Who Deserves to Roll the Boulder?

Sunlight beamed down through the atmosphere finding its resting place within the hills of Kanungu. Still in awe with the beauty of this place I can’t help but stare at the beauty of the land before I stumble down to meet a steaming cup of coffee and friendly banter. We had no running water this morning which meant no showers, no hand washing, or even flushing toilets. Earlier in the week the power went out for nearly the entire day. Here the power comes off and on as it pleases. It’s funny to me how much everything in the U.S. comes to a standstill after a mere day of no power. The might of the developed world rests on pillars of electrical wire.

I woke up and dragged my tired body down the steps to our hang out area like a sloppy drunkard and plopped down next to Kelvin. We quickly slid into the usual early morning conversation. Soon afterward, however, when it had come to Sue’s attention that the water was still out, she made us do something about it. The workers at the inn supplied us with jerry cans and showed us the way to the nearest water source. The walk there, I’ll admit, wasn’t all that tiresome. To my embarrassment the inn workers grabbed most of the jerry cans that we had been ordered to carry. People here have a close relationship to strenuous work- the sort of work that would have many of us back home quitting before the first paycheck. It’s difficult to understand the nuances of a culture in such a short period of time. Dare I say, it’s impossible.

We arrived at a supple little spring off the road and past some homes, down a short, but steep, dirt trail. To my left I saw a lazy cow grazing on some grass. To my right were the shy faces of children dressed in rags, giggling and waving, and saying “muzungu”. Muzungu was the first word I learned here- it means “traveling white person”. All the while Ian buzzed around sneaking embarrassing photos any chance he got. The mood was comfortable, but most of all, it was friendly.

The water dribbled out at a rate of about one can per five minutes. At least it seemed that way. We were all eager to get our cans and move on rather than stay and then leave together. But perhaps it’s my personal value judgement that we ought to move that way. Regardless, we did not all leave together. I hear the hike back up the hill with a full can of water is tiresome, but one of the workers carried my water before I realized it. I was too busy talking to notice.

At least I got the struggle of walking on the way back. And boy was it hard. The distance from the spring to the inn was not even that long- about a five minute walk without a weight to carry. And yet I fidgeted the whole time trying to figure out how to distribute the weight in such a way as to not tire myself out. We finally got back and set the water down, and the workers went in the back to use it as they would. Later in the day, however, I began thinking about the fact that people carry water like that every single day. Sometimes the spring is kilometers away. Sometimes it is all the way down the mountain. Sometimes the springs are so far away that people use sitting water from ponds instead. Often the water is boiled for purification, but in many cases it is not. Disease, malnutrition, and exhaustive labor are the names of the game around here for many people every single day. I don’t know how they handle it, but they do. They even smile a genuine smile for us muzungus who have usually never dipped their toes into that kind of lifestyle.

Why is it them and not us? What have I done to deserve the fortune of my life in the first world? I recall the Ancient Greek myth of Sisyphus carrying a boulder up the hill just to have it roll every time it reached the top. People focus on the pointlessness of his endeavor, but I tend to focus on the struggle. The exhaustion that we all endure our whole lives is for what, exactly? Even in the U.S. we suffer and struggle, and in the end the rock rolls back down the hill just the same. How can one struggle so much and remain optimistic and thankful for even the smallest good things in their lives? I don’t know, but maybe I have a thing or two to learn before my own boulder comes rolling down for the last time. I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.

Ilish carrying a Jerrycan and a Smile.