Water, Water Everywhere...

WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE…

            Unlike the past two summers, the summer of 2013-14 has delivered substantial rainfall here in Goodhope and the rest of southern Botswana. It’s about time. Unless rain falls between November and March, there is little water for animals or crops, not to mention people, for the rest of the year. With the good rains this summer, Goodhope looks more like the American plains states and less like an outpost in the Kalahari Desert.

            The situation had become dire. Because there is almost no irrigation, 2012 and 2013 saw poor yields for maize and sorghum, the major crops around here. The free-range cattle and donkeys spent much of their time searching desperately for water. By last November, some had died of thirst, and we could spot their carcasses as we rode along the highway in a combi.

            For humans, things were not much better. The nation’s quasi-public water supplier, Water Utilities Corporation, imposed strict water use regulations. In urban areas that rely upon reservoirs behind a series of huge dams, twice weekly water shut-offs were common. The monthly reports on dam levels revealed that some reservoirs had failed (i.e. emptied out) and others were left with only a few months of supply. The stories on the news became increasingly desperate. Billboards, print and television advertising helped spread the sense of urgency.

Billboard in Lobatse. The Setswana reads "Botswana is drying up"

            Far away in rural Goodhope, our calcium-saturated water comes not from reservoirs, but from a series of boreholes (wells) fed by shallow underground aquifers. When the aquifer level declines, our water pressure declines, and then shuts off. We pretty much have adapted to it at this point. We store water to help us get through days without water service. During training, we learned how to take “bucket baths”, i.e. pouring a limited amount of water over oneself from a bucket, soaping up, then rinsing. As I have reported before, I can now bathe with just two liters of water. Stephanie requires more, for some reason.

 

Stored water lined up on our kitchen floor

            With the good rainfall this summer, farmers are enjoying bumper crops. The maize, sorghum, sweet reed and other plants are green and tall. Water Utilities reports that dam levels are rising, and some top 100 percent of capacity. The water shut-offs have ceased in urban areas.

 

Ready to harvest, a small field of maize (corn) along my walk to school

            And then there is Goodhope. Despite the good rains, we have been dealing with less and less water service. In fact, we have not had water coming out of our tap for more than two months. Our village has several public water standpipes, but the one closest to us had been shut off for months.

            So, what do we do? I am friendly with the station commander (police chief). The police headquarters is about a ten-minute walk from our house, and it has a 5000-liter plastic water storage tank out back. During this water crisis, a Water Utilities tanker truck comes to refill it twice weekly. The officers and their families who live on the compound adjacent to the police station draw water from the tank. The station commander graciously lets me fetch water from the tank as well.

           

Water tank behind the police headquarters. This has been our only water supply for the past two months.

            Almost every day I trudge over to the police storage tank and fill up my plastic bottles. I carry two bags at a time, each one holding 12 liters. Some days I make one trip, other days two or three trips. There are alternatives. For instance, there is a wheelbarrow on our property, but it is missing a wheel axle. I don’t feel like making the time and money investment in someone else’s wheelbarrow, since I think this is a temporary problem. Alternatively, I could hire someone to fetch water for us, but I am too cheap. I treat lugging the bottles as a strength building exercise, worth the effort even though it does take a chunk of time out of my day.

 

At my front gate, leaving to fetch water. We keep a clean yard, free of grass, like all good Batswana homeowners. Supposedly it keeps away snakes and scorpions. Note the tall grass beyond the gate, a product of the rains. That is a neighborhood cow munching on the vegetation.

            Peace Corps does not promise Volunteers that they will get water service inside their house. In fact most don’t. There is some Peace Corps rule for housing suitability that says how close clean water must be to one’s domain. I don’t know what that distance is, but I am sure that my walk to the police falls within it.

            What drives all of our water usage at home? The flush toilet and laundry top the list. Both are necessities. Since we stay in a “modern” house, we don’t have an outhouse out back, a handy backup that is available to many families in Goodhope. It takes six liters per flush (but who’s counting?), so the decision to press the handle is not a trivial one. I will spare readers the details, but we have developed a system, and it includes my reliance upon a staff outhouse at my school.      

            With all the rain this summer, why is the water situation so bad right now in Goodhope? A local Water Utilities staffer told me that the local aquifers had finally dried up, and that it takes a long time for them to recharge from rainwater. Cynics in the village tell me that there are other problems with the water system, but I have no reason to doubt the official explanation.

            Still, a solution is in sight. Contractors are almost finished laying a 50 km water pipeline from Lobatse. That will directly connect Goodhope with the water system supplying most of the larger communities in Botswana. We will have access for the first time to all of that reservoir water just waiting behind the dams. They say the project will go on line in April. We can’t wait.