Pouring the roof

Since I arrived in Mazatlan two months ago I have been watching the construction of a two story house as it is made "by hand". Yesterday as I passed they were pouring the roof. To pour the entire roof continuously until completed - which would make the roof stronger as one whole slab - required a lot of cement, more men were called in to help and a concrete mixer replaced the usual hand mixing with a shovel.

Pouring the roof.

There were about ten men climbing narrow boards to the rooftop, shouldering five gallon buckets full of wet cement, in a sort of "bucket brigade". As you may know I am, and always have been, interested in the way anything is made. I'm particularly curious about the Mexican methods of construction and currently in the process of adding a room to Paco's house. I wanted a look at the roof to see how it had been reinforced in preparation for the cement.

I asked the "jefe" if I could take a look. He shrugged as if to say "It's your life... go ahead." As I began to climb the narrow boards supported by a variety of posts and boards precariously attached in an obviously temporary construction I felt like I was on a high wire in the circus. I couldn't imagine doing it with a bucket of cement on my shoulder.

A dozen workers had all stopped what they were doing to watch the crazy gringo. It was obvious they were delighted, and were yelling unintelligable words of encouragement as I slowly picked my way up the boards which seemed to get narrower the higher I went.

Once I reached the top there were rough hands shaking mine and congratulatory pats on the shoulder. I looked around and made mental notes of the wire, rebar and blocks of foam insulation which is molded into the roof providing insulation as well as making a grid of reinforcement to support the roof.

When it was time to descend the board my built in warning buzzer went off in my brain - the one that has preserved me all these years when I've been about to do something that would likely result in serious injury or death. Much to the delight of my newfound Mexican friends I sat down and inched my way down the boards on my butt.

There is a beer "Deposito" within a block of the house. I went there and returned with a cold beer for everyone. The friendships were now setting like the wet cement, catalyzed by cold cerveza.

This morning when I walked by the construction site all hands were waving hello.

Posing with a cold Modelo