I want to tell you a story of water. It is a simple story, one that I could
add a bunch of application and wisdom to, but I don’t want to.
Yesterday was my weekly date with Bessie, my friend who I have
had weekly dates with for a few years.
When I called her she told me that she had no water – Diepsloot
extension 1 had no running water at the community tap. Instead of
lunch she asked if I could take her to fill buckets at a local tap.
Of course I agreed.
After hanging up with her I phoned Petros, our friend who runs
a pre-school just outside of Diepsloot in a place called Plot 1.
“Hello, Janet!” he greeted me, answering his phone.
“Hello, Petros how are you?”
“I am fine,” he said. Niceties exchanged; let’s talk.
“Petros, do you have water?” I asked. This was a measure of how
far water interruption stretched.
“Yes, we have,” he answered. I could hear him smiling. “People are
coming.” Petros knew that I was going to ask him if people were
walking with their buckets to his place to fill up with water.
He preempted my question.
“Which extensions are out?” I asked him, trying to get a feel of
which areas of Diepsloot had been affected by water loss.
“I think all of them,” he said.
“Can I bring people to fill their buckets?” I asked boldly. I knew he
was probably already overwhelmed.
“Yes,” he said, gracious as always. “Please come.”
I drove into Diepsloot through extension 9 where Portia lives,
knowing she would be at work but her neighbors would be home.
Right away her close friend saw me driving up and greeted me.
“Portia is not here,” she said, and I tried like crazy to remember her
name. It had flown out of my head.
“I know,” I said, smiling and shaking her hand. “Do you have water?”
“No,” she replied. “Since yesterday it has been off.”
“Can I fill your buckets?” I asked. Community in Diepsloot means
community. If I filled her buckets then she would share with Portia
and the boys and everyone would have water that night.
“Yes,” she said, already walking toward the emergency tubs.
“Let’s go.”
We loaded three 25 liter tubs and four 5 liter jugs into my car and I
told her I’d be back. From there I drove into extension 1, taking note
of the long lines of people at the water tanks, big green things filled
once a day by Johannesburg Water during periods of “interruption”.
I called Bessie from the end of her street to tell her that I was there.
She and her neighbor met me, carrying 25 liter jugs and the basket
of tablecloths Bessie had washed for the church. Hmmmm...I guess
we’re going to Junction to fill the buckets and return the tablecloths,
I thought.
Bessie got in to the car, greeting me with a long sigh. She asked me
to pray for her neighbor, who was already sick and getting sicker
because of the lack of water. Johannesburg Water, Diepsloot’s
provider, usually gives residents a heads-up when there is going to
be an interruption unless there is an emergency or a breakage...or
they mess something up.
“So, let’s go,” she said.
At the church we saw Bright and Tumi, who also said they had no
water (extension 4) and Lucky who said he was also out
(extension 6).
Keep in mind that Diepsloot’s last census said that there was
150,000 people living in the close spaces that are mostly shacks
–factor in that many of the residents are children and elderly.
I was literally making a drop in the bucket for all that were without
water. My friends seemed grateful, but I was ashamed that I
could not do more.
After about an hour of filling buckets and containers Bessie and
I made the trek back in my overloaded Toyota, whose rear end was
nearly touching my tires. Bessie and I joked that we should lay off
of fried foods (we both are slightly doughy).
So we made deliveries- first in extension 6 where Lucky and
Charles live. We saw Charles at his table spaza, selling chips,
snacks and airtime. One of his customers came over and asked if
he could have one of the buckets I filled.
“Why?” I asked, smiling. “They aren’t my buckets, they are my
friends’.”
“Well, you can go buy another one for fifty rand,” he suggested.
I laughed.
“Okay,” I said. “Give me fifty rand and I’ll go buy another.”
He smiled suspiciously, realizing I wasn't buying it. “You have a car,
I am poor.”
“You’re wearing Nike's,” I laughed. “Look at my shoes, Pic and Pay
specials.” Charles was laughing, knowing that his customer didn’t
realize I was used to Diepsloot and all of its residents asking me for
things only because they have been trained to believe that we have
everything.
“You are white,” he said, finally. It was his ace he was waiting to
play.
“I am Hispanic,” I said, acting offended. “Do you hear this, Charles?
He’s calling me white!”
Charles and Bessie were laughing, and the man sat down on a stool
by Charles’ table. He asked me for a job, since I wasn't budging
about the water I was carrying for friends.
“I honestly know of nothing right now,” I said, switching into a
serious tone. “But if I did, I would most likely give a job to someone
who was trying to find one. Why aren’t you out looking?” He shook
his head and I could tell he was discouraged. I felt bad for him...
but there were so many like him here. Young, discouraged, a little bit
drunk and looking for a hand out.
Further into extension 6 we met Richman, who was also in need
of new spectacles, which I actually remembered to bring. He asked
after Mario and we made polite conversation, then he told me
something interesting.
“Extension 5 just got water,” he said.
“When?” I asked.
“Earlier today,” Richman answered. “I think it’s coming down to us.” Richman motioned with his hand, illustrating that the southern extension 5
would trickle forth water once JW opened the main ducts from there.
We said goodbye- back to extension 1.
I decided to back the heavy buckets down Bessie's "street" - a
I decided to back the heavy buckets down Bessie's "street" - a
dirt road that is more the size of an alley - and I'm not so good in
reverse. I nearly hit the post of a shack while I was backing in but
everyone was forgiving because I was bringing water.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to the owners of the home, who had tapped the
back of my car in a warning. They were laughing and didn’t seem
upset. I asked to take their picture and they posed, graciously.
“Goodbye, my Spiritual sister,” Bessie said, removing the last of the
25 liter buckets. “Now I am going to bathe.”
She hugged me and we laughed. Bessie always looked nice; always
She hugged me and we laughed. Bessie always looked nice; always
smelled fresh. She lived in a place with no running water inside of
her home. Could I do it?
I drove back through Diepsloot, passing line after line of people
waiting to fill their buckets by tanks that were either drying up or
empty. I wove my way back to Portia’s and her beautiful friend
whose name I could not remember.
“You are back!” she beamed, happily. “You were not overburdened
with the task?”
“Not at all,” I said. She thought I had only fetched water for her
and she could see I only had a small car.
“I will tell Portia you came by,” she said, after I had offloaded the last
bucket. My car’s suspension returned to normal.
“Tell her to sms me when the water comes on,” I said.
“Thank you,” she waved as I drove off. As I left to drive back to my
house with electricity and running water, I thought of my friends.
We are so alike in so many ways, but so different in others.
Last night, before a meeting, I called Portia.
“I am still on my way home,” she said. “I worked after-care today.”
“So you don’t know if the water is turned on yet?” I asked. I could
hear the din of taxi noise in the background.
“I’ll call you when I get home,” she said. Later that night she called
and we made arrangements for the next day. Portia and the boys
spend the night at least once a month where we catch up and have
extended time together, so we made a plan that if the water was not
on by the morning I would pick her up for our visit very early so she
could do the washing at our house.
When I woke up this morning I poured myself a cup of coffee and
did the dishes. How much I take for granted! Clean water, delicious
and nourishing, is not a right of mine, but a privilege.
I thought of Portia and decided to call her.
Just then I got an sms from her, as if she were reading my mind:
“Hi Janet u cn pick us @3 the water is back on & am doing the
washing now thanx.”
YEEEE-hhhhhaaaaaaWWW!!!
I sms’d back: “Yea for water! See you at 3.”
Yea for water... yea for water.
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Anne Cameron Cutri
Matt Paust
dianaani
Marianne Spellman
Lunchlady 2
michael reid rubenstein
Salon.com
Comments
Beyond the obvious message: do not take things for granted.
I glimpse a world we have lost, in our advancement:
the coherence of community.
The MEANING of community.
~
Ha: "You are white".
~
I remember actually thinking this as a child:
"Gosh, considering all the places in this big world
i could have been born, i sure am lucky to have been born here."
(I was a very morally advanced child i guess...)
I hadn't remembered that innocent realization
in quite awhile.
In fact, every morning when i wake up i grumble cuz i gotta
go all the way to the bathroom
to get water for my coffee.
I am gonna have to wait 10 min. til i get my caffeine.
Water is so precious and we just don't realize, until...
Here in the West water is a constant wonder and expectation as the desertification of the entire western half of the U.S. is happening. Now.
The Midwest is heading there too with aquifers, rivers, lakes drying up.
Quietly, huge amounts of land with springs on them, headwaters, are being bought up out here in the Western U.S. by corporations and federal entities with not so quiet fights, such as Nestle's fight with the town of McCloud, CA over water and water bottling rights.
Just the beginning, I'm afraid.
I've also lived rustically, for several years total, non-concurrently, where the 'getting' of water can take up so much of one's day, the getting rid of waste, getting clean, another big time consumer -- they were demanding and physically tough times, but I've never been happier since I must add -- I made long-time friends then, in inter-dependent communities, that have not occurred to such a satisfying depth since then -- although I am still grateful daily 20 years on for running water and a flush toilet.
-- thanks so much for such a warm story that hopefully will help us all *wake up* to what is happening with the water we all need to live here on Earth.
Mimetalker - I agree - on both counts!
Zanelle~ I always say Alaskans are a rare breed - you prove it!!
Gary~ Such an astute observation! We had purification machines in the Sudan and processed water right out of the White Nile, but it took forever! I don't know much about desalinating machines - why not blog about that?
Just Thinking ~ A beautiful and sensitive comment...I am touched that it touched you!
jl~Thank you, dear one!
jmac! You have been EVERYWHERE!!! I know what you mean about the spoiling of the States. It is a privilege to live there, that's for sure!
At MIT they've recently developed a new material 'graphene' which works to desalinate without the energy needed for high pressurizing, so there may be a change in this very area soon -- until then, there are personal filters that work well --
I'm sure there's an expense issue, but there's expense to shipping in potable water as well -- why aren't those more personal filters part of aid given in areas that lack fresh water but have an abundance of sea water, I wonder?
"Food" for thought.
I am honored to be an avid reader of yours. Stories like this make me realize that there still are wonderful humans out there. God bless you, Princess. R