A shop of stone and stubbornness

The new shop begins as a ruin at a crossroads — half a wall, no roof, excellent bones, according to the Matji, who have appointed themselves foremen.

Construction proceeds by committee. Mutjo lifts the stones; the Matji stand on the finished sections and radiate opinions about the next one. A door is argued into a slightly different place. A window wins its case on appeal.

Villagers drift by to watch the strange barista and his small green crew. Several stay to help. All of them stay for tea. In the England of my youth this was called a barn-raising, and it ended the same way there too: everybody fed, one wall very slightly crooked, nobody minding.

The roof goes on before the first rain. The sign goes up before the roof. Priorities are priorities.