BUILDING A HOUSE IN SAIGON

Evening Star, Issue 20999, 13 January 1932, Page 11

BUILDING A HOUSE IN SAIGON

A CASUAL OCCUPATION Chinese labourers are building an annex to the house where I am living in Saigon. French Indo-China. At any rate that is what I am told they are doing. Being altogether unfamiliar with such work I can only take my informant’s word for it. To me, the goings on next door look queer (writes a contributor to the ‘ Chris'tian Science Monitor ’), Frequently in the United States I have passed through a street where a building has been under construction, and although I never experienced tho curiosity which grips people to the extent that they will stand for hours and contemplate the scene, even as a casual observer I gained some general notion of what was taking place.

Everybody, it appeared to me, was working; each man had his task to perform and he was proceeding with it, steadily and with what would seem a certain degree of thoroughness. In Saigon, however, the impression tamed by the onlooker is altogether ifferent. To all appearances, building a house here is at best a casual occupation, designed to relieve the tedium of the day. One of the* most noticeable characteristics of the work is that it requires almost ah many _ persons to stand off and watch the job while it is being done as it actually takes to do it. . In this connection I recall a certain little painting job that was to be done in my room not long ago. In erecting a mirror a hole had been made in the wall. It had been puttied up, but had not been painted over to / harmonise with the rest of the colour scheme. Those who had been engaged to do the work were Annamites. Three of these individuals presented themselves at my door one morning. One of them spoke French, and it was he who made it clear to me that they were there to paint the puttied-up place in my wall. The entrance into my room was little short of dramatic. The trio fi' e d in impressively, one at a time. First came the Annamite who spoke French. No doubt his being something of a linguist entitled him to take the lead. Then immediately behind him, wearing a doggedly serious expression and the pyjama-like suits that most natives here affect, came another Annamite with a small bucket of blue paint and a ragged brush. Bringing up the rear was a third Annamite. The most that can be said for him is that he was simply there. Now the size that was to be painted was actually no larger m circumterenco than an ordinary alarm clock. To me it did not look as though it would present an extremely complex problem for a man who had provided himself beforehand with a bucket of paint and a brush. But the Annamites evidently did not regard the job in this light manner. Lor the space of at least three minutes they stood and gaxed fixedly at the spot which was to be painted. . . ~ At the end of this inspection the man with the paint brush and turned and uttered a few words to his two companions. At _ tins signal they stepped forward beside him. Ensued then a few moments conversation, after which silence again fell while the three directed their gaze toward the wall. After contemplating it darkly for a time one of them appeared to arrive at some conclusion, for he spoke. Clearly this was a consultation. It seemed to mo that the trio stood and studied my wall for a good quarter of an hour, each one solemnly vqlunteeiing a suggestion from time to time, but no decision was reached that morning. Lunch time approached; the trio took off without painting a stroke. Bm o ' o going, the Annamite who spoke French explained to me with the complacent air of one well satisfied with his woik, “Apres midi.” Of course, ‘‘apres midi means afternoon; but it doesn’t specify which afternoon. It was not until three clays later that the trio filed solemnly into my room again and the gentleman with the paint brush got to work on

my wall. While he was thus engaged, the other two Annamites regarded Aim intently, watching every stroke of the brush. When the work was finished, all three filed out again, as solemnly as they had come in. But I digress from the building of the annex next door. There are, by actual count, twenty-eight people engaged on the work. Some six or eight of these are women and girls. Here women work at practically the same tasks as men.

Vaguely the whole business of erecting the house reminds me of a picnic or a barbecue at home where, although a certain amount of work, is necessary, it is in nowise allowed to become burdensome.

One moment every member of the gang will be toiling, not very energetically it must be , admitted; the next, at least three-quarers of the workers will leave the job flat and repair to any adjacent spot that looks comfortable, there to contemplate the few remaining workers as they continue with the labour.

Under the wide, deep shade of a large tree, _ two of the Chinese girls stroll arm. in arm with the carefree attitude of a couple of schoolgirls during recess period. They are clothed in black trousers, black Chinese coats that strike them halfway between the hips and the knees, and towels wrapped around their heads. The while they promenade they keep a casual eye upon their comrades who are still working. Several men lounge under the shade of the big tree that is near, some eating, some merely sitting. A few may be found at the water tap in the yard, slapping water on their faces, necks, and hands. From time to time one of the men will wash out a piece of wearing apparel and spread it on the grass to dry. For several days I tried to determine the foreman of the gang. I thought perhaps a certain superior difference in apparel might distinguish him, but since no workman’s garb appeared sufficiently unique to support this theory I concluded my inference was wrong. Eventually I saw the real boss of the gang. He was sitting _ comfortably propped against a tree, jesting in a light manner with one of the workmen. He was dressed in wide trousers and a duck coat that had once been white. From the side pocket of this coat protruded the ends of several pencils and a folding ruler. It was the presence of the pencils and the ruler that decided me. Nor was I wrong. After finishingiiis chat with the workman, the foreman arose, advanced in a deliberate manner to whore a space, evidently intended for a door, was left in the brick wall which was being erected, and, taking his folding ruler from his pocket, he meditatively began measuring the width of the space. Apparently not quite satisfied with the dimensions he took one brick and, using it as a mallet, knocked the bricks on either side of the space farther in by a bare fraction of an inch. Standing off and cocking his head on one side he surveyed the effect with the discriminating air of an artist. Encouraged by the result and evidently wishing to improve upon it, he then scooped up a particle of mortar and slapped that on. This last touch was apparently all that was needed to perfect the work. The foreman appeared completely satisfied, and strode off in a dignified, triumphant manner. With things going on as they are, with everybody working how and when it pleases him, it is a marvel to me how things progress at all. But day after day the brick walls rise and the building begins to take form. When it will be finished only the future can tell. But at present it is going along nicely, with everybody on the job having an excellent time of it. , .. .. I have never had a job helping build a house. Probably I never shall have; but if ever I do there’s one spot on earth where I hope it will be —that spot is Saigon, French Indo-China.