WatSan pre-training - Part 1: Ken Gibbs

THE RAIN GODDESS’S CHARABANC

Many were the discussions about why the UNICEF water and sanitation staff were generally excluded from top management positions in the agency.  Was it because they were more practical than the normal UNICEF staff ?  Perhaps, but if this was the case, how did they acquire those practical skills before joining ?

 In my own case, my mother commented that I could only be classed as ‘grown-up’ when I elected to walk round puddles rather than jumping into them.  In my own defence, I can’t remember ever considering walking around the puddles – it only added distance. . . . .and jumping in the puddles gave immense satisfaction especially when the mud from the splash landed on my (female) cousin’s clothes.  Pre-training can sometimes be initiated by the applicant himself. . . .and water can be fun.

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 An early memory - because I was born on a Zimbabwean farm - was the anxiety when rain didn’t come when we needed it.  The first rains were usually in November after some weeks of a daily build-up of cumulus clouds threatening to start the rains before melting away, but leaving an uneasy tension till the next afternoon when the same would be repeated.  Tempers became short and eyes were always on the sky, waiting, waiting, waiting.   When finally the rains broke, they came with a strong wind, much lightning and thunder and, best of all, the smell of the rain.  Often, flying ants would emerge just before the rains started, and one knew that this heralded real, purposeful rain. When the rain came, there was no light drizzle – it frequently was in the form of a cloudburst.  It was not unusual to see everyone outside when the rain started to fall, dancing for joy at its arrival because we knew that without it, we would have no crops.

 Ah – the ever-present need for rain for survival.  Everyone was affected from large landowners to sharecroppers to ordinary employees; and even townsfolk who theoretically didn’t rely on agriculture, found that when crops didn’t grow, money was scarce and spending reduced in all sectors.

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 One particularly harsh “rainy” season produced a drought following a number of dry years which created a particularly ingenious entrepreneur – the Rain Goddess – well, that was what she called herself.  She somehow used bush-telegraph to let it be known that she would meet indigenous staff at the ford which was at the corner of three or four large farms on which substantial numbers of indigenous staff were employed, on a certain date.

 Sure enough, at the appointed time, the Rain Goddess arrived to discuss the crippling drought with the assembled throng.  As is usual when matters of importance are to be discussed, everyone had their say until the Rain Goddess said that she had come to offer her services to break the drought.  Naturally, this was received with enthusiasm since who else but a Rain Goddess can command the weather ?

 The Rain Goddess had arrived at the meeting in her very own T-Model Ford and she pointed out that her work took her to many far-flung destinations and that it was expensive work.  She thus said that she could only help if each family were to pay her 10 shillings, then she could guarantee that the rain would come.  Now 10 shillings in those days was a lot of money, representing something like 25% of a monthly salary, so that the families at the meeting had to scrabble to collect the money before she left lest she cast a spell in the wrong direction, as it were.  Sure enough, they managed it and the Rain Goddess left, promising that it would rain within the next ten days, for sure.

 Ten days later, no rain had fallen and the locals were becoming restless because they had paid good money for a guaranteed result, and the result had not been produced.  It was thus with considerable surprise they saw the T-Model Ford return where the Rain Goddess called all who had been at the earlier meeting, to reassemble.  They came willingly, as they wanted their money back.

 When a sufficient gathering had assembled, the Rain Goddess addressed them saying that she had communed with the gods and that they were disappointed.  They felt that the amount that had been paid earlier was totally inadequate for the service which they were being called upon to perform and that if they really wanted the rain to fall, they would have to give another 10 shillings a family.  There was no alternative.

Having so said, the Rain Goddess prepared to leave but was prevailed upon to stay sufficiently long for the locals to be able to get the required sum of money together.  With some difficulty, they managed, handing it to the Rain Goddess who again promised that within ten days, it would definitely rain.  The gods had promised it, hadn’t they ?

 And with that, she left, never to be seen again.

 As to whether it rained within the specified time or not, is not part of the local historical record, but there were a lot of less than happy people who had lost quite a lot of money on what was supposed to be a sure-fire investment.  Besides, this also meant that they didn’t have the money to spend on ‘tchwala’ (the locally brewed beer) - meaning that weekend partying would be muted for some weeks.

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 UNICEF staff needed to know about money, so here was a good addition to my skill set though even I at that young age, felt that the Rain Goddess’s approach was a little underhand.  Morality training, maybe ?

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 Since this was a time when I was very young, I didn’t own a camera, so a stock photo of a T-Model Ford will have to suffice.  Imagine the Rain-Goddess stepping out of it.  However, I would have wanted to share the ‘smell of the rain’ by inserting a ‘scratch-and-sniff’ in this blog article.  Can anyone suggest how an on-line version of this might be achieved ?

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