NO, I AM NOT NAPPING MY WAY THROUGH GHANA

By Casey

The title of the post has nothing to do with the content, but with Steven having full control of the picture uploading function, I thought I should clarify. I did, in fact, take advantage of downtime on the rare occasion it happens, but Steven has been downright stalking me for the moment when my hat goes over my eyes or I lay down on a nice, warm pool deck! I protest!

What I DID do today was to learn a totally new construction skill: pouring concrete floors. Without a concrete mixer, without a leveler. Just me, a wheelbarrow, a stick, and a trowel. Oh, and a fellow Habitat hanging me by one arm out over a sea of concrete. Yup. Just another morning on vacation.

The process is pretty simple. After mixing up some giant batches of
mortar (concrete, sand, and water), we wheelbarrow loads into the room and dump it in piles. I used the back of a large trowel to push the piles into rough layers about 3 inches deep. After that, take a 3-foot piece of lumber and shake it back and forth across the wet mix, settling it down into rough level. Then skim the top to height with the same bar. After that we spinkle dry concrete powder across the
surface and use the trowel to smooth the surface into what basically looks like a big sheet of grey pudding (yum, now I am craving pudding. Add that to the list of things I intend to procure when I get home, along with apples and guacamole). We sprinkle and smooth three times until the surface looks like whirled glass. Beautiful!

Oh right, I forgot to mention how the teammate hanging me out by one hand fits in. Well... it is sort of a game of trust and circus at the same time. The way the mortar is spread, often you can't reach across the entire surface to smooth it out. So the locals taught me the trick. Basically, a teammate grabs your non-trowel hand and braces his
feet on the ground, and you let the rest of your body hang over the mortar, only one foot left back in the concrete-free zone and your trowel arm reaching gracefully out over the surface to smooth the far reaches of glassy concrete. In reality, this translated to my fellow builder Adam gripping my right hand in both of his, laughing and
soothing "I've gotcha. I've gotcha" while I was canted out over the wet floor like a precarious, drunken ice skater, giggling and shouting "don't let me fall! The builders will kill me!". It was a very fun experience and, I'll tell you, a real revelation of how much I have grown to trust my team here.

Tomorrow, only a half-day building rush to complete two of the houses,
then we come back to the hotel to clean up and get ready for the afternoon's dedication ceremony. Two families will be receiving the keys to their houses tomorrow, houses that our team have mortared, floored, and finished in just over a week. I am so thankful to be seeing the results of our work. I am proud of our entire team, who have triumphed (or at least survived) over back strains, travelers'
tummy, scrapes, jammed fingers, heat, stress, and each other here in
Humjibre. I am thankful for Steven's friendship and relentless good cheer throughout this entire trip. And I am honored to be part of this chance to show the people of Humjibre that we are people who don't just send money, we came to them with open hearts and willingness to work, and we will leave a little part of ourselves here in these
houses.

Now that I have waxed poetic for the day, it's time to go grab a cold beer and enjoy one of the last remaining nights with this team of misfit toys who have come together so beautifully far from home.