Running water in my village is very confusing to me. There is some sort of large tank at my house that I believe is filled with water. But I also get the impression that the water is pumped here from somewhere else. I’ve heard explanations that lead me to believe a well is involved, but other explanations seem to contradict that. I don’t know. All I do know is that whenever we go through a dry spell our water supply literally dries up too. I’m told this happens somewhat cyclically, but my first experience without water was just last week.
In America, if you’re water is off (due to plumbing work perhaps) it is usually for a very brief time. But if for some reason it lasts longer than a few hours, you can simply rely on a friendly neighbor to let you shower, use the restroom, wash your clothes, etc. But what happens when the entire village is without water? Let me tell you what happens: water conservation.
No one washed their clothes. The pipe running water into the house (for my indoor plumbing that I love so very much) was turned off. People reduced their showers to only two a day, some went without showers (of course, my family would never even consider asking me to sacrifice my shower time; they are relentlessly hospitable). Mildly dirty dishes were wiped clean rather than rinsed. We only drank coconut or bought sodas (did I mention I drink the local water now?).
The first day when we didn’t have water my family’s solution for me (Princess Christy) was that I should spend the night at another house, one with water. So I was put in a car and driven to my family’s nearby home in a neighboring village. My oldest brother, his wife, and my oldest sister live there with their respective children (when those children aren’t sleeping over at my house, that is). As soon as I arrived, my nephews and cousins that live nearby came running, wanting me to go swimming with them. They live right on the ocean, and the view was spectacular, so of course I agreed (before you picture white sandy beaches, let me break it to you that Pohnpei is completely surrounded by mangroves, which protects the island from erosion and the like, but also results in absolutely zero beach).
Let me also tell you that Pohnpeians do not swim in bathing suits. Well, the boys wear their shorts, which are typically board shorts, but males pretty much do whatever they want all the time anyway. Women and girls however, swim fully clothed. The more modern or risqué will wear long shorts, but most just swim in their skirts and t-shirts. So I joined the crowed and jumped fully clothed off the rocks into the water, and was immediately engulfed by my ballooning skirt. The family loved watching me struggle to keep myself covered under the water, and I’m still not really sure how the other females were keeping it together so well. Anyway, we swam and played for a while, went back to the house, showered, ate, and went to sleep.
The next day, the rain had still not come, and therefore there was still no water. My family had accepted that I was going to have to exist in the water-conservation world, and the first step was lugging a bucket of water inside for me to use to flush the toilet. Now, I must confess, I have no idea how a toilet works, and I’m willing to bet most Americans would admit the same. We just press the lever and our toilets magically flush, and all is well. We move on with our day without giving the miracle of flush another thought. So when I was presented with the bucket of water, I really didn’t even know what to do with it. Was I supposed to add water to the tank? Or do I pour it in the bowl after I use the toilet and let the water wash my business down? I felt silly asking, so after a bit of trial and error, I figured out I needed to put the water in the tank. But I had to ladle it out of the bucket using a small bowel, so the process was arduous. I had to really want to flush that toilet. I’ll admit that during the night, if I got up to use the bathroom, I just left it unflushed. I was simply too tired and it was too dark (no light in the bathroom) to mess with it all. I started holding it in the morning until I got to school, just to avoid having to work for my flush. The experience taught me about what I value most in life: a flushing toilet. Everybody go right now and flush your toilet. Do it. Enjoy the ease and simplicity. And think of me, sweating like a pig, splashing water into a toilet tank. I think the best part is trying to estimate the proper amount of water for the each task (different kinds of business require different amounts of water, as you might imagine). Sometimes I would guess incorrectly, so when I would attempt to flush all the water I had painstakingly shoveled into the tank would be gone, and my business had still not gone down. So I’d begin again. The glamour of my life literally never ends.
Another exciting thing about having no water was I got to finally use the outdoor shower. It’s a bucket shower just like the one I have inside except the “bucket” is a giant, retired cooler and it’s on a concrete slab. There are two tin walls (they come up to my shoulders) and a tin roof supported by wooden beams, a tarp works as a curtain for a third wall and a low laying series of wooden posts for hanging clothes and towels creates a fourth “wall”. The non-wall faces out to the jungle, and because of this, I assumed it was acceptable to be naked while showering. Nobody told me otherwise, so I just went about my shower, feeling a bit exposed at first, but wanting to be like everyone else, I just decided to go with it. But a few days later, I saw my cousin Marla come out of the shower holding a wet skirt, so I asked her, “did you wear your skirt in the shower?” She looked horrified, “Of course! Didn’t you?”
So, I learned another life skill: showering with a skirt on. Pohnpeian women routinely wear skirts as dresses (it’s really quite breezy and nice when it’s super hot), and this is also the case when showering. You pull the skirt up above your chest, and just shower like normal (if you consider bucket showers normal, which I do). And to wash the parts covered by your skirt simply requires stealth and skill (both of which I am sorely lacking).
So after my embarrassment, I quickly grew to enjoy showering outside. I was able to still hear my family’s happenings, and I was even occasionally included in the conversations from within the shower. It is also much more open and freeing showering outside; I found it very refreshing. I could hear the birds all around me in the jungle, the breeze rustling the trees, and best of all, if I timed it just right, I could watch the sunset while I bathed. What could be better than that?
Well, the rains finally came, and my life resumed normalcy. In the end, no harm was done, I survived. Worse things can definitely happen. But one thing is for sure: I will never again take for granted the availability and necessity of water.
Go flush a toilet and shower naked for me. Go crazy!
--Christy
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