The Epic of the Brick Press

We found another brick press! 

It seems that we've actually gone full circle, finally locating the brick press of a time long ago. I don't think I've ever told this story on the blog, so it seems time to share the epic of the brick press:

It all started in February 2008. But I didn't know that at the time. I didn't start really planning this school project until at least April. I was curious if Malians knew about compressed bricks (if you don't know what they are at this point, please educate yourself).  I started asking around if anyone knew of construction that had been done or brick presses that might be in use in the country.  I met a mason who told me he'd used one once, many years ago, while working for someone named George Samake, but he had no idea how to contact him now.  A month or two went by without finding him before I registered that George is an odd name for someone in Mali, unless he is a Christian and thereby associated with the Catholic mission.  So off I went to the catholic mission and after a few weeks of missed connections, I finally found George.  Yes, he had done a project with compressed bricks about ten years ago. Did he still have the machine?  No, he had rented it from a friend named Joe Kieta.  Can I get in touch with Joe?  Sorry, Joe died five years ago.

...but his wife, Madame Kieta, works in town at the bureau "gene rural" (pronounced in french).  So off I went to the bureau "general" (my french is still a little faulty), where there was no one by that name.  I did, however, encounter Madame Kieta's sister (!), who led me across the street to the correct office.  Yes, Joe was her late husband.  Yes, she had a brick press!  I got her number and we agreed to meet the next week to look at the machine, which was collecting dust in her back yard.

That weekend I attended a wedding for Adama's wife's sister, who was marrying a man named Yaya, who turned out to be a contractor.  Has he ever worked with compressed bricks?  Yes.  Does he know where we could find a brick press?  Yes, he has one in Koutiala.  Can he give us a good price?  Agreed.  I called Madame Kieta to tell her thanks, but we're going with someone else.  

Fast forward to April, 2010.  We're ready to start making bricks when the deal with the press falls through (remember Blacky?).  So I go back to the bureau "gene rural" (the correct one this time) to find old Madame Kieta.  Yes, she still works there.  No, she doesn't have the machine anymore.  She's sold it to a guy named Alou Kieta.  No, she doesn't have his number.  Dead end.

Rewind all the way back to February 2008.  I attended an architecture conference in Bamako about building with dirt.  Here I met a man who worked with compressed bricks and who gave me a brochure for his organization.  I put it in a folder and forgot about it. Until yesterday.

Fast forward (is this making you dizzy?) back to 2010.  Racking my brain to find another lead on a brick press, I suddenly remember this brochure.  I pull it out, blow off the dust, and who's name, phone number, and email are written on the front?  Alou Kieta.  I call him and meet with him that same day; he's easy to work with, gives us a great price, and voila! We have a brick press.

Design Like You Give a Damn 2

I'm happy to report that the design for the school (henceforth known as the "Yellow Submarine") has been submitted for consideration to be published in Architecture for Humanity's book Design Like You Give a Damn 2. You can see the entry and more about the competition here:

http://openarchitecturenetwork.org/projects/tongoschool

Wish it luck!

"Blacky"

We'd be making bricks now if it weren't for Blacky.  

We organized a meeting in Cinzana today to finalize plans with the owner of the brick press.  We'd already agreed on a price to rent the machine per day and just wanted to iron out the details.  That's when Blacky changed his mind.  Now, I've never even met this Blacky character, so for him to hold up the entire project was not a great introduction.  Thus far, we'd been working with Yaya, who's Adama's wife's sister's husband and who we thought was in charge of this machine.  Turns out, he's just the messenger.  And an expensive messenger to boot.  Each time he's come for a meeting we've had to pay his transport and of course he can't take public transportation like everyone else, he's gotta drive his gas guzzling car 100K.  So Yaya shows up and says 1) the price has changed and now includes a fee per brick, a transportation fee, fees for skilled and unskilled labor per day, and oh yeah, the price we'd agreed on to rent the machine has also gone up.  and 2) all of this is non-negotiable because Yaya doesn't actually own the machine, can't bargain on behalf of the machine's owner, and has mysteriously lost this guy's number.  So, enraged at wasting our time, we scrap the meeting and eat lunch.  That's when Yaya suddenly relocates the number for the machine owner and voila: our first encounter with Blacky.  

us: "what happened to the price we agreed on?"

blacky: "I increased it."

us: "why?"

blacky: "because I don't need your money to be able to eat and I can charge whatever I want.  take it or leave it."

us: "fine. we'll just find another brick press.  jerk."

So that's where we're at now.  While we should be making bricks, instead we're looking for another brick press in Mali that's willing to charge a reasonable rate.  Maybe Blacky will come to his senses but he doesn't seem like some I'd like to work with for the next 6 months!

Opus Initium!

dimidium facti qui coepit habet 
He who has begun has the work half done (Horace)

Monday, April 12  (Day 1)

The day started in a taxi to the bank with $20,000,000 cash tied up in a black plastic bag.  We deposited the money into an account that would be used to purchase all the materials for the school project, and hopped on a bus to Bamako where we would buy the cement.  The ride to Bamako from Segou is roughly 3 to 4 hours, depending on the quality of bus, number of flat tires, and conditions on the road.  It's about 120 degrees inside and the windows don't open.  It took us about 3 1/2 hours.  Not bad.  As soon as we pulled into the bus station, we got a call from BuildOn saying they'd changed their minds, and would now like to purchase the cement in Segou (which we had wanted to do in the first place).  Since we were already in Bamako we took advantage of the availability of ice cream and ham sandwiches, and spent the night in air conditioning.

Tuesday, April 13 (Day 2)

Bus back to Segou.  1 flat tire.  4 1/2 hours.  120 degrees.  Not bad.

Wednesday, April 14 (Day 3)

Met with the cement vendor in Segou, negotiated the price of cement, the cost of transport, and struck a deal.  $14,323 for 1100 bags of cement.  $573 for transport to Tongo.  Not bad.  The payment would be made by wire transfer into the vendors bank account.  He seemed unfamiliar with this practice and slightly anxious but he eventually agreed and ordered the truck to start loading. The biggest truck they had could only carry 800 bags, so it would take 2 trips.  The truck arrived around 4pm and was loaded with 800 bags (40 tons) of cement in about 3 hours.

We sat in the front of the truck for the 35 mile ride to Tongo and the sun began to set.

When we arrived in Tongo it was nearly dark but we were met with enthusiastic cheers and greetings as what seemed like the entire village crowded around the truck to help unload.  The chief told me his mind had settled after the long delays and he was excited about the work that we were starting.  "This will be very good for the village," he said as bag after bag left the truck and was stacked in the only room in Tongo with a cement floor and metal roof.  

We finished unloading the truck and in true Malian style hospitality we were invited to eat dinner before we left.  By the time we were back on the road it was after 10pm.  Riding back we took the sand road through the fields, the only light coming from the trucks headlights.  It was one of those rides where everyone is quiet, lost in their own thoughts, and the world seems infinitely beautiful.  Not bad for a day's work.

Thursday, April 15 (Day 4)

There were still 300 bags of cement that needed to be transported to Tongo.  Again the truck came around 4pm, was loaded, and set off with us in the front seats.  Again we were met with a crowd in Tongo and the unloading went quickly.  Again we stayed for dinner and drove back through the fields at night.  Again, not bad.