A good wash

Water. Hygiene. Clean hair. How do you keep things clean without water? This morning I’m particularly frustrated for some reason. We are supposed to have these 210 liter black plastic barrels that are in the bathrooms filled at all times to be able to wash up and bucket flush the toilet that doesn’t flush because again, no water, but the times these barrels are full are the rarity. I’ve been here a month now. And I end up taking some from a thermos in the kitchen to wash up a touch from a bowl. Although sometimes I just wash up in the morning with baby wet-wipes. But yesterday I bought a green plastic basin and a pitcher so I’m golden. Can pour water into the basin, take it to the bathtub, wash up, rinse with my pitcher of water – DEEELUX. I was really looking forward to my washing this morning in my new green plastic basin. So ho hum, I go into the bathroom this morning, excitedly and naively, and of course, I should have expected it when I leaned over to dip into the large black plastic barrels – no water.

Needles to say, I can’t wash without water in the barrels. I mean, I don’t mind roughing it. But there are some basics that are almost necessities for me. I guess I’m learning my limits. Water. Doesn’t have to be clean or drinkable. In fact the water that comes from the well, that goes to the barrels is not drinkable unless boiled. Which we do too ~5 minutes.

And it’s such a weird juxtaposition, because we have this house. Nice by Rwanda standards. Really nice. It looks like it has two bathrooms with bathtubs, shower faucets and a sink with a faucet, and a toilet with a flush, but none of it works. No water.

And yet we have all this house help without other basics like electricity or running water, people who work at the home, like many families in Rwanda that make good incomes. For example the education specialist for nutrition who’s the income earner for her family and does not earn a high salary here at the hospital, has a fille (girl in French, the word they use for housekeeper), even though her husband has no job like many Rwandans because there is just not enough industry and business in this country for everyone to be employed and despite only one income that is not a huge amount compared to say a doctors salary here, they still have a person who cleans, cooks, cares for the children while she is away for the week at work (she lives in Rwinkwavu M-F and then returns to Kigali where her family is on the weekends). I asked her how much a month to have a fille and she said 4000 Rwandan francs/month. That’s 8$/month for a full-time house keeper. Could you imagine $96/year to have a full-time cook/cleaning lady/caretaker? So like most poor countries where people do not have jobs, if you have a job, then you more often than not it seems…you hire others. So people who have jobs – and not rich people – just steady jobs with trustworthy companies or organizations - seem to almost always have some kind of help. (PIH also makes an effort to make sure they hire patients from the hospital with particularly tough straights to work with PIH either at the PIH homes or local industries we are trying to start - to provide them with opportunities to earn an income that they may not have otherwise, so for example, most house help for PIH are HIV +, not all, like our cook isn’t, but many, like our cleaning lady are) We have a guard for our house, a cleaning lady who does all ten of our laundry and makes beds and keeps the rooms clean, and a cook who makes breakfast and dinner everyday. And to be honest, having this is extremely helpful in a place like this. The market is far away. You would need a car to go there. You would need to go regularly because we have no refrigeration and stuff won’t last and with our schedules, there is little time to grocery shop or cook. A car is not available to drive all the time. There is no such thing as public transportation between here and the closest town. There is no such thing as a Stop&Shop to go out and get everything at one place. There’s no frozen dinners or processed pre-packaged quick anything. It’s bits and pieces here. Bits and pieces there. Rice at one place. Good vegetables from various other places. Fruit from the Monday or Thursday market. You need all morning or a full afternoon to get it all together (and you would need to speak at least more than a touch of Kinyrwanda). And you can’t go once a week because ½ your stuff would spoil or be inundated with fruitflies by the end of the week so you need to go pretty frequently. And then you need the time to cook, do dishes,do laundry of ten people and again…

No water.

If there were one thing I were to change, it would be access to water. A couple pitchers of it a day for everyone in this house and enough for everyone to pour water down the toilet to flush it. I asked the cook this morning: « D’habitude, qui porte l’eau ici a la maison?” She named a man’s name that I didn’t know. “Est-ce qu’il ici ce matin?” She said he hadn’t arrived here yet. « Je sais qu’il n’est pas votre responsibilite a porter l’eau ici, mais c’est necessaire chaque jour avoir l’eau dans les salles de bain dans les grands peaux. Sans aucune l’eau, avec dix personne habitent ici, ce n’est pas hygienique (don’t know if that’s a word in French but I used it anyway). » She was so understanding. Very sympathetic. Although she too probably doesn’t have easy access to water where she lives either. Si c’est possible pour vous, pouvez-vous lui dire quand il arrive ce matin que c’est necessaire avoir l’eau ici presque chaque jour.

I knew she had nothing to do with the matter really, but I also knew I’d probably be at work when the person came, so I figured I’d say something, hope that the guy gets the message…after approximately a month of mornings like that. Kindly though, the cook brought me in a large yellow plastic jug of water she had in the back, probably to wash the vegetables or do the laundry or something. So I was able to wash up some. I only used a small bit of it though knowing its so hard to come by but in vain truth, what I really wanted to do was wash my hair with all the beautiful copious amounts of water in that big yellow plastic jug. Haven’t washed my hair in a week and it is stiff with red dirt that blows around in the dry air and all the journeys I have made out to home visits and the like. I was looking forward to really giving it a good wash this morning, but oh well. No use wishing for something that is not possible this AM. Just adds to my important reasons to get to Kigali this weekend i.e. note to self- must take long hot wasteful gluttonous shower this Saturday. Feel sort of lame about this actually,that it’s actually something I’m craving, that I will take off a Saturday and drive 2 hours to Kigali and 2 hours back for a good body and hair wash, but then again I think…“Whatever, judge me as you want, I just want a hot shower and clean hair that feels baby soft like an overly glamourized L’Oreal commercial rather than dry crackly grass with red earth.”

So after the complaints and AM H2O disappointments, after many mornings of little to no water, and another day out in the field, leave it to an agriculturalist who had spent a week with us at PIH to make me smile about the whole situation. Right prior to the car pulling away that was going to take her to the airport in Kigali, while she sat on the car seat’s edge, facing us, she agreed, “Yes…a hot shower is always very nice. I can feel much farm dirt in my hair…” and while patting the top of her head in demonstration, she summed it up perfectly, “I think I could grow a garden in here.” And at that she made me really laugh. Seemed so clever, the analogy, like only someone who is not speaking their native tongue can do. Me too I exclaimed, me too.