Water And The Maintenance Man

The rain has been coming down continuously for the past few days. There have been several thunderstorms and frequent strikes of lightning. Usually when it rains I like to stay home. It seems to be a perfect time to curl up in bed and watch a movie, read a book or do some writing. I dread having to go outside in such weather. Therefore, when Douglas received an email that our tour this weekend was cancelled, I wasn’t overly disappointed.

A couple of weeks ago, Douglas and I signed up for a tour being given by the Community Liaison Officer at the embassy. The tour was called “Like an Algerois” and it was being held on Friday, April 13th. I was looking forward to visiting my first historic place in Algiers – Jardin d’Essais. I’ve been told this is a beautiful garden to see. However, we would not see it on Friday as planned. The trip was postponed because the former Algerian president, Ahmed Benbella, died and his funeral was taking place that same morning. It was going to be held in the People’s Palace which is located in Central Algiers. Jardin d’Essais is also located in that same area. Due to the expectancy of high traffic within that vicinity, the tour was postponed. That Friday it rained incessantly so even if the funeral hadn’t taken place that day, the tour would have still been cancelled.

Locals have said that ordinarily it does not rain this much in April. Typically the weather is very nice, warm and quite sunny outside around this time of year. Nevertheless we’ll have to bear with the rain for the remainder of this week. The weather forecast predicts more showers over the next several days. Between the city's consistent downpours and our leaky pipes – water has not been our friend lately.

Lately I have been doing laundry in the evening opposed to doing it in the mid-day as I did while living in South Carolina. Since my time is completely flexible now, I don’t feel the need to stick to such a rigid schedule. Last weekend in the late evening, I placed a load of clothes into the washing machine. Meanwhile, I lied down with Douglas to watch a movie and wound up falling asleep.  When I woke up the next morning I went about my day as usual. Since it was the last day of the weekend I washed and styled my hair, which is at minimum a three hour process. It wasn’t until the early afternoon when I remembered the load of laundry that I had placed into the washing machine the night before. I quickly walked over to the machine, knowing that I would probably have to run the cycle again since the clothes had sat in there all night. I opened the door and was astounded as I set my now wet slipper into a large pool of water. All the water in that load leaked out onto the floor. Fortunately, none of the water escaped the room, but it was a huge mess to clean up. We must have used at least four of our large towels to try and soak up all that water and then squeezed those towels into a green bucket that happened to be in the room. It was too bad the room didn’t also have a mop available. We had a limited number of resources accessible to us. After we wiped up as much water as we could with those towels, Douglas proceeded to call the duty plumber for assistance. Within an hour we heard a loud knock on our door.  

The duty plumber that arrived was a local Algerian who spoke a tad of English. Thankfully we didn’t have to say much to explain the problem. We simply walked him inside the room and pointed to the many towels on the floor. He said, “Okay, I fix.” Those were enough English words for me to be satisfied and go take a seat on the sofa without having to pull out my French / English Translation Dictionary to try and further explain the problem. A few minutes went by while Douglas and I sat on the sofa directly across from the laundry room. We both began to hear very odd noises coming from the room. It was the plumber breathing excessively hard. We looked at each other with an awkward stare wondering why he was making such sounds. Then it got louder. One would have thought he was in there with a woman having some rough mid-day fun on top of the washing machine. Douglas was not facing the room; however, I was. Douglas asked, “What is he doing in there?” I confusingly replied, “I have no idea!” Douglas then said, “Can you see him? Is he sweating?” I said, “No, and I’m not going in there to look either.” That could have very well been how an Algerian sounds when performing labor. Who knows? I personally didn’t think it required that much effort or loud panting to do such a task. But then again, I have never fixed a leaky washing machine. Douglas and I chuckled inside like two school children would if they happened to overhear someone having sex in the next bedroom. Some things do not change as you get older.

We continued on with our conversations, while still giving each other a raised eyebrow every time we heard more suspicious groans. The man finally exited the room. As he placed his thumb up he said, “Finished!” We smiled and said, “Great!” The man began to take his forearm and wipe the dripping sweat from his forehead. He was really sweating - quite profusely too. Douglas and I both looked at each other with a slight smirk, thinking, “Man, who knew fixing a leak required that much exertion of energy.” The nice man then showed us that he even ran a new load of laundry, consisting of all our wet towels that were on the floor. How considerate. He then gathered up his belongings and left, still breathing intensely. I went back to the laundry room and put our things back in its prospective place. Something told me to open the washing machine and to no surprise the man didn’t put any soap inside the machine.  Nonetheless, it was still very thoughtful of him. That may be another Algerian practice that we Americans are very unfamiliar with. I’ll take my laundry with soap, please!

 

As if one leak was not enough, we were faced with another wet situation this weekend. The tap water in Algiers is not declared safe to consume. Apparently it can cause an upset stomach or even food poisoning. As a rule of thumb, Americans are discouraged to consume any water that is not filtered or does not come from a bottle. Therefore, all residences belonging to the Department of State have some type of water purification system inside each home. Most people have a large square silver box that sits on their countertop. Our residence was recently remodeled before we arrived and the purification box was removed. It was replaced with a water filtration system that is located underneath our kitchen sink. One of the advantages to this new system is that it takes up significantly less space than that of the large container that was previously here.

Since our trip to Jardin d’Essai was cancelled Friday I decided to do some house cleaning. I opened the cabinets beneath the sink to get a couple garbage bags to replace the already full ones we had in both the kitchen and bathroom. I was shocked to find a wet box of plastic bags. I placed the soaked box on the floor and began to remove more items, as I tried to see what else had been saturated. I then noticed that everything on the right side in the cabinet was sitting in a puddle of water. I immediately removed everything under the sink and snatched a few dish towels from the counter to absorb the water. We couldn’t help but think that time was repeating itself in less than a week. Douglas discovered that our water filtration system had a leak in it. Evidently, every time we turned on the pipe attached to the system, water began to drip out. This must have been occurring over a period of time since our arrival because the wood on the right side of the cabinet floor was extremely dark.  We knew exactly who we needed to call. The duty plumber’s number was still fresh at the top of our recently called list. Douglas phoned him and asked if someone could come over to fix this problem. We hoped that someone would be available, even though it was the weekend. The gentleman on the phone kindly said, “Someone will be out there at 2:30 p.m.”

Outside of my kitchen window you can see everyone as they approach the house or as they linger around the property. Unfortunately, this same view allows anyone from outside, to look directly into my kitchen window, and freely view inside. We’re working towards getting some curtains put up over those windows and the ones in the bathroom too. It feels especially awkward at night when you have the lights on and you cannot clearly see outside to know whether or not someone is possibly observing you. At least during the day, I can clearly tell if a person is there.

While peering at the rain, still strongly, coming down, I spotted a man walking towards our stairway. At first I didn’t think he was the duty plumber because he was not carrying any kind of tool kit. But the man proceeded to knock on our door. “Bonjour Madame, comment ca va?” he said kindly. I replied, “Bonjour. Ca va bien, merci. Et vous?” My French lessons are paying off. I felt proud that I had learned how to properly greet people in French. Then the man began to say a long sentence in French that I could not make out. This is the only down side to using a proper French greeting; the people then assume you are fluent. With a smile I said, “Je parle un peu Francais. Je suis Americaine. Je parle anglais.” (I speak a little French. I am American. I speak English.) That was clearly enough for the man to recognize he needed to take it back to the basics for me.

I guided him into our kitchen. Douglas explained what happened and where he thought the leak was coming from. The man looked at the sink, glanced at the open cabinets beneath the sink, and replied, “You have a leak. The plumber will be out a little later to fix it.” Douglas and I looked at each with those same raised eyebrows that we had when the previous man came and made strange breathing sounds while repairing our leaky washing machine. The man repeated himself and followed by saying, “Okay?” We simply replied, “okay,” as we walked him to the door. This was very odd to us because all he did was walk into our home and tell us what we already knew. I’m not sure how much he gets paid, but I’m positive that the government is wasting their money on his services.

About ninety minutes later, there was another knock at the door. This time we were relaxing on the sofa so I did not get to see the person as they approached our home. We were only hopeful that this would be the actual duty plumber and he would have some sort of tool bag on him. Douglas opened the door and to our relief he did have a small tool bag in his hands. We then brought him into the kitchen, explained the situation and Douglas even showed him where the source of the leak. The man then turned on our filtration faucet, got down on the floor to go underneath the sink, felt the water dripping out, and then just a few minutes later, got back up to say, “Yes, there is a leak. I will have someone come tomorrow to fix the problem.” We thought to ourselves, “Uh…What?”

Just like the previous man, he repeated what he originally said as if we couldn’t understand his broken English. The language barrier was not the problem. The lack of plumbing skills on this compound was the problem. Within three hours, two “so called” plumbers had visited our home to merely tell us what we initially phoned about - that there is a leak underneath our sink. Really, Sherlock?! If those are the only skills required to be a plumber then pass me the application. I will be perfect. I too can access the obvious.

The man clutched his bag that I now assumed only had his lunch inside, along with a flash light and a toy screwdriver, and exited our home while kindly saying, “Bonjour.” Good day to you too, Mr. Plumber. Douglas and I were now thoroughly confused. As my husband would describe this situation, “The site survey person first came out to verify that we had a kitchen and a sink. Then the confirmation man came out to check that the site survey person had properly done their job before he could approve our leak for repair by the actual duty plumber.” Come on people!

The next day, after finishing my French lesson at the embassy, I hurried back home in order to not miss the notorious duty plumber that was to come fix our leak. Usually when you place a maintenance request the person will let you know what day they’re coming out and give you an approximate time frame. Not here. They simply show up. And if you’re not home then you just have to wait until they show up again, either later that day or the next day. Hmm…it seems to make more sense to purely plan a time with me upfront to ensure that I will be home, rather than play the game of, “knock, knock, anyone there?” I guess they just assume I have no job and nothing to do. Granted, I don’t have a job and no, I don’t have much to do outside of the house, but a little common courtesy would be appreciated, that’s all. 

I was back home by 11:30 a.m. My gut instinct told me that most likely no one had stopped by my place while I was gone. A couple hours passed and still no plumber. I called Douglas at work to ask if he could phone the duty plumber to remind them about our leaky faucet that needed repair. Within the next hour I had a knock on my door. I’m very happy that I am someone who will follow-up on things, opposed to simply hoping an individual will actually keep their word or even do their job. Obviously, had I not told Douglas that no one showed up yet and for him to call them again, I would still be sitting here waiting for the mysterious plumber. I went to answer the door hoping that this would be the official duty plumber. I opened the door and had not been happier to see the heavily panting man that had previously been to our home to fix the washing machine. He even had his trusty sidekick with him, also known as his assistant.

The plumber remembered that I spoke a little French. He greeted me as he did before and I replied with the few French words that I knew. I was happy to see that he had a large tool bag in his hand. I even saw a long orange cord hanging out of it. I thought to myself, “Yes, I may actually be able to use my filtered water after he leaves and have a drink.” I then walked him and his assistant into the kitchen and described the situation. I do not think they understood anything I said, because he speaks even less English than I do French. But I assumed the other two people that were previously here the day before, thoroughly informed him about the situation. I mean that is the least they could do after leaving here and not fixing anything.

The man turned on the faucet and then turned it off. He then went underneath the sink for about a minute and came right back up. He turned the water off and on again. He then observed some spilled water to the right side of the sink, where I keep a dish rack for all my freshly washed dishes to dry. He looked at me and tried to elucidate that the water was spilling out of the side of the sink by my dish rack. He said someone would come tomorrow and glue the silver lining around the edge of the sink to prevent future leakage. By no means did he say it that clearly; however, after a lot of pointing and more questions, I gathered that is what he meant. Now, I’m definitely not a plumber and albeit, I’m not too sharp when it comes to fixing things in the house, but I did know that the water dripping from underneath my sink was not simply coming from the silver lining that goes around my sink. All I could picture was another person coming into my home tomorrow to tell me the same thing. I said, “No. That is not the problem. The problem is underneath the sink.” I guided him towards where my hand was under the sink and looked at him firmly in hopes that he would understand what I was saying. 

The man then got on the floor and went back under the sink to simply discover that the American woman was right and there is a leak underneath her sink.  He stayed down there for several minutes (with a few heavy moans) and fixed the leak. He then got up and turned on the faucet to ensure it was working properly. I was relieved that the sink was fixed and we would now be able to have fresh water. He then told me that someone would be back tomorrow afternoon to seal the lining around the sink. I’m convinced these gentlemen would rather spend more time and effort fixing something that is not broke, rather than essentially fixing something that is actually broken. Not my job, not their boss, not my concern. I was happy the leak was finally repaired. The gentleman left and said, “See you tomorrow.”

Later than evening I started to fix dinner. I was making a scrumptious baked spaghetti. When I went to fill up the pot with water from the filtration faucet I wondered if the man truly fixed the leak. Although there was no longer any dripping when he tested it, I felt the need to double check. I glanced beneath the sink as the water poured into my pot and I couldn't believe that the small puddle of water that was beginning to form. That man and his not so handy sidekick did no more than the prior two men that came to the house. Back to the drawing board. Now I must wait until the man returns tomorrow for him to attempt to stop the drip yet again. 
After two leaks within a week, and one that is still unrepaired, I could only hope that we would soon be done with water problems for awhile.

To our misfortune, I spoke too soon. The substantial amount of rain that fell over the past few days caused water damage to a corner of our living room ceiling. There are a couple of fairly large water spots that are slowly spreading across this small area of the ceiling. I noticed it last night while lying on the sofa reading a suspense novel - “The Neighbor” by Lisa Gardner. This book is a page turner for sure. I was sitting in that position for a lengthy amount of time, so I took a break to stretch my back. As I reached my arms behind my head and tilted my head up, I was astonished to see brown stains on my ceiling. I thought to myself, "Here we go again." Inconveniently, the damage is located directly above our telephone, computer modems, and other electrical devices. I immediately moved each piece of equipment to another location. Douglas also followed by quickly placing a service request. 

This undoubtedly means that we will likely meet up with our infamous duty plumber again for another repair. I surmise that he may be the all-around maintenance man for the compound. I can only hope that if the duty plumber does get assigned to this job, he doesn’t take the same nonchalant approach to our ceiling as he did to our kitchen sink. I personally think he did a much better job while producing heavy moans and groans as he worked. Hey, whatever gets the job done is fine by me. Now we wait for someone to fix both our perfectly fine silver lined tile around the sink, along with our "supposedly fixed" water leak, and our water damaged ceiling. When it rains, it pours! My only request is, "May I get a certified maintenance man?

A picture of our water damaged ceiling