Construction Update

“Hey look,” our chief mason hollers down from the rooftop terrace, as he tosses something down to Hamoud and us in the courtyard. Hamoud picks it up from amidst the debris, and holds it out for us: a human tooth. “We’ve found a lot more than that,” he says with a smile. “Bones, too.” We wonder if a builder had a tooth knocked out during the original construction, but Hamoud has another answer. By his estimate, the house is over 200 years old (we still haven’t found an exact date) and back then there was no cement, no concrete. Houses were built with earth. The problem was, the medina was already constructed, and there wasn’t much readily available earth for construction close to town. The solution? Raid the graveyards, skim a bit of earth off the top, and if you happened to bring the occasional bone or tooth along with you, so be it.
“So what else have you found, then?” we ask Hamoud, but he smiles and shakes his head, and will only respond, “A lot.”





Four weeks into construction and things look a lot different than they do in the States. For example, each Friday we provide a couscous lunch for the entire crew. And the work is done entirely by hand. There are a few tools we expected to see on a worksite that have yet to appear. For example, we haven’t heard the whine of a single power tool. Come to think of it, haven’t even seen a tool box. Nor have we seen a square or a level. But then there isn’t a single two-by-four to square or level. The only pieces of wood in the house are the rough-hewn beams that support each ceiling.



By now, we’re quite used to the donkey carts that deliver materials and take away rubble. And despite some dire warnings, things are moving along rapidly. If that means that one archway measures 97 centimeters while it’s partner measures only 94, so be it. It’s not like we need to fit a store-bought Marvin Window into it. Instead, a window will be made to fit the exact space. So we go with the irregularities for the most part, chalking them up to added charm.



There is one small… difference of opinion, shall we say, underway on the stairs to the terrace. As a rule, stairs in Moroccan houses are quite steep; often ladder-like. And there is never enough headroom. People seem reticent to lose floor space to make room for the stairs. Of course, we’re also quite a bit taller than the average Moroccan. As a result, we’re constantly ducking as we go up and down stairs, and even after several months continue to bang our heads regularly. We ripped out the old stairs to the terrace – suitable only for mountain climbers – and constructed a new staircase, which makes a more leisurely ascent. This meant pulling back the roof of the house.

It is here that our chief mason has his own opinions, which have given rise to a small battle waged back and forth with Hamoud as our go-between. While climbing the stairs, we only have to duck a little bit, far less than on the staircase below, and so the mason reasons that the staircase as such is fine. We explain that since we’re ripping back the roof anyway, an extra 60 centimeters would give ample clearance for even our taller guests. The next afternoon when we’re away from the house, however, he lays in the rebar and concrete and starts building the wall just where he wants it. When we see what he’s done, we complain to Hamoud who is trying to keep everyone happy. It’s clear that to rip out the work he’s done and redo it will take more time, eating into the mason’s profits. We’re at a stalemate and so for days, it sits as is.



During the interim, Hamoud, who has clearly been beseeched by the mason to talk some sense into the silly Americans, demonstrates how easy it is to tip your head to the side while descending the stairs to avoid getting clocked. He tells us stairways like this are normal. Normal in Morocco, we tell him, not normal in the States. We point out that Hamoud is shorter than both of us, and not carrying a tray laden with empty bottles and wine glasses. He nods and takes it in.

The mason, it turns out, is getting frustrated by our evolving plans for the house and wants us to add a bit of money to his fees. We’re more or less happy to do so - we never discussed a fireplace with him, which he’s built already - but Hamoud refuses. “He signed a contract with me,” he tells us. “I told him to forget you even exist, and if he wants to talk about money, he needs to ask me, not you.”



For the most part things move rapidly forward, but after four weeks there’s a little tension on the worksite. This is a bigger project than even the professionals had anticipated. As for the terrace stairs, when you come to visit, note if you need to duck as you descend from the terrace, and you’ll see how Moroccan our house has become.