Water of Love

We use it to drink. To bath. To cook. To clean. To swim in. To make energy. To hydrate our plants and animals. To pour down the pants of unsuspecting people. The list goes on.

It is made of two glorious elements. Hydrogen and oxygen.

It is not made of “salt” and “desk”, as was written by one of my learners on his science exam.

It is water. And it is a great thing.

Now.

Namibia is a dry country. Many regions are composed of flat dry plains, savannahs, and deserts. Sand dunes up the wahzoo.

Namibia is also in a drought. The worst drought since what I have been told to be the 40s. Whether that information is credible, I do not know. That could be made up. I am not a journalist. But it is the worst in a very long time.

What does this mean exactly? Well, it’s dusty and dry. And everything is a lot more beige now.

What it also means is that there is a lack of water in the taps and food on the table. Many people in Namibia make their living from subsistence farming. They have their land. They grow their food. They eat their food. They keep goats, sheep, and cattle to eat and to sell. These animals wander all over the place to graze during the day. In random fields, across the road, on school grounds, in the bathroom.

No, really. I found a cow in the toilets the other day.

So, there is very little water. The plants are dead. The rivers are dry. This means crops aren’t growing well, and the livestock are dying. It’s common to see dead donkeys, goats, and cows in the streets of Opuwo. They weren’t hit by cars. They died of starvation and thrist.

I know. I’m a buzz kill. But it’s the truth.

So, little food and little profit for livestock owners. Now, Namibia imports a lot of food anyway. Especially fruits and vegetables. But they are now importing foods that normally grow with ease in this country, such as maize.

As I was driving back to school for the first day of term, my Vice Principal mentioned that the government had not yet provided the subsidized maize meal bags for many schools, ours included. While I was wondering why the hell we were opening a hostel school when we couldn’t feed the children living there, I asked why the government was taking so long to give out the food. His answer was that they had to import maize meal from South Africa because Namibia could not produce enough, and the bags had not come through yet.

Never fear. Since then, the school has purchased enough food to get us through until the government food arrives. And I donated some rice and granola to the cause before the emergency stash was purchased.

But I’m wandering off here.

The point is that experiencing a shortage of water reveals itself in a drastic way here. It’s a strain on everyone. Especially those who don’t live in town. Like the nomadic Himba, who travel around to get their water from boreholes, rivers, and whatnot. Some of those boreholes are no longer functioning. All dried up.

Water is life, people. Water is life. (For the record, I am not smoking any illegal substances.)

Anyway, moral is don’t take your water for granted.

The only upside is that I have an excuse for looking like a dirtball.

I’m saving the environment, buddy. Back off.

Rain season should start within the next few months. Let’s hope it puts an end to this drought. This dryness is turning me into a raisin. Or rather a sultana. Because I’m white.

Is that not PC? Alright, unbunch your panties. I like raisins and sultanas equally, people.

But I’m seriously hoping for a good rainstorm soon. For Namibia’s benefit and my own.

I miss a good downpour.