Every morning in Africa I try to take a shower. Every morning freezing, cold water just drips out of the spigot. There's barely enough to wash off the soap. I quickly rinse off and make the best of it. Later, I found out that the others in my house who took showers in the evening had lots of hot water that didn't run out. We couldn't figure out why there was no water in the morning.
This morning I woke up at 6 am to the sounds of little feet running on the concrete outside my window. Then came the sound of running water. For an hour the water ran and when I finally got out of bed to see what it was, I found African children filling up their buckets from a spout off the back of our house. I ran to the sink; there was no water. I ran to the shower; there was no water. They were taking our water! Then I thought, "Our water? What makes me think that the water is mine? Because there are pipes bringing the water directly into my house, it makes it mine?" I looked out further behind our house and could see African women giving their children baths. I guessed that inside their homes there was water boiling on stoves for breakfast or to purify it to drink.
Everyone deserves access to clean water, and in Africa, that means you have to share. Sometimes it's hard as an American to live this concept. We are so used to having everything when we want it and how we want it. Even when we don't realize it, we've lived that way for so long, it's hard to change our way of thinking. I was able to take a nice, warm shower that afternoon and was grateful that there was water available in this area of Africa for everyone to share.
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