Have you ever mended anything? I can thoroughly recommend it. Coming from an engineering family, I regarded it as completely normal that whenever anything broke it was immediately taken apart, examined and potentially restored to some kind of function. For as long as I can remember, I was mending my own punctures, replacing brake cables and fixing dynamo lights on my bike.
Gradually, as my parents and uncles have all passed away, I have come to realise that most of the world is not so resourceful. Items are either taken to a fundi for repair or, more likely, thrown away. So I thought I would share some of the advantages of achieving a modest level of mechanical competence.
Financially, you can save a great deal. From sewing a buckle back onto a shoe to give it another month of life, to restoring a computer by replacing a heat sink on a processor chip, the savings soon add up.
Reduced vulnerability. Even if you are not going to fix a problem yourself, having some competence puts you in a stronger position when getting it fixed. You are better able to assess the ability of a fundi and are less likely to be taken for a ride. Moreover, you might not be able to find a fundi when you need one. I cannot imagine being stuck somewhere with a flat tyre and no knowledge of how to change the wheel – akin to going for a walk without knowing how to tie a shoelace.
Saving time. The busy, working person might not have the time to dismantle the toaster or washing machine but often it is actually quicker to change a fuse or remove a sock yourself than deal with journeys into town, waiting, miscommunication and delays.
And it is so satisfying. One memorable repair was a toilet flush. The toilet probably dated back to the days of Empire and imperial measurements. No parts were available. Pipe sizes and flush designs had changed, so a new flushing unit was needed. However, no flushing unit would fit. A new cistern was required. And a cistern to fit that particular toilet only comes as part of a whole toilet set, so a new toilet was needed. That meant over 100,000/- to start with. On top of that, it was also going to need substantial plumbing work: Hacking out the old toilet and cementing in the new.
Instead, I identified a torn plastic diaphragm as the problem. I found a plastic document wallet of similar texture and cut out a replacement. The whole process cost less than 100/- compared to the several hundred thousand that installing a new toilet would have cost. It took about an hour, instead of the days of disruption I was facing. I felt immense satisfaction not only in restoring function but every time I subsequently used that toilet.
What surprises me is the attitude of my friends: “Why waste time fixing things?” they counsel, recommending fundis who will make my life so much easier. They do not seem to notice the irony as the conversation inevitably turns from their advocacy of professional workmen to horror stories of incompetence, abandonment and soaring costs they themselves have experienced.
