I want my water back. (14 September)

Globally, in large, conflict is fueled by issues of religion and natural resources… especially water. Admittedly no expert… It’s just what I’ve read. And there’s always two sides of the story. Commencing day 5 without running water. I’m not sure why… neither is anyone else in the house. Doesn’t it seem like a logical question for which to seek out the answer? Especially after 5 days, right? How can something so copious on Earth be in short supply at the tap? Crisis will be diverted as the shops maintain a supply of bottled H2O. Nevertheless, the inconvenience of it is mounting. Now there’s no plans to induce harm to ones with the water just to do the dishes or wash my clothes (neither of which I have any clean remaining, luckily it’s Sunday), but it gives a slight perspective of how desperation can stimulate desperate measures… induce health concerns, provoke hunger and spur conflict. Prez GW established ‘weapons of mass destruction’ into what seems to be our near-daily vocabulary. They’ve gone beyond buzz words. However, the weapons that you and I equate with this neo-lingo, are off the radar for many around the world. It’s poverty. It’s hunger. These perhaps are the real weapons of mass destruction. For now it seems impossible to alleviate poverty or eliminate hunger without access to clean water. It’s key.

Tjeerd, Sanne, and I motored down to the coast today. How easy it is to forget the sea when living in Bajawa surround by the green slopes. Nevertheless, merely 10 minutes out of town after making the turn down the road to Aimere (the closest port town) there it is. Sprawling out below. Placid. The distinction between sea and sky difficult, if not impossible. The road zigs across the hills for nearly an hour. Back and forth. Back and forth. Banana trees drape across the road, mountains loom not far off. Pantless kids play roadside. The coast always in site. Back and forth. Back and forth.

We’re visiting a film crew. An American guy fell in love with the people and tradition in one of the villages several years ago. Now he’s brought his posse to make a movie. A docu-drama. The collision of fiction and non-fiction. It all sounds confusing to hear them explain it, but in short it’s a love story (fictional) and implementation of a solar-power water-system (documentary). Perhaps one of those flicks that you have to watch to understand.

It’s easy to see the draw of the village… while getting there was not so easy. I was immensely happy to be back riding with Tjeerd, as my motorcycling skills aren’t quite tuned for the twisty, steep, dirt ‘road’. The village is traditional. Bamboo ‘houses’ with thatch roofs display the native animist family structures for man and woman, situated in the typical clan horse-shoe shape. Sandwiched between the volcano Inerie and the sea. High enough on the slopes for spectacular views above the bountiful, tropical fruit trees (banana, mango, avocado, coconut) to the ceaseless turquoise sea not far below. The villagers and I have something in common… no running water. But their getting it and hopefully mine will return soon.

It’s fantastic that they’ll have access to water. H2O is pivotal to development… and to achieving measurable result in this ‘International Year of Sanitation’. Nevertheless, the film and crew introduce elements of globalization that are perhaps less thrilling. No doubt development projects in general have a long history of south meets north. But I like to hope (oh so optimistically) that modern day development workers are a bit less like ‘colonial terrorist’ (thanks Indigo Girls) and not quite so in-your-face. Perhaps even repenting for the sins of our forefathers and mothers. Helping to alleviate years of induced harm that still lingers in the developing world. But back to the movie-makers… Not to say they haven’t done their homework. They have. And the plans are to make the system sustainable and non-intrusive. Great. However, the punk-rock concert for the final filming perhaps offers a bit more of a cultural collision. I’m torn… not ready to stand up with a hip-hip-hooray nor will I chastise. What I will do is continue to try my tap every 5 minutes, and be happy when the water flows. As I am sure the villagers will do as well.

Sandwiches (8 September)

Perhaps the best sandwich in the history of sandwiches.

Admittedly, I’m not much of a sandwich eater… a fan of all it’s parts individually but in the collective state would rather disassemble to consume. Honestly, not even in elementary school would you find a sandwich in my packed lunches. No bologna. No PB&J. No chicken salad. Nothing hidden between two slices of bread. Except perhaps for the rare mustard and potato chip sandwich. And I am a Subway fan but that’s a sub not a sandwich. Nevertheless this masterpiece was delightful. Absolutely delightful. Crafted by my very own two hands.

Perhaps it was the satisfaction of the first veggies harvested from my ‘garden’ (postage stamp size… how I dream of having a bountiful spread). Perhaps it was the lavish treat of incredibly ultra processed, no-need-to-refrigerate, comes in a box ‘cheese’ and vacuum packed, whole grainy goodness, similar to cardboard ‘bread’. Or the grey pupon mustard from my Balinese grocery shopping trip.

No. I believe in this case, it was the assemblage. Each ingredient enriching the flavor of the previous layer. Full and fresh and delicious.

Or maybe it just wasn’t rice??