By Elisabeth Vasko

The Ndakaini Dam accounts for 80 percent of Nairobi’s water needs.  It has a capacity of 70 million cubic meters.  Today, its capacity is at 26.6 million cubic meters (38 percent) due to a lack of rainfall in the area.  The daily demand for water is 650,000 cubic meters; the distributed daily capacity is 380,000 cubic meters.   If all the water is distributed and rainfall remains the same, there will be no water in Nairobi by December.   (Source: Daily Nation, Moses Kuria).

While drought has been a feature of the region’s climatology, it has been exacerbated by global climate change and large scale deforestation.  The Green Belt Movement estimates Kenya’s forest coverage at 2 percent.   Forest cover impacts rainfall, underground water, soil fertility, clean air, and soil erosion.  Consequently, the drought has been accompanied by a food shortage.  As the prices of food rise, more families are pushed into hunger.  The Food and Agriculture Organization estimates that one sixth of all humanity is undernourished.   Without water, there is no food.

In Nairobi the issue is not only a lack of water, but a lack of clean water.  Clean water and good hygiene decrease the spread of disease.  For people with HIV/AIDS good personal hygiene is essential in reducing the chances of opportunistic infections.  Moreover, as we are quickly learning, ARV’s cannot be taken without food.   Without water and food, there is no health.   

And I could keep going . . . 

To be really honest, Nairobi’s water shortage has only been a minor inconvenience for me.  It has meant taking cold fast showers in the house, flushing toilets only when necessary, and wearing my clothes a little longer before washing them.  For the most part, I have been able to make these adjustments without making major lifestyle changes.  Yes, I did get “sick” from the water, but I was able to go to a pharmacist and purchase medication for 500ks (approximately $7 US).  To give you a little perspective, it took Margaret-- a local fruit and vegetable seller—one month to save this amount.    We have been able to eat what we want, our only restriction being budgetary guidelines.  [Nakumatt — one the more affluent grocery chains in region—has almost everything one can find in the US.]  While I have appreciated access to the “comforts” of home, I am also profoundly aware that I am living in a space of contradiction.  

During the day, my research takes to me hear the stories of women who struggle to feed their families and to learn about the inequitable distribution of resources in Kenya.   At night, I return to a space with electricity, clean water, and abundant food.   Moreover, I do all of this knowing that when I return to the US, I will be able to take a long hot shower.   If I am really honest, I have to admit that I am grateful for these privileges.    They are not things I want to give up.   Rather, I prefer to convince myself that everyone should have such “rights.”   However, this is not justice.   Our visions of justice cannot be tied to racial, economic, or social privilege.  Justice has to be rooted in livelihoods.  I know this in my head.  The question becomes whether I will come to know this in my body.   The search for solidarity requires that we take this seriously.  

Without water, there is no life.