We changed the locks and nervously handed over sets of keys – and much trust – to our chief de chantier and build manager.
The first step was to protect the original features that we wanted to preserve. As I’ve said before, there are only three rooms with original zellij tiling on the floor – the modern tiling in the rest of the house can be destroyed by the builders as much as they like. To protect the floors a layer of thick plastic is laid down and then a plaster mix spread over the top, which then forms a hard surface.
All the woodwork – doors and windows – has been wrapped in plastic, and the dodgy ceiling in the downstairs kitchen has been supported with scaffolding.
The next stage is the ‘decappage’, which involves chipping off the plaster from all the walls to expose the bricks underneath. The purpose of this is to examine the condition of the walls behind and find any hidden cracks. We were a little nervous about this after hearing other people’s horror stories of finding walls so riddled with fissures that the whole side of their house had to be rebuilt, or finding bricks with no mortar in between.
So far, so good though. We’re now a week and a half into the build and most of the plaster has been removed, revealing walls in good condition and only a few major cracks that need repairing. To repair them, a section of bricks either side of the crack needs to be removed and then new bricks are ‘stitched’ in. The bricks themselves do not resemble the normal red house bricks that we’re used to, they are stone coloured and thin and the mortar that binds them together is a mix of sand and lime.
I actually really like the look of the exposed brick walls and we’ve been discussing the possibility of leaving a section of wall exposed as a feature. The problem though is the fragility of the ‘mortar’ which crumbles when you touch it, so we would have to find a way of sealing the walls with something strong enough to endure knocks, but permeable enough to allow the walls to breathe. Any suggestions are welcome!
Having the building work underway meant yet more paperwork, as a contract with the building company had to be drawn up, signed and stamped. This took several meetings – discussing the terms, making the changes, approving the changes and then finally heading to (a whole new) baladiya’s office.
We had been advised by friends not to sign a contract for a fixed amount of time, but rather to do multiple contracts for the different stages of the work, eg: a contract for the decappage, then if we were happy we’d contract them to continue with the masonry etc. When faced with the standard contract prepared by the builder however (and knowing how much paperwork is involved every time you want to create a new contract) we decided to sign a contract with them for 90 days, but add a clause saying that if we were unhappy with the work we could cancel the contract at any time.
We also added a clause saying that the building company would be responsible for their workers on site at all times, to avoid insurance payouts if someone is injured while working on our house.
Terms agreed and papers signed we went to the baladiya to get the contract made official. This process has to be seen to be believed! There were two copies of the contract, five pages for each, and each page had to undergo rigorous officialising. Both Vincent and the builder had to sign each individual page and then the lady behind the desk began the arduous task of marking each page with a total of SEVEN different rubber stamps and three stuck on stamps, plus scribbling official numbers next to all the signatures and writing both Vincent’s name and the builder’s name in full, on EVERY page.
This would have been fine if she’d been in efficient mode, but of course she was not. The process went: stamp, turn page, stamp, turn page, pause – look around, chat to the builder about his mother, stamp, turn page, stop to consult with colleague about the weather, stamp, turn page, stop because someone else has come into the office with an enquiry, deal with that person at length, finally remember the task at hand, leaf back through pages already stamped to remind yourself what you were doing, oh yes, another stamp. Stamping ten pages took the best part of an hour, which could have been amusing if not for the fact that we were both hung-over and dying for a coffee. Mission finally accomplished we then had to broach a difficult subject – money.
Our builder had asked Vincent for a cheque for 40,000 dirhams (about 4000 Euro), but I had balked at handing over so much money upfront. We had heard lots of stories about builders doing a runner with people’s money, and while we had signed on a well-known and reputable builder I was wary of signing over chunks of money. I also wanted to keep a close eye on what was being spent on materials, wages etc and preferred to actually go with the builder when he was purchasing materials and pay for it directly to avoid money being skimmed off the top.
The difficulty was broaching the subject without causing offense – how do you say I don’t trust you in a delicate way?
Anyway, we went for a much-awaited coffee and set about explaining our position. The main points I made were that we were living in Fes and so could be on site – with funds – every day (unlike some expats who renovate from afar), that we wanted to be involved in the process because we were excited to learn as much as possible – including where to source the materials, and that this was our first building project so we were interested in all the details and keen to be as hands-on as we could. I tried to frame it so that it was a positive wish for involvement and offering help, rather than having a negative ‘we want to watch your every step’ overtone.
Despite my best efforts though, the nuances were lost in translation and things started to get very heated. Basically the builder felt that we were hindering him from doing the job we’d employed him to do (which was managing the build, ordering materials, paying the workers etc) and were insulting him by refusing to hand over the money in advance. My suggestion of working on a weekly basis was met with derision – apparently a lot of the materials need to be ordered in advance and deposits made to secure timely deliveries.
The conversation continued to go in circles for quite some time – with Vincent and the builder going back and forth in French and me trying unsuccessfully to put our points across to the builder’s business partner who speaks some English, which he then relayed to the builder. I had to do a lot of backpedalling to calm the conversation down and went to great pains to reassure them that it was not a matter of trust and that no insult had been intended.
The resolution was a compromise. We would give them a cheque for 30,000 dirham and in return they would give us a detailed breakdown of how everything was spent and let us be involved as much as we wanted.
We were happy in the end, because although we still handed over some money upfront, the builders were definitely put on notice that we would be watching everything closely and that we wouldn’t tolerate being ripped off. We also felt sure that this team wouldn’t run off with the money as they were working on another much bigger project at the same time, and wouldn’t risk their reputation or employment over a relatively small amount of money.
Egos were soothed, tempers were calmed, and friendly relations were restored. But our message was clear – we won’t be messed with!
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