Water is Life

Former missioner Madeleine Richey is returning to Nkokonjeru, Uganda, where she served for a semester in 2014. While there for ten days she is building a protected spring well with the help of her community in Fort Wayne, and her Ugandan family. Madeleine is no longer working for CARITAS For Children, but is working in partnership with them to share stories from Uganda.

 

In many places of the world there is a saying that goes something like this: water is life. Uganda is no exception.

Clean water is a necessity. It is a basic human right to which many lack access. In Uganda children march long distances with yellow jerry cans clutched in their small hands or balanced on their heads, gathering water from dirty streams, only to then lug them all the way home. Sometimes they do this instead of going to school. Dirty water can make them ill, and if they are enrolled in school, they are then absent. Can you imagine not having clean water to give your child?

When I decided that I was finally going back to Uganda, I knew I had to work. Uganda is not a place you vacation. You live and work beside these people, forging friendships that will last a lifetime, and building relationships that are far bigger than just the two of you. You cannot swoop in and "save the day," as we often try to do. You have to work beside them, with them, so that solutions will continue even when you leave for home. All of this seems simple enough, but it is not always easy. We want to accomplish as much as we can in the little time we are given: the biggest, best solution to even the smallest problem. But that's not the Ugandan way. That is our way.

Knowing that I had to work was one thing, but what to do was another. Last time I worked for CARITAS for Children as a Field Operations Intern/Volunteer, but now I work as a communications specialist in Fort Wayne. I love what I do, because most of my job centers around people and telling stories, and telling the stories I encounter in Africa in something I have always wanted to do-and will do when I am there. But it is not enough.

My friend Joseph knows so many things, and I asked him what I could do-what could I accomplish in 10 short days that would benefit the people in Nkokonjeru? What did they want? And Joseph asked for a well.

A protected spring well takes an already present water source, you dig it out, create a natural filter with gravel, and build it up, including an outlet pipe for the collection of water. This keeps trash and other pollutants from contaminating the water, and keeps livestock from drinking from the same water source as people. Unlike the big drilled wells we often hear about, these are small. The people in Nkokonjeru possess the know-how to build, use, and maintain them, whereas bigger wells are apt to fall into disrepair for lack of resources to keep them going. The cost, though not terrible for us, is high for them, and it takes time and effort to coordinate the construction of even this small well

I've never built a protected spring well. I wouldn't even know how to dig the most basic well without the earth caving in once I dug farther than a few feet. I had hoped he'd say something like "paint classrooms," which is simple and easy, but he asked for a well. What was I supposed to say? "Clean water is important, but I don't really want to learn to dig a well, so no."? So I said "yes," and we're going to build a well.

I say "we," because though I'm flying to Uganda alone, Joseph and the rest of my Ugandan family are there and they will help. I say "we" because I'm not paying for this well-my friends and family are. They donated money, every last cent needed to buy materials, pay for skilled labor (the help of someone who does know how we are actually going to build this well), and help in excavating the area. All I have to pay are my own expenses. I'm going to Uganda, but we are building a well.

hbspt.cta._relativeUrls=true;hbspt.cta.load(430375, '8361eadd-7adb-4a22-9379-296260f638a5', {});