Building together matters

No.086 — Read old posts on Tinyfarmlab.com
Reading Time 5 minutes

"It takes a village to raise a child."
But it also takes a village to build a home.

For most of human history,
shelter wasn’t a commodity to be bought.

It was something you participated in.
You helped build it.
Or your neighbor did.
And in turn, you helped build theirs.

It was slow.
Inconvenient.
Sometimes messy.

But it connected you to your shelter and to the people around you.

This was a worldwide phenomenon.

In rural India, house building was always collective. During wall raising or roof work, neighbors would show up with whatever they could offer — tools, food, their time.

You showed up because one day, your house would need the same.

In Bhutan, building with rammed earth is still done with community help.

The act of building was never individual.
It was social glue.

Anna Heringer, an architect working with communities in Bangladesh and elsewhere, also designs with people, not just for them. Her buildings are made of mud, bamboo, and sweat, not because it’s trendy, but because it’s enough.
She once said:

“Architecture is a tool to improve lives.”
But only if it includes the lives of the people who live in it.

Even Thoreau, 170 years ago, got it.
When he built his own tiny cabin by Walden Pond, he wasn’t just writing about solitude. He was building as an act of rebellion. Against the machine. Against dependency.

That question still holds weight.

Today, we’ve lost that touch.

Homes are outsourced or bought.
Buildings are boxed up in concrete and glass,
delivered turnkey,
and untouched by the hands who’ll live in them.

We don’t know the materials. We barely meet the people who build them. We sign off drawings but never mix the mud. And as a result, many people feel disconnected from the very space meant to shelter them.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

You don’t have to build your whole house.
But you can be part of the process.

You can shape a window seat, carve out a niche, even just help finish the plaster. These small acts stay with you.

Mud allows this.
It’s safe, non-toxic, forgiving.
It wants you to touch it.

You feel pride.
Ownership.
Belonging.

You also connect with your neighbors.
Your masons.
Your land.

One of our clients in Rishikesh decided to take part in building her own home, not just as a spectator, but as an active participant. She brought along 14 friends, ranging from a 7-year-old child to a 70-year-old elder.

They stomped on mud barefoot,
sang songs as they worked,
tossed cob balls,
gave each other playful mud facials,
and laughed like children.

It was a treat for their inner child.

They learned the basics of building with cob.
How to mix, shape, and apply it.
And together,
they built a small bench into the wall.

That bench may seem like a small addition, but for them, it now holds a deeper meaning.

It’s a physical reminder of collective effort, joy, and the possibility of doing things differently. They didn’t just build a bench. They built a shared experience.

Form Follows Community.
We believe homes shouldn’t just be for you.
They should be by you. Even if just a part of them.

Love,
Raghav and Ansh

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