Robert does not particularly agree with my blog subject for this week, but since we kind of left you hanging with the last one I figure I better give you an update. That, and life must be starting to become mundane and routine here in Africa because I’m beginning to run out of ideas to write about. Suggestions or blog spurring questions are welcome.
So, at the end of the last blog, we were still searching for steel pipe and high strength wire. Apparently, steel pipe pretty much only comes in one size around here. Maggie, our wonderful neighbor and guardian angel when it comes to all things African, instructed a boda driver she often hires for running errands to go down to the local welding shop and have them cut a pipe so it could fit inside the support pole of the clothesline. She sent him off with part of the pipe that Robert had cut from the clothesline pole to use as a guide for the diameter of the new pipe. I don’t think he really understood what she was requesting because he came back with a pipe that was cut down the length for about 6 inches and then looked like it had been cut down the rest of the length but had been welded back together but was the exact same diameter as the piece of the pole she had given him. It would not fit in the clothesline pole and it certainly would not fit in the pipe that was buried in the concrete that Robert had worked to reshape and was now slightly oval rather than round.
This is where I got involved. When the boda driver came back with the pipe, I took him to the back yard to show him what it was we were trying to do with it. After much discussion, more on the part of Maggie and I as this guy is not a talker, and some serious time studying the problem, I think he finally understood what we were after. We marked the pipe in some of the places we felt that it could be cut (it was little too long as well as too big in diameter). He took off again with pipe in hand (actually it was tied to his boda, and I wish I had thought to get a picture of it). He returned with a pipe that essentially had a slit down the length of it. Unfortunately, the “diameter” wasn’t really all that much smaller, but with a lot of grunting and elbow grease, we were able to work the new pipe into both the piece of pipe that was left in the concrete and the support pole of the clothesline. I say “we”, but actually it was mostly the boda driver hammering the new pipe into the pipe in the concrete and then the clothesline pole onto the new pipe sticking out of the ground.
So, now the clothesline pole was once again standing erect rather than lying forlornly on the ground. However, I still couldn’t use it because I didn’t want to string the lines until Robert had a chance to install the guy wires to prevent the support pipes from bending under the weight of the wet clothes again. It took a couple more evenings to get that done simply because the available daylight after Robert gets home from work is limited. Being right on the equator is nice because are days and nights are pretty consistently equal, which means we don’t get the short days during the winter but it also means that we don’t get the long days during the summer either.
By Friday, our second house help day for the week, the clothesline support poles were fully operational once again and even had one line strung between them. Our house help for the day took it upon herself to string another line which was just enough to hang the moderate amount of laundry we had for the day. Unfortunately, almost immediately after she had hung it, we started to get a serious threat of rain and had to bring it all in.
Robert was able to string a couple more lines with the wire that we already had (we never did find any high strength wire, I don’t think it exists here in Africa) which gave me a total of four lines. I am hesitant to put any more on even though the thing is designed for six lines as I don’t want to overload it which is what I think happened to begin with. I was all ready for laundry on Tuesday, or so I thought…
Today (Tuesday), our house help was hanging clothes on the line when one of the masonry anchors holding the guy wire pulled out of the concrete. Fortunately, it was on the pole opposite the one that had originally bent. However, it was still bending in towards the lines under the weight of the wet clothes, so the day guard helped me tie the guy wire back to an exposed rafter on the shed the guards use to help straighten out the support pole. So now we have to figure out if we are going to put another masonry anchor in the weak concrete or try something else…
“But come on, all of you, try again! I will not find a wise man among you.” – Job 17:10
