DIY Congolese-style

Next to our kitchen is a small store – very useful in principle, but some shelves would make it much more useful. We consult the manager of the building: just state what you need in our maintenance form, he says, and we’ll do it.

A carpenter arrives, takes measurements, and three days later arrives with a quotation for $1,700. Five shelves, a total of six metres in length for $1,700??? He explains: “Since you’re paying for it (news to me) I’ve designed it so that you can take the shelves and supporting framework with you when you leave.”

My money-saving instincts spring into life. I would have thought that a few screws in the wall, and five planks should cost no more than $30, so I decide to do it myself. Easy peasy as Jamie Oliver would say.

That’s where the fun started. Where do you buy the wood? I call an old-timer friend. “You’re joking,” she says, “this isn’t Europe or South Africa. You can’t just go into a shop and buy wood. You have to get a carpenter who will cut it to size for you.”

We don’t quite believe her and when next in town check in several shops which proclaim “EVERYTHING YOU NEED FOR CONSTRUCTION” etc. But when you ask for wooden shelving their eyes go blank, and they look at you as if you are deranged.

In the less posh parts of town there are many roadside timber yards selling rough-cut planks and beams in large sizes. But they don’t offer cutting or planing services. The obvious question is why. A lack of electricity could be one reason, and a lack of turnover to justify the investment could be another. So you must go to a carpenter: “You want a piece of wood of this size? – I’ll cut it for you.”

There is something positively mediaeval about this, which could be charming if it wasn’t so much trouble. 1: Find your carpenter; 2: He does research and gives you a quotation; 3: Give him money to buy the wood; 4: Collect shelves; 5: Pay.

But when you think about it, the logic is inescapable. Carpenters have realised the insidious impact of DIY on their trade and conspired to kill the concept before it spreads. That’s why things are organised so that it’s easier to just get the guy in to do the job from start to finish. He can justifiably claim to give a personalised service: Shelves made and fitted to order, just for you.

But we chose to buck the system. We measured up, then sent the driver to organise the cutting and planning of the shelves: they are nicely finished and varnished. They cost $40 which is really over the top, (because the smart car spoke of an employer with lots of money) but considerably better than $1,700. It takes about an hour to fit the shelves, and voila! it’s done. Besides the money saved, there’s another reward: the simple satisfaction of making things.