Narrative Essay: James Kang

Narrative Essay: James Kang “Dude, I think I cracked my butt bone or whatever you call it.” Riding in the back of a pickup truck isn’t fun became a fact as we arrived at the first house. Building houses in poor villages of Mexico especially when the NBA Finals were going on didn’t sound fun—or important—to me. I grudgingly hopped off the 80’s pickup truck and started to unload the supplies along with my friends. From a house too small to be called a house came out a family of four. The father limped toward us while the rest of the family stood at the door of the house, smiling with thankful eyes. I’ve always lived happy, or to be exact, satisfied. I’ve always lived in decent apartments, played whenever I wanted, ate whatever I wanted, did whatever I desired, and lived happy. And then I thought whether I would be smiling delightfully like them if I were living in that “thing”? Would I be smiling if I couldn’t eat three meals a day? Would I be smiling if I didn’t have computers or TV’s? In less than a second, I came to respect and sympathize that family. Out of sympathy—or respect—I shook the man’s hands and gave him a shy smile. He gave me a quick nod as he led the whole group to the ground: the ground where their new house will stand.

The ground was very even. It was clear that the family worked on flattening it for several hours. This being our first experience, we quietly listened to our instructions given to us by Keith, our supervisor. The house we were building wasn’t the fancy house with water pipes, heating system and bathrooms. It was just four walls, a roof on top, cement floor, a door and a window. “Still, this house is a great comfort and important house for them. We want to try out best to make this house stand strongly on this ground. And this means that you’re going to work hard.” Keith explained with his fist up high.

Whenever I did something, I’ve always worked the hardest on mine and worked pretty sloppy on the other person’s. May be this was the selfishness that exist in all humans’ minds; however, it vanished once I began my work. I felt like I had to do my best for them as if I were building a house for myself. Perhaps that feeling was the inspiration for all of us as we started working. No one was trying to be lazy, trying to the easy jobs or trying not to ruin their shirt. And with such a passionate mind in all of us, we began the actual construction. Four wooden poles and four walls would be its foundation. We dug up four holes on the soft ground and stuck the poles in cautiously, trying to even all the poles. There’s not much you can do when you’re building houses on soft dirt. Everyone was curious whether this will stand rains or storms. However, we knew if we worked hard on it, it would be strong enough to stand the storm. Plus, Keith told us that we’re going to cement it. Once we got the poles upright, we started on the first wall. All at once, we heaved up the heavy wall and made it perpendicular to the ground. Poles and the wall felt quite perfectly. With three firmly holding on the wall, the others quickly grabbed nails and hammers. Every hammering and nailing counted because it could totally unbalance the walls. Once the first wall was done, the rest of the walls went smoothly. Narrative Essay: James Kang The next task was the cement. Although cement is usually the later task in construction, we had to make sure the walls and poles were stable enough, especially in such a soft ground. We were pouring the cement into the house and inside the holes where the poles were. I don’t remember how cement smelled at that time, but I do remember how they felt. They were like mud pack. You smudge them on your cheek; it will harden in a few minutes. Next, you’re going to find yourself unable to smile. In about half an hour, we were done with the cement. We decided to take a fifteen-minute break as we waited until the cement dried a little. I was leaning myself on the wall as I noticed that the family was gone. I was so into the construction that I didn’t even notice them. Meanwhile, I felt a little betrayed thinking that the family left while we were working our butts off on their house.

Fifteen minutes passed before I even had a drink of fresh water. I quickly drank a waterfall from my friend’s Gatorade and assembled in front of the house. Next was the roof, the hardest process in my opinion. Simply putting a flat roof won’t be effective, as the water will stagnate on top of the roof. A solution to this was a slanted roof, which meant that we’d have to fill in the gaps between the roof and the walls carefully with pieces of woods. Imagining we’ll have to measure all the pieces gave me nausea, but Keith already prepared the measurements. For once in my whole trip, I loved Keith. But, there was another problem. In the midst of organizing everything, Keith forgot to bring the ladder. ‘Oh big deal, just hoist him up,’ you might think; but he is over 200 pounds, six foot three. “It’ ain’t possible man.” One of my friends sighed as he looked up at the missing roof. Then, just like a cartoon, a light bulb flashed brightly and I told them the plan.

In less than a minute, the pickup truck rolled right along the side. It halted and Keith got out. He swiftly hopped into the back of the truck and stepped over the top of the truck. Although that truck was pretty darn old, it didn’t collapse. On top of the truck, Keith started to hammer in the pieces.

The process went like this: Keith would hammer in probably three pieces and get back into the truck and move the truck; hammer in another two or three pieces and move the truck again. And all we did down here was watching him hammer and move the truck. We were hypnotized by the driving skills of Keith and Keith was too busy with the roof, he never even glanced at us. We snapped back to reality as we grabbed the paintbrushes and the sky blue paint. Painting was the only option for us. And soon, the barren walls were covered sky blue just like the sky.

The distinctive scent of paint always made me high. I just loved the smell so much I didn’t even care if I destroyed my brain cells. I still have gazillions of them, right? Lost in the scent of the sky blue paint, I started going near my friends and patting them on the back with my hands, which were obviously wet with the sky blue paint. And one little pat turned very bloody—or sky-bluely—as we started having these paint wars. Sky blue paints were dripped everywhere in the ground as well as ourselves. “Get that piece of crab here. You’re dead.” Curses Narrative Essay: James Kang and yells, paints and brushes. Although we did get very gloomy by the time the war was ended by Keith, it was still a pretty intense, exciting part of the construction. By the time we finished painting all the walls, Keith was done too. All we need to do for roofing was put the actual roof and hammer it down.

Hammering goes so quickly that the roof was done before we even knew it. Keith just glued several layers of these paper-looking-hard-substances-filled- with-sand-looking-stuffs and we were done except the last part: door and the window. Imagine a house without a window. That would be a pretty dark house, I assume. So we decided to install a huge window on two sides of the house. Keith handled the chainsaw and cut out the walls. My friend and I installed the window and screwed several screws. Once we checked that the window worked perfectly, we gave each other a low five and a chest bump. The house was done except for the lock. Keith was about to put on the locks when the family walked towards us from the street with an armful of bags full of tacos.

Eating tacos after you put up the walls, spread the cement, put up the roofs, painted all the walls, had a paint fight, and install windows and door, was sweet. We didn’t even notice our hunger until the tacos were placed on chipped dishes along with some lemonade. Buying all these tacos for us when they even barely had money for themselves just gave us this sad, but happy, thankful, glad, and starving emotion. We just couldn’t not invite them to the table. Although there wasn’t enough space, it was the most pleasant lunner—a new word of lunch and dinner—we had. I still remember the rich cheese, beef, vegetables, and soft shells of the tacos. May be that’s the reason why I love Taco Bell so much. Tacos were done and the last thing left to do was handing of the keys, which was supposed to be like the moment when the men in suits cut the rope thingy or something. Keith worked on the locks when we were fooling around; I felt a little admiration toward him for working so hard. Well, we lined up ourselves and faced the family. Their eyes glowed with excitement and happiness. The children were so excited; they held their hands together and started to suck on their dirty fingers. I mean who wouldn’t be excited when they got a new clean house after living in a tent-like house all the time? My friends and I were also excited to give them this new house where they can play, live cleaner, and have a happier life. Sensation of pride and joviality passed through my minds when the key was given to the father.

Riding back was less bumpy than before; may be we were too exhausted to feel the bumps. As we passed the narrow streets, we spotted several sky blue houses in the towns. They all looked the same as the ones we built today, clearly distinguishing itself in the midst of barren land. I glanced at the front of the truck, where I saw a glimpse of smile on Keith’s face reflected by the back mirror. Exhausted, we showered quickly to let the dirt and sweat get washed in the cold water. I felt like I' I didn’t even desire to watch NBA games while I stayed in the camp for the last three days. I just loved showering in cold water in the camp, watching the Milky Way and the stars fall upon us, screaming and playing football with my Narrative Essay: James Kang friends, and enjoying marshmallows during the last campfire. And even now after many years, I still remember the excited face of the children and parents in all four houses I’ve built. Carnegie once talked about noblesse oblige in his famous essay known as the Gospel of Wealth. He wrote that it was the rich’s duty and responsibility to distribute its wealth to the society. I’ve never realized the true feeling of noblesse oblige until I’ve constructed those houses. Although I was never a noblesse at that time, it felt like it was my duty to help them; and helping them is much better than computer games or buying a new iPod. The trip to Mexcio served as my inspiration ever since. It served as an inspiration towards studying harder and trying my best. After the trip, my definition of success changed from earning a lot of money to helping others to make this world happier. Although it sounds very corny and all, it is the true definition for me. Helping others, building houses, constructing libraries for the goods of other people is the true success. After I got from Mexico and came to Korea, I started to sponsor a little kid in Kenya. I sent her twenty thousand wons per month, which will feed her, educate her, and make her happier than before. Sometimes the thought of her being taught in school—she’s a first grader—make me want to send her more money every month. The old memories of Mexico made me join Habitat for Humanity, but I was too young to join the trips. Probably next year when I’m old enough, I’ll be able to enjoy the same satisfaction and pride as I did in such a significant trip to Mexico.