Life in the settlement: The long wait for water

BUSA JEREMIAH WENOGO

IN the distance their shadows can be seen stretched along the pavement by the rising sun as they sat surrounded by an army of water containers.

Although the morning coolness is still in the air, sweat can be seen around their eyebrows. Each takes turns to fill their containers while a group of patiently waiting women starts a conversation.
Other women with containers slung in both hands stroll towards the water tap. Their kids are still fast asleep while their husbands are out and about.

Anyway, the men prefer not to carry the water containers, believing it’s a task best left to their wives and daughters.
It is unusual to find men walking alongside their wives to and from the water tap, let alone standing around chatting.

In our own family’s search for water, I make it my business to help as much as possible. I am determined to show the men in my community that it is wrong to display discriminatory attitudes towards their wives and daughters.

If an educated person like me can help my family carry water containers, I see no reason why these men should not to do likewise.

Several months have gone by since the last time our Member of Parliament committed to connect water to our homes. Since the grand announcement we have awoken each day with hopes becoming dimmer.

By now everyone is convinced that the promises mean nothing. For some this is a major disappointment but for others, conned for so long, it is just another of a politician’s many unfulfilled promises.

I joined the struggle for water three years ago when I moved into this community. Since then we have sweated our guts out to build a new life but without much to celebrate.

Every time when I leave the gate of our family’s house, I pray to God to protect them. Whenever I see hardship in my family’s life, I deeply regret bringing my family here. It was a life we did not choose but out of desperation we had to do it.

Although we had no choice, I felt things would be different over time. Yet, deep down, I feel this is God’s way of preparing me and my family for something great and fulfilling.

There are things in life one has no control over and the best we can do is it to make the most of what we have.

This thought has driven me to carry on even when in pain from carrying three containers or trudging back and forth from the house to the water taps.

There have been times when it seemed my family could not take this lifestyle any longer. I sympathise with their views and, in those moments, try my best to reason with them, restraining my frustration because I know they are doing their best to get through the day and they have a right to complain.

I take responsibility for this misery for I brought it upon us in my optimism that this settlement would improve.

But the best I can do now is to comfort them and assure them that somehow the water will be connected, so we just have to be patient.

It has been almost three years now that we have been waiting for the water to be connected. For many people in this community, of course, their wait has been far longer than that. These people have decided to live with the thought that water will never come back.

My father is nearing retirement while my mother is highly susceptible to sickness. Whenever she carries water containers she is prone to fall ill. My wife, fully aware of my mother’s condition, tries her best to help but I can see on her face that her determination is wearing thin.

All around me I see exhaustion, frustration and regret and I have decided that it is time to move on.

Last year a potential buyer for my house pulled out at the very last minute before we closed the deal. That was a major setback for us.

We felt drained after the failed attempt and decided not to sell the house and go on for another year.

This year I have again decided to launch my bid to sell the house and still we wait for the water to be connected. How long this will go on nobody knows.