It’s hard to write about something which is such a common
occurrence for a vast majority of the world, but for me the experience was
something totally foreign. One knows they have found themselves in a third
world country when the task of finding water is impossible. I have never really
had to worry about the source of my water, and when the supply may turn on or
off, what quality it is and what to do when I am stuck without it, as I have
been so fortunate. This mind set was questioned last Wednesday when Ed and I
marched up the dusty street with our jerry cans at 7.30pm to find the local
water tap. The use of jerry cans had already been a new trend in my world since
arriving in Nairobi late April but on asking where the water was the reply
“there is no water in Kibera tonight” took the use of jerry cans to a new
level. Not only would the concept of flushing the loo, showering, washing up
with collected water be a new experience
but the fact that this was now impossible made me stop and realise that it
wasn’t the manual collection of water that was the issue, there was no water to
be collected.
It seems silly to be writing about such a day to day issue
but it is something which has stuck in my mind, and it pulled me right off my
fanatically clean pedestal, to a level which I now appreciate. Only a month
before I was finding my obsession with a hot bath every evening and a shower
every morning something of the norm, I
know I will mould straight back into that routine on return but for now it
seems ludicrously outlandish!
The morning after we
had been denied water, I trotted into town bearing 3 jerry cans swinging about
my waist, to find the same water supply totally empty, nearly giving up on
water altogether I was lead by Solomon, a young mechanic who was so keen to
help to another water station. This
water station sponsored by Coca Cola was not only leaking with water, but with
thousands of people, mainly young mothers with babies strapped tightly to their
backs, young boys kicking about in the
water, preferring their time in the water to a lesson at school. I’m not saying
that water is always this rare to find, I know usually the water is flowing but
for this one time the commotion at the water station portrayed an image of
serious gratitude from all that were involved. I blatantly looked totally lost,
as everyone stared at me, wondering why I, a Mazongu would be collecting water.
A young mother across from me with a baby on her back, made a little cap
(looked like a cake) made from a role of material and placed it on her head,
she swung her heavy jerry can up onto her head, but her cap fell to the floor
into the wet mud. I automatically picked it up, rolled it back up and placed it
back on her head, and she happily walked on, showering me with thankyous.
Everyone had been watching this episode and from then on I was accepted into
the big crowd all pushing to fill up their barrels. A big mumma named Tikki
grabbed my barrels from me and pushed them in front of the queue, giving me a
cheaky wink. I felt bad that I was being treated in a different way from
everyone else, as they were all there
for the very same reason as me, and I was quite happy queuing watching the
world go by, but they were insistent that I was ‘watered’ first. Once the
barrels were filled, Tikki jumped one barrel onto my head, with so much ease,
walking with 20 litres on your head seems a breeze compared to dragging it
through the mud. Tikki then whistled and
two men helped me with the others and we walked back home. I felt like I had
achieved something which is embarrassing because for them it was the total
norm, and a day to day achievement, not even an achievement but an essential.
To appreciate water is difficult in the western world,
everyone says they do and will, but to see the crowd at the water tap they are
the real people that appreciate it, every litre has its use, to think that I
leave the tap running whilst I brush my teeth back in the UK is now maddening,
leaving it to run away down the well used drain without having made a positive impact
on my life in some form, cannot be right, the same with so many developed
countries antics. For now I have been
left with henched arms from lugging jerry cans around Kibera, a great thirst
for Coca Cola rather than water, the skills of washing with jugs, and the
longing for a flushing loo...
