Once, not too long ago, when I was sufficiently philanthropic and half-believed I could change the world, I invited neighbours to share in the celebration of a newly sunk water well. They would enjoy the service without having to worry about bills, for a month.
The pipes were laid. The tanks were full. And folks who had agonised about water all their lives, walking for miles and going up hills and down the valleys, now could access water by simply turning a tap.
I suspect it’s the soothing sound of water running, or a scarcity mentality that compels the hungry to eat as though they would never eat again, but the neighbours had a powerful compulsion to just let the water flow. Overnight, the tanks with a storage capacity of 40, 000 litres were drained.
And because the tanks had been drained so suddenly, there was airlock in the pipes that required some ukarabati to ensure water flowed again.
Alright, alright, I cleared my throat and delivered a clear message: Of the five neighbours, only one turned off his tap, after setting up his kitchen garden. Since the four neighbours had violated the trust bestowed upon them, they’d start paying for their water immediately.
Having issued this edict, the total metered consumption for the month for the four neighbours did not surpass ten units. Yes, the same group that cleared 40 units in one night!
This is a personal testament to politicians who think they can sway people’s minds with thirty pieces of silver. No, it never does, and never will.
