It is 6pm and the water coming out of the tap is warm enough to take a shower with. This is the third or fourth day in just this last week’s time that the water tells the story of the scorching sun, even as it begins to set behind the trees. But this is the last time I plan to be seeing water from this tap for – hopefully – a week or longer.
This last week in my town, the publicly-owned but privately-operated (as I understand it) water company exponentially increased the cost of clean, piped water. I initially heard that costs were doubled, but some people have seen their bills go from three-hundred Kenyan shillings per month to sixteen-THOUSAND.
In lieu of the immediate water crisis, as well as to quell my self-inflicted guilt from even having piped water at all, I will be trying a new water management method this week. I have a one-hundred liter reserve tank in my house that I always try to keep nearly full for the unexpected water outages that frequently occur. Starting Monday morning, I will use no other water sources than my reserve tank…and I will count the days this supply lasts me. I intend this to be an exercise not only in water conservation, but also a reminder of the importance of conscious water consumption. Too often I find myself taking advantage of the luxury of having clean, piped water at all.
It is interesting to think about how, in America and the rest of the developed world, clean water is seen as a right more so than a luxury. And it ought to go without saying that it should be a right for every person in the world. But the reality is- clean water is an ABSENT luxury for billions of people. But I guess it can often take coming half way around the world to truly recognize the gross lack of this basic human need. Situations like these seemingly jump out of the pages of National Geographic and off of the screen airing the Travel Channel, and into my life on a daily basis. Situations like these serve – with equal weight as do my encounters with Kenyans on my morning runs – in reminding me why I am here.
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Yes, you are so right! Back in Nov 1965 in New Delhi when we were informed of our sites, I was told mine would be "in the jungle". I was so elated! I came from green hills in NW CT where I had grown up taking for granted Cream Hill Pond, a lush summer garden full of vegetables and herbs, and leafy woods. I was expentant of jungles the likes of Kipling's Jungle Books. As the train grew closer to Sawai Madhopur, my heart grew heavier... and heavier. Someone on that train broke the news the jungles of Rajasthan are brown... for most of the year. Things turn green when it rains, which are infrequent. Rajasthan was in severe drought those two years... two inches (yes 2)the first year and nine the second. And we were supposed to help raise chickens, which crate more dust than any other two legged creature. Ugh! Well, most of us had to find other things to do because grains normally mixed in chicken feeds were used for human consumption. It's not by accident I chose to live on the shore of Lake Champlain in between the Green Mountains of VT and NY's Adirondacks. I never took water for granted after 1965-67 and I am complete sympathy with those living in drought conditions.
ReplyDeleteyou're so right erin. when i gave my friend a pur packet she used it and said (well signed because she's Deaf), "never in my life have i tasted such CLEAN water!" her husband is in nairobi in search of pur packets :)
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