The Serial Bridge Builder. A Conversation with Toni Rüttimann

During his life, Toni Rüt­ti­mann, 48 years old, has built over 650 brid­ges all over the world. He builds them using recy­cled mate­rials, with the help of local com­mu­ni­ties, and without wan­ting any reward.
At 19 years old, in 1987, he saw on tele­vi­sion the disa­ster pro­vo­ked by an ear­th­qua­ke in Ecua­dor, and deci­ded to chan­ge his life. He fini­shed high-school, col­lec­ted some money and went to Ecua­dor to give some kind of help. The­re he built his fir­st brid­ge, and has not stop­ped ever sin­ce, save for the two years he spent para­ly­zed in a bed, struck by the Guil­lain-Bar­ré syn­dro­me.

Why brid­ges? Why did you choo­se to build brid­ges, and not some­thing else?

In the ear­th­qua­ke zone at the foo­thills of the Andes in Ecua­dor, at age 19, I was dee­ply struck by the suf­fe­ring and despe­ra­tion felt at the edge of the Agua­ri­co river, whe­re the one and only brid­ge was gone, and thou­sands of peo­ple cut off. You live this once, and you know what it means. 

A suspen­sion brid­ge can be built using lef­to­ver dril­ling cable and lef­to­ver pipe­li­ne. The brid­ge-deck is made of wood brought by the pea­san­ts, who also con­tri­bu­te with sand, sto­ne and labor. Mea­ning we hard­ly nee­ded any money to build a bridge.

Crossing of main cable in MyanmarCros­sing of main cable in Myanmar

Why is a brid­ge so impor­tant for some communities?

A brid­ge is not impor­tant only for “some com­mu­ni­ties”, it’s just that we don’t think about it in our dai­ly life. But try this expe­ri­ment: seriou­sly try — for one week — not to cross any brid­ge whi­le you go around. I mean eve­ry kind of brid­ge, for cars, for trains, for public trans­por­ta­tions, pede­strian brid­ges and so on. I doubt you can do it, may­be not even for one day. 

How did your home­land, Swi­tzer­land, help you in choo­sing the life that you’­re living?

I cho­se it myself. But my upbrin­ging in Swi­tzer­land hel­ped a lot, with a good home and a solid high-school edu­ca­tion, with 4 lan­gua­ges, lots of sports and natu­re. And skiing, as we moun­tain kids used to do, I lear­ned from an ear­ly age that you are free to race down the moun­tain, but that a small care­les­sness can end in pain at best, or in a hospi­tal or even in death. I choo­se my action, and then I’m respon­si­ble for it.

Do you feel like it is still hel­ping you and sup­por­ting you?

For 10 years, now, we have been recei­ving our used and new cables
from cable-cars all over Swi­tzer­land. So far, it has been near­ly 500km or 1’000 tons of wire steel cable. Also, the­re are lots of peo­ple and fami­lies sen­ding dona­tions, use­ful for things we can­not get for free. Some­ti­mes, the­re are even peo­ple, at wed­dings and fune­rals, asking their guests to send dona­tions instead of flowers.
Moreo­ver, the Swiss pas­sport is an enor­mous advan­ta­ge: I can spend up to one month in many coun­tries without nee­ding a visa. Even thou­gh it is obviou­sly unfair, it is some­thing not to be unde­re­sti­ma­ted by a home­less and migrant brid­ge-buil­der like me.

Tenaris pipe arriving at our welding yard in IndonesiaTena­ris pipe arri­ving at our wel­ding yard in Indonesia

A man can do many things by him­self, but in order to do great things help is always nee­ded. Who do you feel hel­ped you the most in your life, and how?

Hun­dreds, pro­ba­bly thou­sands of peo­ple have hel­ped me a lot, and not only mate­rial­ly. I nee­ded, and recei­ved lots of help from peo­ple of small vil­la­ges and of big cities, from peo­ple wor­king in com­pa­nies and in the govern­ment, peo­ple from three dif­fe­rent continents. 

Regar­ding mate­rials, it is Pao­lo Roc­ca, with Tena­ris, who hel­ped by far the most, giving, to this day, 2’100 tons of steel pipe and steel pla­tes, and taking care of their shi­p­ment around the world. Com­pa­red to the 105’000 tons of sand, sto­ne, wood and water pro­vi­ded by the peo­ple, it doesn’t sound as much as it actual­ly is: I’m tal­king about near­ly 100 ship­ping con­tai­ners, a cru­cial amount. Without pipes, pla­tes and wire ropes from Swi­tzer­land, our effort would not take us very far. 

The­re are other per­sons who hel­ped a lot, but they pre­fer not to be named, which sho­ws how great they are.

How do you deci­de which peo­ple to help?

4 para­me­ters:
1) Are the­re enou­gh fami­lies to build the brid­ge? It is neces­sa­ry to have at lea­st 300 fami­lies, depen­ding on the loca­tion and the country.
2) Do they real­ly want to make such an effort? Name­ly, they have to pro­vi­de sand, sto­nes, cement, labor, trans­por­ta­tion of what is nee­ded to build the bridge.
3) Is it tech­ni­cal­ly within our capa­bi­li­ties? We can do 50–100m span, accor­ding to the topo­gra­phy, the flow of the river and its behavior.
4) Is it pos­si­ble to reach the loca­tion with the mate­rials? This can be a major pro­blem due to geography.

Do you always agree to build a brid­ge if someo­ne comes to you asking for help?

No.

In 2002, you were para­ly­zed by the Guil­lain-Bar­ré Syn­dro­me, and you had to spend two years lying in a bed. The doc­tors said you pro­ba­bly had to chan­ge your life­sty­le and your job. What did you think about it?

I knew from the very begin­ning that it was going to be serious. I thought it was going to be some­thing like in the true sto­ry told in the movie “Loren­zo’s Oil”, but luc­ki­ly it was only Guil­lain-Bar­ré Syn­dro­me. And luc­ki­ly, at that point, I had alrea­dy been a brid­ge-buil­der for 15 years, and I was trai­ned to face obstacles.

I had to lie in bed for seve­ral mon­ths, then the ner­ves star­ted to grow again and I could start to train my muscles. In total, it took me 2 years, exer­ci­sing for 8 hours per day. 

Tenaris pipes and plates at border checkpoint ot LaosTena­ris pipes and pla­tes at bor­der chec­k­point ot Laos

What kind of job would you have done, if they were right?

The same as I did befo­re: the brid­ge-buil­der. I star­ted figu­ring out how, and even­tual­ly I crea­ted a remo­te-con­trol soft­ware to build brid­ges. The soft­ware did allow me to desi­gn any brid­ge in 15 minu­tes with a few clicks, so I could help my col­lea­gues, Wal­ter Yánez in South-Ame­ri­ca and Yin Sopul in Cam­bo­dia, to build the brid­ges, even if I could never again walk. 

What about your future?

My futu­re is clo­se­ly lin­ked to the futu­re of huma­ni­ty. I try to do my part.

Ci rac­con­ti di alcu­ni dei posti in cui è sta­to. Qua­le è il suo posto pre­fe­ri­to dove lavo­ra­re, e per­ché? E qual è una del­la sue peg­gio­ri espe­rien­ze, e perché?

Even thou­gh it has always been very hard due to distan­ces, cli­ma­te and topo­gra­phy, I espe­cial­ly love to work in Myan­mar. Most of the peo­ple the­re are Bud­d­hi­st, and they instinc­ti­ve­ly under­stand why two guys, such as my Bur­me­se col­lea­gue Aiklian and myself, would sud­den­ly show up and help to build a brid­ge so long hoped for, without asking any­thing in return. In other coun­tries it is more dif­fi­cult for peo­ple to belie­ve in this kind of love.

LaThe fir­st time you left your home and went to Ecua­dor, you were only 19. Many young peo­ple would like to start simi­lar paths. Do you have some advi­ce for them?

I’m not sure I’m the right per­son to give any kind of advi­ce, becau­se I have taken qui­te a radi­cal path. Which, most like­ly, is direc­tly pro­por­tio­nal to the effect.

The­se are some of the spe­ci­fic steps I took:
— Not to have any per­so­nal demands, nor limi­ts of time.
— Find peo­ple in need for help, right whe­re you are, or even somewhe­re else.
— Be sen­si­ti­ve, but not naïve.
— Learn the lan­gua­ge, and what else is nee­ded to be able to operate.
— Find a tru­sted col­lea­gue, and walk in two, and no more.
— Work with the peo­ple, and respect them.
— Find mate­rials nobo­dy else needs, and be thankful. 

Ove­rall:
— Think for your­self, and don’t listen to mar­ke­ting, or any other form of mind control.
— Care­ful­ly stu­dy cur­rent world affairs.
— Put my love in action.
— Belie­ve in myself and in the kind­ness of most people. 

Rano, Sulawesi, IndonesiaRano, Sula­we­si, Indonesia

It seems like, in life, we are car­ried along, as if in an inces­sant and tur­bu­lent flow, like in one of tho­se mud­dy and power­ful rivers. Obviou­sly, it is very dif­fi­cult to stand up and go again­st the flow of such a river. The river will always be stron­ger than you, and you will just be car­ried down­stream, even if you shout again­st it. 

Howe­ver, as a brid­ge-buil­der, it is a mat­ter of free­dom, beau­ty and redu­cing suf­fe­ring. I don’t go along with the river, nor do I go again­st it. Instead I try to care­ful­ly touch it, only when it’s nee­ded. I sim­ply try to build a brid­ge across it, as high and safe as pos­si­ble. I do it with and for others, and for free.

So up there, in that additional dimension above the flatland, minds and hearts get elevated. I’ve heard children in Myanmar shout: “Look, I’m walking on the water!”

So if any­thing, this could be my advi­ce: ele­va­te your­self, by hel­ping others.

Are you inte­re­sted in having peo­ple fol­lo­wing you and lear­ning from you? 

I’m inte­re­sted in huma­ni­ty. Much more than a few brid­ges is nee­ded in so many areas. To phy­si­cal­ly fol­low me is not use­ful, but actual­ly limiting. 

Our sto­ry pro­ves that each huma­n’s effort has a value, and that it is pos­si­ble and beau­ti­ful to live like this. Tho­se who sen­se this pos­si­bi­li­ty and this beau­ty will find their own path and their own brid­ge to build.

 

Cover pho­to: Toni and his col­lea­gue Bur­me­se Aiklian in Myanmar

Con­di­vi­di:
Bianca Giacobone
Stu­den­tes­sa di let­te­re e redat­tri­ce di Vul­ca­no Sta­ta­le. Osser­vo ascol­to scri­vo. Ogni tan­to par­lo anche. E fac­cio il mon­do mio, poco per volta.

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