The world is filled with buildings erected primarily as symbols. Some are impressive; others are not. When Em­peror Haile Selassie of Ethiopia inaugurated Addis Ababa’s Africa Hall in 1961, it hit the sweet spot between symbolism, functionality and form. Designed by Italian architect Arturo Mezzèdimi, the HQ of the United Nations’ Economic Commission for Africa (eca), whose mandate is to promote the economic and social development of its member states, became a beacon of architectural modernity for an entire continent, while heralding the transformation of Addis Ababa from, in the emperor’s words, a “great village” into a “truly great capital”, and acting as a lodestar for African political co-operation. That’s why the brief for the building’s renovation, issued in time for its 50th anniversary in 2011, was weighted with historical expectation; and why its subsequent transformation has lent it renewed symbolic value. In 2013 the commission for the work was awarded to a Brisbane-based team from Architectus Conrad Gargett. “It was a first for us to work in Africa,” project architect Simon Boundy tells monocle. “But the UN being an equal-opportunity employer, we established that we were the most qualified and experienced for the job.”

One of the first things that the firm did was hire Mewded Wolde, a fresh-faced architecture graduate from Addis Ababa, to be its point person on the ground. It then asked her to provide accurate measurements in order to build a scale model of the building. “Eleven years ago, we didn’t have all of the modelling software that we have today,” says Boundy. “A few years later, when we got a 3D-scanning machine, we overlaid our scan onto the model and it was remarkably accurate.” Accuracy became Architectus Conrad Gargett’s watchword. The hardest thing about renovating a protected building is the lack of freedom to make major alterations – a restriction compounded by the 21st century’s near-exhaustive list of health and safety regulations. “If you’re a heritage architect, you want to preserve and conserve the building,” says Boundy. “But on the other hand, you have still got to modernise it and keep it relevant by making it accessible and safe. Otherwise, it doesn’t get used.”

When the building’s horseshoe-shaped plenary hall was built, 26 African countries were represented in the eca. By 2011 this number had risen to 54. As a result, Mezzèdimi’s original wooden seating had to be sacrificed. “We designed new joinery using these old architectural drawings,” says Boundy. “This meant that we were able to make something contemporary that could house audiovisual conferencing and voting systems, while also ticking the box for accessibility.”

Any additional box-ticking was concerned with preserving the space as much as possible, even if that required painstakingly producing like-for-like replacements of features that were deteriorating. The mosaic tiles on the exterior of the building had to be removed to address structural degradation, so 13 million new ones were fabricated using the original ceramic material and replicating their textured profile and brown, orange and off-white colour scheme. The building’s entire façade was then reglazed to improve its energy efficiency and structural integrity, while the landscape garden, and its fountains, garden beds and integrated stairs, were completely refreshed and reinstalled.

But the jewels in the building’s crown are its integrated artworks. The most famous of these is the 150 sq m stained-glass triptych “Total Liberation of Africa” by Ethiopian artist Afewerk Tekle. The dazzling work, which features scenes from the continent’s history, was made by Studio Atelier Thomas Vitraux in Valence, France. Architectus Conrad Gargett enlisted Emmanuel Thomas, the grandson of the original maker, to restore it.

A mosaic artwork depicting fearsome African fauna, which was removed soon after the building was opened, was also recreated using archival drawings and photographs. Meanwhile, 500 pieces of bespoke modernist furniture, designed by Mezzèdimi, were spruced up and returned to their intended positions. “From the cafeteria to the rotunda, every space had a designed furniture piece and a specific colour palette,” says Wolde. “It’s very difficult to find a building these days with integrated artwork, let alone on this scale.”

It would not be hyperbolic to describe this building as the crucible of 20th-century African integration. Two years after its inauguration, the leaders of 33 states across the continent signed the Charter for the Organisation of African Unity (oau), while basking in the polychrome splendour of Tekle’s stained-glass window. The oau was the precursor to the African Union, which is also headquartered in Addis Ababa. Among the latter’s founding principles is a pledge to promote “unity, solidarity, cohesion and co-operation” among African countries. Such sentiment was born in the heady days of decolonisation, when nations pulsed with the optimism of splendid autonomy that Africa Hall represented. Unfortunately, much of the hope that powered the building’s construction has been tempered through the continuation of seemingly interminable strife across the continent, not least in Ethiopia, which continues to suffer from the aftermath of a bloody civil war in its Tigray province.

But Wolde believes that Africa Hall’s refurbished state, unveiled in October 2024, augurs some sunshine on the road ahead. “This building will be a symbol of what renovation can bring back to life – how we can look back at our history and reimagine our future,” she says. As symbolic buildings go, it doesn’t get much more potent than that. — L