is a growing consensus that African cities must be planned and managed on their own terms. In practical terms, this means prioritizing African thinking in urban policy – tapping into indigenous knowledge, contemporary local expertise, and the lived reality of African urban residents – rather than importing foreign models wholesale. As one Nigerian planner put it, we must “decolonize urban planning” by returning to endogenous ideas of space, governance, and community. Crucially, this does not mean rejecting modernity or development; rather, it means redefining what modern, successful African cities look like through an African lens. It asks: How can we design cities that feel African – that reflect the continent’s diverse cultures, climates, and economic practices – while improving quality of life and integrating into a globalizing world? This is about restoring a sense of ownership and identity in the urban environment.

Embracing Indigenous Urban Practices

To reverse colonial planning, African cities can draw inspiration from indigenous practices and pre-colonial urban heritage. Prior to colonialism, many African societies had well-adapted systems for settling and organizing communities. For instance, archeological and historical studies show that pre-colonial city-states in Africa (from the walled cities of the Hausa and Yoruba, to the trading towns of the Swahili coast, to the planned cities of the Ashanti) had ordered structures that varied along ethnic and religious lines and according to geography. Common themes included: communal land ownership (land held in trust by chiefs or kin groups), mixed-use development (homes, commerce, and agriculture intermingled rather than strictly zoned), central public spaces (marketplaces, courtyards, royal squares) that were the heart of civic life, and architecture using local materials optimized for climate (e.g. thick earthen walls providing insulation, courtyards for airflow, steep thatch roofs for rain, etc.). While we cannot simply replicate 18th-century cities in today’s context, these principles offer guidance for a more contextual urbanism.

Key elements of “African urban thinking” might include: community-centered planning, cultural expression in design, flexibility and informality, and environmental adaptation drawn from tradition. We discuss each briefly:

• Community Participation and Customary Leadership: African urban planning should actively involve the people who live in informal settlements, as well as traditional social structures, in decision-making. One reason colonial planning failed is that it was top-down, with plans drawn in European offices ignoring local input. Post-colonial planning often repeated this pattern, with technocrats or politicians formulating schemes without engaging ordinary residents or traditional authorities (such as chiefs, elders). This must change. Indigenous African governance was often consultative at the community level – for example, village councils or town meetings under a big tree to discuss issues. Modern planning can emulate this through participatory planning forums in each neighborhood, giving slum dwellers a voice in upgrading plans, and working with local leaders who understand community needs. Currently, “political elites, investors, and aspiring middle-class groups drive urban visions without meaningful participation from informal communities or traditional authorities”, leading to plans that marginalize the poor. Reversing this means empowering those voices. Some cities are experimenting with this: in Kenya, slum-dwellers associations have partnered with authorities in mapping informal settlements and co-designing upgrades; in Ghana, chiefs are being consulted for land use planning since they control customary lands around cities. By incorporating these indigenous governance elements, cities can ensure plans are grounded in local reality and enjoy community buy-in.
• Spatial Layouts that Reflect African Social Life: The spatial logic of African communities often differs from Euro-American norms. Whereas Western planning prizes segregated land uses (residential vs. commercial vs. industrial zones) and private, fenced plots, African traditions emphasize mixed-use and communal space. In many traditional African compounds and neighborhoods, extended family housing is clustered around a shared courtyard or open space – a design that fosters interaction, mutual support, and surveillance of children. Modern housing estates in Africa, by contrast, have copied Western-style bungalows or apartment blocks that isolate nuclear families and eliminate those communal courtyards. Reviving the courtyard/compound concept in new housing developments could rebuild social cohesion. For example, designing low-cost housing units around common courtyards where families can gather, cook, and socialize would be more culturally resonant than cookie-cutter rows of houses. Likewise, open-air markets and street trading are integral to African urban life – they serve not just economic needs but as social hubs. However, “vibrant traditional markets are increasingly replaced by enclosed, air-conditioned malls” that cater to the elite and disrupt community life. A decolonized approach would protect and formalize spaces for markets and hawkers instead of criminalizing them. Cities like Kano (Nigeria) historically had a central market and a network of neighborhood markets; planning can ensure these markets have proper facilities (shelter, water, waste disposal) but remain open and accessible. Preserving sacred spaces (like sites of spiritual or cultural significance – e.g. the kenyesi shrines in Ghanaian towns or sacred forests like Nairobi’s Karura) within the urban landscape is another aspect. One example: Nairobi recently designated Karura Forest, once threatened by development, as an urban protected park; this both conserves nature and honors the cultural value of green space for the community. Overall, the city’s public spaces – its plazas, parks, streets – should be designed or retrofitted to encourage the informal social interactions that are the lifeblood of African communities (think of the evening promenades, street football games, outdoor cafés, and impromptu music gatherings that animate African cities).

• Local Architectural Styles and Materials: Another way to infuse African identity into cities is through architecture and construction methods that draw on vernacular traditions. Colonial and post-colonial builders favored concrete, steel, and glass – materials requiring importation and often ill-suited for tropical climates (glass towers overheat in the African sun, for example). Traditional African building techniques, such as mud-brick (adobe) or laterite block construction, thatch or clay tile roofing, and passive cooling designs (high ceilings, verandas, courtyards), were adapted to local environments. Modern architects can update these methods with new technology to create structures that are both modern and deeply rooted in place. Pioneering African architects like Francis Kéré (from Burkina Faso) have demonstrated this by using local clay fortified with small amounts of cement to build cool, beautiful schools and pavilions, and by incorporating patterns inspired by traditional motifs. Similarly, Nigerian architect Kunlé Adeyemi has explored designs like the Makoko Floating School that respond to local conditions (in this case, a structure that floats to adapt to Lagos’s lagoon environment). These innovators prove that one can use contemporary engineering while “honoring African frameworks by integrating traditional patterns and responding to climates and practices.” Unfortunately, such examples remain rare, as most African urban construction today simply copies international styles without adaptation. To change this, incentives can be given for using local materials (which also boosts the local economy), and architectural education should incorporate African design heritage so that new professionals value and understand it. Imagine office buildings that feature facades with designs inspired by indigenous art, or housing projects that use earth bricks that naturally keep interiors cool – these would not only perform better environmentally but also foster pride and identity. Iconic historical architecture like the mud mosques of Mali (Djenne) or rock-hewn churches of Ethiopia show how African builders fused function, climate adaptation, and spiritual symbolism. Modern public buildings could likewise include African symbolism and craftwork to give citizens a sense of ownership. Currently, “iconic buildings like Senegal’s Monument de la Renaissance Africaine lack the Indigenous symbolism seen in historical structures” – they are grand but culturally hollow. Reversing colonial planning means making sure when we build today, we build with cultural meaning.
• Integrating Informal and Formal Systems: A critical aspect of applying African practices is embracing the reality of the informal sector. African cities run on informal systems – be it informal transit (minibus taxis), informal housing (self-built settlements), or informal commerce (street vendors, home-based enterprises). Colonial thinking treated informality as a blight to be eliminated in favor of orderly formal systems. A new approach would treat informality as a solution and an opportunity, not merely a problem. For instance, instead of banning street hawkers from city centers (a common practice inherited from colonial ordinances), cities can designate specific vendor zones, provide micro-credit and training to informal traders, and integrate them into the urban economy. Some West African cities have had success in organizing motorcycle taxi operators or market women associations, giving them recognition and basic support rather than constant harassment. The customary land management systems in peri-urban areas are another informal structure that can be leveraged. In much of Africa, even in cities, land is governed by customary tenure (family or tribal land) rather than formal title. Planning authorities usually ignore or override this, leading to conflicts and exclusion of communities from development. A more African-centric approach would involve customary landowners in planning – for example, negotiating arrangements where the community contributes land for roads or services in exchange for legal recognition of their occupancy. Research has found that customary land allocation often results in more affordable, incremental housing development than formal markets. Rather than seeing it as an obstacle, planners could provide technical support to such community-driven development so that it evolves with some structure (layout of streets, provision for schools/clinics, etc.) without destroying the community fabric. This is essentially the idea of “upgrading in situ” – improve what people have built, don’t demolish it. The 1970s and 1980s saw some experiments in “sites-and-services” schemes in Africa, where governments provided plots of land with basic services and let residents build their own homes gradually. Those met with mixed success but remain a promising concept to refine. It aligns with African traditions of incremental building (families adding rooms or floors as resources allow, often with help from the community). Embracing such organic growth – and guiding it rather than fighting it – is key. As one analyst notes, “the city nowadays is developing primarily via its informal fringes; hence the importance of taking into account the dynamic expansion of the informal city in urban studies today.” In practical terms, this means urban plans must incorporate the informal: e.g., marking current informal settlements on the city map and planning where to install roads, drainage, and utilities in those areas, rather than pretending they don’t exist. It also means accepting that African cities might not look as neat as Zurich or Singapore – and that’s okay if they function for their people.

Putting Cultural Identity and Economic Needs First

One of the user’s provocative instructions is to “forget sustainability… Focus on cultural identity and economic development.” This merits discussion, as it touches on a key debate: how to balance long-term environmental goals with immediate human and cultural needs in African cities. Around the world, urban planners are increasingly emphasizing “sustainable development” – eco-friendly designs, green energy, climate resilience, etc. These are undoubtedly important, especially as African cities are vulnerable to climate change (coastal flooding, heat, etc.). **However, there is an argument that in Africa’s context of widespread poverty, the urgent priority is alleviating poverty and building livelihoods, even if that sometimes means taking a different path than the Western sustainability agenda. African leaders have voiced that the continent “must not be forced to choose between economic development and climate action.” In other words, Africa can pursue green strategies, but not at the expense of its people’s immediate well-being.

Focusing on cultural identity means ensuring people have a sense of belonging and pride in their city, as described above – this has intrinsic value and also social benefits (people take care of what they feel ownership of). Focusing on economic development means prioritizing job creation, income generation, and basic infrastructure that supports productivity. For a slum dweller, a steady job or successful small business, along with basic amenities like electricity and water, will do far more for their quality of life than, say, a solar-powered smart streetlight or a LEED-certified building they can’t access. In many African cities, sustainability initiatives like fancy eco-parks or bike lanes in wealthy districts do little for the majority living in informal areas without sewers. Thus, an African-driven agenda would channel resources toward things like marketplaces, transport for the masses, housing upgrades, education and healthcare facilities – the building blocks of economic empowerment – even if those projects aren’t the most cutting-edge green solutions.

That said, cultural identity and economic development are not mutually exclusive with sustainability. Traditional African practices were often quite sustainable – using local materials, adapting to climate, and minimizing waste out of necessity. By reviving some of those practices (e.g. building with earth which has low carbon footprint, or designing cities that encourage walking and communal transit as many African cities inherently do), one can achieve sustainability and development. But the point is well taken that sustainability should be approached through the lens of human development in Africa. For example, improving access to clean water and sanitation in slums is a huge health and dignity issue; it is also sustainable in the sense of environmental health (less pollution) but you wouldn’t label it a “green” project in trendy terms – yet it is absolutely priority. Similarly, providing electricity to all (even if via grid power that includes fossil fuels in the short term) might be more urgent than achieving 100% renewable energy but leaving half the city dark. The notion of “right to the city” in Africa might be reframed as a “right to dignity”, as Pieterse (2014) argues – meaning the focus is on basic human well-being, which in turn can lead to better environmental stewardship once people’s needs are met.

In practical terms, focusing on economic development in urban planning could involve creating job hubs and supporting informal economies. For instance, dedicating areas in the city for small-scale manufacturing or artisan workshops (where many urban poor work), rather than zoning everything for large industries or offices. It also means investing in infrastructure that connects people to jobs: better public transportation so the poor can reach employment centers (only 15% of trips in Kinshasa are by public transport currently, which is far too low; expanding bus networks or informal transit integration would directly boost economic inclusion). Also, ensuring that housing strategies do not just focus on building a few thousand formal units that the poor can’t afford, but improving the incremental housing process that most people use – for example, providing micro-loans or materials for home expansion, or legalizing land tenure so people feel secure to invest in home improvements or shop extensions.

Focusing on cultural identity similarly can have economic spin-offs: heritage tourism, for example, could be an urban economic boost if cities preserve and promote their unique cultural sites, crafts, and architecture. Many African cities actually have rich cultural assets (old quarters, historic markets, music and arts scenes) that, if managed and celebrated, could attract visitors and investment. But too often, the drive to “modernize” leads to demolishing old towns or ignoring cultural sites. A balance can be struck where the modern and traditional co-exist, making the city both functional and distinctive.

In summary, the solution is not to dismiss sustainability outright, but to embed it within Africa’s priorities. Sustainable city development in Africa might look different from Europe: it might prioritize social sustainability (cohesive communities, reduced inequality) and economic sustainability (jobs, poverty reduction) as the foundation, on top of which environmental sustainability can gradually be built. After all, a city where millions live in destitution is not sustainable in any sense. As the UN’s 2030 Agenda recognizes, ending poverty is the first Sustainable Development Goal, without which other goals falter. Therefore, an African-centric urban plan would say: let’s get our people out of extreme poverty – give them homes, services, identity, hope – and then we can also plant trees, add solar panels, and build climate resilience. Doing both together is ideal, but when trade-offs occur, human needs must come first.

Strategies to Reverse Colonial Planning: African Solutions for African Cities

How can these principles be translated into concrete actions? Below are key strategies and policy recommendations for African governments, urban planners, and communities to reverse colonial-era planning patterns and apply indigenous practices in city development:

1. Empower Community Participation in Planning: Establish inclusive forums at city and district level where residents of informal settlements, traditional leaders, and civil society can help shape urban plans. This means involving slum-dwellers in decisions on upgrading their areas, rather than imposing top-down schemes. Community action planning and mapping can be utilized to incorporate local knowledge into formal plans.
2. Integrate Traditional Leadership and Customary Land Systems: Where applicable (especially in West and East Africa), collaborate with chiefs and community land trusts in peri-urban areas to manage land development. Customary land management can be aligned with urban expansion – for example, negotiate that communities provide land for roads/public facilities in return for recognition of their land rights. This leverages indigenous governance for orderly growth instead of clashing with it.
3. Adopt Mixed-Use, Communal Spatial Designs: Move away from rigid colonial zoning. Plan for mixed-use neighborhoods where homes, shops, schools, and workplaces can coexist, as is common in indigenous layouts. Protect and design communal spaces – like central courtyards in housing blocks, public squares in neighborhoods, and open markets – to foster social interaction. Rather than endless gated communities and private compounds, encourage designs that include shared gardens, playgrounds, and meeting halls accessible to all residents.
4. Upgrade Informal Settlements In Situ: Prioritize slum upgrading over slum clearance. Provide essential infrastructure (water points, sanitation, drainage, electricity) to existing informal communities to improve living conditions quickly, instead of evicting them for new developments. Use a participatory slum upgrading approach – working with residents to re-block or slightly re-plan layouts for accessibility while minimizing displacement. Regularize land tenure where possible so residents can invest in home improvements without fear. This approach acknowledges the value of what people have built and seeks to incrementally improve it.
5. Culturally Relevant Housing Programs: When building new housing or redeveloping, employ designs that resonate with local lifestyle. For instance, incorporate compound housing or courtyard arrangements for multi-family use, as opposed to only high-rise apartment blocks. Use local materials and styles that communities feel comfortable with. This can increase acceptance and upkeep of housing projects. Also consider self-build schemes: provide serviced plots or core housing units that families can expand themselves, reflecting the traditional incremental building practice.
6. Strengthen Public Transportation and Walkability: Rather than car-centric development (a Western import ill-suited to many African cities where most cannot afford cars), focus on improving mass transit in forms that fit local context. This could mean investing in bus rapid transit lines, but also recognizing and organizing informal transit like minibuses, motorcycle taxis, and rickshaws, since they effectively serve many now. Design cities for pedestrians and cyclists by providing sidewalks, footpaths, and safety measures – in Africa a large portion of trips are on foot (e.g. 80% in Kinshasa), so the city should accommodate that reality rather than emulate highway-driven models. A people-centered transport plan boosts economic activity by connecting workers to jobs and reduces social exclusion.
7. Polycentric Urban Development: To relieve overconcentration in old colonial centers, encourage the growth of secondary cities and sub-centers. This can mean relocating some government functions or universities to smaller regional towns (as recommended by UN-Habitat), or developing new urban hubs on city outskirts so everything isn’t in the CBD. Nigeria’s move of the capital to Abuja is one example (though Lagos remains huge, it did create another growth pole). Similarly, Tanzania moved its capital to Dodoma to spur interior growth. Within cities, creating multiple commercial centers (townships) can prevent a single colonial CBD from choking on traffic and migrants. Many pre-colonial African cities were effectively polycentric – a cluster of villages or quarters that formed a city-state. Emulating that by strengthening local municipal units can make cities more manageable and spread economic opportunities more evenly.
8. Infuse Cultural Expression in Urban Design: Encourage each city to develop a visual identity rooted in local culture. This could involve commissioning local artists and craftsmen to contribute to the design of public spaces (murals, sculptures, landscape features) that reflect heritage. Urban design guidelines can incorporate motifs from local art or vernacular architecture. For instance, new street furniture or lighting could be inspired by traditional patterns. In Rwanda, there have been efforts to incorporate Imigongo art style in public decor; in Ghana, Adinkra symbols can be used in paving or building facades. These touches strengthen citizens’ emotional connection to the city and combat the anonymity and alienation of imported designs.
9. Reform Planning Education and Practice: Decolonizing cities requires decolonizing the mindset of urban planners, architects, and engineers. African universities and training institutes should revise curricula to include indigenous African urban history, vernacular architecture, and community planning techniques. At present, many students learn more about Haussmann’s Paris or Le Corbusier than about the urban legacies of Great Zimbabwe or ancient Kano. Changing this can produce professionals who value and utilize local approaches. Additionally, planning institutions need to shed outdated colonial laws – for example, many countries still have colonial-era building codes and land use laws that are impractical (such as minimum plot sizes or materials that drive up housing costs). Reforming these regulations to be more flexible and pro-poor is key. Some countries have started this – e.g. Rwanda updated its building code to allow adobe construction in modern ways; Kenya’s 2010 constitution devolved more powers to local governments for contextual planning.

Implementing these strategies is no small task. It will require political will, public support, and often significant resources. However, there are positive signs. A number of African nations have drafted new National Urban Policies aiming to tackle issues of informality and inclusion. The African Union’s Agenda 2063 underscores “cities and settlements that are hubs of cultural and economic activities” and calls for upgrading slums and improved access to basic services. Grassroots movements of urban poor (like Slum Dwellers International affiliates) are active in many cities, partnering with authorities on community-driven projects. And donors like the World Bank and UN-Habitat have shifted rhetoric towards inclusive, sustainable urbanization led from within Africa.

Feasibility and Desirability of an African Urban Renaissance

Is reversing colonial planning in African cities feasible and desirable? All evidence suggests that not only is it desirable – it is imperative for the future livability and stability of African nations. Without a change in course, the current urban trajectory leads to more inequality, insecurity, and environmental stress. The good news is that many decolonizing initiatives are already underway, proving feasibility on a small scale. For instance, in Uganda, a community in Jinja has used indigenous knowledge to guide a local housing project, pushing back against a one-size-fits-all scheme and achieving a more suitable design. In Nigeria, planners like Mokọ́láDé Johnson advocate applying indigenous courtyard-based layouts in modern residential design to improve social cohesion. Some city governments, such as Cape Town, have embraced participatory budgeting in poor communities, an idea resonating with African communal decision-making.

There will be challenges. One is the mindset of some African elites and middle classes who equate modernity with Western aesthetics – the allure of shiny skyscrapers and “world-class” infrastructure is strong. As noted, post-independence leaders often continued colonial legacies inadvertently. Overcoming this requires demonstrating that an African-centered approach does not mean stagnation or primitiveness; rather, it can produce cities that are more functional and beautiful in a way citizens relate to. Successful pilot projects (like Kéré’s acclaimed buildings or the participatory slum upgrades in Nairobi’s Kibera Soweto-East which involved local youth in planning) can serve as proof of concept, gradually shifting perceptions.

Another challenge is resource constraints. Many African cities have very limited budgets, and implementing wide-scale infrastructure in slums or constructing new housing is costly. However, a decolonized strategy might actually be more cost-effective than the status quo. Empowering communities to build and improve their own environments (with technical support) can be cheaper than government building everything. Using local materials is often less expensive than importing steel/glass. Also, aligning with how people naturally build (incrementally) avoids white-elephant projects that sometimes occur when copying foreign models. Furthermore, international support can be sought on Africa’s own terms – for example, rather than funds for a flashy eco-city, ask for funds to upgrade an existing city’s sanitation and roads, highlighting that this has social and environmental returns. As urban theorist Edgar Pieterse notes, Africa is in a “transitional crisis” as it urbanizes, and managing the “trade-offs between economic growth, environmental preservation, and human well-being” will be key. With smart planning, these need not be zero-sum: providing basic services (well-being) can create jobs and market opportunities (economic growth) and reduce pollution (environmental benefit).

In sum, a future where African cities are reoriented around African values, cultures, and needs is not only feasible – it is already germinating in various forms. It is absolutely desirable because it promises cities that work for their people. Residents would feel at home in their city rather than alienated by imported designs; they would have greater access to livelihoods and affordable housing, reducing urban poverty; social tensions might ease as cities become less starkly divided; and cultural heritage would be preserved for future generations, giving African cities unique identities in the world. Such cities can still be globally connected and technologically advanced, but on their own terms. As Dr. Yaw Ofosu-Asare eloquently put it, “true modernity doesn’t necessitate cultural erasure; authentic progress occurs when spaces resonate deeply with the people they serve.”

Conclusion

African cities stand at a crossroads. One path – the status quo – leads further down the road of sprawling slums, congested streets, glaring inequality, and cultural dislocation. This is the legacy of colonial planning perpetuated without change. The other path is one of reclamation and reform: where Africans take charge of their urban destiny by infusing their cities with their own rich traditions, innovative spirit, and priorities for dignity and development. Reversing the colonial planning paradigm is undoubtedly a complex endeavor, but it is both feasible and desirable as the only sustainable way to accommodate the hundreds of millions of Africans who will urbanize in coming decades.

By prioritizing African thinking in all aspects of urban development – from the drawing board of architects, to the decisions of city councils, to the participation of everyday citizens – African cities can transform from “failed” colonial constructs into thriving African metropolises. In these reimagined cities, gleaming skyscrapers might still rise, but alongside vibrant open markets and community courtyards that celebrate local life. Highways and shopping malls won’t define progress as much as accessible public transport, decent housing for the poor, and public art celebrating indigenous heroes. The measure of success will not be how closely a city resembles London or Dubai, but how well it provides quality of life, cultural belonging, and opportunity to its African residents.

The journey toward such an urban future has its hurdles, but many African voices are already calling for it and experimenting on the ground. The time has come to move beyond treating African cities as broken versions of Western ones. Instead, planners and policymakers should recognize them as unique entities with their own logic – places that can pioneer new models of urban living that are more inclusive and human-centric. As one UN report warned, “a tripling of urban populations could spell disaster unless urgent action is initiated today”. That urgent action is precisely to break with the old mold and craft a new one rooted in African reality.

Ultimately, reversing colonial planning is not about looking backward with nostalgia – it is about looking forward to an African urban renaissance. It is about building cities that are not only engines of economic development but also cradles of African identity and pride. Such cities, once derided as “slums” by outsiders, could become beacons of a distinctly African modernity – where sustainability is achieved through community and innovation, not at the expense of the poor. The challenges are great, but the creativity and resilience shown daily in the streets of Nairobi, Lagos, Kinshasa, and beyond suggest that if any people can reinvent their cities against the odds, it is the African people themselves. The solution to Africa’s urban problems will be found in Africa’s own heritage and ingenuity – and there is no better time than now to harness that potential for the cities of tomorrow.

Sources

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• Ofosu-Asare, Y. (2025). “Modern Built Environment vs. Indigenous Identity in Africa.” Design History Society Blog.
• Pieterse, E. (2014). “Futures of African Cities: The intractable challenge of urban development.” Lecture, African Centre for Cities.
• UN-Habitat (2008). State of African Cities Report. Nairobi: United Nations.