When you wake up, you brush your teeth, you fill your coffee or teapot, you shave, you wash your face, you push down that hair sticking up in the back of your head, you take a drink to rinse, you use the toilet, and maybe for some of you, you hock back and let out one of those really thick chunky damp loogies you’ve been saving in your sleep right in the smack dab middle of the sink.
After all of this is set and done, you turn on the shower and proceed to remove the grime off of your chest, back, arms, legs, and face from the day past.
It seems just like an average morning before school or work. Now what happens when the primary driver of your routine is removed? Meaning no water. Not a bucket, not a bowl, not a cup, not a handful, not a drop. You turn on your faucets and nothing comes out. Just air and a silent laughter.
This happened to me just the other day in Cricova. This is not to say that this is routine of the village but in the midst of just an average morning, I stumbled upon this inconvenience. For whatever reason, which has no real answer according to my host family, there was just no water. I realized coming here that differences, changes, and adaptations would be part of the gig that I signed up for.
After not being sure of what to do in my first five minutes of confusion, I realized I had filtered some water in my Brita filter a couple of days prior. There was about a liter so I knew I would have to spend it wisely. I picked it up and carried it into the bathroom. I placed it inside the bath with me. I removed the lid and filter and took a small handful to wet myself. One arm, one leg. Another handful: one arm, other leg. Another handful: chest. Final handful: back. Now wet I lathered up with my Dove bar. I then proceeded to use 1/3 of the water left to rinse off. I managed to get most of the soap. Next, I lathered my head with shampoo. Again, I thought to use another 1/3 of water on my head. However the process was extremely difficult to maneuver. Imagine.. being on all fours like a dog, shampoo running down your wet hair towards your eyes, while flexing your arm a foot above the back of your head to pour the water.
Result… the Brita filter emptied. You may be thinking, why was I in this position in the first place? Well, my goal was to not have the shampoo run back down my body. Clearly this was a poor decision. I ended up without water, a semi soapy body, and no water left for anything else.
I hopped out of the bath, took my towel, and covered it with the remainder of soap. I was feeling fresh, thankfully. From there, I brushed my teeth with a dry toothbrush and toothpaste, placed instant coffee grounds in my cannister without its natural companion, and headed to class.
In most cases there will be water. Just in case, I will always have a full Brita filter sitting next to the desk in my bedroom for when the Water Lords cut me off again.