Life Without Clean Water

We arrived in Western Ethiopia, only to find that the housing arrangements we had made were no longer an option. We quickly had to find housing in a town overflowing with NGO workers.

There was only one option. We booked the rooms and started moving in. We quickly found several disappointments in the rooms, but the biggest one was that the water wasn’t working. Now, we are professionals at living without plumbing. But in Nasir, we have this beautiful thing called a water well.

Day one, the water we were brought looked clean. We bathed with it and began filtering it for drinking water.

Day two, the water we were brought was brown. Very, very brown.

The water had come from the river. The river that hundreds of people bathe in daily. Cars are washed in it, and occasionally you’ll see a herd of cattle bathing in it. And I’m sure you can imagine all of the other lovely things one would find in such a busy body of water.

What were we to do? It is the dry season here and water supplies are running low. “It should rain in a few days,” the staff at the guest house told us. So we braced ourselves and went a few days without bathing.

By God's grace, it did in fact rain.

During that interim period we purchased bottled water to do the daily necessities like brushing teeth and, of course, staying hydrated in 110 degree weather. But what about everyone else? In a place where bottled water costs more money than coca cola, we were fortunate. Not everyone here is as fortunate as we are.

We rarely get to see such a vivid picture of life without clean water. But this week, we did.

We appreciate more the work of Every Village and other organizations that work to bring clean water to people. Lives are saved because of it. Lives are saved over something I have taken for granted.

If you are the person who helps raise money for water wells, or if you are the person writing the check, thank you! We are so grateful for those that sacrifice to give the gift of water. 

Conservation

So we got a dog. She’s really cute. Her name is ZaZu. From the beginning we knew she was not here for the purpose of being a family member, but more of an alert system for snakes, rats, and other vermin. 

So before ZaZu was even here, we decided she would eat table scraps.

For the first few days, it worked well. ZaZu was getting plenty to eat from the food we couldn’t finish each meal.  But as our eyes began to become more aware of our surroundings and as we came to the realization that some of our meals cost more than 30 times what minimum wage is here, our eating habits began to change.

Soon, we found our bowls empty after each meal. When we made too much food, we creatively found ways to stretch it to make it last another meal. So then, what do we feed Zazu? Dog food here is pretty expensive, so we asked around. What do other Mazungoos (foreigners) feed their dogs? The Answer: Posho and dried fish.

Posho is kind of a flour that thickens into this strange doughy substance. The dried fish is smaller than sardines and very….chewy.  The cost for Zazu to eat this stuff is about 5,000 shillings per week, a little under $2.50 USD.

When it came time to serve Zazu his first meal, we didn’t know how to make it. We had our guard, Mr. Cehphus show us how to cook it. It turns out this special meal we were making for Zazu is a common meal eaten by many locals as well, including Mr. Cehphus.

This by far is the hardest part of being in Uganda for me. I love Uganda: the traffic, the crazy driving, the steep hills, fresh fruit and beautiful views! But in this country, we are considered rich. And we are rich compared to the most of this world. But it’s so obvious here. And so less obvious when we are in the states. I don’t like being so different from everyone else. It’s a painful reminder that many people aren’t nearly as spoiled as I am.

So with that, we do our best to conserve more. Utilize our resources to the best of our ability. Because when we spend less, we can give more. We can bless more. And blessing people in the name of Jesus brings beauty to brokenness.