| Sports |
Building a little bit of respect
JACK METTA gains
an insight into the building industry and discovers
that it’s nothing to lose sleep over
A FOR nearly a year now, rest as in
sleep, has been a real challenge; a pursuit of sorts.
For most nocturnal creatures, sleep automatically comes when the
head ‘hits the sack’ just before the break of dawn.
For some of us, there are obvious distractions, of course – like
baby crying for attention early in the wee hours of the morning;
dogs on the prowl and fighting among themselves for the right to
access the bitch on heat; the incessant howling of hungry
puppies months later; and, the really pressing nature’s calls
when you’re on the verge of being welcomed to Dreamland – but
these are spaced intermittently over a stretch of time so it’s
not everyday that these distractions force you to literally seek
sleep.
Nigh on nine month now, sleep is hard coming on a daily basis.
It seems like it is being scared way, hence you go looking for
it.
One might resort to that age-old advice of “counting sheep”
under the circumstances, but that has no effect in the situation
where a battle of your mental and physical aptitude is taking
place.
You see, you are willing your being to sleep but the noise next
door is disconnecting the will and the end result is a conscious
sleep – your mind is wide awake and being assaulted by the noise
around you.
It began in January. First the men with the chainsaws came and
the buzz of their chainsaws not only cut through the stubborn
three trunks next door, they also cut through your peace and
quiet of your mind.
Then the graders and the backhoes and the big trucks came and
added their monotonous drone to the neighbourhood cacophony.
Then the generator fired up and soon there is hammering,
grinding, pounding, grating, rasping, scraping and all the other
‘ings” that is associated with a construction site.
The latter array of sounds has been a constant reminder in your
‘conscious sleep’ that there is a building activity next door
spurning you to conclude that yes, a building site is not
without its noise.
This has been the case for the best part of those nine months.
And above the din and usual vocal human expressions, there is
one voice that is heard above all others, an authoritative voice
barking out orders and instructions on a daily basis six days a
week.
As the structure slowly but surely began to take shape next
door, curiosity gets the better of you. You want to find out who
this national is that commands respect among his men, despite
the fact that he is a part of your sleepless days.
You have been resigned to the knowledge that construction sites
are not without noise and the fact that it happens to be next
door, is all a part of the latest developments taking place in
the National Capital District.
Psychologists often suggest that the best way to cure the
illness of the mind is to confront your worst fears face to
face.
Noise pollution is not exactly your worst fears but if it was
scaring way your sleep inducements, then it is fear of sorts.
So, you saunter over next door and ask to see the man in charge
and they point you to a scruffy looking gentleman with an
average build and bushy beard.
He introduces himself as Jero Giegere, aged 37 from Biawari
village, Garaina in the Morobe province.
If the man was barking orders around the place, he was certainly
a university graduate with a degree commensurate with the
building industry. That was you initial perception.
However, your learn that he was a troubled teenager from
Bumayong High School in the late 1970s whom school guidance
officer Naomi Rolf guided towards carpentry because of his knack
as a “technical person”. And he is still on that road.
Jero is a tradesman’s certificate holder from the Port Moresby
Technical College after completing his studies there in 1981.
“One day, a Lutheran pastor came to conduct a service at the
school and asked how many of us where carpentry students. Four
of us put up our hands and the pastor told us that we were a
privileged few, headed for a very noble profession, a trade that
the Lord Jesus Christ took on in his earthly form nearly 2,000
years ago,” Jero recalls.
“That has always stuck in the mind when I’m in this industry and
I tell you, I love this job. You are doing a job that your Lord
chose to be involved in. It’s like the trade was ordained by
God. And I love it. You can pay me whatever you like, big or
small, I will do the job.”
Indeed, since leaving tech school in 1981, Jero has gained the
experience – in practical and theory with a number of large
construction companies over the years.
“I’m quite adept to the trade that if you give me a plan, I’ll
erect it for you, no problem.”
He’s credited with Lae’s Unitech upgrade, the new Australia High
Commission building in Port Moresby, Madang and Hagen Holy
Trinity Teachers colleges upgrade and a string of housing and
real estate projects in Port Moresby among others.
He said that experience had earned him the right to be boss on
the construction site and to bark out orders so that “we can
lodge our monthly claim with the contractor”.
“You use strong words so that the workers know your mean
business and they know it’s their money too.”
That explained the daily dosage of verbal tirades above the
obvious din of the construction site.
A seven-unit structure had taken shape in our Boroko
neighbourhood over the nine months amid all the noise pollution
and the lull is expected in November – two months from now.
Looking around the place, you notice that all the workmen are
Papua New Guineans plying their trade in the building industry
and you come away with some pride in knowing that Papua New
Guineans are capable and able in this important trade.
And the experience in this job will go a long way in a securing
them jobs in what is currently a booming industry in Port
Moresby.
“I think we can do any job required of us. If you want a
five-star hotel, we can build it from foundation to high rise,”
a confident Jero contends.
And sure as the sun shines, Jero, his men and our countrymen and
women in the building industry can do the job and even a better
job than their overseas counterparts. It just depends on who the
contract is let to.
As you come away from the construction site, there is a bit more
respect and admiration for Jero and his workmen, who, he tells
you, are mostly semi-skilled workers earning a day’s keep in a
harsh environment.
A weight lifts from you – the burden of sleepless days, no less
– as you muse long and hard over the real meaning of the noise
on the construction site and the men who wield the tools that
makes that noise.
Sleep overcomes you and as you drift off into a peaceful and
relaxing slumber, a silent whisper echoes in your mind: “Worship
must precede work as surely as the nail must precede the hammer
…”
 
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