Chapter 7: No Hay Agua

The next day I finally got to meet Ada, who took me back out to Apatuli to hand out backpacks and uniforms to the kids from Sonya’s project. My job was to shoot photos of all the kids in their new outfits and once everyone had had their picture taken we headed back into town.

Kids gathered around to get their uniforms and backpacks.

That same morning the water had run out at the house. Everyone else on the street had been out of water for several weeks already, but Christa’s house had a cistern which kept them going a little longer. With the introduction of the water hungry tourist it probably ran out faster than they had expected. Chaos ensued that day as kids and laundry both had to be taken down to the grandparents for washing. Water in four big rusty barrels had to be trucked up the hill in a rusty truck and transferred into four rusty barrels at the house. The people in the back of the truck got soaked as we rounded corners and bounced along the rocky road. The dog decided to take a dip in one of the barrels and had to be chased out. The whole situation was very “divertida” in the words of Christa.

That evening feeling covered in dust and sweat from my excursion to Apatule the only thing I could think about was when my next shower would take place. And in fact it took place that night with a bucket full of barrel water that I hoped came out of a different barrel than the one the dog had jumped into for a quick cool down earlier that day. We finished off the very diverting day with the bottle of Flor de Cana, (Nicargua's awesomest Rum) that I bought in my first week in Nicaragua. I shared the bottle with Christa and a friend of hers that was visiting from out of town. Christa very responsibly kept our glasses full of rum and coke until the bottle was empty and as my linguistic inhibitions were knocked down everyone had a grand time making fun of my spanish mistakes - some of which turned out to be very disastrous and thus all the more entertaining - it is amazing how many lude comments can flow out of you when you don't really know what you are saying.

The next day was supposed to be an excursion to el Canyon del Somoto, however for one reason or another we never got out the door – so I spent the day working and writing and wandering a bit in town. I endured the bucket shower for two more days before I succumbed to hitting up the local gringo hotel to see if they would let me pay to use their shower – but unfortunately they had no water either – that day the whole town had no water and no power until later in the evening. So I returned home hot and and dusty still craving that feeling that only fresh running water over head can bring.


Finally, the family broke down and called the bomberros (firemen) to come and fill the cistern. So by mid day the big red water wielding truck arrived outside the house and filled the cistern and every barrel and bucket they could. “Que Divertida” Christa said to me with a laugh as the firemen got to work.

The Bomberos de Somoto outside the house

Everyone running around filling buckets and pots and pans with the fire hose

I asked how long this water would last – and they assured me that I needn’t worry because it would certainly outlast my visit. (As it turned out it did run out again on the last day of my visit - much to their chagrin I’m sure, as it cost them a small fortune to fill it in the first place –though they didn’t say a word about it. I had definitely been a conservative water user after the first catastrophe – but I did feel a bit guilty for my role in the rundown of the cistern and I wondered if they would refill again or wait for the city to turn the water back on.)