I’ve been accosted for all manner of personal items on my travels. Life as a foreigner in most developing countries necessarily involves both subtle & fierce attempts on the part of locals to redress global disparity through small-scale wealth transferrence from you –> them. But today was first time someone asked me for water.
Generally, propositioners stick to platinum-level items:
#1 money, money, and, well, more money
#2 camera, phone, gadgets
#3 jewelry, watches…. shiny things.
5 minutes ago, in the sweltering, humid, pre-monsoon heat, a desperate lady w 4 kids in tow begged me: “Ma’am, give me your water.”
I was taken-back. In all the…25(?) countries I’ve visited, why has no one previously asked me for water? My immediate reaction was that hers was a reasonable request. While my bleeding naive heart remains demisingly pre-disposed to dispensing funds, India has,(un)fortunately, re-inforced a shameful ability to walk past even the most destitute beggar. There are just too many in need. What’s more, brandishing even a few rupees from the purse-string guarantees you a throng of grasping, expectant followers.
Without thinking, I transferred it to her hand, and quickly escaped (almost sprinting) down the backstreet. It was the right thing to do, but not only am I now suffering from thirst, am second-guessing this rash decision as I anticipate grand exit from internet cafe — involving crowd of even more persistent and encouraged contenders.
I’m also sitting here perplexed as to why no one has asked me for water before. Perhaps the street smarts of slum-dwellers are so refined, they’re simply optimizing their use of foreigners with cash-worthy requests only.
Or… perhaps the worlds’ poor have resigned themselves to accepting filthy, contaminated water sources? So thirsty, anything will do.
In our masters degree, WatSan emerged as the #1 topic in terms of infectious disease control — above vaccinations, medicines, or any other fancy ground-breaking research. The basic tools are there, just not being implemented.
Talking about / organizing where people shit — it’s just not as sexy as developing new biomolecules (am I sounding like Stan Houston here? I hope so.)
Perhaps the heat is getting to me: but one day I imagine people from the slums getting insanely fed-up, and collectively diarrhea-ing all over the beautiful marble steps of parliament. Nouveau satyagraha. (Ok ok, apologies, getting graphic now — but I assume if you bothered to read this far, you’re among the die-hard crew already fully desensitized to my banalities).
My inspiration also stems from being engrossed in Amartya Sen’s latest: The Idea of Justice. His indignation at redressable injustices is invigorating. Equity as a practical possibility rather than an ideal beyond reach. A refusal to ignore that our choices and actions affect the lives of other far as well as near. I can’t put it down.
Gandhi, Amartya… who knew you would light such a ridiculously fiery idea under my pants??
(no correlation to previous imagery intended… ok well maybe, yes… I do sassily wonder how much more they would pay attention to an upper-class, red-headed, white-assed, diarrhea-producing protester…)
All my love and ludicrousness,
Annita