Kevin Petrie on the job in his garage workshop. |
In
Great Britain, thousands of retired men gain a new lease on life by refurbishing
rusted tools and dispatching them to craftsmen in Africa. A personal account of this
ongoing adventure
We started Tools for
Self-Reliance in 1979 with a handful of volunteers, based on the simple idea of collecting
and sending refurbished tools to village workshops in Africa. My interest in tools
grew alongside a rising disenchantment with big technical projects overseas. I’d
seen foreign companies in West Africa make huge profits in the name of development.
Expatriate staff who were supposed to make a difference enjoyed huge salaries, servants
and extravagant perks, all adding to Third World debt. Much of this assistance seemed
to inhibit the ordinary working people from taking initiatives to better their lives.
In Ethiopia, I’d observed costly Caterpillar diggers brought in by aid agencies rusting
away, because it was impossible to find diesel or spare parts for them. Meanwhile,
thousands of Ethiopians went unemployed and hungry. Surely there was a way to do
things differently.
Then, one day, hearing an aid worker in Uganda complain that young people were stealing
the tools from his visual aid display, it struck me that tools could empower these
poor people and give them a livelihood. Visits to local craftsmen showed their equipment
was almost worn out, chisels sharpened to the last centimetre, hammers mere stumps
of iron. I was sure there was scope for an organization which could assist them while
avoiding traditional debt traps.
The
first steps
Back
home, the idea crystallized further. My mother pointed out that in our street alone,
there lived dozens of people with tools from a lifetime stacked in their sheds. What
did this mean, in terms of the unused hammers, saws, and sewing machines that could
be collected all over Britain?
We got to work with a bunch of dedicated student volunteers from the Polytechnic
in 1979, using an abandoned church hall in Portsmouth as our first tool shed. There
was no heating, no water, no gas, no furniture, but we were jubilant. We had found
somewhere to clean the first batch of 240 tools collected from houses in the Kingston
prison area.
Today, tools worth more than £500,000 ($800,000) each year are shipped to partner
organizations in Tanzania, Zimbabwe, Uganda, Mozambique, Sierra Leone and Ghana.
Working closely with these groups, TFSR is able to deliver targeted aid to groups
of craftsmen in poor communities. We also promote local tool production by supporting
blacksmith training programmes in Tanzania, Zimbabwe, and Sierra Leone. Rural blacksmiths
use our heavy-duty equipment to make and mend tools locally, producing far more than
we could ever ship out.
Without its large core of dedicated volunteers, TSFR would not exist. When we started
out, we had never considered what secondary benefits this scheme might bring, especially
for retired men, who are often reluctant to get out and socialize—often to the despair
of their wives. Thousands of them have got a new lease on life by volunteering with
us—today, older men make up about half the membership of our 70 groups. Once a week,
up and down the country, they get together to de-rust, mend, sharpen, oil and finally
pack the tools, as good as new (and sometimes better because steel in old tools is
often of superb quality) for dispatch to Africa.
Talking
tools in Tanzania
Some
of these volunteers once earned their living as mechanics, engineers or builders,
and they take great pride in teaching their skills to younger members. “What they
have in common,” says Tony Care, coordinator of TSFR, Wales, “is their high standard
of workmanship. They are methodical and thorough. They enjoy taking on a complicated
job and refuse to be beaten by it. They’re a mine of useful information and a constant
source of funny stories from the past.” It can be a time for nostalgia too. Now and
then, a volunteer will pick up a rusting instrument and exclaim, “I haven’t seen
one of these since World War II!”
However, it’s not just the practical aspect of the job that attracts our volunteers.
Most come because they appreciate the underlying spirit of the organization, and
sharing experiences with others. “TSFR is infinitely worthwhile,” declares John Watley,
our 84 year- old sewing-machine guru who was once the town clerk in Andover, Hampshire.
“It’s the most original and in the best sense, ’revolutionary’ relief work I’ve ever
come across.” In Doncaster, Derek Taylor, 72, shares his reason for volunteering.
“Our son was killed in a road accident,” he explains. “My wife and I started to think
of our own lives. Before, our family was the only thing that mattered. Now, we are
outward-looking; everyone is our family. Some of our volunteers illustrate how it’s
never too late to make a difference. Kevin Petrie, 85, spent his working life as
a bookkeeper and teacher, and only started collecting and refurbishing tools at 70.
Over the last 15 years, he has refurbished 11,500 beautiful tools, mainly for carpentry.
A member of the TSFR board of trustees, he visited Tanzania, at his own expense,
to see the equipment in use. The country’s former president, Julius K. Nyerere, who
was a TSFR patron, invited him home to discuss the role of tools and artisans in
development. Later, as Kevin travelled around villages to broaden his education,
his enthusiasm was so evident that he was christened Mzee kijana, or youthful elder.
When I asked Kevin’s wife, Ruth, how she felt about the thousands of hours he had
spent closeted in the garage, she smiled. “He’s been happy doing those tools,” she
mused. “I see it as our small contribution to help the world along.” |
