As Our Wells Run Dry
By Bonita Bennett
Cape Town, South Africa — I used to enjoy the camaraderie when collecting water at the Newlands spring during the early days of our drought. It made me feel grounded and connected to what nature had to offer and the people who had come on the same mission. I loved the random chats about the weather, the cost of living and the political situation in our country. It was great to hear everyone’s bright ideas about what they would do if they were in charge of managing the water crisis and even how they would have anticipated it long ago. We all felt good that we were doing our bit. But things have changed.
Our city is surrounded by water. It is here that the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet, at the southernmost tip of the continent. Rivers flowing through the urban areas are visible in different parts of the city. Over time, the city’s subterranean aquifers have been rerouted to enable development and have been built over in many parts. Periods of colonialism, slavery and apartheid have resulted in the poor of the city being forcibly removed from the areas around Table Mountain which have always been well-supplied with natural spring water, and made to be dependent on municipal piped water — or the promise of it, as in some areas it was never actualised. Surrounded by all this water, even in this transformed post-apartheid South Africa, many people still live without safe access to clean water in their homes.
In some places around the city, spring water has been flowing at collection points for many years. Access points are now all located in affluent areas and in some instances have been privatised. Although there are some public points, they are mainly only accessible to those who have private transport. For the past few years, more and more people have gradually been frequenting these water points to collect water for domestic use as the water usage restrictions during the hottest months have become more stringent.
During my own regular trips to collect water when this drought first began, I learnt many tips from people about what their families were doing to save water. I particularly appreciated the sporadic storytelling by those who had grown up in the Newlands area and surrounds before the Group Areas Act forced them to move. They’d remember with longing how in the days of their youth they would be doing the very same thing — collecting water from this same source for daily household use.
But things have changed now that crowds of people flock to the collection points at all hours of the day. The thought of being without water has caused some to panic, and unleashed the instinct to stockpile water. At times, I have witnessed people screaming at each other about parking, and about being inconsiderate to others. Some were watching who was using the express queue to fill more containers than they were meant to; others were trying to sneak large containers into the express queue; comments about ‘them’ being just as corrupt as government because ‘they’ refuse to abide by rules! Chaos has been worsened by construction work that reduces vehicular mobility. And traffic officers began ticketing the overflow parkers outside the gates! Since people have begun to panic, I don’t think that I have even looked up at the mountain once or had a chat with anyone. I tried hard to avoid being coerced into catching out offenders! Racial undertones surfaced from time to time as current residents (mainly white) of the area clearly felt more entitled to this precious resource than other Capetonians and behaved as if people were trespassing onto their private property, forgetting that this is a natural public resource to which they have had privileged access. Old resentments from those who had been displaced from the lush area simmered beneath the surface.
But, I should not overlook the many acts of human kindness that have also emerged from this complex situation. There is a patient driver of a minivan from a faraway township who queues several times for his neighbours who do not have transport, each time carting the allotted 15 litres to his vehicle, and then joining the back of the queue again to fill the next set of containers. There are the people who look out for those who struggle to carry their containers of water and offer to help, or who let older folk or those with small containers move to the front of the queue.
Both the worst and the best traits of humanity have revealed themselves during this water crisis. In this city which is known to be one of the most unequal cities in the world, everyone, irrespective of economic status and area of residence, has been confronted by the harsh reality of the drought. But, while we have all been affected, we have not been equally affected.
Over the past few weeks, many stores have run out of bottled spring water. Some stores have doubled their prices of this commodity. Near-stampedes in stores when crates are offloaded from delivery trucks have generated more panic.
The dams have not yet run completely dry. Most people I know have become militant water warriors and have kept their dependence on municipal water to a minimum. And while all of this has been happening in stores and around spring water collection points, there are thousands of people who have no income to purchase bottled water and no means of transportation to reach the spring water. They have not had access to the 50 litres per person per day that the affluent communities — who have always had water on tap — are now complaining about. And life continues as before, with the collection of water at communal taps being part of the daily routine of life.
What puzzles me is that people who have never before had to deal with the reality of the need to conserve water continue to consider themselves to be experts on all matters of life, including the current crisis. Aren’t the real experts the people who, for all of their lives had to make do with limited water and still arrive at work spotless and sweet smelling, or go to school with never-grubby white school shirts, knowing full well that employers and teachers would not understand the challenges of having so little water? Why not ask these people to share their strategies? They might in fact might just think of this as just another problem to solve on an average day rather than a ‘strategy’.
That would stop the current “how-to-live-with-little-water” so-called experts from sharing such madcap advice as using salad spinners to wash underwear, using wet wipes in ways not previously imagined, or sharing intimate ways of dealing with personal hygiene which at best would require common sense.
While we continue the struggle for all to have access to water, let us not forget to acknowledge the expertise that people have acquired through their living circumstances and learn from the knowledge that they have acquired.
Archbishop Thabo Makgoba reminds us: “The fact that we are one of the most unequal countries in the world is seen nowhere as clearly as in the access to water and sanitation in our different communities: while some live with swimming pools and big lawns, others share a single tap between many households. It is an extraordinary irony — and a salutary rebuke to those of us with running water in our homes — that if Day Zero comes, the lives of those who have lived without will be less disrupted than those who have used too much.”
Bonita Bennett is the Director of the District Six Museum in Cape Town, South Africa.
To learn more about the water crisis in Cape Town and its effect on people in poverty, see: https://www.climaterealityproject.org/blog/poor-more-likely-suffer-during-south-africa-dire-drought
