The pace of work at the job site has slowed considerably over the past month. My crew today consisted only of Vissy, Sajmir and myself. The work inside the church has come to a halt. One crew is waiting on a tile decision and the other crew is on holiday. Getting back to Fushekruje yesterday afternoon was good for my head. Coming back to the small city, I was greeted by no less than thirty people who know me and were happy to have me back in town.
Sajmir, our on site magician, made his focus some of the last, bitter ends of the one-meter border pieces we need to set. It is men like Sajmir who kept the walls of cities from collapsing during long sieges, who first figured the way to cross great rivers. His inventiveness is not bound by the technology at his disposal. His intelligence reveals the diversity of functions his simple tools and materials can serve.
Vissy set to throwing sprutso all day. Sprutso is the underlayment for plaster on large, flat areas. It is applied with its own kind of rhythm and slap. Each trowel-full is carved from the worker’s flat pallet before he tosses it up in a quick, snapping arc. Some material will take flight from the impact, spattering a few meters in any direction the laws of physics have allowed, but mostly it sticks like cooked spaghetti to raw wood. Vissy is driven, has a high energy, and has worked under demanding conditions all of his life. After being set to task, his focus in delivery of product is unmatched.
The nations I call home are both lovely and ugly, broken and stubborn born. As my life gets further woven into the lives of those here, I am reminded of who my father is, and in turn who I am called to be as well.
albaniacalling 