Just one day, until there's no water

“Good morning. How are things?”

“Oh, somehow. We are somehow managing.”

-A sample greeting in the village

Managing, somehow, is a great way to describe the way of life in the village. I've come to learn that most things here are made up as they go along, like dealing with broken boreholes or life in general. Planning ahead is replaced by, “We'll figure it out when the time comes, so don't worry” or, “Oh, but my wife is fetching water.” And that's that.

So, for the first time in my stay in Tamaligu, all of the boreholes are working! Water is currently flowing through all five of our hand pumping stations. Why? I wish I could take credit for this feat, but it's only because of an upcoming election and that we're in the dead of dry/hot season.

Last week, just one week before the election for local assemblyman, all but one of our boreholes broke which caused something of a dramatic water crisis. We now know that one borehole cannot support the water needs of 3,000 people, even if it is manually pumped 24 hours a day. This is significant because these boreholes are the only source of clean water, and most of the time at least a couple are broken. It's my job to make clean water the cool thing to do, and that's my dream for this community – believe it or not that's far fetched. In fact, I will assume it will remain a dream, and then maybe I'll be surprised when one day, people want to drink clean water. Why? Well, that took months for me to learn.

When I write these posts, I try to see it through “American goggles,” and compared to the American standard of drinking water available at virtually any sink, these sorts of broken boreholes are something you could label as a third world problem. Versus running water, people walk with buckets on their heads up to a half mile out of town, wait in line, and then walk back and repeat the process, all for maybe five gallons per trip. Five gallons of water is heavy, especially after all that walking in 100 degree-plus heat. I'm lucky enough to be able to expedite the process by riding my bike to the borehole, or sending a kid (only a voluntary basis – they like riding my bike). I'm also lucky enough to be ushered to the front of the borehole line because I'm Master Suhuyini. Some people who know my views on the water situation have gifted me water! For everyone else, bicycles are unaffordable and there's no cutting the line.

Locally, the water-fetching process isn't viewed as an issue. At first, I assumed it was given the dramatic difference between bucket baths and hot showers. For people here, their perception is that the water is the best it's ever been. Especially with all of the boreholes working. They look at other villages nearby that have no source of clean water but for river two miles away. You could ask why people chose to settle in those places, but that's the way it was in Tamaligu no more than 20 years ago.

Men just leave the job up to their wives and children, and surprisingly seem to care less as to how much time women spend fetching water. Women and children just see it as a required daily task. In my conversations with men about the water “problem,” I've been told to get a wife, and then my water worries will go away. This is worrisome given they're only half joking, or the fact that it is a joke. More seriously, I should stop complaining and send a kid. Forward thinking is having someone else deal with the problem. The culture's gender norms don't place women in a place where they can easily speak their minds.

These underlying cultural habits fuel our water issues. When an American sees a clear solution to water – if you don't pay to fix the boreholes, indeed there will be no clean water – it's not so clear in the village. It takes time to figure out why such a simple solution is not simple in practice.

-Clean water: Safe, clear potable water from a borehole/handpump

-Dirty water: Unfiltered water from a river or dug out pond, or even an open well

[dirty water > clean water] A typical individual in the village does not value clean water the same as an American would. If there's a river, drink away! Some people actually prefer this dirty water to borehole water, presumably because it tastes better. I haven't personally tried it out because intestinal worms are plentiful as it is. I only take rainwater or borehole water (and filter both). For most, borehole water is a dry season, no other option but a river two miles away water source.

Due to this lower priority of a water source, Tamaligu has convincingly struggled to keep all the boreholes operating. The local water committee, which I've engaged per my Peace Corps' assignment as a health, water and sanitation volunteer, complains about the high cost, relatively speaking, of maintenance and the fact that community members don't want to regularly contribute to maintenance costs for a variety of reasons. As a result, no regular maintenance is done on the boreholes, and the only attention they receive is when one of them breaks.

My first reaction toward our water committee was that they're stubborn and don't do anything. I still think this way, but patience has proven to be a necessity through these interactions. But if you're the water committee, they're not stubborn at all. Rather, they're just taking things one day at a time, and, from their perspective, they really do ensure that there's at least some clean water around. To say the least, they act when the need arises, or “somehow manage.”

Since we have five boreholes, it's unlikely we would get support to drill any new ones, particularly since the first step would rightfully be to get all of the boreholes to function – the community's responsibility. So I asked whether the committee collected money, knowing that they don't unless they need to make a repair. The village is at the point where they could convert one pump into an automated borehole, of which water would be pumped into something of a mini water tower, or large, elevated poly-tank. But the motivation to do so isn't there.

With proper motivation, organization and foresight, this is very possible to do without outside resources, even with “village money” or dealing with illiterates or whatever the typical excuses that my counterparts draw up. Those are problems, but not major ones for water development. Still, organization and foresight calls for quite the cross-cultural understanding challenge. An American finds it difficult to identify either of these qualities in Ghana.

I even made some progress with these water committee encounters, which we did when the rains stopped last October and November, with the objective to be ready for dry season with fully functional boreholes i.e. reasonable foresight. Little did I know that would be such an idealistic plan. After finding out the general estimates of repairs for the broken boreholes, they really weren't all that much money considering the population. They ranged from 60 cedis (~$20) to 200 cedis (~$65). While the village is perfectly capable of putting up that money, it's a different culture that simply does not value borehole water at that cost. Over and over again the committee members told me that there's no money, that they've tried before and no one will contribute, at least until they need to. It was obvious that my proposal to fix boreholes came too early. There's an extremely conservative attitude that there's no need to contribute money to some water fund that's not needed now. Why give money if some of the boreholes work? What if the committee chops the money for their own personal needs? Maybe people in one house never even use boreholes, so they feel they have no need to contribute.

That's the “Just One Day” (at a time) proverb decoratively painted on many tro tros and trucks. This mindset is probably one of the biggest differences I've found between Ghanaians and Americans – thinking for today and thinking for tomorrow.

Despite this, we made progress. In December, my counterpart's grandfather, the highest sub-chief in the village, called for a community contribution to fix one of the boreholes. This also shows the committee has virtually no authority unless someone with respect speaks for them. This happened after my counterpart, Jacob, a couple people from the committee and I sat down with him to explain our case. It worked, and they fixed one, but it broke again a week later. And that's about the extent of our dry season water preparations.

In addition, borehole water is a relatively new thing. The oldest few pumps were very clearly labeled by the Conrad N. Hilton Foundation when they were built in the late 90s. From what I've heard, the Foundation also formed the water committees and did basic training on maintenance. Before that, the water sources were from the river or a dug out pond called the “dam.” These still are the primary water sources in early dry season, at least until the dam runs out of water.

[At which point is there not enough water?] As the dam water slowly ran out of water from November-January, people increasingly turned to the boreholes. When 3,000 people demand water from three boreholes and all of the donkey carts and three-wheeled motorkings constantly run back and forth delivering drums of water from the river, all of a sudden people start saying we have a “water crisis” – and it finally became a small problem. The lines at the pumps were long and overwhelming. Ghanaian English vocabulary has a tendency to repeat itself, so one famous line started to be used on me, “See how we are suffering?”

My small boy in my house who usually fetches my water started to come back empty handed because the women wouldn't allow him to get water, so I started going later in the evening during the sunset or 7 p.m. prayers when the lines were shorter, and usually a JHS girl cuts me to the front. (Though this is one of the practical benefits of being viewed as a teacher, the other thing is these students immediately start fetching water after school and into the night. First for teachers or nurses, and then their families. JHS girls are always at the boreholes. Not that they get much or any homework, but clearing time for them to be able to do so is a start.)

So after some small time, one by one the boreholes broke, and the water committee was slow to react. It wasn't a serious problem until only one of them a half a mile out of town remained functional, being used 24 hours a day and still just couldn't produce enough water. Now the students would lose sleep and go to class tired. The teachers and nurses, were ready to pack up and leave. It was classic village drama.

Under pressure, the water committee finally did a collection with incredible speed. They called the repairman and a collection at the same time, before they even had the money! It was like the “just one day” approach to life in full swing – an emergency that could have been prevented. They planned on fixing two boreholes, so every house was to contribute two cedis each – quite simple math even though the repairs were completed different. Asking for four cedis (~$1.25) to fix four boreholes would be too much to ask for, and probably scare people from giving at all.

The collection turnout was enough, and they even fixed three pumps since one was a minor repair, leaving only one not working. Just one week before an election, our assemblyman personally paid 60 cedis to repair the fifth one. So, in just two days, four boreholes were repaired and we're enjoy somewhat short waits at the boreholes.

So this event was discouraging, that the only time action happens is either when people are thirsty, or a governmental office is on the line. But I think seeing this offers some valuable insight for the future in encouraging them forward in my last 13 months as a volunteer. People are far from sharing the same views or attitudes as this post, including most of my counterparts. As for the committee, they "heroically" acted when they needed to. We'll deal with tomorrow when it comes. So, as we would put it, that is how we are somehow managing.