No water

When I checked this afternoon, we still had no water. This the fourth day now, but fortunately the water came back two days ago, so that we had time to fill the water tower (which means that this time, I am not entirely without water - I can do the dishes without carrying buckets from elsewhere and do not have to invite myself over to others in order to take a shower). Unfortunately, the water tower had a leak which means that yesterday, it was only 1/3 full and today, there should be even less. You'd be amazed at how easily you take things for granted. You take for granted that there is clean water in your tap. You take for granted that you can take a shower as soon as you feel uncomfortably hot - even though you might not always do it, you treasure the possibility to do so. You take for granted that you can wash your dishes immediately after use - not having to choose between washing up with dirty water or not washing up at all. And you take for granted that you have enough water for the washing machine - not that it suddenly stops because there wasn't enough water, and you are left to dry dirty clothes. However, you'd also be surprised at how possible it is to live a different life, and not use so much water. Six years ago, I had one of the most amazing experiences of my life when I followed Aïssa on a week-long trip to the bush, where we stayed with her nomad Bororo family.

The camp consisting of one man, his two wives, a few of his twelve grown-up children (with his first wife) with their respective families and his younger children as well; civilization in the middle of the nowhere. The sun was scorching hot and from nine am to five pm, there was no activity other than socializing, drinking tea and moving the mats around the tree in order to stay in the shade. With such a long siesta-period, you don't need much sleep. We went to bed after midnight and got up at six o'clock, the best period of the day.

We rode camels, horses and donkeys during our stay. The horses were my favorite, but the American Peacecorps volunteer who was staying with the family at that time fell off and from then on, I rode alone. The landscape was the same and navigating was tricky, but I wasn't worried because I went riding before they had had their morning drink, and so when it was time to go back home, I just gave the young stallion free reins and he headed straight for the well.

The most amazing thing that I did during this timeless adventure did not have anything to with animals or riding, but with water. After a few days, you started to feel sticky all over. This was when Aïssa brought me a large empty bucket and a smaller one, containing one liter of water. With this one liter of water, I walked away in the dark and found a secluded place far away from camp to be alone but not so far that I wouldn't find my way back again. Then in the moonlight, I showered with that one liter of water, and I cannot describe what a luxury that felt like! Surprisingly, the water was amply sufficient and I even showered my hair! I have never felt, neither before nor after, any shower give me such sense of satisfaction, nor has one never made me feel so immensely clean! That episode really marked me, and nowadays, when I find myself in a tight water situation, I just remind myself that one liter is enough and if you're not comfortable, just lower your expectations and you'd be surprised at how satisfied you'll be!

Ishtar

Peaceful

Today, Aissa came over and stayed for dinner. Believe it or not, but we were having tomato soup again! It's Anette's favourite... Anyway, it was very nice to see Aissa again. She's my oldest childhood friend, we met in 1986.

She is currently working for the American Red Cross in the Tanout region (as a translator). We drove her home - actually it's her sister's house - and stayed for the siesta.

Anette and Sofia were keen to go with me and they enjoyed the visit, even though neither of them speak much French (Anette is picking it up, though!). It's a very peaceful thing to sit and talk in a Nigerien courtyard, surrounded by red brick walls and a deep blue sky.

They asked me about my mother and when I told them how things are going, they cried. She's being missed by many, but then again, she is a very special person. A mother to many.

They offered us mint tea and just watching Aissa's sister-in-law prepare it was a treat. It's such a ritual - I never get tired of it.

There are three servings of which the first one is the strongest. We drank two. Guess which ones my dear friends enjoyed the most...?

Anette behind the camera, as always!

Aissa's father (Daouda) was there and it was very nice to see him again. I have only seen him a few times since I stayed with them for a week in 2000. I asked him how the family was doing, and he told me that they were doing well (they are nomads, living in the bush) but that there was little fodder this year. He had lost a lot of cows last year, about forty, and only had twenty left.

Although I felt ill before we left, I'm happy we went there because it was a very nice afternoon. Though I worry about many things right now, you can't stress under the African sun and I needed the time-out. Just being there, sitting there, talking about all and nothing, laughing, crying, drinking tea and not thinking so much about life. Yes, I needed that.

Ishtar