¡No Hay Aqua!

Life here is getting just a little bit intolerable.

For a significant portion of the last several days, the city of León has been entirely without water. Everybody´s talking about it and nobody has it.

Indeed, as the headlines on the newspaper blare, this is a reality for most of Nicaragua. As much as half the population has been left without potable water. The electricity has frequently been out too, with various barrios crippled during different times of the day. In Managua, frustrated residents in the capital lit bonfires to protest the energy failures.

All this has very practical implications: For much of the day, we have no drinking water. We have no water for showering. None for washing dishes. Or the laundry. Or for cooking. And no water for flushing the toilet. This is getting gross.

This leads, of course, to tensions and frustrations both within households and communities. It is still hot here each day, and not being allowed to shower after a long day feels like a sweaty punishment.

Last night I had to run out to the store to buy a gallon of bottled water (and I hate bottled water) so we could have some to wash the vegetables and boil the rice and pawns for my birthday paella.

Worse still, the newspapers state that because the state power company and the workers failed to reach an agreement, and because the demand for power is so high, the shut-down might continue until the end of the year. Unable to cook, shower, brush, and flush, most everyone is fed up.

Sure, there are several strategies families employ to alleviate the effects of the water cuts. Ubiquitous in ever Nicaraguan home is pila, which is basically a multi-purpose sink for washing, divided into three basins, one of which can left filled with water when it does indeed flow. Families also fill large covered barrels with water, scooping them out by the bucket when needed. But none of this can alter the fundamental inconvenience, the failure of the state to provide basic services for its citizens.

I write all this not only to talk about the daily features of the life we live here, but also to mention the wider social and ecological implications. Though it may look like only a short cut, these are in fact the symptoms of a crisis.

And it strikes me that the exploitation of natural resources will not appear in a bang or any type of sudden shift. They will not suddenly explode in our face like a volcano or an earthquake, forcing us to pay attention. The changes will be more gradual, and therefore easier to ignore. It will be a series of small but mounting frustrations, inconveniences, and hardships that must be borne each day. Over time, each day, each summer, each year, the inconveniences will become slightly worse, the quality of life will slide down a notch.

It´s needing to shower and not being able to. It´s having to cook in the dark. It´s an hour long traffic jam on the way home because the roads are bad, the volume of automobiles too heavy. All of this places daily hardships on individuals, but also serves to reduce the flow of commerce, endangers health, encourages crime, and forces the consumption of scarce natural resources. For the poorest people in society, the problems are greatest, as the rich will maintain the ability to insulate themselves from these problems.

We ignore these symptoms at our own peril. These reoccurring shortages underscore the urgent need to develop sustainable solutions for energy needs, ones that are affordable and appropriate for developing countries. Devising and implementing solutions, done at the local level whenever possible, is the main challenge that we face.