Meraki

Meraki (n.) : The soul, creativity, or love that you put into something; the essence of yourself that is put into your work. 

My left leg dangles freely over the edge of the tiled roof, the other braced against a wooden plank on the scaffold. Every few seconds I hold onto the metal pole of the scaffold to ensure I don’t fall as I lean down to lift a roof tile out of someone’s hand. 

As undesirable as my position is with the constant balancing and twisting to move the roof tiles, hers is even worse. She stands mid-ladder to move the tiles up from someone of the ground and onto me. I don’t trust the ladder enough to do that. 

Every now and then I think I’m going to drop a tile as my thumb weakens from the amount of times it’s lifted the weight on it’s own. But I don’t. My gloves continue to get stuck under the tiles. It’s annoying, there’s already a hole forming on the right index finger. 

After a while I can’t fit anymore tiles in my immediate vicinity. I stand up and she joins me on the roof and we create a line to move the tiles further up the roof to where we need it. It’s hard though, the tiles are slick from the rain that has been hitting our backs for the better part of an hour. 

I pick up two tiles at one time to move across to a spot that I missed earlier and my foot slips. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest, but I am able to right myself and continue to walk across the slick tiles. 

We have to shove the grooved side of the tile underneath another tile and also make sure wood catches on the top of the tile to snap them in. It reminds me of playing with lincoln logs. Only heavier. And more dangerous. 

The position of our bodies is never comfortable. The wood strips that will hold the tiles in place dig into my thighs and butt. And my knees are a mess of bruises from kneeling on the tiles.

My back, shoulders, and arms are in pain from moving tiles for the past two days. From moving them from where they’re piled at the side of the building, to walking them over to place them on a high wall. After that we walk around the wall to place them into a wheelbarrow and stack them right next to the scaffold. 

But it’s fun, my squad and I joke around and have conversation throughout it all. We challenge our physical limits, constantly trying to do move than previous times. The stronger people pick up slack from the people who can’t lift as much. The men we work with are hilarious and make the hard work worth it. They do this work all year and we are only able to shoulder some of this burden for a month and a half. 

We laugh a lot, smack our elbows, slip and trip on things, and even fall while on the roof, but continue to get up and start working again. 

I could get used to this.