Brick by Brick: Building Community

“It’s straight!” “No, no, I’m telling you it’s straight!” Although Khadijah was translating, we couldn’t understand why the loud volume and harsh tones could somehow amount to a consensus. In the U.S. a fierce argument like this would end in disappointment, frustration, and maybe a lawsuit. But in Ghana, the dramatic tenor of heated debate means something entirely different. ”So what’s the problem?” we asked Khadijah. “They are saying the same thing. It’s just that one is older and the other is younger.” It’s moments like these that our expertise is not needed, not wanted, and not helpful.  It is also moments like these that we realize that much of the time we have not idea what is really going on.  I’ll admit, it’s all too easy to over-romanticize a village lifestyle.  It’s easy to catch other Salamingas (white people) proclaiming, “They have so little, but they are SO happy!”  Many times, statements like that don’t make it past me without question and a stern and perplexed look.  But watching the until then hidden intergenerational power dynamics of the two masons was a much needed reminder of how narrowly assimilated I’ve become into this culture after many months over many years of living here.

Today marks day three of building the solar center.  We’d budgeted three days total for building, but by the time we left Namdu One this afternoon, the solar center couldn’t much withstand a rainstorm let alone produce electrical current.  Our first day of building featured some highs and lows boiling down to community mobilization and hard math.  We began by settling on a “central location in the community with plenty of sunlight that faced south.”  Within fifteen minutes of arriving, half a dozen men equipped with handmade shovels and hoes had cleared a strip of land east of the Chief’s palace and outlined a 6’x9’ rectangle. Twenty minutes after that, a steady stream of villagers coming from all directions with bricks in hand helped lay the first level of the foundation.  What about keeping the structure stuck together? Nomdu One men casually began to dig a hole twenty feet north of the structure, sprinkling in water and cement mixer into a thick mud to solve the problem.  Handful after handful of deep red earth bonding were slapped in between bricks until a moment when the work abruptly stopped.  No more bricks.  The structure was a grand 1 foot high, and we’d run out of bricks.  “No problem, no problem,” we were assured.  “Just come back tomorrow and we’ll have made enough bricks and already assembled it!”  As we gathered or things and washed off the cement and clay, another mason began hand-packing bricks in an all-too entrancing manner.  It was enough to get us excited for the 5:15am wake up the following morning.


The vignette about the two masons came on day two of building.  Upon arrival, Nomdu One had indeed laid four more feet of wall along all sides of the soon to be solar charging center.  We continued to mix the earth-concrete caulking and slap it in between the still moist bricks.  But only an hour after we arrived, we’d run out of bricks again, and were to return the next day.  Today, day three, the four walls were finished.  Next step, carpentry. Given that this is a trade totally out of our expertise, we picked up a carpenter from a nearby village along with wood, zinc roofing, nails, and other supplies required for a waterproof roof and overly sought after verandah.  The carpenter, an Ashanti region native, could have flipped a coin and just as easily been a circus performer.  Perched on the thin and still moist walls like a cat on a picket fence, the carpenter managed to saw, hammer, level, and assemble the roof skeleton all from the six inch or so tightrope of a wall.  He didn't get down for three hours.  While I’d like to say we helped, I’m not sure how much we actually accomplished.  I rushed over to the hanging two by fours whenever he was cutting the wood, only to arrive with the wood falling and slapping the ground with a “thanks for nothing” thud.  Nomdu One children and elders laughed at our frantic scrambles to help, only to be shooed away, or at most, tolerated.  By the end of the day, the roof had taken shape, and we had finalized plans to finish the roof and plaster the drying walls the next day.  

There’s a lot of beauty in feeling just so ignorant.  At times treading the line between burdensome and enduringly clueless, there’s something to be said for the recent college graduates – studded with honors, awards, grants and praise – who are unable to meaningfully build a mud-brick structure with a shaved wood roof.  It’s one of the reasons intercultural exchange is so rich and reciprocal; it’s another reason I love Ghana.  I’ll admit, in the hours of waiting here and there for supplies, I sometimes think about how I’ll convey my experiences, work, and research in this place few friends know anything about.  While I’ll save the long list of lessons learnedfor a post trip conversation with you, know this: I won’t include how I became an expert carpenter or mason.  Or even tell you if indeed, that straight line is straight.