Run Out?

I had an interesting day yesterday. Let me do this chronologically. 

We ran out of water. What does that mean? We are connected to the mains aren't we? Well, not always. 

We have 3 water tanks in the garden [under the grass] and the water is pumped from them to the water tank in the roof cavity above Tamara's bedroom and then this water is gravity fed to the house taps. Sound confusing? Well, that created a pickle when the laundry tap broke, because we didn't know how or where to disconnect the water. But that is another story for another day.

Yesterday all our tanks ran dry. The mains supply had been disconnected due to a leaky pipe out on the street. It had been disconnected for a while. Unbeknown to us we had been living off our own supply. 

It is a little disconcerting when you are use to turning a tap on and water gushing out at your command. It also taught us a lesson. We learnt not to take water for granted. 

How important is water? Without water you can't flush the toilet. I made the family go before leaving school that afternoon. You can't wash your hands - which was the important swine flu advice given by Obama yesterday too.  You can't cook vegetables in water - we also don't have a microwave while living here - what's the use with the frequent unplanned power outages? [This should have a post of it's own]. Anyway, without getting sidetracked - water is vital for human existence.

Water is taken for granted by people who turn on taps and expect a flow.

While trying to confirm why we had no water and reaching a solution I had to go collect the kids from school. I had planned to fill the car with petrol [which is always a pre-planned excursion in Kenya as you need cash, no credit card swiping here - and you don't trust people with your credit card anyway]. I pass one petrol station between home and school. 

So, I head off. I am not in a good mood. The water bills are paid, the landlord is not returning my call, or acknowledging the txt message, the caretaker when asked for help says he can do nothing and hubby is busy in meetings but would like to be kept informed.

I am getting cross. My temper is frayed and I am feeling a little out of control. I am lacking brotherly love and patience.

I go to the petrol station. I smile sweetly and ask for a complete tank of petrol. The service guy smile back - oh, yeah, in Kenya you don't fill the tank or put air in your tyres - they have guys to do that. These guys can also check your water and oil while the tank is filling. This is old-fashioned service that my parents probably remember. I can't.

So, anyway. The guy is lovely. He smiles sweetly, asks me how I am going and if I would like the oil and water checked. I decline his offer and say that I really only need petrol - the 'empty' light is now on. He smiles again and asks if I can perhaps come back tomorrow. Their tanks are empty; they don't have any petrol. I laugh.

Everyone is so easygoing. This crazy situation defuses my volatile disposition. I actually continue on my way to school - to use the bathroom - with a smile on my face and the sound of laughter can be heard over the calming CD I have playing. 

 

By the way, the landlord does call me and gives me the information about the supply and leak issue and excellent advice on reaching a solution. She directs me to the caretaker! You know, the guy who "can't deal with it". It is the caretaker who helps. He deals with it. He organises the water truck to come and fill a tank for us. I need cash to pay them. It costs 3, 700 Kenyan shillings. 

I also fill my tank at another petrol station on the way home.

Things run out in Kenya. You just have to adapt and roll with the punches.