Latest update January 11th, 2025 1:24 AM
Sep 18, 2010 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom
Once a habit has been drilled into you, it returns almost automatically when you return to the setting where it took root. This was very much the case on the first night of my return to Guyana.
The journey to the airport was tedious. The roads were fine but the drive took a long time. After the long flight, I was too spent to stay up and chat, which was a disappointment to the household that must have spent all day cooking the delicacies that they laid out on the table.
It was a royal feast. Duck curry, mutton curry, chicken curry, stew goat, cook-up rice, fried rice, chowmein and a variety of side dishes too numerous to mention. They all looked apostatizing but despite being hungry the tiredness of the long journey dictated that I should hit the sack.
When I awoke it was morning, a new day. I was surprised at how deeply I had slept and how rejuvenated. I immediately jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
I saw what I wanted, an empty bucket nearby and picked it up. Without missing a beat, I headed for the standpipe at the back of the yard. I was back at home and knew that when you wanted to shower, you first needed to fetch the water.
A voice halted me in my tracks just as I was about to place the bucket under the standpipe. “ No need for that; you don’t have to fetch water anymore. We are having water upstairs!”
I looked around. The standpipe seemed in the same condition. It stood over a large elevated slab of concrete. In the middle was a hole about four inches by four inches covered with a metal sieve. Through this hole the waste water ran to a drain at the back of the yard and emptied into main sideline trench.
The top of the slab was rough, almost as if sheeted with pimples. It was bone dry from disuse.
I turned around slowly and faced the voice which said, “Dem days of fetching water finish. We having water right upstairs now.”
I was glad to see that progress has come to my area. This was good news. I looked around and saw that the water line ran all the way to the upper storey.
I was given a tour of the improvements, shown how a tap was now installed over the kitchen sink and how clear was the water that flowed through the pipe and shown the lavatory cistern which now had water, fresh, clean water, ready for a flush.
“You don’t have to wipe alone anymore; there is water now in the bathroom, you can wipe and then wash and wash again,” the voice boasted.
I decided that perhaps it was time that I did my usual morning cleaning and asked to be excused. I made a U turn and headed for the washroom, did what I had to do and then realized that despite all the elaborate preparations that were made for me, little attention was paid to replenishing the toilet paper in the washroom.
I did not bother since I knew that now I could wash after I had wiped and since the washing would take care of things there was no need to wipe, if the paper was not there.
As I headed off for the bathroom, I felt like an old Victorian. I stepped in and turned the tap on. A gushing sound, then a choking sound came out. But no water came.
I looked around to see whether there were any other knobs that needed to be turned on so that I could wash. There was none. I played around again with the tap, hoping that it would work this time. It did not.
I shouted out for help. The voice returned. “You cannot bathe now.
Blackout just hit. The pump station can’t wuk when they have blackout. You have to wait until the power comeback on and pressure build up before you bathe.”
The power did not return until the next day.
However, I was able to eventually wipe, flush and then wash…thanks to the good old standpipe.
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