This post was written before the catastrophe of the Ukrainian dam, the waters of which are drowning villages, displacing whole populations and, as the waters reach the sea, endangering the world far beyond Ukraine itself.
But this tragedy does not lessen the desperate need for clean water.
Too good to keep to myself is the news that I am about to receive compensation for that week without hot water (see previous post Someone Else’s Problem). A friend complained on my behalf and soon £300 will reach my bank account. From the modest amount of this rebate one can only infer that this establishment, which exists to restore the sick to health and provide respite for the weary, considers well over £400 to be a reasonable daily charge for a room lacking the most basic of mod cons.
The story does not end there for, by pure chance, while surfing the net – probably looking for a guide to the latest episode of Succession – I found myself riveted by a sequence of black faces distorted by hideous swellings of monstrous size and I remained spell-bound by a documentary film illustrating the consequences of living without access to clean water: the fate of millions of people in other parts of the world than ours.
It is not that there is no water – though that can be a problem, and I have never forgotten our geography teacher telling us never to complain about rain – but what is and should be the source of life, is the frequent cause of slow, disfiguring and painful death.
Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink . . .
For a long time now I have been saying to unknown callers as I nervously unchain the front the door: ‘Sorry, I already have my charities’. Well, at this very late date, I am subscribing to one more. That £300 will be my first contribution to Water Aid.
