Joe Christa Giraso Has High Hopes for Landscape Architecture

In a rapidly developing city, where glass-walled buildings rise alongside carefully preserved green spaces, Joe Christa Giraso stands at a unique intersection. When we meet for coffee in the summer of 2023, she carries both a distinction and a burden: she is the only landscape architect registered with the Rwanda Institute of Architects. As cranes dot the city's skyline and urban development reshapes neighbourhoods, her specialised expertise in merging architectural design with environmental protection has never been more crucial — or more lonely.

While she studied and gained her first experience working here in Rwanda, Giraso notes that her profession has yet to gain recognition locally. “When I meet new people, I always have to explain what I do and why it’s important,” she says. “Some people don't even believe it should be a paid profession.” Many of her old classmates have switched to different fields, like interior design, or moved careers entirely, and the only university that offered the programme she took has discontinued it.

This is a huge loss, Giraso explains, her profession is also key to creating “sustainable spaces for all.” In Rwanda, where many rural areas lack access to thoughtfully designed spaces, the need for her work feels especially urgent.

Landscape architects consider concepts like justice and equity when thinking of design, and nature is a central aspect of their design process. Giraso speaks about Kigali thoughtfully, noting that it is already a city with lots of green spaces, but “not all of them are very public.” She talks about other ideas characteristic of landscape architecture so passionately — like using roofs as green spaces, and green walls, and using local resources and building materials instead of importing them. She hopes that Rwanda can set a standard that others will want to follow. “We are very rich in wildlife, and if we keep developing we need to protect the wildlife.” Landscape architecture doesn't just deal with urban spaces, she says. It also covers forests and parks. “We deal with the conservation and preservation of what we have.”

Giraso did not always want to be a landscape architect. When it came time to choose her focus at the University of Rwanda, she didn’t know the profession existed at first either. The architecture class had already hit its enrollment limit, so she went for environmental design instead. To her surprise, she enjoyed it more and decided to stay on that path, even when the chance to switch to architecture later became available.

But the true foundations for her decision were laid far earlier, in her childhood home. Growing up in a peaceful corner of Kigali, Giraso was constantly surrounded by animals. “My mom loved animals, and every six months, she’d bring home a new pet — chickens, cows, goats, cranes, and rabbits,” she says. “Did you know ducks don’t get along with chickens?” Giraso reminisces about her childhood home fondly. Talking about this topic, she grows more smiley. “My best friend, when I was young, was our dog called Tom. I would often tell my parents I'd go have my dinner in the garden and sneak him the food I didn't want to eat.” Giraso was a shy girl when she was young, she was also quiet and observant. (Those last two qualities still very much apply to her.) Tom, apparently, was a very “chill” pet, and always there for Giraso, whether she was sad or happy.

One day, when she was ten years old, Giraso wandered into her father’s office space and saw construction blueprints scattered across his desk. She was fascinated. He told her that people made a lot of money drawing up those designs; that she, too, could do it. Her father was supportive, but realistic: He told her that she needed better marks in maths and physics if she wanted to pursue architecture. “So, I said, I’ll get better marks,” she recalls with a cheeky glint in her eyes. He also warned her that it was a male-dominated field. At the time, he didn’t know any women in engineering or architecture. “He told me, ‘You’d become the first woman to do this.’” He encouraged Giraso to pursue what she liked, telling her the only thing that mattered was how she felt about her abilities. Her father’s encouragement stayed with her, even after he passed away when she was just fifteen years old. Her voice exudes warmth and love as she speaks of him. Even now, he is still a role model to her, she confides.

Despite her motivation and the encouragement from home, Giraso struggled after entering boarding school. She'd grown up introverted, surrounded by animals rather than girls her age, and the adjustment wasn't easy. The academic competition was intense, and comparing herself to her peers made her doubt herself. “People would tell me, ‘What you want to do is for men, why make your life harder?’” But the idea of becoming an engineer (she didn't fully realise the difference between engineering and architecture when she was younger) had become part of her identity. She couldn’t picture herself doing anything else.

By her final year of secondary school, the challenge deepened. When choosing a career path, architecture was not one of the choices she could fill in on the official form. Instead of ticking one of the other boxes, Giraso wrote her choice on the forms. The nuns, who ran the school, warned them that the forms would lose their value if she picked something that was not on the list.  “We asked them, ‘Why is architecture not on there? We know the school of architecture exists,’ and they asked us how we dared to challenge the system.” Her determination, along with that of her classmates, paid off, and eventually architecture was added to the form.

Giraso graduated and went to university where she earned a bachelor’s degree in Environmental Design. She then went on to study in England for a master's programme. Now, years later, she tells these stories animatedly, sitting at her current desk at MASS Design Group, a leading nonprofit design firm. The office is sleek and elegant, with a large balcony overlooking some of the greenest parts of Kigali. She shows me a collection of sample woods and natural stones, and we discuss the projects she’s been part of in recent years, including a magnificent research and education campus at the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund near the Volcanoes Park, where endangered mountain gorillas live, and the first phase of the Norrsken House, a hub for entrepreneurs. Both projects speak to her dual passions: conservation and community spaces.

When I ask her what inspired her to fight for herself and her future, she pauses before responding, pressing her lips together in thought. “My family,” she says thoughtfully. “My father, my mother, my siblings, my aunt. But I also get inspired by women leaders in our country, and across Africa. Being a woman in this culture means you’re constantly scrutinised. Most people’s attention is geared towards what went wrong rather than what went right.” She adds that knowing how many women are doing good work despite these challenges fuels her even more.

I ask her if she feels like she has made it — if she considers herself successful. She plays with the handle of her coffee mug for a moment before responding: “Success, for me, is when I become better than I was yesterday, in any chapter of my life. If I can overcome something challenging and become a better version of myself, then that’s success.” She pauses for a moment, before adding, “I think back to my father often. When you know someone well and want to make them proud, you always feel like there is a long way to go.”

As our conversation turns back to landscape architecture, Giraso reflects on what drew her to the profession. “The earth isn’t just for humans,” she says firmly. “It’s also for animals and plants. We need them — they play an important part in our lives. Landscape architects help humans interact with nature safely, and we give back the value that nature has in our lives.”

Despite the challenges, Giraso remains determined to keep pushing forward. She recalls the advice her father gave her: “Keep moving, whatever you do in life. If you can’t run, walk. But never stay stagnant.”

Giraso has high hopes for landscape architecture in Rwanda. It is a country that is busy rebuilding from scratch, she explains, which leaves a lot of room for experimentation, within almost every profession. “There are young Rwandans studying landscape architecture abroad, and I’m so excited for them to come back,” she says. She hopes that once more projects come to life, people will realise its true value. Perhaps this will happen sooner rather than later, because (she says with a quiet smile on her face) “there are talks about setting up a whole new department at the university.”

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