It's a good thing I'm fixated on antibacterial wipes over here. People make fun of me for ALWAYS having some on hand, but I was especially grateful for that particular layer of my OCD this morning.
Got up, threw the alarm clock against the wall, stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the tap in the shower only to watch a thin trickle quickly disappear. Turned the tap in the sink, and the same thing happened. Stumbled to the kitchen sink. Ditto.
"Ohhhhhhh," I thought. "THAT'S what those video billboards at the local grocery store were talking about when they warned us folks out in the leafy suburbs to prepare for some water rationing days."
Up til now, I'd been feeling incredibly grateful for life in Suburban Nairobi, because it's so dramatically superior to my sojourn in Northern Uganda. I mean, I can get fresh herbs here anytime I want!!! And even though there's the occasional power outage, it's nothing like those frequent pitch black evenings and airless days in Gulu, often punctuated by ear-splitting racket from smelly diesel generators.
In fact, I've frequently bragged about how (relatively) cozy life is at the Liza(rd) Apartments, compared to those days. But hey, why should I be able to have (relatively) clean hot water whenever I want it, when 3/4ths of Kenyan households don't?
So I guess it was inevitable that on St. Patrick's Day in Kenya, I'd be reminded that if you choose to live in a developing country, chances are that things like water shortages, famines, traffic jams and the intermittent bloody coup are bound to develop. Even if you try and surround yourself with the most modern conveniences you can get your hands on, eventually you gotta accept that you ain't in Kansas anymore. Hell, you ain't even in East Toe Jam, Mississippi no more.
So, thank God for Wet Ones and an incredibly elastic sense of humor.
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