Resources / Ripples & Wipeouts

My father was an environmentalist before the term was invented, when people like him were called ‘conservationists.’ I remember once years ago, when he and I paused during a hike to drink from a mountain stream in our home state of Pennsylvania.  He remarked, “Someday you will have to pay for water.” I laughed and thought, not for the first time, that the old man was a little crazy.  Now I see that I was the one with the mental problem, a vision problem actually.  He had foresight; I had myopia.

I think of him often when the Poland Spring comes out at business meetings, or when I read about those little plastic bottles clogging up our landfills.  And I thought of him the other day, when they turned off the water in my apartment building to work on a construction project.

I’d forgotten that the water would go off at 10:00, but was reminded a few minutes beforehand by a neighbor.  I rushed to fill up a couple of sauce pans and the bathroom sink, then suddenly nothing more came out of the tap.  Although I knew what was happening, there was nevertheless an unreal quality about the dry faucet.  I was so used to taking for granted that the water would flow on demand that my mind couldn’t quite comprehend it wasn’t happening.

The day went on in much the same vein.  I decided to work at home since I’d been unable to shower.  I kept forgetting there was no running water, being repeatedly surprised when I’d turn on the tap and get…nothing.  I cleaned the cat litter and reflexively flushed kitty’s waste down the toilet, using up all the water stored in the tank.  Gulp.  No more bathroom use until after 5:00.  I couldn’t run the dishwasher, or make a pot of coffee.  It was a hassle to brush my teeth.

By the afternoon, I was Silas Marner the Water Miser, careful not to overfill the dog’s dish and postponing the plant watering until tomorrow.  As I pondered whether I could risk making a cup of tea, I thought about women all over the world, many who live in places where they can’t get clean water no matter how hard they work or how far they travel.  Many who would find it a stunning privilege to go without water for a single day only. 

In many parts of the world, collecting water and fuel is women’s work, and according to the United Nations, women and girls spend up to five hours a day (!) on this task.  It’s not unusual for women to walk over 10 miles to reach and return from a water source.  This is time that girls could be in school and their mothers could be engaged in a host of other activities that would improve life for their families and their communities.  And then there are the many other challenges related to the availability, or lack, of clean water:  personal hygiene, sanitation, cooking, cleaning.

Just as my dad had vision, so did my mother, but hers was of a different sort.  For nearly 40 years, she taught first grade in what was then called ‘the ghetto.’ Her dream was to give children of very color, everywhere, the education they needed to make their own way in the world as adults.  And she did a fine job of that in her little corner of the globe.

Every year, as Mothers’ and Fathers’ Days approach, I feel sad that I no longer have living parents to celebrate with.  It occurs to me that this year I can honor my parents by honoring their visions, so I am going to make a donation to help some girl, somewhere – and maybe her whole family too – have easier access to clean water and to education.  It’s a drop in the bucket, and there’s plenty of room for you to add some drops too.

--BONNIE

Find out more about women and water at Water Aid America