Cement

(I wrote this text – originally in German – as part of a university course I was teaching on Sustainability in 2019. Part of the course dealt with the concept of the Anthropocene. I read the text to my students on a walk we took through our campus, on which we made a stop at a construction site.)   Depending on who you ask, cement has either a long or a very long history: some historians trace the origins of cement back to ancient Egypt, around five thousand years ago. The ancient Egyptians probably used a mixture of straw and mud as a binding agent. Basically, cement means no more than that: caementicium, the Latin origin of the word, first meant “crushed stone” and later “binding mass”. The fact that the word cement has a Latin origin is no coincidence either: ancient Romans around the 250-150 BC also started using cement, but they did such a good job of that, that the word has survived to this day – and so has their manufacturing process. Incidentally, ancient Romans mainly used cement for their more grandiose buildings: the Pantheon, the Colosseum, and a number of walls, domes, bridges and aqueducts. However, cement was also very useful for the Roman sewage system that was being developed at the time and for the expansion of the huge road network. Still, we know – most famously because of the huge fire under Emperor Nero – that wood was still by far the most common building material. And it would take quite a while longer before cement became as ubiquitous as it is today. For all its ubiquity, I was a little surprised at how little I, as a 21st century person and therefore someone who encounters cement on a daily basis, knew about it when I started researching this topic: One of the crazier facts about cement is that the recipe for cement was briefly lost completely after the collapse of the Roman Empire, ushering in a cement-free era until it was rediscovered by the British engineer John Smeaton in the late 18th century. Incidentally, this is almost a century after Hans Carl von Carlowitz and his explanations on sustainable forestry. And it is also after the start of the industrial revolution. From then on, of course, everything happened in quick succession and today cement and concrete are as ubiquitous in the design of our human world as only plastic, steel or the internet. Today, there are almost 40 tons of concrete for every person on earth. That’s not a lot in Germany – a simple single-family house already exceeds this amount by at least twice as much. Every year, however, around half a ton per person is added and we are not stopping there. Between 2011 and 2013, China alone poured more concrete than the USA did during the entire 20th century. Concrete has become a human signature, a material that will still be detectable in the ground millions of years later and long after the supposed end of mankind. And it has taken on cultural significance: Raw concrete is chic and modern – at least it was 5-10 years ago – skate parks get their urban charm from the heavy use of concrete, and even art objects, gravestones and statues are cast in concrete to decorate our cultural landscape. And yet it is important to recognize how new our cement and concrete culture is. The history of humankind without cement is sixty times as long as that with cement. And we already know that cement also has its disadvantages: Among other things, it seals surfaces that would normally create a cooler urban climate and it emits CO2 during its production. Perhaps that’s why, when I’m on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest or Reddit, I keep coming across pictures of daring wooden constructions that are supposed to replace concrete high-rises or pictures of tree house vacation homes with a built-in sauna and loft bed. But I’m not actually ready to give up concrete yet. I enjoy being able to flush my toilet knowing that all my waste is being disposed of in huge cemented pipes under the city and it always upsets me a little when my bus has to travel that short distance over non-cemented, cobblestone pavement on the way home and I get a good shake. I think that’s how many of us feel and that’s why we will continue to pour concrete for the time being, our urban planners will design green spaces on roofs and our researchers will work on making cement less harmful to the environment. That will have to be enough for now.

E.R.O.I.

NOTE: The following is the first draft to a script I wrote for a video that was never realized. It’s about the idea of Energy Return on Investment. Give me a spade, and I give you a hole! Err, no. That’s not how this works! Give me [takes deep breath]: A spade and the necessary extremities and muscle mass; food and drink and a bed to sleep in in order to maintain my stamina; basic medical services to not – you know – die; education so I know how to actually use a spade; clothes so I don’t freeze and/or burn under irregular weather conditions; a ride to the place at which you want the hole to be dug; maybe a bit of expendible income and a few days off to actually experience some quality of life, drink some Mojitos and make some babies- Give me all of THAT and THEN I’ll give you a hole. Yeah.. Let’s leave that aside for a second and talk about oil! Oil is AMAZING! One drop of Oil can generate eighteen times the amount of energy that it takes to extract it from the ground! So say you own an oil field, because your rich-ass Grandpa Harold Hamm inherited you his: With the energy it takes to extract the oil, you could run your own fuel-based generators, produce 18 times the electrical energy and just [high-pitched] SEEEEELL that shit! Yes? Hmmm… Okay, maybe not exactly that much, because, you know, you would have to also use some of the electricity to cook your food and boil your water… and, well, some energy to refine the oil before you could even use it; some to transport the oil from the extraction site to the refinery and from the refinery to the distributors – argh, god-damnit, we forgot to build roads! Right, okay, fixed that. Then here’s some more energy to be able to transform the oil into products like plastic, lubricants, kerosin, parrafin wax, and so on; and finally some to provide for all the workers, to educate them, give them health care and, you know, allow them to make babies. And Mojitos. All that being done, however, we can still generate enough energy to allow us to reinvest the excess into scaling up, innovation, and that 50 meter yacht that I always wanted – Honey, we’re gonna be rich! [awkward pause] Bummer of course that our oil resources are somewhat depleting… Arrgh, okay scrap the oil plans – I can’t live off only one yacht for the rest of my life! But hey, no worries, I already got a new idea: RENEWABLE ENERGIES! What? Solar Power has only an Energy Return on Investment Ratio of 10:1? In the Sahara?! How much do we need to survive? 11:1? Aw, crap! How am I ever gonna save up for my second yacht – nay – floating villa?! Okay, let’s sit down and look at the numbers: Bad news is that oil EROI is declining pretty fast. In 1999 we were still at an EROI of 35:1. Today we are only at 15:1. Fast forward to 2035 and the EROI ratio will be at 10:1 and then all I will be able to do is to sell those yachts – or, well, I could take away some of that unnecessary health care from my workers… OR – and here’s some good news: I could go for renewables that are on the rise anyways! Renewable energy technology is constantly being improved, the EROI constantly on the rise, and we might see a day when solar energy is as viable as oil was in the past! Yay, problem solved, everyone is happy! Hm… But what to do in the meantime? How can we keep things going and not fall into a hole where we have neither enough energy derived from renewables nor enough energy from our fossil past? How to avoid the unimaginable no-Yacht-nor-Floating-Villa-scenario?! I mean there’s always nuclear energy. Nuclear energy can sustain us today without the eminent need for some fossil resource or super-efficient photovoltaic technology. Needless to say, however, that nuclear comes with its own set of drawbacks. So the true, the glorious and shining ready-for-paradise-solution is just to recycle the living shit out of what we have already! Let’s simply build our world in a way that everything we use can be reused. After all, according to the first law of thermodynamics, energy doesn’t go away. We just have to recover it and the ecological paradise is but a few steps away. What’s that? A second rule of thermodynamics? Pshh, go away – no – just – away – argh alright, I’ll have a look… [mumbling]Second rule of thermodynamics…increase of entropy… aww crap! Guys, send back the pink clouds! No paradise for us anytime soon…. No – how can I put it… do you know when you mix milk into your coffee and then the milk just magically separates again from the coffee? No? Yeah, my point exactly! Just found out that that’s also true for pretty much all other things in the world. Separating Milk from Coffee after it’s poured in is about as laborous as sorting flower seeds out of an ocean of powdered sugar. So again we’re lacking the energy for more energy. Okay, so what now? Where’s the perfect solution? Turns out there maybe is no perfect solution! Maybe the best we can do is to get better at renewables as soon as possible, get out of fossils as quick as possible and in the meantime put systems in place that can help us make more use of less energy. Not very sexy, I know. Nor very yacht-and-or-mojito-inducive, but oh well… Maybe there’s at least still energy left for some baby-making.

Mumbai

Give me any place, any city, town or village to live in for a couple of months, ideally a year, and I will inevitably fall in love with it. This is, however, far from being a romantic habit, for love means the vicinity of hatred and the exposure to pain just as much as it has the potential to create ecstasy and attraction. Over the last couple of months Mumbai had hurt me and drained my energy like few other places before. Yet I cannot deny to be in love with it. It’s the only valid explanation for that peculiar gloominess I felt when parting with this city. It is not the constant heat and haze that created this notion, not the horrendous traffic nor the highly questionable hygiene. It is every emotion triggered by these and many more characteristics of a hard-headed metropolis of which the world has probably only seen few alike. But that’s not all. There are too many people in this city, everybody says so. However, it is these people that in the end make Mumbai a place worthy of your love. They are its biggest treasure admits all the dirt, smells and pollution and they had held me there with their own love and care for a much longer time than I had ever anticipated. I will probably never stay in Mumbai for that long again, at least I hope I won’t. But they, the people who have been my friends, partners, lovers and family during the last months, and who now know that I am talking about them, will make me want to come back time and time again. To that city I have fallen in love with.

Cheap Bananas

I point at a bunch of bananas. It’s just six of them. The old man nods and puts the bunch into a plastic bag. Then he goes on to lift up another small bunch and tries to put them in the bag as well. “No.”, I say, wiggling my hand in disagreement. He puts down the bunch, bobs his head and lifts the bag into the air for me to take. “How much?”, I ask. “Fifty.” I know I would get this many bananas for twenty rupees back at my place. I smile at him knowingly. “Twenty.” He bobs his head again, as if to say ‘It was worth a try’. We have reached an agreement. I give him fifty and wait for him to give me the change. He hands me a ten-rupee bill, then another, then it’s his turn to wiggle his hand in front of my face. It means ‘That’s all you’ll get’. I am short ten rupees, but I shrug nonetheless, put the twenty rupees in my pocket, take my bananas and leave the push cart. The very first and the very last thing I am thinking about when coming to another country, is the question of how I am perceived as somebody who wasn’t born and raised here. It is the last thing, because I rarely find out a definite answer at the end of a stay, and because it is one of the most exciting things to ask people about! Usually these people can not – or would not – even tell me everything right from the beginning and many of them have to think a while before giving an answer; in fear of jeopardizing our relationship or in wonderment about their own uncertainty, I can’t say. There are a few potential answers that were given to me before I came to India, and even before I traveled abroad for the first time. Usually these answers would broach the issue of “critical whiteness”. That’s the idea that my light skin color and West-European appearance in general might trigger assumptions about my wealth and social status, and thus lead to a higher risk of being the victim of robbery, fraud or over -enthusiastic shopping assistants. And fair enough, many, maybe most of the people that I ask about my appearance and the possible effects would tell me exactly the same thing at one point or another: “Be careful, because, you know, (awkward pause) you’re a foreigner and many might think you’re an easy target.” And that’s actually true. Because I didn’t grow up in this country, I am – in a sense – like a newborn baby that knows little and less on how to behave, where to go and when to be careful. And if somebody wants to take advantage of that, he probably has a very high chance of succeeding. But what I found out, is that “critical whiteness” and the negative effects of it are culture-specific. Everywhere where being white means being foreign you will be subject to certain disadvantages, but not in the same way. For instance, I am sure that there are countries in which people who look like me have to fear being victims of obduction or robbery at gunpoint. And, sure enough, pickpocketing is a thing in India, but not to an extent where it would get dangerous for your own health. Here, I am much more worried about becoming a victim of fraud or being screwed over when buying fruits. That being said, I think I should actually embrace being screwed over by merchants. This doesn’t mean that I would simply give in to any price they suggest. It means that I know the usual value of the object and I am still willing to pay a little more, if the merchant in question tries to squeeze some extra bucks out of me. Because in the end I really am a privileged young white European who’s of a fairly well-positioned family, and paying 10 cents more or less for a 2kg-bunch of bananas that’s already just 50 cents will probably not affect my future in any way. It is my obligation as a lucky global citizen to know, but to care a tiny little less about the money I am spending in a poorer country. It’s late in the evening and I’m too tired to walk all the way back home. “Rikshaw!” There’s always one close by, and now is not an exception. The driver looks at me enquiringly. I tell him my address and he slightly moves his head to point at the backseats. My sign to get in. The rikshaw drives off, but after a few seconds I notice that the driver hasn’t turned on the meter yet. “Excuse me, could you please turn on the meter?” “Five hundred”, is the answer. His way of saying, that this is the price tag for my ride back home. In my head I calculate that a regular fare would only be around two to three hundred. “No, turn on the meter, please!” “Five hundred!” he insists. The rikshaw is getting faster. “Alright, stop!!”, I demand. Finally he bobs his head, shortly turns back to me grinning, and turns on the meter. We arrive. The meter shows 280 rupees worth of driving. I dispose of checking my mobile app that would have told me, whether this is correct or the meter is rigged. The price sounds fair. I give him three hundred. He counts the money. “No, no! Five hundred!” He turns towards me, an indignant look on his face. I laugh. It’s a cold laugh though. I am not in the mood for any more games. “I payed you according to the meter.” I point at it.“No, no! No meter!” He turns around the small ‘For Hire’ sign and the meter resets. The price vanishes. I am getting out of the rikshaw. “I will not pay you any more.” I doubt that he can understand me. … Read moreCheap Bananas

Girls’ voices

The ball hits the ground and then the bushes. A few girls grin. Laxmi, one of the smallest – and boldest, laughs aloud. I was never good at team sport, and cricket just seems to revive that uncomfortable experience back from my own school days. Except this time I don’t mind. The girls are having fun and so am I. I try another ball and this one hits the target. Laxmi, the batter, wacks the ball far away over his own head and into the garden. Soon all the girls are on their feet, searching the garden for their only cricket ball. We can’t find it and start playing running games instead. The campus of VOICE Sanjivani is located a little more than an hour outside of Mumbai. Here it feels like nature and wilderness are the hosts again already, and us merely guests in their habitat. The campus itself consists of but one long, two-storied building with a couple with different wings, a yard and two gardens. This is where more than thirty orphan girls of 7 to 18 years study, live, cook, clean and play together and where AES, the organization I am interning at, spends most of their efforts and time at. As an external educational source, AES tries to provide a practically designed and at the same time educationally relevant program on permaculture, sustainability and its practical implementations in urban or rural environments. The girls learn how to garden, compost their food, use solar energy and apply water management practices in their own little ecosystem of the orphanage. In the end this ideally makes them facilitators of permaculture practices and teachers to other kids and adults. Tomorrow is an opportunity to first test this ability of the girls. Fifty-six students from an American School in Mumbai will visit the orphanage and take part in different little laboratories where they build, plant, compost and manage things, and the VOICE girls are going to assist us guiding the students during this time. Since the American School is one of AES’ biggest clients, this is a huge thing for them. Chandan and Sukriti, right now the only two permanent members of AES have been working on this project for many weeks now and are anxious to turn it into a success by tomorrow. This is also why we are staying the night today, to use all the time possible to prepare for the big day. But activities ceased a couple of hours back already and now it is just me playing with the girls. Right now they are teaching me nursery rhymes and the hand clapping that goes along with each of them. But I can feel my clothes sticking to my body from all the sweating today and my body losing its last energy by the minute. So I soon excuse myself, bid the girls good night and go to the room I share with three other guys from AES, to take a quick “shower” with the bucket we have in the bathroom and then go to bed. The next morning everybody is soon on their feet to finish up the last preparations before the students arrive. At 10:30 three big yellow busses cramped with teenies and teachers arrive in front of the gates and soon the whole dining hall is filled with chattering kids waiting for Sukriti and teachers to split them up into groups before they go on visiting the different labs. I am co-facilitating the lab for building a solar oven. Our solar ovens are basically just black wooden boxes, which catch sunlight and focus its heat to the inside to cook a meal. The girls from VOICE have been building these boxes for the past couple of days, so four of them are with me to help the American School students in creating their own. This social experiment has a couple of potentially difficult variables though. The students of the American School are in average some of the most priviliged, modern and westernized kids in the city, some of them even enjoy a lot of prestige through their parents. The VOICE girls are outcasts of society, even their own family, and among the poorest of the poor in both wealth and reputation. Also, while all of the students of the American School speak perfect English, the VOICE girls are used to speaking Hindi only and can only manage speaking and understanding a little English. But they surprise me. The first couple of rounds Tapu, Ashvini, Paki and Vimal seem shy and quiet and only nonverbally communicate as much as necessary with the other children. But soon enough, I can catch glimpses of them talking to the American School students in simple English sentences and giving elaborate instructions on how to build the solar ovens. While the situation still feels very exceptional and fragile, you can make out potentials of some of the girls becoming comfortable with their new role as a communicator for what they have learned. The American School students seem to enjoy themselves as well and one or two even ask questions about this facility and AES’ work. That is all we could have hoped for, so two hours later, as all the students have left the orphanage again, we are all quite satisfied with the outcome of this endeavour. The girls, too, are mostly upbeat and proud of their performance and we leave them still excited from their cross-cultural experience, as we clean up the lab sites and hit the road again. AES visits the orphanage 3-4 times a week, so saying goodbye today doesn’t feel too hard. However, I still can’t wait to be there again, to see and play with the girls and learn a new nursery rhyme or two. It is a very welcoming contrast to urban Mumbai daily life: horrible traffic, constantly high noise levels, air and street pollution. This is the part of my India experience which I currently have to work on. I am … Read moreGirls’ voices