Thursday, October 05, 2006
Water, Power and a Twin Sister - Email from Jenell October 5, 2006
WATER IS LIFE!
It’s raining hard against the zinc roof and when the wind blows water comes through the open windows. I revel in the cool breeze. I prayed so hard for this feeling back in April when it was so hot you’d stop peeing because you sweat all day, but you wouldn’t even realize you were sweating because it was so dry the sweat would evaporate instantly. (Does that sound like something my future grandkids will hear, or what? “Back when I was in Africa…” )
“We are blessed,” my friend Issah exclaimed, “last year, this time all the earth was dry and dead.” He shook his head and made clucking noises at the thought of it. I wonder what Maa Kuma, a woman in my neighborhood I know only as “grandmother”, would say about today’s rains. Last week she told me that Burkina Faso has a machine that controls the clouds and keeps them from crossing over into Ghana, and that is why while we don’t have as much rain as we used to, Burkina Faso continues to have green fields and gardens. (Inside Info: Unlike Ghana, Burkina Faso has irrigation systems) Just like the discussions of the elders at The Rapids diner in Pelican Rapids it seems the weather is always much better or much worse than last year… never the same… that would kill half the conversation.
I am thankful I noticed the dark clouds on the horizon when I left my house this morning and remembered to put out all my buckets to collect rain water. One less trip to borehole, I think to myself as I listen to the rain beat down on my roof. About a month ago the water that used to run freely from 6am to 6:30am almost every morning stopped. No public service announcement or notice on my door, nothing. I no longer have the luxury of running a hose into my house to effortlessly fill my tank. I now go and sit at the borehole until it is my turn to pump until my triceps burn while children laugh and cheer and the women stare and suck the air in between their teeth in approval. However, unlike these women, I bring a 5 gallon bucket to fill, the size appropriate for a 10 y.o. girl. They help me lift it to my head and I walk back to my house in a line of women steadily balancing 12 gallon basins on their heads. Between my 10 gallons and the 24 gallons carried by Eulalia, I now had an additional 34 gallons of clean water to my name! I immediately took a bucket bath (1 whole gallon). Then, I made breakfast and did dishes (another gallon). Then it was time for laundry (a painful 6 gallons). 8 gallons gone just like that… that’s another two trips to the borehole for Nansaapo, white lady…errr… small girl.
Realizations:
1) Why most everyone is shorter than me: it is way easier to carry water when you don’t have to squat down under every branch and doorway.
2) Why people can sleep on a hard bench near a noisy road: if I worked that hard all the time I could probably sleep anywhere too.
3) Why more women don’t play volleyball in the afternoons: even the ones who are excused from pounding fufu, grinding peppe, and stirring TZ never come because they must be exhausted from working so hard.
Last Saturday I went running, fetched water twice, hand washed clothes for a few hours, and cooked for myself…. And I was done. No volleyball that day. After completing the workload of a small girl, I was ready for bed. Mama Filomina laughed that night as I rubbed my stiff neck and shoulders with my left hand while I ground the okra. [if you grind with your left, it will be spoiled]. She had fetched water 10 times that day. Plus, because of borehole politics she has to fetch from a borehole twice as far. Borehole subculture is fascinating; even though I look forward to the new water system coming some time next year (God willing), I am thankful for the excuse to be a part of and observe life at the borehole. I’m still trying to figure it out…. So more later.
A FEW INCHES FROM POWER.
Starting last month, all of Ghana is rationing electricity. Power in Ghana comes from the dam on Lake Volta (the largest man made lake in the world), but the water level is low and therefore the dam is not generating enough electricity for everyone. To solve this problem, the whole country is divided up into small sections which rotate “lights out”… every other day the power goes out from either 6am to 6pm or vice versa. It’s really not that big of a deal… now, but what happens when rainy season ends and the water drops even more. And that is when the temperature sky rockets and I’ll really want my ceiling fan to work. It seems, however, that in a culture of taking things day by day, or “one, one” I’m the only thinking that far ahead. Silly white lady.
CLARIFICATION:
Even months after Lisa’s visit I am still explaining to people that, “no, I am not having a twin sister.” But how is it possible that two women with such pale color, loud voices and long legs did not come from the same egg? The kids in my neighborhood have no problem pointing out “Mama Lisa, Mama Lisa!!” in all the pictures on my wall. They even beg and plead to take “just one” home with them.
From Lisa: I added the pictures below to give you some visuals that relate to Jenell's email. By the way, I'm sure I am much happier than Jenell that people seem to think we are twins :-)
The "twins"? Lisa and Jenell at the beach in Ghana in August 06
Maa Kuma (the neighborhood "Grandmother" Jenell was refering to). Note the "dimple" in her upper lip from an old custom where they put a stick through their lip when they were younger. I only saw this on older people for some reason....
It’s raining hard against the zinc roof and when the wind blows water comes through the open windows. I revel in the cool breeze. I prayed so hard for this feeling back in April when it was so hot you’d stop peeing because you sweat all day, but you wouldn’t even realize you were sweating because it was so dry the sweat would evaporate instantly. (Does that sound like something my future grandkids will hear, or what? “Back when I was in Africa…” )
“We are blessed,” my friend Issah exclaimed, “last year, this time all the earth was dry and dead.” He shook his head and made clucking noises at the thought of it. I wonder what Maa Kuma, a woman in my neighborhood I know only as “grandmother”, would say about today’s rains. Last week she told me that Burkina Faso has a machine that controls the clouds and keeps them from crossing over into Ghana, and that is why while we don’t have as much rain as we used to, Burkina Faso continues to have green fields and gardens. (Inside Info: Unlike Ghana, Burkina Faso has irrigation systems) Just like the discussions of the elders at The Rapids diner in Pelican Rapids it seems the weather is always much better or much worse than last year… never the same… that would kill half the conversation.
I am thankful I noticed the dark clouds on the horizon when I left my house this morning and remembered to put out all my buckets to collect rain water. One less trip to borehole, I think to myself as I listen to the rain beat down on my roof. About a month ago the water that used to run freely from 6am to 6:30am almost every morning stopped. No public service announcement or notice on my door, nothing. I no longer have the luxury of running a hose into my house to effortlessly fill my tank. I now go and sit at the borehole until it is my turn to pump until my triceps burn while children laugh and cheer and the women stare and suck the air in between their teeth in approval. However, unlike these women, I bring a 5 gallon bucket to fill, the size appropriate for a 10 y.o. girl. They help me lift it to my head and I walk back to my house in a line of women steadily balancing 12 gallon basins on their heads. Between my 10 gallons and the 24 gallons carried by Eulalia, I now had an additional 34 gallons of clean water to my name! I immediately took a bucket bath (1 whole gallon). Then, I made breakfast and did dishes (another gallon). Then it was time for laundry (a painful 6 gallons). 8 gallons gone just like that… that’s another two trips to the borehole for Nansaapo, white lady…errr… small girl.
Realizations:
1) Why most everyone is shorter than me: it is way easier to carry water when you don’t have to squat down under every branch and doorway.
2) Why people can sleep on a hard bench near a noisy road: if I worked that hard all the time I could probably sleep anywhere too.
3) Why more women don’t play volleyball in the afternoons: even the ones who are excused from pounding fufu, grinding peppe, and stirring TZ never come because they must be exhausted from working so hard.
Last Saturday I went running, fetched water twice, hand washed clothes for a few hours, and cooked for myself…. And I was done. No volleyball that day. After completing the workload of a small girl, I was ready for bed. Mama Filomina laughed that night as I rubbed my stiff neck and shoulders with my left hand while I ground the okra. [if you grind with your left, it will be spoiled]. She had fetched water 10 times that day. Plus, because of borehole politics she has to fetch from a borehole twice as far. Borehole subculture is fascinating; even though I look forward to the new water system coming some time next year (God willing), I am thankful for the excuse to be a part of and observe life at the borehole. I’m still trying to figure it out…. So more later.
A FEW INCHES FROM POWER.
Starting last month, all of Ghana is rationing electricity. Power in Ghana comes from the dam on Lake Volta (the largest man made lake in the world), but the water level is low and therefore the dam is not generating enough electricity for everyone. To solve this problem, the whole country is divided up into small sections which rotate “lights out”… every other day the power goes out from either 6am to 6pm or vice versa. It’s really not that big of a deal… now, but what happens when rainy season ends and the water drops even more. And that is when the temperature sky rockets and I’ll really want my ceiling fan to work. It seems, however, that in a culture of taking things day by day, or “one, one” I’m the only thinking that far ahead. Silly white lady.
CLARIFICATION:
Even months after Lisa’s visit I am still explaining to people that, “no, I am not having a twin sister.” But how is it possible that two women with such pale color, loud voices and long legs did not come from the same egg? The kids in my neighborhood have no problem pointing out “Mama Lisa, Mama Lisa!!” in all the pictures on my wall. They even beg and plead to take “just one” home with them.
From Lisa: I added the pictures below to give you some visuals that relate to Jenell's email. By the way, I'm sure I am much happier than Jenell that people seem to think we are twins :-)
The "twins"? Lisa and Jenell at the beach in Ghana in August 06
Maa Kuma (the neighborhood "Grandmother" Jenell was refering to). Note the "dimple" in her upper lip from an old custom where they put a stick through their lip when they were younger. I only saw this on older people for some reason....
