dripping in wood

Fri. July 17 Today went left home late in the day, not knowing what or what not there would be for us to do. I ventured to the school in hopes that some great project awaited me. Well I was in luck. Four of us were commissioned to gather wood and lumber from the forest.

Now this might seem like a silly project and a waste of time. Why not go to Home Depot? Why not have the lumberjacks come to us? Well middle men did not exist in the exchange of yesterday’s materials, instead we were on the ground chopping, gathering, hauling, and delivering. I will forever be grateful for the ease of going to the store, though without this experience I would never have understood the sheer strength, ingenuity and endurance required to start such a big project as building a roof from the tree.

We walked for about 45 minutes in the moon dust road, the red dirt flies all over the place, especially in my teeth. We stopped by the carpenter’s boma (home) where his parents, brother, and immediate family lives. We avoided tea though it was offered for the first of many times that day. Finally we arrived at the chopping site- the tree had be cut down on the side of the mountain where the lumberjacks worked to cut boards for timber framing. It was a pretty incredible process to see 3 guys cutting “straight” board with a taught string and chain saw. For the next 2-3 hours we hauled up their work- from the bottom of the hillside (think steep incline for about 150 meters) to the road (another 200 meters).

A blue gum tree was the victim of the day though it has been accused of playing the persecutor of Kenya by sucking up all the water. The tree can take in a whole barrel a day which would explain the dry ground. When it’s cut, water leaks out of it like a siv. One time I carried a 12 foot board that was so wet that it dripped all the way down my body. My shoulder was so wet that I could ring out the water. I didn’t know a bath was in the work schedule.

All in all, it felt good to work hard and have a fun tale to tell, but each step of that mountain was mixed with a prayer for strength and breath. At 8500 feet and 2.5 weeks of no real exercise heavy lifting, my heart pounded and my breath came hard and heavy.