A drought in Georgia

I just filled up my Brita water filter. I wonder how much "cleaner" it actually gets. But even without putting it through the trendy carbon filter---we can still all drink it. It still tastes fine.
Just think, what if everytime you walked up to the kitchen sink you had to boil the water before using it.
then again, what if everytime you wanted water from your faucet, it wasn't there. As in, well, you didn't have a faucet. You had to hike 5-10 miles to get it. every time.

But today I'm not in the business of "what ifs" and "you should feel lucky you have the life you do." That has never really been my goal here.
really, it's just awareness. Compassion. Understanding. Perspective.

Women living in most of rural Africa have the "time" to walk miles for water---because, basically, along with child-rearing and gathering fuel, that's their job. My mom, driving thirty minutes, and working 8+ hours, and driving home again, there's no time for gathering water. But my mom's life isn't any Better. It isn't any less stressful. It's just different. Just like anywhere in the world. No matter the society, or economic system, moms, (and yes, dads too) will always have certain aspects of their life that they wish they didn't have to do: taxes, dog washing, car maintenance bills, putting food on the table, clothing their children, buying malaria medicine, paying for college...
who is to say whose life is more work.
it all depends on how you look at it.

As I hear the rain come pouring down in a loud rush, accompanied by thunder and flashes of light, I remember the geography lessons I taught at CAMS; heavy short-lived, intense rainfall doesn't necessarily help raise the water table. The water often times does not have time to infiltrate into the soil before washing away with the flow to the closest sewer down hill.
I think of people in this state who must hear the rain and think, "good, soon I'll be able to fill up my in-ground pool." Or, "now I won't feel bad about watering my lawn twice a day." (yeah right, as if they ever really felt "bad").
wow. People have known for months about our drought--and yet they also know that somehow whenever they want to flush their toilet or wash their dishes...the water will be there. This is America! hmmm...
A friend at work is proud that he showers twice a day. Proud? what? guess he's somehow cleaner than me.
but why? who cares?
he is aware of the drought--but just doesn't change his habits. doesn't feel that the drought warning affects him.
But this isn't a personal attack on Georgians who take long or lots of showers.
But perhaps it is a reason for me to retract my statement about awareness.
Americans are aware of a lot of things in the world outside. We watch the news, (but don't get me started on US media "coverage" on international events), we watch based-on a true story movies, documentaries, in-depth articles, see heart-wrenching photos. And we are affected. Our mind, the way we think or feel changes. We have simpathy, sadness, even anger perhaps.
but only for those minutes, that hour, or that day.
It is so easy to just, well...forget.
No. no. Not forget. That's the wrong word. You forget phone numbers or doctor's appointments or milk at the grocery store. You don't forget the face of tiny orphan, or a cloudy well lined with frogs and salamanders. You don't forget the child with HIV who monthly travels alone to town to receive her ARV shot. You don't forget that hundreds and thousands are dying in Sudan, or that over a thousand have died in Kenya because two politicians disagree.

But it is easy to look away. It is easy to just get up in the morning, eat breakfast, brush your teeth, go to work, come home, read or watch tv, say your prayers, go to sleep, wake up again. And not once thinking of the orphans, or the beaten down, or the corruption or the hunger.

And here I am. Here I am.
I was in Tanzania for over a year. I lived and worked there and daily existed in a world that is easily ignored. Not intentionally, not with any negativity, just, "out of sight, out of mind."
And I have to admit that in my three months being home from Tanzania I have too often had days go by where I didn't think of, pray for, or talk about my love, my concern, my friends, my time, my work in Dodoma, Tanzania. It is hard to admit. It is hard to admit that as I lay in bed for two days with the flu I felt so miserable--and yet I knew, without a doubt, I'd be okay. I had a clean bed, running water, medicine, food, blankets...parents.
So many people in this world get sick--with no guarantee that there is someone to care for them, that there is a cure, or the time, or the luxury--to be sick.

It's a luxury to be sick. To take a day off. To just lay there and do nothing.
It's a luxury to turn down food, to say "no thanks" when someone offers you something to eat or drink.

just think. How powerful that is. How lucky we are to be able to say, "no thanks" to food. To have our water glasses at a restaurant filled and re-filled--never even let to fall below halfway full, (or is it half empty?).

But like I said before, I'm not here to make you feel like you should appreciate your life more. I'm not here to say, "hey, everytime you shower just think of how many villagers could end their life long thirst with the gallons you just used."

no. I am just writing because at this point, tonight, it's all I can do. I've been feeling drained, dried out, and in need of a reminder of the people I've met and the work I want to continue to do.

And I think of my friends on the other side of the world, who will soon be waking up. They will pile into a Land cruiser, drive over an hour to arrive at a small, mud-brick church. With two boxes, a large bag, and huge, tired smiles, they will bring a glimmer of hope to a few kids who need a uniform and some shoes so they can go to school.