PAAALM-BERRRR!

Some of you who read our last posting may be wondering about the type of wood used for the roofing beams of the house shown in the pictures. Some of you may not care. But for those who do, the beams were made of Ronier palms (the leaves used for roof covering were also from the Ronier palm). It’s an interesting type of wood – basically a bunch of ~2-3mm thick by ~10 to 20cm long woody fibres coated and bound together by an almost powdery but incredibly adhesive substance. As I first examined the wood, I couldn’t help but wonder whether anyone had ever tried to extract this binding material to make superglue. Or maybe that’s where superglue comes from and I’m just ignorant?

So why use Ronier Palm? A few reasons, really. For one, there aren’t that many types of wood to choose from and most trees around here give some kind of succulent fruit that discourages cutting them down. For another, it’s strong, straight and long, making it easy to cut the 5m lengths used to frame most roofs. But most importantly, the over-abundant here termites won’t eat it. I had the opportunity to go about 1km into the bush with a friend from Church, “Malan”, to watch and help him split a couple of already-felled palms into the necessary beams for a roof frame.

We arrived around 9am where Malan's palms (trees) were already split into four quarters, lying side by each on the ground. He immediately started whacking lengthwise lines on the bark side as the first step. His accuracy tracing such lines with full-force blows of his machete was amazing! Two of the quarters were split in half, while the other two, slightly larger, were split into 3 pieces each, giving 10 beams per tree. Next step was to retrace these lines using his wooden axe. Again, I couldn’t believe how infrequently he missed the line by even as much as a centimetre!

Using an axe that anthropologists would assign to australopithecus man, Malan deepens his machete trace on one quarter of the Ronier trunk.

Next, we used a 10kg (~20lb) hardwood sledge to drive two metal wedges into the first of the traces. As the tree cracked and creaked open along the lines, we drove wooden wedges in beside the metal ones, so we could pull these out and move them further up the trunk. We did this about 5 times per length, with Malan cutting deeper through the fibrous wood with his machete each time the split got wider. After working our way up the trunk, and then back down again, the beam was pretty much split off and we started the next one.

This time, using a tool worthy of the Flintstones, or perhaps a heavy duty whack-a-mole game, Malan capably beats the metal spikes into the fibrous wood.

Cutting open the wedged crack with a machete. The wood really creaks as it opens, which Malan kiddingly says is the wood crying (ca pleure!) 'cause it knows it's time is up : )

For all the cro-magnon appearance of the tools, they were surprisingly effective! Takes a fair amount of skill and strength, for sure, but an elegantly simple process nonetheless. All told, making the 20 beams took us about 3 hours. I think my help actually slowed him down! Besides, after the first two beams, I had three blisters on my right hand and had to take it down a notch. Guess splitting beams isn’t a desk job : ) [Malan later came to house to start learning how to play the guitar. I regained a bit of my honour when the fingertips on his work worn hands were sore from pressing the metal strings for a few minutes, while my calloused tips felt no pain].

Once the beams were finished, we hid the axe and metal spikes (hardest to replace beacause of the metal) and walked home. Now the carpenter would pay Malan, come to get the beams, and then tie and nail them into place over the mud-brick structure. A bit of tin or thatch later, and voila, ready for the housewarming!

The finished product, ready to be hauled out of the bush and installed!