My entrepreneurial neighbours

While sitting outside reading today's Saturday paper I kept noticing a sound from behind the wall that caught my attention.  Was it a cutting torch that was at work?  It struck me that I had not really explored life behind our wall, and decided to go for an exploratory walk.

As I reached around the block and recognized our water tank... this time behind the wall... the origin of the sound appeared.  It was indeed a cutting torch at work, and the man who handled the tool was apparently an artist working in steel.  Kondwani, as I learnt to be his name, was surrounded by a welding machine, hammers and cutting machines.  Two steel birds were emerging from the iron sheets and pipes that artistically were formed into tails, wings, legs and bodies.  On one side some finished birds and a cheetah were on display.

In my curiosity I asked him where he had learned his trade.  He narrated that his basic skills had been obtained at a technical school in Blantyre.  Welding, cutting and body work formed the starting point. While he tried his luck as a car mechanics for a while, his dream was to utilize his creative abilities.  He was digging deep into his pockets and went to Zimbabwe to learn sculpturing.  Jobs were not to be found in which he could use his new-won skills, and he had to start his own business.  Together with his brother he bought basic tools and started producing sculptures and receiving cars for repair along the roadside. Gradually business picked up, and now they form a group of four who work together.  They built a shed as a basic workshop, and bought a container as a store.

"So, who buy your birds and animals?" I asked.  "People like you!" he replied with a hopeful smile. Perhaps another day...?

Not far from the makeshift workshop I stumbled upon a man who apparently was making shoes under a iron sheet covered structure, also along the dusty roadside.  Right behind him three-four men were busy repairing bicycles.

In my afternoon walk just behind the wall of our house I had obviously encountered entrepreneurs who made a living based on their acquired skills,  but under extremely basic conditions.  Steven, as my shoemaker called himself, had no formal training.  He was raised as a neighbour to a shoe factory, and used his eyes and hands wisely as he tried in his own ways to copy what otherwise machines were shaping out of the hide.  With leftover hide from the factory he developed his craft and started his business.


The shoe on display was my size.  It lacked soles, but I could easily envisage the pair as slippers, ... and they are on my feet as I write this small piece.