I have recently spent two and a half weeks back at home in Sunny Cornwall. Sunny it wasn’t but fantastic it was to be back with my family again. It was four months since I last saw them and that was far too long.
It was nice as well, to have such little luxuries as water that came out of the taps (it tasted like crap admittedly) but it was always there, electricity that did not go off when it rained. I used to creep downstairs in the middle of the night just to check. But sure enough it was still working.
I am now back in Africa and getting settled into the routine of things.
I say routine but to be honest the only routine that there is, is that it gets dark in the evening and light in the morning and as far as I know that has not gone wrong for some considerable time. But don’t bank on it.
Now as you may know if you have been following my antics that I always seem to be having a few issues with water where I stay, and after a major overhaul of the entire system, it seemed that it was just about sorted out. Apart from just a few leeks (4 to be exact) between the main 10,000 litre tank and the Bar (the furthest point where there is water) These leeks have been turning the ground around them into a perfect swamp the ideal breeding ground for my favourite insect, mosquitoes. They also have the added disadvantage of being able to empty the main tank in about an hour (the leaks not the mosquitoes) when there is a power cut, which just goes to show that they are fairly substantial leeks.
Shortly after I got back from the UK the plumber came around to have a go at fixing the leaks and to finesse the water system as the automatic ball valve had stopped working and the staff were having to turn the water on and off manually.
This plumber is a lovely guy, friendly smiley face and ever so helpful. Unfortunately he is to plumbing what Genghis Khan was to babysitting. And the only reason that he has such a lovely smiley face is that if he didn’t he would have had it punched in months ago.
Anyway whilst he was round we had the inevitable power cut that went on for about twelve hours,(I am sure that it was not the plumbers fault, but I bet if he was not there it would not have happened. He’s just lucky like that) when it did come on it unfortunately only came back on one phase. Now our borehole pump is a three phase one and does not take kindly to being asked to work on one third power, so it objected in the strongest possible manner and curled up its toes and died. So again we were with no water. So it was down to the dam twice a day to bathe and wash in the somewhat murky waters that I shared with the Leguvaans (big lizards about 1- 1.5m long that eat most things but tend to disappear when you approach) fish, frogs, snakes, numerous species of water birds and a few snakes, then there is the leaches,, eels insects and billhazia carrying snails that frequent the shallows too. Add to this the fact that there is a crocodile farm just across the valley and you never know when they may have had a break out. So as you can see a bathe in the dam while sounding vey romantic, the novelty can wear off quite quickly. But as there was no immediate alternative, it did the job.
Fortunately within a couple of days a brand spanking new shiny borehole pump arrived, and the plumber fitted it. Water was returned to Kalima Camp, and all was well again on the water side of things. (even though he still had not fixed the leeks.)
Or so we thought.
Now our water tower is a concrete block built structure some twenty feet tall, this is then topped by a ten to fifteen foot tall steel structure that carries the 10,000 litre water tank. This gives a very good head of water and wonderful pressure – normally.
It’s difficult to know just where to start and I don’t want to attribute any blame or speculate on whose fault it was. But that bloody plumber.
I mentioned the nice new borehole pump? The one the plumber fitted?
Well he decided that the best place to fit it would be at the bottom of the borehole, by that I don’t mean a meter or two from the bottom but right at the bottom. In the sand and silt.
So while the pump struggled to pump mud and silt up forty feet to the water tank, once there, in the tank it settled, and as I am the only resident at the camp currently, I was not pulling off very much. So the tank managed to fill to within about one foot of the top, before it gave up.
Now I don’t know what 10,000 litres of wet sand weighs, but obviously more than just water, as it was at this stage that the entire water tower decided that it too had, had enough of the plumber and threw itself mercilessly to the ground with such force it could be felt in Haiti. As you can probably imagine the mess and devastation were tremendous, and it was obvious that this was not going to be a quick fix but would take a good couple of weeks to put this right. Luckily I have a good selection of friend who have invited me around for baths and showers so I am not having to resort to the dam too much.
The plumber has not been seen or heard of since, and he was not as many suspected under the collapsed water tower. But don’t worry I am not looking for him. And if I ever do bump into him I wonder if he will still be wearing that happy smiley expression.
Not for long.
Denzil Bark
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