Katherine's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!
I sat on the bouncing bus, feeling so woozy that my brain seemed to be several feet above me and so nauseated that my stomach seemed to be…well…everywhere. 12,000 feet up on a winding Andean road, I sat grasping the little white altitude sickness pill in my trembling hand, wishing desperately that I could take it.
But I couldn’t, because I had no water.
On this long, rural road, there were few places to purchase water. Where it was available, stacked crowdedly in tiny, gated tiendas beside the road, or draped over the shoulders of traveling salesmen yelling “agua, agua!” it was impossible to know if it had been drawn from local faucets, containing parasites and bacteria that my unaccustomed gringa stomach could not tolerate.
Unlike the 1 in 8 people on the planet that drink dirty, unsafe water every day, me having nothing to drink was entirely my fault. I was thirsty, achy, trembling, dehydrated and sick because I had been stupid to take safe, accessible water for granted, to assume it would be available somewhere along the road, instead of buying it in a grocery store or larger tienda, where the water for sale is purified.
In the end, my stupidity cost me nothing other than an uncomfortable ride back to the capital city. I could chose, young and healthy that I was, to avoid drinking unsafe water. I did not have to choose between a certain death of thirst that day or a probable threat of death due to waterborne disease the day after, which of course is not a choice at all. But millions of people are forced to make this non-choice of a choice every day.
No one should ever be forced to drink water that kills. We serve the God of who offers us living water, who cried wearily for a drink as he fought for his last breaths. How then, can we let others go thirsty?
Katherine Pater is a recovering Irish dance instructor from Wisconsin. She is currently a first-year Master of Divinity Student at Harvard Divinity School who is pursuing ordination in the PC(USA) denomination.
Awesome!
ReplyDeleteYour post reminds me of being in Liberia. I remember sitting in the back of a van packed with 20 other people feeling quite like you described. I was pressed against the window in hopes of getting any of the air that came through the small opening. Before I felt the cold sensation on my elbow, I heard, "Cold watta, cole watta, five dolla, cole watta." It was spoken so fast that it sounded like one word. When I looked down I saw a young Liberian boy about seven years old pressing a plastic BAG of water against my arm through the window slit in the van. He ran along side the van as we travelled slowly through the bumpy, unfinished roads as I searched my pocket for five Liberian dollars. In a quick exchange, the five dollars left my hand and a cold bag of water entered it. I smiled down at the young boy and was thankful for his delivery of bag of cold water.
ReplyDeleteAs I bit into the bag and felt cold water enter my mouth, my uneasy stomach returned to its rightful place and the world seemed a bit brighter and more full of life...for me. But as I continued down the bumpy, unfinished road, I realized that this was my experience, but there were so many others along the long bumpy road that had yet to receive their bag of cold water. The 3 million Liberians around me retreived water from dirty wells. For me the five dollar bag of purified 'cole watta' was attainable. For them, it was only a dream.
It's incredible what we're able to take for granted. I mean... water! I'm glad you're helping raise awareness, and not only that, DOING something to change lives in a tangible way. Now that proves the Church is Alive!!!
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