tradesmen, laborers, and supervising engineers, three quarters of whom would work on buildings; the other quarter on roads, pipelines, and other infrastructure. This was a large commitment out of the total non-agricultural workforce of seven thousand; but the need was great. The most urgent objective was to provide housing—shelter for everyone. Yet construction for industry was also important. After all, Alf reminded the group, the agreed ultimate aim was not just to survive in safety and comfort, but to move as rapidly as possible out of the Stone Age into an industrial society.
They would need mills for grinding grain and sawing wood; furnaces for firing brick and other clay-based products, and for smelting metals; sheds for blacksmith forges and various workshops. Roads were also critical, since transport of materials would be vital to any recovery operations. The roadbeds, which had previously carried highways and railroads, had to be reshaped and maintained, first for horses and oxcarts, eventually for mechanical vehicles of a sort yet to be determined.
The Planning Subcommittee approved Alf Richards’s scheme, as he had assumed they would, and they also endorsed his choice for a top management team. One of his American associates was to be in charge of factory structures, furnaces, and dams for sawmills and gristmills; a Swiss highway engineer was given oversight of work on roads, bridges, and pipelines; and an experienced contractor from Johannesburg, who had been in Ulundi at the time of the Event, took charge of regular building construction—homes, schools, clinics, and the like.
To provide direction for the constructors, the subcommittee created a professional design team of architects, civil engineers, and other specialists, assisted by surveyors and various helpers—one hundred individuals in all.
This prompted Stephen Healey to ask a question: “If we put all these architects and engineers to work, where are they going to get the paper, pens, and pencils they’ll need?”
“A good question,” Richards replied. “And we’ve looked into that. I can report that the ship’s purser has saved a goodly supply of these materials. They will be allotted according to real and demonstrated need under my direct supervision.”
The Ulundi Indaba had also commandeered such writing implements and paper as had escaped fire and flood in several office buildings. With rationing and conservation, there would be enough to fill the needs of the professionals for a year or more. In the meantime, Richards went on to explain, ten or so artisans would be designated to experiment with making pencils out of wood and graphite, and pens from quills, fine-haired brushes, and when available, thin metal plate. As for the ballpoint pen, that most ubiquitous implement of the immediate past, when the current supply ran out, that would be it—at least for a number of years. Not every item could be ranked high on the subcommittee’s list of priorities.
“We can think about making paper,” Richards said, “as soon as wood pulp becomes available.” Gordon Chan suggested that the tannery workers might try their hand at making parchment. This idea was greeted with considerable skepticism. The scheme would depend on obtaining the skins of young sheep and goats—washed, stretched, scraped thin, whitened with chalk, and smoothed with pumice—bringing the survivors “up to the Middle Ages at last,” one wag commented. The process was eventually tried, and it yielded some wonderful material, although never in significant quantities.
So, the construction enterprise was established; but still Alf Richards was not content.
“Plans are wonderful,” he grumbled impatiently, “but if we’re going to start building, what we really need is lots of wood and lots of nails. These beehive huts have come in handy, and I know that up in the hills, folks have been fixing up their houses using stone along with blocks made from dried mud. I’m sure we’ll get around to making bricks and cement, too. But we can’t mark time waiting for that day. Where is the wood?”
“Fortunately,” said Peter Mavimbela, “there are several forested areas up in the hills that have been spared by the flames. And we have forestry experts who can tell us how this resource should be harvested, replanted, and nurtured. But right now, just like the farmers, we’re hampered by lack of tools—beginning with axes, saws, ropes, and animal-drawn sleds. Further, although lumber can be roughly shaped with axes and hand saws, we really ought to get some sawmills in operation as soon as possible.”
“It’s that damned chicken and the egg,” Alf said. “We need tools and sawmills to get building materials, and we need building materials to construct shops and mills. Well, we’ll just have to do everything at once—start with our bare hands and such tools as we can find. Then make new tools as fast as we can, and get those mills built and in operation. At least we have good running water as a source of power. Some day we’ll operate our mills with steam engines, internal combustion engines, or electric motors. For starters, waterwheels will have to do. But my question still is: how in the hell are we going to make waterwheels without nails?”
“I know carpenters who can do a lot with pegs and doweling,” Peter said.
“Oh Christ!” Alf Richards was shouting with frustration now. “That’s for people with time on their hands. Find me some nails, for God’s sake. For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost!” he cried, mangling quotes from both Shakespeare and Ben Franklin.
He was somewhat mollified when the group agreed to add nails to the list of items to be sought by the Scavengers, and to make nails a priority when the first blacksmith forges were put into operation. In the meantime, calming down, he told Peter Mavimbela that he would welcome those carpenters who knew how to work with pegs and dowels.
Whatever the initial difficulties might be, the use of wood was crucial to any development plan, and the subcommittee decided to found an embryonic lumber industry with a workforce of three hundred. The first objective of this company would be, by hook or by crook, to provide structural materials for the builders. At the same time, using branches and brush not suitable for building, they were to start making charcoal for blacksmith forges, and to gather fuel for various other purposes. As a third mission, they would produce such derivatives of wood as turpentine, potash, and tannin for tanning leather. In their second year, the lumber experts would be expected to provide pulp for the manufacture of paper, as well as raw material for plastics and other chemicals.
This seemed to conclude the discussion of wood and its byproducts; and the hour having grown late, several subcommittee members stood up and stretched, anticipating adjournment. However, Gordon Chan urged the group to wait just a few more minutes in order to consider a matter that seemed to be on nobody’s agenda, but that was related to timber resource: the topic of bamboo. For this purpose he introduced Tran Hung Tho, an eminent Vietnamese agricultural engineer, who had been recommended to Wilson Hardy by a number of Asian academics.
“Colleagues,” began Dr. Tho, somewhat stiff and reserved, “the tropical climate along the coast in this part of Africa appears to be most promising for the cultivation of the tall, treelike tropical grass that we know as bamboo. Indeed, several varieties of the plant are local here and appear to have survived the tsunami. I have also brought with me seeds and seedlings, which I had planned to leave with African specialists for experimental work.
“Bamboo can be propagated by dividing root clumps or by planting certain segments of the shoots, as well as by sowing seeds and planting seedlings. So there are excellent prospects for an early and abundant supply of this versatile and serviceable material.”
Alf Richards’s eyes grew wide as he listened with fascination to the statistics.
“Some species grow quickly, as much as one foot per day, and achieve heights of up to forty meters—that is, one hundred and thirty feet. The stems, lashed together with grasses—grasses, not nails—provide a good building material. This can be especially useful for Engineering Village, far removed as it is from the forested hills. The largest stems can be cut into planks for buildings and rafts, or used to make buckets and pipes, furniture, fishing poles, and much more. Additionally, the seeds of some varieties are eaten as grain and the cooked young shoots eaten as vegetables. The raw leaves are a useful fodder for livestock. The pulped fibers of several species are used to make fine-quality paper.”
After hardly any further discussion, the subcommittee authorized a workforce of fifty to assist Tran Hung Tho in his plan to grow and harvest this amazing material.
Finally, fatigued by the long day and evening sessions, but cheered by the prospect of developing a supply of bamboo—which Alf Richards labeled “our unanticipated resource”—the Joint Planning Subcommittee brought its first meeting to an end.
Just a week earlier, across the Mozambique Channel, two hundred fifty miles from the survivors of Ulundi and Engineering Village, on the shore of Madagascar, another meeting was held. Presiding was a youngish woman who spoke the Malagasy and French languages with a distinctly American accent. She removed a colorful bandanna from
