World Water Day

by Rachel Dunstan Muller

It’s funny how certain stories can take up residence inside your head. That’s exactly what happened when I read about a woman named Aylito Binayo last year in a special water issue of National Geographic. Her story is still with me 12 months later, still challenging me almost every time I turn on a tap.

Aylito and I are both mothers of young children, but beyond this we have almost nothing in common. I have 17 years of education. Aylito left school when she was eight. I live in a comfortable house with all the modern amenities. Aylito and her family live in a mud-walled hut with an outdoor latrine. I drink tea from Japan, eat chocolate from Central America, and can get strawberries in any season. Aylito grows or raises everything on her family’s simple menu. But for all these differences, it’s access to water that really separates our lives.

Until I read Aylito’s story, I rarely gave water any thought. There are nine taps in or around my family’s home, and we pay less than one per cent of our income for the clear, drinkable water that flows from each one of them. What was there to think about?

For Aylito, water is everything. Bringing home enough of it consumes her days. Aylito’s village is built on a mountainside for various practical reasons, but the nearest water is in the valley below. She makes her first trip down the mountain at four in the morning, descending barefoot by starlight. The trail is steep and slippery in places, and it takes her close to an hour to reach the river. The scene that meets her is not uplifting. During the dry season the river shrinks to a series of muddy pools. Since animals drink from the river too, the banks are littered with manure. Depending on the season and how many other people are there, it can take Aylito up to an hour to fill her six-gallon jerry can with dirty water. When she’s done she secures the now-50-pound container to her back, and starts up the steep mountain. Her family depends on her to repeat this arduous journey three times a day, every day.

I’m not sure why this particular story impacted me so strongly. Maybe it was the timing of the article—I was already trying to reduce my consumption in a number of areas when I read it.  Maybe I simply relate to another mother of young children. Whatever the reasons, I haven’t been able to get the image of Aylito hauling dirty water up a mountain out of my mind. I used to take water for granted. Now I am consciously grateful for it every time I turn on a faucet. This new appreciation has inspired me to make a number of changes in my behaviour, and some further changes to our plumbing. Along with installing low-flow aerators, a high-efficiency shower head and low flush toilets, my husband recently reduced the overall water pressure to our home by adjusting our pressure reducing valve. We went from 75 to 50 psi, which still keeps us in the normal range. As an added benefit, the decreased pressure is kinder to our plumbing. It takes a little longer to fill the washing machine now—or even my tea kettle—but next to Aylito’s experience how could I possibly complain?

I know there are cynics who will dismiss our efforts. After all, there is no direct connection between the amount of water we consume on Vancouver Island, and how much water is available on the other side of the world. But we do have our own water issues, even here on the “wet” coast. Because it’s so cheap and flows so freely, most of us see fresh water as an unlimited resource. It’s not. The water sources for many Island communities are already under strain, and it’s going to get significantly worse as our population expands and our summers get drier. We’re going to have to adjust our attitude toward this precious resource in the very near future.

Aylito’s story was the catalyst for my own attitude shift, and it may have a happy ending. At the time the National Geographic article was published, a motorized pump was being built to carry water from a 400-foot well to a reservoir high on Aylito’s mountain. If everything went as planned, there should be two community taps in her village now, making safe water accessible just three minutes from her door. Aylito’s life will be transformed if this is the case. She will have eight more hours to grow food, raise animals, perhaps even start a small business.

As I re-read Aylito’s story in order to write this piece, I realized that I could make a connection between my family’s conservation efforts here, and improved water access in the developing world. Our water is metered; we have to pay an additional amount per gallon when we consume more than 12,000 gallons in a two-month period. A year ago we regularly exceeded this base amount and had to pay extra. Thanks to our water-saving measures, this is no longer the case. Re-inspired by Aylito’s story, we’re now diverting the money we save to WaterAid, the organization responsible for bringing water to Aylito’s village. The extra money that was literally going down our drains can now help provide clean water where it’s most needed. Our monthly donation is small, but small amounts can go a long way in poor countries. After reading about WaterAid in National Geographic and navigating through their website, I’m convinced the money will be in excellent hands.

March 22 is World Water Day. If you’re interested in water issues near or far, there are a number of good websites you can visit. For local information try www.vancouverislandwaterwatchcoalition.ca. For a more global perspective, check out www.blueplanetproject.net. To find out more about the work WaterAid does, go to www.wateraid.org. And for the complete article featuring Aylito Binayo, search for “Burden of Thirst” at www.ngm.com.

Rachel Dunstan Muller is the mother of five, and a children’s author.