Posted by Chintan Maru
South Asia has no shortage of water stories. A hydro-electric dam project diverts a sacred river and displaces millions. The morning hustle at a slum’s communal tap breaks into a fatal fight. A monsoon rain blesses an inter-caste wedding. I began asking about Nyaya’s water story when I witnessed our night-watchman Kansa Biswokarma seal our infrastructure’s central pipe with a plastic bag. What happened?
A precondition for Bayalpata Hospital’s reopening in 2009 was a reliable water supply. The District Water Office provided funds for the Bhageswar community’s water committee to hook us up to their supply. The work they were to complete had three components: to build a concrete tank set high enough on the hospital property to provide adequate pressure to the facility’s taps; to dig a well a few kilometers away that would be fed by a mountain spring; and to bury pipe that would carry the well water downhill under farmland and beneath footpaths to fill the hospital’s tank. They finished the work on time (fifteen days flat) but complaints arose just as fast. Sections of pipeline spiraled out of the ground, tripping passersby. Later, the well cracked, pipes burst at their seams, and a farmer tapped into an exposed meter of pipe. Rumors of corruption started to trickle in.
Our medical director Dr. Jhapat Thapa was thrust into the position of hospital counsel, mediating and interrogating the various parties involved. The government inspector was called back to justify his approval, formal complaints were registered at the District Water Office, the water committee was asked to account for its expenses. Though some questions remained unanswered, in the end, the water committee agreed to contribute to periodic repairs that would sustain the hospital until another community water initiative would connect the hospital to a more robust and reliable source of water (currently underway). For now, it has worked—the pipe mended with twigs, plastic bags, and dozens of store-bought sockets miraculously ensures a steady flow. If the current ceases, a two-day reserve of water buys enough time to fix it.
Collaborations are never easy and you might wonder why Nyaya didn’t construct on its own. Nyaya chooses to work with government and community because it believes that such partnerships can strengthen this local infrastructure battered by a decade-long war and improve Nyaya’s relationship with neighbors. A water committee gathers more experience. An inspector becomes more conscientious. We know a few more farmers by name. Together we will confront the next challenge that our fragile water supply presents. A question persists, though: How do we make progress without some sense of fairness?
Nyaya operates in Achham in the absence of a robust judicial system. Access to legal arbitration is poor, courts are often slow, and the human rights abuses witnessed in war have undermined a people’s faith in justice. Perhaps the first steps toward a reconstruction are taken not on a national stage, but in rural communities that struggle with simple, important matters, like how to share water. We communicate, we expect each other’s best effort, and we learn how to resolve disputes peacefully and ethically.
Our attempt at holding our partners accountable represents a modest contribution to small-town justice. We subject ourselves to high standards, too, by inviting the people we serve in Nepal to scrutinize our transparent systems and to judge the quality and equity of our health services. Nyaya has also considered introducing a more formal mechanism of accountability—in the form of a community oversight board. This representative entity would guide and evaluate major hospital decisions, liaising with a soon-to-be appointed Nyaya-Nepal Director and Program Coordinator. The oversight board would also advise our collaborations with local institutions, perhaps obviating the sort of injustice that prompted this post.
A request to readers: In the comments section below, tell a water story or share a resource on water politics in Nepal or elsewhere. For now, I leave you with Fela Kuti’s ten-minute meditation on the matter, Water Get No Enemy.
Nairobi, Kenya is a sprawling concrete web of highway and roundabout with too few lanes to accommodate the expanding sea of automobiles amidst crowds of courageous pedestrian traffic. The city architecture complements the industrial theme of a new West Africa, symbolizing the struggle of urbanization in the setting of a lagging infrastructure. This last year the rainy season ended but the dry season did not. Extending much longer than usual there was no rain to cultivate the little green spaces in the city or to replenish the city’s water supply. Even the wealthy neighborhoods submitted to rolling “water-outs” in addition to the more common electricity “black-outs” to conserve resources. For a city so big, these plans only minimized the impact.
The Masai tribe among others were forced to break the law. The indigenous Masai tribe living on the outskirts of the city are banned from grazing their cattle within a certain radius of the city. Their fields barren, they started to graze their emaciated livestock within city limits. In the slums with the immense heat and little potable water, mortality rates higher than before.
In \scientific circles we talk about the dangers of global warming. With increased temperatures the world over, water evaporation patterns change. What was once luscious, may dry. What once was arid, may become deluged. Nairobi in the heart of West African development may die of thirst one day if the rainy season fails to come.
Chin-
Stong work! I think the point you make about involving the Hosital in collaboration with government and local structures is right on. Rather than considering the decision a failure due to the unfortunate outcomes, it’s really a triumph in process. Every difficulty that arises can be a learning and empowerment opportunity for these structures. The only real problem is deciding how many of these challenges you can take on without being completely sidetracked from more direct healthcare activities.
I think that the water issues in Benin were different from those you’re experiencing. The health center in my village of Kalale (the largest center for a population of about 100,000, no real inpatient unit, no OR, mostly birthing/outpatient care) had a foot powered water pump. In 2005, the village finally built a water tower with 10 faucets throughout a village of 10,000 people. The faucets only functioned in the dry season, because water was otherwise fairly available through open wells and streams. People were only willing to pay the water fee when other sources were maybe a half mile or more from home.
The main struggle in Kalale was convincing people and government the importance of clean drinking water. Water-borne diseases -guinea worm, viral diarrhea, parasites -were prevalent, but no so dramatically that you could convince people to pay for clean pump water. Despite widely available water well treatment programs, convincing local governments to fund and adhere to such programs was difficult.
My most dramatic water experience actually occured on a trip to the Sahara in Niger, where we attended a nomadic herding festival of the Tuareg and Woodabe (Fulani) peoples called the cure salee. The festival took place near a single well. To get to water, a camel would pull the cord attached to a bucket at the base of well so deep that we couldn’t see it the water from the surface. By the time the bucket arrived at the surface, the camel had walked over 200 m from the well. To make matters worse, there was no system as to who got the water that came to the surface. A small fight would break out among the thirsty line of waiting people, spilling half the contents of the 20 L bucket that took 10 minutes to reach the surface. Despite being free, the water took on a new value, and I began wondering how much longer this area would be able to sustain the herds of these nomads.
With climate and environmental changes added to the continuing human population explosion, water issues will become increasingly prevalent throughout the world. Learning to deal with them now in a tranparent way that involves the community will only pay dividends in the future.
Hi Chin
I do have water experieance to share. Growing up we use to get water 1 hour in the morning and 1 hour in the evening in our own home. right from river. We would fill up about 8-10 buckets and some big pots and try to finish major laundry washing in that time. We were always careful about using water. Some times when water pressure is not good specially in summer we will go to ground floor to a shared tap to fill our buckets and carry them to second floor. And some times when everybody is trying to get water about 3-4 families from same place there would be arguments and verbal fights. Now thinking back I laugh about it but that time it was intense.
During the mansoon we use to collect rain water and clean it because some times river water would be very hazy and not clean.