You learn a lot when you set out to fulfil your dream of a room where you can bring your creative vision to life. For one thing, beware of singing builders. It’s good to have harmony in the home, but not at the cost of a leaky roof.
Virginia Woolf said “a woman must have money and her room of her own if she is to write fiction”. Early last year I set on a goal of doing just that. The house I live in is small and I, being writer, needed a room of my own.
I had some money saved up and had started drawing sketches of my dream studio while looking at the empty yard where I used to play, run around and climb the apricot tree. They would be memories that would feed my writing.
I had romantic visions of the construction that would take place. I would produce the best sketch for my studio, I would negotiate a fair cost with the headsman and the construction workers would come in daily smiling and singing.
I informed my grandmother of this vision and she brought me down to earth so fast. We are creators of our destiny, but laws and procedures have to be followed, especially in our legislation-loving country.
I learnt that the sketches I drew were not fitting for the municipal office and would probably not be approved. I had to find a professional house planner and he informed me that I could not build wherever I wanted because some municipal pipes ran through the yard.
We worked on the plans together and it was fun bringing the visions onto calculated and scaled sketches which made mine look like a preschool project.
When the plans were approved, it was time to find a construction company. Fortunately a lot of renovations were taking place in the neighbourhood and so we asked around.
We found one and negotiated a building fee, which to be honest I was not satisfied with. But I wanted my room and so I agreed. The men did not come in singing and smiling but they did come in early in the morning, waking us up and forcing us to bare the barely risen sun to open up for them.
I was slightly disappointed. All those construction adverts with men singing were a lie. Worse, the men kept requesting more building material which meant I went wildly over budget. Then came the time to pay them and there seemed to be a misunderstanding about the fee. I had asked that the building be extended because I thought the room was too small.
I had to stand my ground which was difficult considering I am a young black female, but I persisted. In the last few days of the construction something miraculous happened. The men were singing in harmony, just like in the adverts. I saw this as token of good luck.
I was satisfied with the finished product until the rainy season came and the rain poured through the room. The roofing was not done well. I had to call them back to fix it, but after many unmet meetings I had to find someone else who stretched the little money I had left. I think the singing might have distracted the workers and caused them to do a poor job of the roofing.
The room is complete. The rain does not come through and I cannot believe it. Sometimes I go in and brush my fingers against the walls and deeply inhale the fresh smell of cement and adhesives. I learnt a lot of lesson. Building plans, quotations, negotiations, sudden changes from building plans, more negotiations, more quotations which meant more money. I learned that a building is not complete without at least a minor complication, which could have been avoided if the workers had done more nailing than singing.
But sometimes I go in my room for that sole purpose. I am guilty of doing more singing than writing. A room of my own, with no money left. It was worth it.
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