Hello, everyone. As promised at the end of my “My Life and Times as a Nudist” post, here’s another story about my life as a Native.
One of my chores while living in the barrio with my oldest sister and her family was to fetch water. It was also one of my niece’s chores. So, every day, the two of us would go to the river to fetch water in the morning after we woke up and then again in the afternoon after school.
We carried large earthen pots over our heads to transport the water. I attribute this practice to be the cause for my stunted 5’ 1” height. Judging by the size of my feet, I should be 5’9” (I’ve always wanted to be this height.). Just think what I might be able to see over the fence that now goes unseen - or be able to reach at that height without having to ask someone to get it for me. Alas, the damage was done. Now, I can only imagine what life would be like at that height. I think I’ll sue my sister for child abuse. Perhaps my niece will join me in my lawsuit. After all, her growth was stunted, too.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. Anyhow, at the river, we’d pick a sandy area about twenty or so yards from the river and then we’d dig us a water well. We’d dig the dirt out until we hit water. We’d keep digging still until there was a sufficient level of water to be scooped out. The deeper the well, the more water there was to be had. Of course, the water would come out brown and dirty-looking at first. So, we’d keep scooping the water out, removing the fine sand and the brown water.
Eventually, the new water that would seep into the well would be crystal-clear. So, even if the water in the river was the color of milk chocolate after a heavy rain, the water from the well would eventually be crystal-clear. That, my friends, was our version of a water filtration system. Many times, there’d be wells made already; so, we didn’t have to dig a new one. We just had to remove the old, standing water from the existing one until newly filtered water filled the well again.
Each armed with a coconut bowl in one hand, my niece and I’d take turns scooping water into our own large earthen pots until they were full. To be a great water scooper, you have to follow the techniques of the natives. You have to scoop the water ever so slowly, trying not to stir up the fine sand at the bottom of the well. Otherwise, you end up with a sandy and cloudy pot-full of water, which is not the result you’re looking for.
Well, folks, that’s all for now. See ya’ll here next time to read more about my life as a Native.
Thank you for your time.
the vision this stirs up is exceptional.
ReplyDeleteHello Tasha,
ReplyDeleteThis is funny, yes, you'd better sue her, because I'll be suing someone else too....lol...How vivid your description was...I can just imagine you trying to scoop oh so slowly so the sediments from down under would not be disturbed, and your sweat mushrooming all over your face...lol....what a scene...TC, hugs,,,
Hi Sonya, perhaps you'll be able to paint the scene on your canvas. That would be challenge, eh?
ReplyDeleteThanks again for dropping by.
Tasha
Hi Jena, my tribe friend. You could see yourself in it too, eh? That life was hard but have lots of fond memories, nevertheless. My sister is like a second mother to me. Bless her big heart.
ReplyDeleteTasha
We have a farm in a mountainous part of a nearby farm. But the farm hands don't dig for potable water. They use bamboo poles to collect spring water from the rocks at the side of the mountain. But it's a drudgery just the same because their house is far from the spring. Miss drinking water from spring. Beats tap water in our town hands down.
ReplyDeleteHi Jan,
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting. In other provinces where I went to live after my 3-year stint at this particular barrio have springs. But this barrio is 3/4 encircled by a river. On the other side of the river are mammoth mountains where beautiful waterfalls and springs flow from their sides.
Just before I left, the barrio officials decided to transports water from one of the major springs on the other side. But it would be another year before work on the project would be
started.
Tasha
That is so cool. I wish we modern people would return to more of the native ways. My Grandma used to keep a wooden barrel under the downspout from her roof, and collect the rainwater. Back then acid rain and pollution was not a problem, and the water tasted pure and so good. She'd use it for cooking, drinking, and watering her garden and flowers. Fond memories.
ReplyDeleteThe Old Silly
No!!! I don't want to go back to that kind of lifestyle again, Marvin. It was hard work to do everything manually. LOL.
ReplyDeleteWe've done the downspout water collection also. It was in addition to fetching water from the river.
I take it that you're taking a breather from your 7K/day writing session. That sure is a lot of writing.
Tasha
a very sad life,hopes the incident does not recur in our children
ReplyDeleteHello TestiBrothers,
ReplyDeleteIt sure was a sad, hard life. But it probably had to happen so that I'd be more appreciative of the things that I have now. I think also that it made me a better and stronger person that I am today.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Tasha
hello Tasha,
ReplyDeleteI can't find Chapter 14? Where is it? Regards and TC> Jen