In the southern region of Burkina Faso, the Royal Court of Tiébélé—cherished for its centuries-old, richly adorned earthen architecture—faces an escalating threat from changing weather patterns, alarm residents and cultural experts alike.
Tiébélé, home to one of only four UNESCO World Heritage sites in Burkina Faso, is renowned for its Kassena architectural tradition: mud-and-thatch houses adorned with intricate geometric motifs, painted using locally sourced pigments and sealed with varnish derived from the néré tree. The decorative artistry is more than aesthetics—it carries the cultural, religious, and artistic legacy of the Kassena people, carefully passed down across generations by artisans like octogenarian Kaye Tintama, a living human treasure in the eyes of UNESCO.
Yet, as residents observe, the delicate art is showing signs of rapid deterioration. Paintings that once benefited from predictable dry seasons are now suffering from persistent disruptions in weather patterns. “To paint the walls, they must be completely dry,” says a local resident, Abdou Anè. “Now the rain is unpredictable… it starts raining while we’re working.” Attempts to shield walls with plastic sheets have proven ineffective, and climate variability is increasingly undermining community efforts at restoration.
Elders reminisce about the “mango rain”—a single, reliable downpour in March or April—but today, rains come erratically: multiple bursts in the same season and unexpected droughts at other times. “People are really worried,” Anè recalls. “Some of those born into today’s climate don’t even understand the shift”.
Compounding the issue, materials essential to building—like straw from certain local trees—are becoming scarce. These trees, once abundant, are now less productive, and the households struggle to source the natural resources vital for repair and construction.
Cultural erosion is also being hastened by economic and security challenges. Tourism, once a vital avenue for sustaining Tiébélé’s maintenance and international recognition, has declined sharply due to jihadist violence in Burkina Faso and neighboring countries. Security concerns—such as attacks on access routes and heightened military presence—have further isolated the site.
Even landscape and architectural luminary Francis Kéré, himself inspired by local material ingenuity, affirms that Kassena architecture offers profound insights into climate-responsive design. For decades, their adobe homes have naturally mitigated heat and rain, demonstrating how vernacular knowledge can inform sustainable construction.
Yet Kéré’s admiration is counterbalanced by frustration: communities with minimal contribution to global emissions are bearing disproportionate exposure to climate impacts. Burkina Faso contributes just 1% of global greenhouse gas emissions, yet faces some of the fastest warming trends—temperature increases 1.5 times faster than the global average—alongside a population where 80% depend on agriculture or land-based livelihoods.
The situation in Tiébélé underscores a sobering truth: cultural heritage sites are as vulnerable to the climate crisis as natural ecosystems. Without intervention—be it technical, financial, or infrastructural—this unique embodiment of Kassena identity may erode irreversibly. Preserving Tiébélé will require external support enabling locals to continue their craft, maintain their buildings, and adapt their environment in the face of mounting climatic threats.
