A Man Needs a Mountain

Plenty of houses in Limpopo are built the slow way, one room at a time, as the money comes in. A family gets the plans approved by the municipality, lays the foundation for the whole house, and then builds the kitchen and a bedroom first. The rest of the slab waits in the sun and the rain for a long time.

From the road it can look unfinished, even a little sad. But a project like that organises a household. It decides what gets bought this month and what waits. It explains why weekends go to fetching bricks, and why a newer car can stay a wish for now. It gives a reason to be up early on a Saturday that has nothing to do with mood.

A person with nothing large to work towards tends to drift. Energy with nowhere to go turns into restlessness, or into small spending that adds up to nothing. A house on a slab, or a rental cottage slowly rising at the back of a plot, is heavy enough that no single year can finish it, and that is exactly its value. The hard part is rarely the first brick. It is the day, a long way in, when the walls are only half up, everyone is tired, and the reason has to be remembered rather than felt.