A few days earlier, prior to this shower incident, we had been pretty lucky. We had running water almost every day for about 3 weeks, and even started to take it for granted. For those of you who have never lived in a place where running water is unreliable, you can't possibly know the feeling of anticipation every time you turn a faucet to check for water. Unfortunately, these days we've been in a dry spell of sorts - it's been excessively hot with no rain in sight, and it's affected our water situation a great deal. Sometimes, we can go a few days without water. Luckily, we have a small tank outside of our house that has been filled up in anticipation for times like this, but with 4 girls living in a house, water can become scarce quickly, despite the reserve.
When I lived in Uganda, I had wrote a post questioning our idea of luxury. In this post, I made a list of things that we so often take for granted in North America. It's funny how quickly we can adjust to our surroundings. At the time of that post, we had not had water for 9 days. Here, 3 days without water results in a slight panic attack, and leaves me wondering how our house in Uganda managed without water for the time that it did.
So, like I said earlier, some days are harder than others. Some days you come home to find strange men on your compound, building bricks, without your knowledge or approval. Some days you want to lash out at everyone in sight because you are tired of the incessant stares and mutterings about the "muzungu" (Swahili for a white person, foreigner, etc.). Some days you want to cry because you have had a child throw a rock at you. Some days you just want to go home because you don't feel like you belong.
As painful and frustrating as some of these experiences living here have been, there are some days that are easier than others too. Every day I am taken aback by the beauty of nature around me; the hills, the trees, the sky. Other days, I am greeted, "Good Morning!" (without malice) by a group or children, or some man helps me flag down a moto. Or, more recently, I am gifted cassava by my guard that he's grown from his land. These are the good days. These are the days that cancel out those other, not so welcoming, not so enjoyable, days. These are the days that make living here worthwhile.
I know my dreams of "fitting in" and being welcomed into a completely different culture are lofty, but I feel strongly that a place does exist where I would be accepted, despite the color of my skin or my ethnicity. In America, the struggle for equality was a long and drawn out one, but as much progress as we have made as a country, I wonder if we are just better at hiding our thoughts and opinions about "the other," whoever they may be.
There are too many barriers that keep people from accepting each other, whether it be race, gender, or status. We can fool ourselves and say that those things don't exist, that those things don't matter to us, but unfortunately, for many, they do. We've lived so long under these perceptions and stereotypes of people that we haven't even met, or haven't tried to know, that we don't know what to do when we encounter these situations. As cliche as it sounds, I want to see these barriers broken. I want to see people working together, hand in hand, despite their differences, for a common goal, for a common purpose, for the common good. Perhaps then, and only then, will we be able to see change happen the way that we've always envisioned it.
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