Behind the shoe sits a whole ecosystem built to support local craft. Based in a 1,200-square-metre space in the old Medina of Casablanca, the brand brings together master artisans, young designers, and makers to build a fairer model for creation. Every sneaker comes with its own digital Proof of Identity accessed via a QR code, showing buyers where materials came from and who made them. 

In this interview, Elmanjra discusses how she turned a traditional nomadic shoe into an award-winning design, why African creators should own their stories, and how true sustainability starts with the people who shape the product.

I was born in Morocco and built my path across entrepreneurship, public policy, social impact and design. For over twenty years, I have worked where culture, communities and innovation meet. I created BAAZZ because African heritage should not simply inspire global fashion from the shadows. It should author it, own its narrative and shape what comes next.

The sneaker began with a rural babouche from Morocco’s Anti-Atlas, a regional heritage long overlooked and undervalued. BAAZZ refuses the old North–South dynamic in which some cultures create while others decide what deserves to be called design. We transformed this nomadic heritage without copying it, romanticising it or freezing it in tradition. The result is a living object where cultures meet without hierarchy.

Why should an African brand be confined to the clichés of “ethnic fashion” to prove where it comes from? BAAZZ claims the codes of quiet luxury while rewriting who has the right to define them. The sneaker is restrained, precise and free from decorative stereotypes, yet its origin remains deeply present. This is our way of reversing the power: African identity without explanation, permission or spectacle.

The BAAZZ Sneaker is produced in Portugal using premium natural leathers, recycled thread and carefully selected sustainable materials. Its design carries the memory of the Moroccan rural babouche, while its construction meets international standards of precision and durability. Handcrafted details and technical shoemaking create a dialogue between Moroccan heritage and Portuguese expertise. For BAAZZ, sustainability is not a claim added at the end; it is built into the materials, the making and the story.

Each sneaker gives access, through a QR code, to its Proof of Identity and unique limited-edition number. It documents five dimensions: Legacy, Concept, Hand, Raw and Impact. We reveal who contributed, where the materials came from and why the piece exists. Everyone talks about transparency; we decided to build it into the object.

Receiving recognition from an African platform gives this award a particular strength. It proves that our continent can recognise its own excellence, set its own standards and amplify its own voices. BAAZZ was born from a quiet rebellion against invisibility, cultural hierarchy and borrowed definitions of luxury. This award tells us that the rebellion is no longer marginal—it is becoming a movement.

Recognition must lead to more than applause: it must create networks, market access, investment and economic power. AIDA can help African brands move from visibility to influence, and from influence to ownership. Its ambition should be to build a stronger continental ecosystem with its own standards, platforms and global reach. The real award is not the trophy; it is the power to scale without losing control of our narratives.

The next step is for BAAZZ to become a brand-platform, with artisans at the beginning of the chain, not hidden at the end of it. Through the BAAZZ Living Chain, designers, producers and makers will collaborate as visible and equal co-authors. Each creation will document who imagined it, who shaped it and what territory it carries. We want to grow by strengthening the ecosystem behind the object, not by erasing it. As the brand grows, we want to develop new products, new creative partnerships and new ways for people to engage with the story and impact of each piece. The goal is to prove that heritage can evolve, craftsmanship can innovate and fashion can create lasting cultural, social and economic value.

This unique partnership has now gained international acclaim, taking home the Product Design of the Year title at the 2026 AIDA Awards for their collection titled “Stitched, a story of our home”. Inspired by the birds, flora and waters of the Keiskamma River estuary, the project captures detailed hand-stitched embroidery through digital scanning, allowing the artwork to be printed onto everyday interior products. The recognition highlights how creative direction, digital tools and traditional craftsmanship can join forces to support small-scale makers, create passive income streams, and bring South African heritage into contemporary spaces worldwide.

In this conversation with Clout/SA creative director Tracy Lynch and project leaders from Keiskamma Art Project, we discuss how the team overcame remote working challenges to digitally scan complex stitchwork, how local flora and fauna shaped the visual direction, and why platforms like the AIDA Awards are vital for elevating African design and providing sustainable income streams for local creative communities.

I completed both my undergraduate and postgraduate studies in Visual Art at Stellenbosch University in South Africa. Throughout my studies, I developed a distinct aesthetic vision that has since driven my career and my passion for the creative worlds of interiors, styled experiences and design. Having worked in interior design, rebranding, visual communications, interior design magazines and art direction, I have had the privilege of drawing together and collaborating with many varied, talented people across all aspects of design and production.

Collaboration is hugely important to me, and I have had the good fortune to initiate and curate Nando’s massive, long-term collaboration with South African designers and makers, which has involved the complete revamp of Nando’s Central Kitchen as a showcase of contemporary SA design and the introduction of South African design into the restaurants across the globe. The Portal to Africa and the Hot Young Designers platform, as well as Clout/SA, our business which focuses on creating commercial opportunities for SA designers, are all included in my portfolio.

I contribute to the conceptualisation of commercial opportunities for designers and work as a creative director on interior design and building projects. I also lead the communication of our projects both internally and externally in a way that shares our values and purpose. My goal is always to build meaningful relationships between creatives, with the ultimate aim of connecting Southern African designers with new partners both locally and globally.

The seed was initially planted when I first visited Hamburg some three years ago. I was introduced to a group of mostly women, young and old, who gather daily in a rondavel to stitch together stories that reveal aspects of their geographical, spiritual and communal experience. It’s hard to put into words why this creative community is so significant, but one thing that comes to the surface in conversation with all who are lucky enough to visit is that this place and the people that gently piece together beautiful imagery help us to learn and grow.

The learning and growth that came from the collaboration went both ways, as KAP directors, Cebo Mvubu and Michaela Howse, like to say.

Additionally, the collaboration gives the project a commercial opportunity that contributes to the livelihoods of the artists. While Clout/SA, in its role as an intermediary between the creative sector and corporate businesses, has mainly facilitated opportunities for designer-makers in the past, the lessons the agency has learnt and the infrastructure the team have built can also be very beneficial for artist collectives such as the Keiskamma Art Project.

We’ve learnt so much from previous successful collaborations about the licensing opportunities that exist for creators, and we’ve established ways for projects such as this to be able to support designers and artists by putting them in a position to make additional income. I have a connection with the outside world, and I work in a commercial space; being based where they are means that KAP are pretty isolated. However, together we got to make magic. While my background as an interior designer and a stylist means I have a bit of a handle on what works for design, it is their art form and skills that make this collaboration special and very unique.

The Keiskamma Arts Trust was keen to broaden its reach and enter the interior design market space with additional applications that allow their unique aesthetic and storytelling to reach a broader audience. The community facilitated a workshop and invited industry specialists to attend to better understand what could be possible. I was, as a creative director of Clout/SA, one of the invited guests. 

Clout/SA is a business-to-business market maker, a bridge that connects South African designers, crafters and makers with local and global commercial opportunities. At Clout/SA, our mission is to collaborate, curate and deliver collections of high-quality furniture, lighting, pattern and art aligned with our clients’ brand values and functional requirements whilst encapsulating the unique aesthetic South Africa is celebrated for.

With my curatorial guidance, the artists from Hamburg, Eastern Cape, were challenged to create an embroidered piece that referenced what a scenic and quintessentially South African wallpaper might look like. The intention of this approach was to allow the embroidery style of the KAP artists to be expressed as a printed scenic wallpaper, as well as a collection of compatible printed textiles. The wallpaper collection is printed and installed by Cara Saven Wall Design, and the homeware accessories are available from the V and A’s iconic Waterfront store, AAfrica store.

I have long been inspired by French-style scenic wallpapers and realised that an African version of this iconic interior application would be an epic way to challenge notions of style and create a quintessentially crafted African version of this highly celebrated and historically fascinating product. In addition, highlighting the craft of rural storytellers and their hand-stitched pieces emerged as an incredible fit for this reworking of a classic luxurious wall application.

To understand the choice of the flora and fauna, please journey with me to the home of the Keiskamma embroiderers.

Along the edge of the Indian Ocean, on a strip better known as the Sunshine Coast – roughly halfway between Port Alfred and East London – sits the idyllic seaside village of Hamburg. Be it the rolling hills blanketed by indigenous vegetation that define the drive to Hamburg, or the bird life in the area, or the Keiskamma River estuary that welcomes you into the village, the area is arguably one of the most beautiful parts of the Eastern Cape. It is also home to the multi-award-winning Keiskamma Art Project (KAP), which was founded in 2000 by Dr Carol Hofmeyer. Over the past two decades and four years of its existence, the project has produced major embroidered textile artworks, made mostly by the women and a few of the men of Hamburg, sharing their stories and experiences, as well as bringing to visual life the oral history tradition of the Eastern Cape.

Now, for the first time since its founding, three artists from the project, namely Anelisa Nyongo, Nozibele Nxadi, and project director Cebo Mvubu, have lent their skills and their particular aesthetic to a design collection that highlights the group’s unique embroidery style and celebrates the magnificent scenery and animal life that they call home.

To be recognised by AIDA for this work is an incredible affirmation. African designers are driven by purpose; we want to use our skills to effect change. We know that creatives can wake nations, and that beauty is a universal language. When we all speak through beauty, our work creates opportunities for dialogue, connection and learning. When doors open, we find each other, and our differences seem less important. This is motivating and powerful, and knowing that the incredible panel of judges agrees makes this award a magnificent moment that drives us to do more.

Our voices cannot be overlooked; the importance of platforms that are driven by Africans and that evolve from Africa’s soil is crucial. AIDA’s commitment to drawing out and showcasing Africa’s excellence in the fields of craft, design and product design is an important step to entrench our unique creative approach, our innovative use of materials and ancient making skills combined with technology and commitment to collaborative making.

In my mind, this is a gentle opportunity for Clout/SA to embed our purpose; it’s linked to our mandate to seek commercial opportunities for deserving and magnificent creative visionaries. These creators are the doers! The value lies in seeing these moments that translate into more than revenue streams; they are about manifesting relationships with communities that have abundance because creativity fuels their very being. This is a story that needs to be told, a precious project that needs to be shared. We can do that, and if we partner, we can do so much more. It’s a slow-burn project, but so very special. I believe in this beautiful, precious opportunity, one day at a time, moving towards solving a feasible business model and learning more about each other and what’s possible.

I’m daring to be optimistic. For my part, I’d like to continue taking South African design and creativity to the world; to help overturn outdated ideas about Africa and its place in the world. I want to share a different vision of ourselves – one that reflects our bold, unique, unexpected, authentic and resourceful creative responses to challenges. A vision that looks to the future, but also draws on the past.

We spoke with the designers about their creative journey, the cultural significance behind the project, and their vision for the future of African architecture and spatial design.

“We have always been fascinated by the way spaces influence people’s experiences, emotions, and behaviours. Growing up in Benin, we became increasingly aware of the richness of our cultural heritage and the potential of design to preserve and reinterpret it for contemporary society. Our academic journey in design has allowed us to explore how creativity, functionality, and cultural identity can come together to create meaningful spaces.”

“This project began as an academic exercise focused on exploring Benin’s cultural and spiritual heritage through architecture. As part of our research, we visited several traditional worship spaces in Ouidah to better understand their spatial organisation, symbolism, and role within the community.

Among the many Vodun divinities we studied, we chose Ogoun because of the powerful values associated with him: strength, protection, craftsmanship, and transformation. These themes offered rich architectural possibilities and resonated strongly with our design interests. Through this project, we wanted to explore how a traditional sacred space could be reinterpreted in a contemporary way while preserving its cultural and spiritual essence. The project became an opportunity to bridge heritage and modern architecture.”

“The project was informed by field research conducted in Ouidah, where we observed traditional Vodun worship spaces and learned about their rituals, symbolism, and relationship to the community. This experience provided valuable insights into how spirituality is expressed through space.

We translated these observations into a contemporary architectural language by focusing on spatial sequences, symbolism, and materiality. The central sanctuary reflects the importance of the divinity, while the circular organisation and spiral-inspired geometry create a sense of progression towards the sacred space. Natural light, openness, and carefully framed views were used to evoke reflection and spiritual connection. Our goal was not to reproduce traditional architecture, but to reinterpret its core values through a contemporary design.”

“The circular organisation came from both symbolic and spatial considerations.

Symbolically, the circle represents unity, continuity, and the connection between the spiritual and human worlds. The central sanctuary emphasises the presence of Ogoun as the spiritual heart of the project.

The design is also inspired by the golden ratio and organic spiral formations found in nature, expressed through the use of clay bricks. This approach creates harmony and structural efficiency while guiding movement naturally through the space. Visitors follow a progressive journey towards the sanctuary, experiencing moments of reflection, gathering, and spiritual preparation before reaching the sacred core. The movement is designed as an experience rather than a direct path.

At the centre of the sanctuary, the statue of Ogoun is placed within an open-air space. This deliberate choice creates a symbolic connection between the earth and the sky, reinforcing the spiritual dimension of the project. The opening allows natural light, air, and the elements to interact with the sacred space, emphasising the relationship between humanity, nature, and the divine.”

“Receiving recognition from the AIDA Awards is both an honour and a source of motivation. As students in design, it validates the research, dedication, and creativity invested in the project. It also demonstrates that African cultural narratives have an important place within contemporary design conversations. This recognition encourages us to continue exploring innovative solutions that are both culturally meaningful and socially relevant.”

“Platforms like the AIDA Awards are essential because they provide visibility to emerging talent and create opportunities for dialogue across the continent and beyond. Africa possesses an extraordinary diversity of cultures, traditions, and design perspectives that deserve greater international recognition. By celebrating innovation and creativity, AIDA encourages young designers to develop solutions that respond to local realities while contributing to global design discussions. It helps build confidence in a new generation of African creators.”

“Moving forward, we hope to continue exploring projects that connect culture, community, and innovation. We are particularly interested in public spaces, cultural institutions, hospitality projects, and community-centred environments that enhance people’s quality of life. We also want to investigate how African traditions, craftsmanship, and local knowledge can inspire contemporary architecture and design solutions. Our goal is to create spaces that are functional, meaningful, and deeply connected to their context.”

The project brings together responsible sourcing and expert craftsmanship, utilising rich sapele wood from Nigeria, which is shaped with digital cutting machines before being finished entirely by hand in Italy. The result is a set of heavy, grounded pieces that feel as though they were carved from a single block of timber, inviting people to touch the surfaces and gather around them. 

In this interview, Aidoo opens up about his multicultural upbringing, the deep cultural memory behind his designs, and what it means to have his community-focused philosophy celebrated on a global stage.

I’d say my approach to design has been shaped by both my cultural background and my education. Growing up between Ghanaian, Nigerian, and Italian cultures gave me an appreciation for different ways of living, gathering, and building community. I also studied Social Health Services in high school, and that experience had a profound impact on how I see design. It taught me to always put people at the center of every project and to think about how the spaces we inhabit and the objects we use influence our wellbeing, our relationships, and even the stories we tell about ourselves. Because of that, I’ve never approached design as something purely aesthetic. For me, design is first and foremost about people.

As a designer, I’ve always been fascinated by the meanings that certain spaces carry beyond their physical form. The traditional African courtyard is one of those spaces. Historically, it has been a place of gathering, storytelling, celebration, and everyday life: the social heart of the home and the community.

Having grown up in Italy, while being raised in an African household, I’ve often noticed a strong emphasis on individuality in Western society. In contrast, I was raised with a sense of collective identity, where community, family, and shared experiences play a central role. Kabila was born from that reflection. Festival Divercity and I wanted to explore how design could celebrate those values and translate the spirit of togetherness into contemporary furniture.

Honestly, it wasn’t easy. Translating a feeling into a physical object is always one of the biggest challenges in design. The process began with observation. I spent a lot of time thinking about how people interact, how conversations form, how we gather around objects, and how certain spaces naturally encourage connection. Rather than designing furniture as individual pieces, I approached the collection as a system that could create moments of encounter and exchange.

Kabila is crafted from solid Sapele wood, a material I chose for its strength, durability, and beautiful natural grain. It’s one of my favorite woods to work with because it has a warmth and richness that felt perfectly aligned with the spirit of the collection.

The manufacturing process combines digital precision with traditional craftsmanship. Each piece is first CNC-machined to achieve structural accuracy, then carefully hand-assembled, sculpted, and finished by skilled artisans. The final matte finish protects the wood while preserving its natural texture and character, allowing the material itself to remain an essential part of the story.

It means a great deal to me. Beyond the recognition itself, it feels particularly meaningful as someone from the African diaspora to see a project rooted in African cultural memory resonate on an international stage.

What makes it even more special is that Kabila received recognition in the People-Centric Design category. Throughout my work, people have always been at the center of the design process, so having those values acknowledged by such a respected jury is incredibly rewarding.

I believe African product and furniture design is playing an increasingly important role in shaping global design conversations. Designers across the continent and throughout the diaspora are bringing forward perspectives, histories, and cultural narratives that have often been underrepresented.

Platforms like AIDA are important because they create space for those stories to be seen, understood, and celebrated. When projects are evaluated by people who genuinely understand the cultural context behind them, the conversation becomes richer and more meaningful.

I see Kabila as the beginning of a broader exploration into how furniture can carry memory, ritual, and human connection. Moving forward, I want to continue translating elements of African heritage and cultural traditions into contemporary design, creating pieces that encourage gathering, storytelling, and a sense of belonging. In fact, this research is already evolving into a new collection that explores different aspects of African material culture and craftsmanship. It’s still taking shape, but I’m excited to share more soon.

This clever approach to community-led recycling recently earned national and international acclaim, winning Didier the title of Emerging Product Designer of the Year in the Eco Design category at the 2026 AIDA Awards. By converting everyday rubbish into sports gear without requiring expensive factories or complex training, Gnonlonfoun has built a scalable model that directly supports local neighbourhoods. In this interview, Didier talks about his childhood in Benin, his journey from graphic design to product creation, and why platforms like the Africa International Design Awards are vital for the future of creative talent across the continent.

My interest in design began in childhood. From an early age, I was passionate about drawing and deeply curious about everything around me, from shapes and everyday objects to architecture. Like many children, I was often asked what I wanted to become when I grew up. My answer was always the same: I wanted to be an architect. As the years passed, that dream gradually faded, and by the time I finished middle school, I was no longer sure which path to pursue.

It was then that my older sister encouraged me to enroll in a graphic design program, an opportunity that became a turning point in my journey. Through this experience, I discovered that the world of design was far broader than I had imagined. In particular, I was introduced to product design and realized that it could serve as a powerful tool for addressing everyday challenges and broader societal issues. This realization led me to make a clear decision: to use product design as a means of creating meaningful solutions and making a positive impact on my community.

Like many children in Benin, football was an important part of my daily life. More than a sport, it brought people together and fostered a sense of community and belonging. Despite limited equipment and poor sports facilities, football became a key part of our culture and identity. At the same time, many communities faced growing plastic waste due to inadequate waste management systems, creating serious environmental and public health concerns.

Seeing these two challenges, I asked myself: why not address both with a single solution? This idea led to the creation of Sport Can, a design project that transforms plastic waste into a valuable resource. By converting recycled plastic into footballs, Sport Can helps improve waste management while providing access to sports equipment.

My design process is straightforward and centered on understanding the problem before developing a solution. To do this, I begin by asking myself a series of key questions:

What is the problem? Who is affected by it? Why does it exist, and what are its root causes? Where does it occur? When does it happen? How can it be addressed effectively?

These questions help me gain a deeper understanding of the challenge at hand. They allow me to identify the people I am designing for, understand the context in which the problem exists, and develop solutions that are both relevant and impactful.

Sport Can is designed to be simple and affordable. It uses a straightforward three-step process that eliminates the need for complex machinery or specialized skills, making it easy to build, operate, and maintain. The system relies on low-cost, widely available materials and can be reproduced locally without advanced industrial infrastructure. By combining waste collection and football production into a single solution, Sport Can reduces costs, simplifies implementation, and makes the concept accessible to a wide range of communities.

Receiving recognition from the Africa International Design Awards means a great deal to me. It is a testament to the hard work, dedication, and perseverance I have invested in my journey. This recognition reassures me that I am on the right path toward achieving my goals and motivates me to continue creating meaningful design solutions.

First and foremost, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to the African International Design Awards. I believe it is an outstanding platform for young African designers. As an African designer living in China, I have experienced firsthand the limited number of opportunities available for young African designers to showcase their work and express their creativity. This initiative provides a valuable space for emerging talents to gain visibility and share their ideas with a wider audience. More importantly, it demonstrates that young African designers have the creativity, skills, and determination to produce meaningful designs and develop solutions that address the challenges facing our communities.

Looking ahead, I hope to continue designing meaningful products and refining my skills every day. I am also eager to explore challenges within the agricultural sector and develop innovative product solutions that address real-world needs and improve people’s lives.

Inspired by the people, places and traditions of the continent, the project blends illustration, research and storytelling to create designs that feel both personal and universally recognisable. Recognised by the AIDA Awards, the work highlights the power of communication design to preserve heritage while creating new ways of experiencing culture.

Can you tell us a bit about your background?
I am an award winning illustrator, designer and African storyteller based in Johannesburg, South Africa. My work is deeply inspired by my surroundings, my township upbringing and the many stories that exist across the continent. Over the years, I have developed a visual language that uses colour, pattern and character to tell stories that feel both personal and widely relatable. I am interested in work that celebrates African identity in a meaningful way while also solving a design problem for the client. That balance between storytelling and commercial value is a big part of how I approach every project.

What drew you to the idea of using an everyday object like a pocket lighter to tell stories from different African cultures?
When BIC reached out to work on this project, I immediately thought it would be exciting to transform an everyday product into something more meaningful. What interested me most was the contrast. A pocket lighter is such a small, familiar and functional object, but that is exactly what made it powerful. It already exists in people’s hands, pockets and daily moments.
So instead of seeing it only as a product, I saw it as a small canvas with the potential to carry culture, identity and memory. I liked the idea of turning something ordinary into something people could recognise themselves in. That shift is what made the project feel special to me, because it brought storytelling into daily life in a very accessible way.

How did you decide which elements of food, music, fashion and everyday life could better represent each country in the series?
The process started with research and observation. I wanted each country to feel distinct, so I looked closely at cultural symbols, daily rituals, fashion cues, music influences and the kinds of moments that people would immediately connect with. I was careful not to reduce a country to one symbol only, but rather to build from elements that felt lived in and recognisable. Food, music, fashion and lifestyle are all expressive parts of culture, so they became useful entry points into telling a broader story. I was always asking what feels honest, what feels familiar and what would resonate with people from that place.

How did you make sure each design felt locally recognisable and meaningful?
It was important for me to approach each design with care and respect. I wanted the work to feel specific, not generic. That meant paying attention to details such as styling, gestures, objects, colour combinations and the mood of the composition. I focused on things that people could identify with from their own lived experience. At the same time, I wanted the work to remain visually strong at a very small scale, so the recognisable elements had to be clear and intentional. The aim was for someone to look at a lighter and feel that it spoke to something they know, rather than something imagined from a distance.

What did it mean to receive AIDA Awards recognition for a project that turns a mass-market object into a cultural storytelling platform?

It meant a lot. As a creative, it is always affirming when work that comes from a thoughtful place gets recognised. What made this recognition special is that the project was rooted in the idea that even a mass-market object can carry meaning. It showed that storytelling and cultural relevance do not only belong in galleries or large format campaigns, they can also exist in everyday design.
For me, the recognition was not only about the award itself, but about what it said regarding the value of African stories, and the potential of illustration to transform how people experience a product.

Why do you think a platform like AIDA Awards is important now for communication design and for the visibility of African visual culture?
I think platforms like AIDA Awards are important because they create space for African work to be seen, valued and discussed on its own terms. For a long time, African visual culture has often been underrepresented, simplified or viewed through an outside lens. Awards platforms like this help shift that by recognising the depth, quality and originality of work being produced on the continent. For communication design, that visibility matters because it encourages more culturally grounded work, more experimentation and more confidence in telling stories that come from who we are. It also helps create a stronger record of contemporary African creativity for the next generation.

Looking ahead, how do you hope to keep exploring culture through illustration?
I want to keep pushing illustration as a tool for storytelling, memory and cultural celebration. I am interested in exploring more everyday African experiences, the kinds of details, objects, people and environments that shape how we live but are often overlooked. I also want to keep finding ways to bring those stories into different spaces, whether that is product, branding, public art, exhibitions or publishing. For me, the goal is to continue creating work that feels proudly African, emotionally honest and visually rich, while also showing that our stories can exist powerfully in both artistic and commercial contexts.

As Head of the Jury for the first edition of the Africa International Design Awards (AIDA) 2026, he brings a rare combination of global industrial experience and deep cultural grounding. From automotive design to luxury watchmaking, and from Dakar to New York, his journey reflects a lifelong commitment to design as responsibility, narrative, and impact.

I was drawn to design very early because I was fascinated by how objects shape our daily lives and our dignity. Growing up in Senegal, I observed how creativity often emerges from necessity. Later, at Renault, working on projects like the Scénic II and the Trafic Van taught me that design is about responsibility at scale — when you design a car, you are shaping the experience of millions. At Tag Heuer, with the F1 Micrograph watch, I learned precision, storytelling, and emotional detail. Those early projects shaped my belief that design must combine innovation, culture, and human sensitivity.

Whether I design a car, a watch, a chair, or a cultural initiative, I always start with the same question: what human need am I responding to? Each discipline has its own constraints, but the core remains identical — listening, observing, and creating meaning. What connects them all is my desire to design for people, not for ego. For me, design is not about style; it is about service, narrative, and impact.

Projects like Design 4 People and AfroEats are meaningful because they are rooted in transmission and empowerment. Africa has extraordinary creativity, but it needs platforms and confidence. Through these initiatives, I want to show that African design is not “emerging” — it is evolving, innovating, and leading. Globally, I want this work to be seen not as a niche, but as a central contribution to contemporary culture.

Moving between Dakar and New York keeps me mentally flexible. Dakar gives me depth, community, memory, and cultural grounding. New York challenges me with speed, diversity, and global dialogue. The tension between these two contexts sharpens my perspective. It reminds me that identity and universality are not opposites — they strengthen each other.

When I teach, I hope students leave with confidence in their voice. Technique can be learned, but clarity of intention must be cultivated. I encourage them to understand where they come from and what they stand for. In return, I learn humility and curiosity. Students constantly question assumptions, and that keeps my own thinking alive.

What excites me most about the first edition of the AIDA Awards is the sense of collective energy. For the first time, projects from across the continent are being seen together, in dialogue. That visibility creates recognition, and recognition builds confidence. I am especially excited to see how diverse the interpretations of “African design” truly are.

Beyond recognition, AIDA Awards can create networks. Awards should not only celebrate; they should connect designers, investors, institutions, and media. If AIDA becomes a platform for collaboration and mentorship, it can strengthen ecosystems and support sustainable creative economies across Africa.

Right now, architecture and furniture design feel particularly dynamic in Africa. There is a strong return to local materials, climate-responsive thinking, and cultural references. At the same time, fashion continues to redefine global aesthetics through African narratives. What is powerful is this combination of heritage and forward-thinking experimentation.

To young designers, I would say: limitations can be a source of innovation. Do not wait for perfect conditions. Start with what you have. Build consistency. Tell your story clearly. And most importantly, stay patient. Design is a long journey — credibility grows over time.

I hope AIDA Awards will create a long-term archive of excellence — a reference point that future generations can look back to. If, in twenty years, African designers feel that they are not peripheral but central to global design conversations, then the legacy will have succeeded.

The shoe is manufactured by World Shoe Limited at a pioneering facility in Akosombo, Ghana — built from the ground up in twelve months — and has already created 200 local jobs while directing sales profits towards regional health interventions. Made from a compression-moulded foam with an organic additive to accelerate biodegradation, and incorporating a natural antimicrobial powder derived from discarded oyster shells, The Rowe is as considered in its materials as in its form. In this interview, Johnson talks about the automotive inspiration behind the shoe, the decision to manufacture in Ghana, and what it means for the design world when Africa sits on the judging panel.

Becoming a footwear designer was somewhat accidental. That is to say, it was not planned. At Carnegie Mellon University, where I studied design, we were surrounded by cutting-edge technology – computer science, robotics, AI, before it was called AI. And so it was more likely that after school, I would have headed to Silicon Valley to design computer housings or printers. But I made my way to a design conference and showed my portfolio to the Design Director at Saucony. I always liked sports, and I really like sports equipment, so when he offered me a job, I took it. But even then, I didn’t really know I would have a career as a footwear designer. I just thought sports and design, I’m in!

In the first World Shoe, I had designed a shoe that we loved internally, and by all measures, outsiders loved too. It was designed specifically for humanitarian purposes – to protect feet from disease – but I also designed it to embody important functional and stylistic cues from the sports industry and from sneaker culture. The idea was to take the design beyond a so-called “charity shoe” to one that would be attractive to young people – one that they would want to wear.

When it came to designing The Rowe, I had a different kind of freedom. As a brand, we decided that we could take a step towards a consumer who was interested in fashion and style. It’s true we wanted something that would be accepted in the healthcare space, where clogs were the standard. But even the choices for that consumer were not the most attractive choices; rather, they were practical ones. When I sat down to design the shoe, I drew from an experience I had two years prior when I was invited to Nissan Motors Headquarters in Yokohama, Japan, as part of a cadre of international designers from across the globe to take part in a review of new models, concept cars and interiors planned for upcoming release. 

For starters, I have always admired Japanese design for its beautiful balance of traditional and the avant-garde and the attention given to detail. It is a deep source of inspiration. At the Nissan design review, there was one car that I was particularly struck by – The Hyperforce, an all-electric, high-performance supercar. What struck me was its aerodynamic profile and the surface changes that were defined by crisp, recessed channels. It was sporty and sophisticated at once. I felt it was the perfect formula to bring newness to the molded shoe world. I called it “updressing.”- a counter to the casual trend brought on by the pandemic, where comfort took precedence over style. The Rowe was designed not only to be extremely comfortable but also stylish, proving that a shoe can be both a retreat for the feet and a statement piece.

The qualities start with our patent-pending foam material, which includes an anti-microbial agent that fights infection and a biodegradation accelerant that makes microbes want to eat it faster. It was independently tested by a world-class laboratory, which determined it had all the important qualities that one would want in a shoe – great cushioning, durability, shape retention, flexibility – all of it. It tested above average. After that, I designed into it ventilation grooves and what I call a “hybrid heel” – a clog-like feel with a shoe-like heel.

That is a really important question because it gets at our “Why”. From the start, our mission was not only to break the cycle of poverty by making people healthy but also to create opportunities to continue their journey toward prosperity. Creating jobs, we decided, is the way to do that. The emergence of the World Shoe as a brand is, in fact, deeply rooted in Africa. Our founder is from Nigeria, and we have roots in Ghana. Manufacturing in-country was always a part of the plan. I remember being in Ghana scouting out potential factory locations. One year later, we opened the factory. The speed at which we achieved this important step is unheard of in the footwear industry!

It is incredibly rewarding. Of all the things I imagined for myself as a designer, being recognized for work that is connected to the continent where I was born was not one of them. I grew up outside of Africa and away from African culture. But for me, this represents an important connection to my own roots. But what is especially profound to me – “what African design looks like when Africa does the judging.”

Why do you think a platform like AIDA Awards is important now for African fashion design and for projects that connect creativity with wider social change?

What I think is most important is delivering design that is rooted in Africa to the international stage and doing so on your terms. There is a stigma that is often attached to design grounded in Africa – that it is one-dimensional and often connected only to philanthropy. AIDA proves that design rooted in Africa can take on numerous challenges and can do so while being innovative at the same time. Fashion as innovation.

The truth is, I am not hopeful, but rather I am confident. I see footwear as a flywheel that can do so much good beyond putting shoes on feet. Who would have thought that the design of a shoe could build a factory, teach people good hygiene, inspire young students to pursue a career in product design, engineering and manufacturing and seed the idea of a design academy? The World Shoe has inspired the development of all of these things. There is more to come!

The structure relies entirely on regional resources and low-carbon building techniques. Its walls are formed from compressed earth blocks made using soil dug directly from the site, while a wide roof directs rainwater into a large storage tank for community use. This commitment to local materials and social purpose earned the project Architectural Design of the Year at the 2026 AIDA Awards. We spoke with architects Felix Holland and Xavier de Kestelier about how they balanced technical engineering with local craftsmanship to deliver a lasting asset for the settlement.

Felix Holland: It was always the green angle. I was something of an environmentalist already before I studied architecture, and that interest has stayed with me ever since. It would be too easy to say that’s the only thing — of course it’s not — but it is a very formative part of how I approach architecture. Beyond that, I would widen it to say it’s also about being human-centred, keeping the user in mind, and trying to bring these two things together into something that is rooted in place and responds sensitively to location and climate.

Xavier de Kestelier: For me, it has probably always been about building — about how things are put together. I studied architecture, but at an engineering school in Belgium. I actually started in engineering, failed the first year, and found it far too theoretical, too disconnected from reality. That’s what led me to architecture at the same school, and suddenly everything was so much more about making things, small models at first, then larger prototypes. Later, in professional life, the first fifteen years of my career were really about how to build complex systems, both through digital tools and within physical constraints. I think that drive, and it might well trace back to failing that year of engineering, has always come from building, from thinking through making. You can probably see traces of it in the Bidi Bidi project, too. It was never just about creating a form. It was about creating something that does something, and arriving at form through that intention. The form did not come first.

Xavier: I was born in Ghent, in Belgium, a city of around 270,000 people, which is roughly the same population as Bidi Bidi. Extremely different in every other way, of course, but similar in scale. Growing up in Ghent, we were very fortunate to have a wealth of large cultural buildings: museums, a design museum, modern and classical art galleries, opera houses, and theatres. Going to Bidi Bidi and understanding that community. There were essential services, education, food programmes, and various support structures, but there was no cultural centre. And cultural buildings matter. They look different, they feel different from what surrounds them, and they tend to carry a level of care and attention to detail that sets them apart. That is exactly what we wanted to bring to this project: the same attention to design we would give to a cultural building anywhere else in the world, Australia, Europe, wherever. For that reason, we also drew on the same tools and techniques we would use in any of those contexts.

Felix: To add to that, what I find important about this project is that the idea did not come from us. Our client, TO, approached us with a brief they had developed together with Sina Loketa, who is now the building’s primary user. So, we came to the site and tried to understand it on its own terms.

There is no good reason to approach a project in a refugee settlement any differently than you would approach any other. You take it seriously, you bring the respect it deserves, and you try to understand the location and the needs of the people. And it becomes a very slippery slope to start asking why a refugee settlement needs a music and arts centre, follow that logic and you end up in a very difficult place.

Our first approach was one of modesty and careful listening, the same as with any project. One thing that became immediately obvious was the issue of water. That is really one of the essential elements of this design, the rainwater collection system, which did not have to be part of the Music and Arts Centre brief, but made complete sense in combination with it. Wouldn’t you say that was also a defining aspect of the project?

Xavier: Absolutely! And it wasn’t part of the original brief at all. It wasn’t about water collection to begin with. But we realised we needed a large roof anyway, to protect the centre and shield the walls from rain. And then it struck us: this roof could do something more; it could serve a second function. When you factor in the contaminated boreholes in the area, harvesting rainwater didn’t just make sense, it felt almost necessary.

Xavier: It is relatively straightforward to design for what you already know. We knew there would be performances, recording, music teaching, all of which were defined. The harder challenge is designing for what you cannot yet anticipate. When we visited, two things genuinely moved me. The first was seeing children playing on the central structure; it had become something else entirely, a place to hang out, to climb, to inhabit in ways we never planned for. The second was seeing entrepreneurs using the space to sell their goods. I had seen photographs of this before, but witnessing it in person was something different. People had taken the building and made it their own. That, I think, is the hardest thing to design for: a function that doesn’t exist yet, that only emerges once the building is alive.

Felix: There is also one function that is particularly difficult to reconcile with the others, and that is the music recording studio. By nature, the assembly space, the dance area, and even the teaching space are noisy, busy, and chaotic. And right next to all of that, you have this completely introverted, quiet room.

Xavier: That was the hardest one to design, wasn’t it?

Felix: Absolutely. It had to be sealed off acoustically, but it still needed light, it still needed air, just not noise. All of those competing requirements are converging on a single space. We made compromises, as you always do in design, and it’s honest to acknowledge that. In practice, the idea is that all activity in the adjacent spaces stops during recording sessions. But when that happens, the studio heats up quite quickly, and the users have to live with that tension. It is a real constraint.

Xavier: What I find remarkable is that we achieved everything with essentially one type of brick, one mould, which we sometimes cut, but that was it. And I think that restraint is what gives the building its aesthetic coherence. We didn’t rely on different systems to bring light in, no windows in the conventional sense, no proprietary acoustic panels. Everything was resolved through that single brick. Is it the most acoustically refined solution? Probably not. A proprietary system would likely perform better on paper. But given the location, the scarcity of available materials, and the difficulty of getting anything to the site, I think it was the right answer. And architecturally, that constraint became a strength — the building has a unity precisely because everything had to be done with one element.

Felix: In my experience, if you want a building to truly belong to a place, one of the most reliable approaches is to use materials found on or near the site. By definition, those materials already belong to that landscape. I was reminded of this when we recently drove away from the site; the road takes you around to the other side of the valley, and for a moment, we genuinely couldn’t find the building. We kept asking, where is it? And then, finally, there it was. That is not something you would expect. In an environment of small, low structures, a 400-square-metre building would normally demand attention. The fact that it didn’t, that it simply settled into its surroundings, felt like a real achievement. We had no interest in creating a monument that announces itself. It was always meant to be part of Zone 2, part of that whole environment.

Xavier: I’m often asked, particularly by people in the West, why we didn’t make more use of vernacular architecture. I find it a slightly odd question, because we did. We used the materials that were literally present on the ground. We drew inspiration from the way people in the settlement were already using corrugated panels for openings, windows, and doors. To me, that is absolutely learning from and working within the vernacular. It doesn’t need a label to be what it is.

Felix: And the form itself, your very first sketches were inspired by something much closer to the ground, weren’t they? The image of an African gathering space, a community under a large tree.

Xavier: Yes, though it was never a literal copy. People tend to assume that vernacular has to mean direct imitation, and of course, that’s not what it means at all.

Xavier: What I love about the recognition this project has received is that it has come from different places and from different angles. It has been acknowledged through African awards, but also through the Dezeen Awards and the RIBA Awards. And what feels most meaningful now is that the programmes themselves are being recognised; Sina Loketa’s music programmes, the work actually happening inside the building. That, to me, is fantastic. The building and the life within it are celebrated together. I hope it gives us the leverage to do more of this kind of work — it demonstrates what is possible, and with that, hopefully, more funding will follow.

Felix: What makes this particular recognition feel special is precisely that it is an African award. There are countless awards programmes around the world, but very little exists in the way of celebrating African talent and design excellence on the continent itself. I am genuinely excited about anything that begins to fill that gap. And we should be proud that the Bidi Bidi Centre is the inaugural winner of the main design category. What I know for certain is that it is a profound source of pride for the users and the owners of the building; whenever news of an award reaches them, the excitement is real and immediate.

Felix: Honestly, it hasn’t changed our direction because Bidi Bidi was always an expression of where we were already headed. It was an extraordinary opportunity to work in a remote and challenging location and pursue excellence through local materials. But there is something we haven’t touched on today: one of the most exciting aspects of the collaboration between Hassell and Localworks was the bringing together of two very different worlds. There is far more high-tech and parametric design thinking embedded in this building than you might suspect from simply looking at it. That combination, rigorous digital design methodology meeting local materials and craft, is what made it so compelling for us. And we are not stopping there. We are continuing along that path, already working on other projects that excite us in similar ways. For me, this is one step on a much longer journey.

Xavier: Exactly. The project gave us confidence. We have done it once, we have the reference, and now we know it is possible. But what I valued most was realising how much we learned from each other as practices. We work in completely different parts of the world, and yet our ways of thinking and designing turned out to be very closely aligned. That was perhaps the most exciting discovery of all, and being able to draw on each other’s expertise made the whole process richer for it.

To break through, lead designer David Vallier and the team at Ag Partners Publicis Africa Group took a deliberately disruptive approach — partnering with Tampidaro, a popular young urban painter from Dakar, to create visually arresting posters and stickers that spoke directly to the city’s youth. The campaign earned the project the title of Communication Design of the Year at the 2026 AIDA Awards. We spoke with Vallier about how disruptive design can spark real dialogue — and why African design deserves its own international stage.

Our group operates across the entire continent, where nearly every country and region has its own unique characteristics. Whether we’re working with brands or in social marketing, the challenge remains the same: getting a message across to the relevant audiences and establishing a genuine dialogue. As the old saying goes, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” And when it comes to awareness campaigns, we’ve heard it all so many times it’s become tedious…

When the European Union entrusted us with the campaign, it became clear that, given the extent of pollution in this area, the public believed the problem was beyond their control. The challenge was to convey the message that it is everyone’s responsibility. The primary target audience, naturally, was young people. It would be wrong to assume that young residents are indifferent to this pollution problem; however, they have long since stopped responding to the awareness messages that have been used. We therefore needed to change our approach, our angle, and, of course, our tone.

We had already worked with Tampidaro in a different context, and we had noticed from comments on social media that his work and his style resonated deeply with urban youth. The choice was an obvious one.

Tampidaro’s artistic perspective was central to the campaign. His distinctive visual style transformed a familiar environmental issue into something fresh, engaging, and culturally relevant. By using imagery that reflected the codes and aesthetics of urban youth culture, he helped make the campaign instantly recognizable and more likely to spark conversation. Because of its relatability, style, and alignment with their values, young people embraced the message and also felt valued and heard by this disruptive approach.

This campaign has already won awards in other competitions (EPICA, African Cristal Festival), but the AIDA Awards’ strong focus on design seemed to us to be a good fit for the creative direction we had chosen. That is why we entered the competition, and it is for the same reason that we are particularly honored to have won.

By its very definition. The AIDA Awards is the first international program celebrating creativity and forward-thinking design across the African continent. It fills an important gap by giving greater visibility to African design excellence and socially engaged creativity, while providing a platform where African voices, perspectives, and solutions can be recognized and celebrated.

We’ve done it before and will continue to do so because we firmly believe that “disruptive,” “generous,” “visual,” “empowering,” and tailored communication is the most effective way to raise awareness and, above all, to establish a genuine dialogue. This is, in fact, the same approach we applied to another campaign we ran on behalf of the European Union in Senegal: “Dajé and Gagné” (meet, collaborate, win), which received a tremendous response and achieved unprecedented levels of engagement and impact.