Every once in a while you see something that makes you think. In my case it’s usually The West Wing, but every once in a while something else creeps in and unpresses the pause button.
It was a mountain that did it for me last. A mountain rising up away from me, with rocks like razors and bare-footed teenage girls striding off up towards the summit ahead of me.
I was trying to follow them. The girls were doing their twice-daily trek up the mountain with their bright yellow 20 litre jerrycans filled up and balanced on their heads. Mine, well, it wasn’t doing so well with the balancing. And as for anything else about it, all I can tell you is that twenty litres of water works out at twenty kilos; five kilos heavier than the suitcase I’d packed for this two week trip out to rural Uganda.
I was out here with a Tearfund team to make a film about water and sanitation. Sounds dull? Perhaps, but the reality was anything but. We found out that for the 900 million living without access to clean water, or the 2.5 billion living without decent sanitation, water really is life, and without enough of it, death is often close behind.
But back to the mountain. There I was, struggling under the weight when it struck me: us Christians are big fans of creation metaphors. We take shelter under God’s wings, we want to catch the fire and have God’s blessings rain down upon us. And we know that we’re not supposed to want to spend too much time up there on the top of the mountain. We’re not meant to crave a life made up of solely of mountaintop experiences, of spiritual highs, but to learn to value, respect and learn from the times when our lives feel as though they are being lived down in the valleys.
Sweating, in pain and a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the task, this last metaphor bedded down in my mind. Somehow, the words just didn’t seem to fit. Yes, life up at the top where the village was located was pretty good - with the views and the homes, the crops and the church and the school. And yes, one and a half kilometres down, the valley was a dark and dangerous place. And I cannot for the life of me see why anyone would want to be down there.
It is unhygienic. There are animals fouling the mud around the protected spring. It is unruly, with the laws of muscle and attitude determining who among the children gets to fill up their tank first. It is unsafe, with everyone in the village above hearing stories of children getting beaten and girls getting raped.
Why do they do it? Why do they keep on going there? The valley exerts a powerful magnetic pull on people like Stidia, aged 13. She’s spent all her life trailing up and down this mountain, twice a day to collect water. At first it was on her mother’s back. Then her own feet carried her. As soon as she was able she carried 5 litre plastic jerrycans, then 10 litre ones. As soon as she hit 12 she was responsible for making the trip on her own, lugging a 20 litre can back up the hill.
The metaphor doesn’t work. There is nothing good about this journey. Each step that takes me back up to the top is a relief.
Stidia knows that sense of relief. This happens to be one of her last journeys to fetch water. Thanks to her parent’s sacrifice, the ingenuity of local women builders, the incredible support and service of the local church and the expertise and commitment of the local Tearfund partner, Stidia’s family are having a rainwater collection tank build next to their home.
Soon she’ll have more water to cook, clean, wash, farm and do her laundry with. Her school attendance will increase and her fears will fall back as her potential finally get’s unchained from the daily treks up and down the mountain.
As for me, I’m just happy to have made it up in one piece.
Craig is a legend. He's a writer of many books, sometimes does stuff for Tearfund and is the reason the Soul Survivor Magazine exists (he created the first one)!