The Waterboy
After an extended stay in Dehradun (trying to again figure out what it is we are supposed to be doing in this project, and which villages we are going to work in), I’m back in Mayali. As always, there’s a lot of uncertainty about everything here so I don’t really know how long I’ll be here for, but odds point to the trip lasting for at least 3 if not 4 weeks. I’ve come to realize that although there are certain things I like about being in Dehradun (being able to connect with the rest of the world, being able to take decent baths without too much trouble – though they are still bucket ones unfortunately, getting a change in cuisine and being able to go to the bazaar and find almost anything I need), I don’t really like the work I do there (mostly report writing/editing, summarizing points about our previous field trip or just sitting around with nothing to do) and the work environment at the PSI office isn’t what I would choose, so I have started looking forward to going back out to the field.
We had a free afternoon yesterday as we ended up being driven out to Mayali in the PSI jeep rather than having to take the bus. This meant that the trip took only 7 hours instead of 9, and since the driver wanted to get back to Dehradun on the same day, we left at 6:00am and reached Mayali at 1:30. As early as this was, it was too late to do any field work, so we had the afternoon off – a nice break after a long, uncomfortable, early-starting journey. Supna and Hiralal both went immediately to sleep, but I sat around for awhile, exploring some of my old writing on my computer, and going back and reading things I’d written for this website previously. It was kinda neat (and a little strange) seeing all that stuff again, and made me re-realize how much things have changed over the past few months and years. Going from university life to assembling seismic monitoring stations in the Canadian Arctic to India seems about as big a series of changes as you can get, and even here India my life has gone from studying Hindi in peaceful Landour to backpacking around Western India and now to doing community level social-research in remote villages in the Himalaya. Talk about diversity. Even looking at my life here in Mayali and comparing it to when I first arrived, while some things are surprisingly consistent, there have been changes.
The biggest change in my life here in Mayali (compared with the daily routine I wrote back in February when we first settled in here) has been that ever since the beginning of summer (beginning of March – this is India), the one benefit of our room (attached bathroom with running water) has gone because the tap now only gives air. Apparently Mayali only has 2 year-round water sources and though thankfully we are very close to one, our tap water apparently comes from another place (makes me wonder where, but it’s probably better not to think about that..). However, the adjacent building (where the girls’ room is) has a pump down at the spring which provides water to their building year-round, and so we occasionally sneak a bucket or two from there and justify it by saying that if they were on their own, they’d use at least that much water. The building owner’s mother (Dadi-ji as they say here) is a sweet-heart and doesn’t mind, but the owner yells at us when he catches us taking water from his building to our room/kitchen in the other building, saying that since our kitchen isn’t in his building, we can’t use his water there (I he’s still a little miffed that we took only one room in his building). With the tap dry and the easy water next-door “off-limits”, we’ve been forced to act like most Indian villagers and bring all our water up from the spring in buckets.
Compared to most other people, we still have it easy as the spring is quite close (>100m), but for someone like me who has lived their entire life with running water always available in their house, it’s taken a bit of getting used to. It makes you appreciate how much water we use in our lives. This has been especially true for me, as the job of fetching water more often than not falls on me. It seems to me that there is some cultural stigma against fetching water here – my co-workers always put off getting water, and when we run out, everyone sits around telling the others to get fetch it instead of getting it themselves. I don’t really understand it, sure it’s an annoyance and means a fair bit of effort, but it doesn’t seem to be that big a deal for me. At times I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that in this country, it is predominantly the poor villagers who fetch water – the middle (“developed”) class and certainly the upper class all have running water in their houses. For them, I wonder if having to go fetch water seems degrading, and means associating themselves with people of lower status. It’s one thing I’ve noticed about the middle-class here, whatever “development” they have been able to achieve (mostly recently achieved, eg. electricity, running water, personal vehicles, private houses etc.), they are very reluctant to do without, and complain endlessly when they are “deprived”. It’s part of the Indian mentality that I don’t really understand… Anyway, it all boils down to the fact that usually before they’ve stopped arguing about who should go get water, I’ve gotten fed up with it all and gone and fetched it myself. Someone’s got to do it, and given that I do very little work in the preparation of meals here, I figure that it’s only fair that I should do my part.
So every morning, the first thing I do after waking up is fetch 2 buckets of water (about 20l each), one drinking water and the other for washing/toilet. This usually gets us through the morning (though there are sometimes some dirty dishes left), but when we come back after the day’s work, we need more water and so I go fetch another two buckets. Similarly, this usually lasts us through the evening, but sometimes we run out and so I’m forced to take my headlamp and go get a bucket or two after supper (after dark) so we can wash dishes etc.
As I said, I don’t mind that concept that we (I) have to fetch water, but I certainly do mind the way we have to get water, in particular the condition of the path down to the spring. Though it’s short, it’s steep and narrow (barely wide enough for one person carrying a bucket, let along for two people to pass) with a 70˚ slope down the mountain on one side and a stone/cement retaining wall on the up-slope side. Most importantly it’s just a dirt path, and though there are some quasi-steps carved into the dirt by the constant stream of people going up and down, they’re well worn (rounded), too small for me (the average shoe-size of the users is likely around 7 while I’m size 13) and inevitably wet (slippery) from the dripping/spilling buckets/clothes/bodies returning up the path. Add in a few big rocks that I think are supposed to be steps (but are much more annoying/awkward than beneficial) and a fallen tree jutting out into the path, and it’s treacherous footing and tough navigating – especially at night. Trying to climb up in with a full bucket of water (and not spill much/any) while wearing only sandals (wearing shoes to the spring is just asking for wet feet) is quite a challenge, but at least my sandals have straps around the back of my ankles (everyone else here wears chappals, bad enough normally, but trying to walk uphill in them with wet feet (making them uber-slippery) is a nearly impossible, gravity-defying feat they somehow manage – I tried once in borrowed chappals and ended up walking barefoot, promptly swearing never to do it again).
Such a lot to say about one little piece of my life! Multiply this by the billion amazing/crazy things that are constantly happening to me here, and you hopefully get a sense of why I’m so back-logged in updates. There’s just too much to say, but that’s India for you…
This is the online home of one Shane Warner, my place to attempt to tell some of my stories, as well as just spout off whatever comes to mind.
