Disclaimer:

The opinions presented in this blog are my own and may not necessarily reflect those of the Peace Corps

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Fetching Water

"To fetch water" was one of the first verbs I learned in my local language.  Seems like an obscure verb to know, seeing as how we would hardly ever use it in the states.  English speaking cultures have had water pumped directly into their homes for so long that the phrase "to fetch water" sounds very old fashioned.  In fact, I don't think I knew exactly what fetching water was until I came to Mali.  Essentially, if you don't have water on tap, you have to go to where water is, fill up a container, carry it back to where you live.  That way there is water in your house for whenever you need to drink, cook, clean, and wash, and I guess thats the definition of fetching water.

Water has been a hot topic in the realm of development lately.  With an increase of population in the development world and a decrease of clean water (for reasons ranging from pollution to climate changing) the search for potable water has been making headlines.  It is such a basic step on the development ladder, that it really gathers interest.  What?  Women in western India walk 5 miles every day to make sure their family has water?  What?  This village in Sudan drinks water from that nasty looking pond!?  In these villages fetching water not only exists, but it becomes a regular chore requiring tons of time and energy.

For most of Mali, and most of the developing world, fetching water usually involves dropping a container into a well, and then hauling it up by hand once it fills.  Some villages are lucky enough to have pumps and less energy is required to produce cleaner water.  In my village we fetch our water from a natural spring.  The picture below is where I fill up my 20L plastic jug so I can have water in my house available for drinking and bathing.


I make the trek down to this spring once per day and I use my fancy back pack to help me carry the water on my back to my hut.  Its not easy!  Women with families however, make the water fetching trip up to 5 or 6 times per day.  Depending on what part of the village someone lives, they could be walking as far as 500 meters to reach the spring.  That can add up to a couple miles of walking per day just for water.  A lot of that walking is done with 20 or more liters of water on your head, and usually a baby on your back.  Not only is it an exhausting trip, but it is also steep and dangerous to go up and down the rocky slope that leads to the springs in the bottom of a gully.  I have seen people slip and fall (its even happened to me), and though I have yet to see someone get seriously injured it is a scary sight to see a mom with an infant on her back slip as she tries to make her way down the rocky path.

Fortunately, women in Mali are the toughest people in the world.  In a nearby village I once saw a lady fill up a tub of water at their spring.  I assumed she was going to bathe her nursing baby in it right there next to the spring.  Instead, she placed the tub of water on her head with the help of a friend, turned around, and began her slow march back to her house a couple miles away all while breast feeding her infant.  I was dumbstruck!  A man's work load is significantly smaller than a woman's in Mali, and of course women have little political/economical power in rural communities.  It pisses me off.

Fetching water begins when you are little.  In fact, it is mostly kids who I see fetching water.  They just don't fetch as much as a grown woman can so their contribution is small.  But kids as young as five make daily treks down to one of the spring in my village as a kind of training for when they get older.  It works well, seeing as 10 year olds are faster than me at bringing a 20L jug back to their parents homes.  Malian's ability to transport things is pretty amazing.  I don't have the skills to carry buckets of water on my head (I literally couldn't do it without spilling all the water), so I use a back pack and a 20L jug (usually get some odd looks directed at me).  Below are some of my favorite kids in village in the middle of the chore of "fetching water."


Though the villages ability to fetch water is pretty awesome, women aren't shy about admitting that it is very strenuous and would prefer a well or pump (or tap water)!  In fact, I would go as far as to say that they are embarrassed about fetching spring water, especially considering that it kinda looks disgusting (take a look at the first picture again).  Indeed, my main work in village is suppose to be finding a way to get potable water to the village.  My friend Zach (5 miles away from my village) has secured funds for a well project and work in his village has begun to bring the community its first permanent source of water (they previously were transporting water from a town 5 miles away).  In my village I would like to develop the springs and the paths to reach the springs in order to secure a source of potable water, since wells and pumps are expensive and often not sustainable for small Dogon villages like mine.  

Unfortunately, Mali is going through some African style democracy where the military has decided that they don't like the president and are going to do things their own way.  The president is gone now and the government of Mali is looking pretty shaky right now.  Of course, this puts some serious doubt on the future of Peace Corps in Mali.  Within the next couple weeks I may find myself in another country in West Africa, in USA, or maybe even in another region in Mali if the Taureg rebels continue to advance southward (Mali has got more problems than just a military coup)!  Hopefully things can clear up politically and me and Zach can get back to work in our villages.  Recently, the UN announced that they had reached a goal of 90% of the world having access to safe drinking water.  With our projects I would like that number to become 90.0000001%.  Its not looking good though, shit is kinda hitting the fan in Mali, and it is unlikely that Peace Corps can function.  It's sad.