bridges of love

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OfLOVEThe extraordinary achievementsof self-taught miracle workerToni Ruttimann I B Y R O B E R T K I E N E R

BRIDGES

Toni Ruttimann

perches on a bridge he is

helping to build in Argentina

proved what you can accomplish if youbelieve in yourself.”

He should know. Over the last 20years he has helped tens of thousandsof people help themselves by buildingpedestrian bridges throughout LatinAmerica and Asia. And he has doneso with almost no formal training.

“MISTER TONI,” “Toni elSuizo” (“Tony the Swiss”),“the bridge builder fromHeaven.” These are just a fewof the nicknames bestowed onToni Ruttimann as he has carriedout his mission to change the world,one pedestrian bridge at a time. He de-scribes his life work as “a love story,”explaining, “Building bridges for poorpeople is the way I express my love forthis world and the people who live in it.”

Ruttimann, 39, has carved out aunique niche in the world of humanitar-

ian aid by building bridges that changelives. Since he built his first foot bridgein Ecuador in 1987 he has helped peo-ple in Honduras, El Salvador, Mexico,Colombia, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Ar-gentina, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnamto build nearly 350 suspension bridges,

from 30 meters to 264 meterslong.

Some of these were re-placements for bridges lost infloods or earthquakes. But

most were built where nobridge had been built before,

over rivers that were too danger-ous to cross or in valleys too remote.

Ruttimann insists on keeping hisbridge building as low key and cost-ef-ficient as possible. He uses donatedsteel cable and steel piping and isfunded almost exclusively by individ-ual Swiss donors. He holds expenses toa bare minimum, refuses government

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The rag-tag construction crew man-handles the massive structure to thetop of the embankment, overlookingthe deep brown Saravan River. Thenthe villagers collapse in a heap, laugh-ing and clapping one another on theback.

For the next few days, under the di-rection of a remarkable Swiss volun-teer Toni Ruttimann and with no toolmore complex than a hand-poweredcable puller, they will help build a 105-meter long footbridge across the river.For the first time in their lives, thesedirt-poor people won’t have to wadeacross the river or pay a ferryman tocarry their produce to the market innearby Saravan.

“That was people power,” explainsRuttimann, a trim, jeans-clad figure, lift-ing his battered white cap and wipingbeads of perspiration from his sun-burned forehead. “These villagers just

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Just outside the southernLaos market town of Sara-van almost 80 men, womenand children are hunchedover, digging their bare feetinto the rich red mud of aslippery riverbank. Underthe merciless midday sum-

mer sun, they are straining to push andpull a nine-meter long, 1100-kilo steelbridge support up a steep dirt embank-ment. But they can barely budge it; it’sjust too heavy.

Suddenly, as if by magic, more vil-lagers appear from out of the nearbyforests and rice paddies. Whooping andshouting, they all push together and themassive H-shaped bridge support be-gins to inch up the hill. Emboldened,they start hollering, “neung, song,sahm!” (“one, two, three!”) and redou-ble their efforts. “It’s moving!” cries awizened old woman. “Don’t stop now!”

Ruttimannand villagers

work on a bridgeover the Saravan

River in Laos

idea of how to spend them. It took him three days of

riding buses, hitch-hiking,rafting rivers and walking toreach the devastated north-eastern Amazonia region, 450kilometers from Quito. Theteenager soon realized that what thestranded villagers of Flor del Valleneeded most urgently was a new bridge.The earthquake had literally cut them

off from the rest of the country. Peoplewere dying because they could notreach a doctor or hospital in time.

He walked into the office of Sol Lepp,an American oilfield engineer based inthe jungle. “I was wondering if you hadany surplus pipe,” Toni began. The hard-boiled oilman found himself captivatedby the teenager’s resourcefulness andhis desire to help others. In less thanan hour Toni convinced Lepp to givehim enough pipe and steel cable to builda bridge. Explains Lepp today, “As manyothers would learn over the years, it’svery hard to say no to Toni Ruttimann.”

Toni also enlisted the aid of a Dutchoil field engineer to teach him the rudi-

ments of bridge building andbought cement and other sup-plies with his Swiss francs.With the help of the local peo-ple and volunteer workers

from the nearby oilfields, hebuilt his first 55-meter suspension

bridge at the foot of the Andes. It tookfive months.

After finishing the bridge Toni re-turned to Switzerland and enrolled in a

civil engineering course. But he couldnot get the image of the needy Ecuado-rian villagers out of his mind. We haveso much while they have so little, hetold himself. Just six weeks into his uni-versity course he quit and returned toEcuador. He had found there his life’swork.

A second bridge followed, then an-other. With each one Toni learned moreabout bridge building and grew evermore skilled at seeking out donations oftime and materials. Because he had solittle money, Toni was forced to impro-vise. Normally cranes or heavy equip-ment would be used to stretch cablesacross a river or to lift bridge pylons

PHOTOGRAPHED BY DIEGO LEVY 7


B R I D G E S O F L O V E

grants or donations and does not payhimself a salary. He has no secretary,website or office. Nor does he own ahome or a car.

Ask him where home is and he’llsmile wryly and hold up one of the threesmall black bags he carries with him.In it are three pairs of trousers, twopairs of jeans, four shirts, two T-shirts,a pair of work boots and a tie for spe-cial occasions; all the clothes he owns.

Inquire about his office and he’ll hold upthe other bag, which contains his com-puter, international cell phone, elec-tronic organiser and a few files. Hetravels as cheaply as possible. He alsodemands that any peasants who wanta bridge agree to contribute most of thelabor needed to build it. “He makessome other charities and humanitarianorganizations look like spendthrifts,”says BP oilfield supervisor Al Wright,who met Ruttimann when he was build-ing his first bridge in Latin America andoffered him surplus oil pipe. “Toni hasan uncanny knack for turning junk, likediscarded cable and oil pipe, into beau-tiful, useful bridges.”

RUTTIMANN HAD a comfortable, un-eventful upbringing in the town of Pon-tresina in a small valley near the skiresort of St. Moritz. Just before he lefthigh school in spring 1987, Ecuador, acountry he had only read about, was hitby a massive earthquake. The boy washorrified by the scenes he saw on tele-vision. Thousands of people had losttheir lives and homes.

His friends were being drafted fortheir six-month compulsory army ser-vice but Toni had been turned downbecause of a skin condition. The urge to“do something” gnawed at him. Hemade up his mind to go to Ecuador.

“What can you do? You don’t evenspeak Spanish,” scoffed his fatherGeorge, manager of a chemist’s shop.

“I know, you’re right,” said Toni. “ButI have to go.”

He raised nearly $7,500 in donationsfrom friends and neighbors, and spenthis own savings on a plane ticket toQuito, Ecuador’s capital. He arrivedwith all the enthusiasm of a 19-year-old,a wallet full of Swiss francs and little

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R D I M O N T H 2 0 0 7

Vital link: Toni’s bridge

over theGuandacarenda

in Argentina

into place. Toni relied on the brutestrength of hundreds of villagers, whoalso hauled sand and stones from therivers, cut wood from the forests andmixed concrete by hand.

Word soon spread through Amazo-nia: “If you need a bridge get in touchwith Toni el Suizo.” Toni joined forceswith a like-minded Ecuadorian welder,Walter Yánez. For the next 13years they travelled through-out Latin America, seeking outthe most remote and impov-erished communities, andbuilding bridges in Nicaragua,El Salvador, Argentina, Colom-bia and Mexico.

In 2000, after hearing about Rutti-mann’s work in Latin America, Cambo-dian Prime Minister Hun Sen agreedthat he should bring his expertise tothat war-ravaged Asian nation. A few

months later Toni and Walter werescouting the Cambodian countrysidefor suitable locations. Walter then re-turned to Latin America where he car-ries on building bridges under Toni’ssupervision. Assisted by Cambodianwelders and mechanics, Toni has helpedto build more than 100 bridges in Cam-bodia, Vietnam and Laos.

TONI USUALLY makes threevisits to a location. First hefinds a site, surveys it, makescalculations and asks villagersfor their help. On the second

visit, he oversees the villagers asthey lay the concrete foundations

for the bridge towers. Finally, he returnsto erect the towers, bridge cables andwalkway. On average it takes five weeksto complete a bridge. Costs vary, butmost bridges are built for less than

$3,000. A commercially built bridgewould cost more than ten times asmuch.

Constantly traveling—he says he hasnot slept in the same bed more thanthree nights in a row over the last 20years—Toni still manages to overseenumerous projects simultaneously.Speeding along a bumpy Cambodianroad in the back seat of a Toyota, heflips open his IBM laptop, hooks it upto his cell phone and downloads infor-mation on bridges that Walter is over-seeing in Latin America. “We have 21bridges in various stages of completionin Ecuador,” he explains as the car’s dri-ver blows his horn at a massive waterbuffalo that has ambled onto the road.

He rarely pauses to relax.Every night he reads andanswers his email andchecks his database ofbridges. Swiss cable carcompanies are donatingused steel cable and Tonineeds to arrange for it to

be sent to Cambodia. Tenaris, an Ar-gentine steel company, is donating thou-sands of pounds of steel pipe and hemust apportion that between his LatinAmerican and Asian projects. He hasto pay his welders and helpers in bothregions. The list goes on and on.

“Here’s a touching email,” he says,reading from his laptop. A couple inSwitzerland asked that their weddingguests not buy presents but instead do-nate money to Toni; they sent a bankorder for 1000 Swiss francs (almost$800). The story reminds him of a 10-

year-old Swiss boy, Daniel, whom hesaw playing the violin on a street inDavos. With a catch in his throat hesays, “At his feet he had a sign that read,‘I play for Toni’s bridges.’ He has sent us400 Swiss francs (about $315).”

What does the future hold? Tonismiles wryly and answers, “I only see asfar as the next bridge. I have no future.In fact, I shouldn’t even have a present.”

In the spring of 2002, while buildinga bridge in Cambodia, he was struckdown by Guillain-Barré Syndrome, aparalyzing, often-fatal disease. Whenhe reached hospital doctors told himhe had been only “hours from death.” Ittook him a year of intensive therapy ina Thai rehabilitation center to recoverhis mobility. He still walks with a slightlimp. Although he lay partially para-lyzed for months, he never lost hope.As he wrote at the time, “When the timecomes, my spirit will lead my body backto where it belongs: to the people inneed, to the rivers, to the bridges to bebuilt.”

BY WEEK’S END the bridge across theSaravan River has been completed andthousands of people, many of whomhelped to build it, can now carry theirfruit, vegetables, chicken, woven bas-kets and other produce into Saravanwithout having to brave the river wa-ters or pay for the ferry boat. In timethey may be able to afford a bicycle ormotorcycle and carry even more to mar-ket. Saravan resident Noi Thiphaphonespeaks for many when she says, “Mis-ter Toni changes lives. We will alwaysthank him for that.”

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B R I D G E S O F L O V E

PHOTOGRAPHED BY DIEGO LEVY

Gracias,amigo!Toni

with thevillagersofSalvadorMazza

innorthernArgentina

bridges of love

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