Shared Austerity

July 5, 2012

Walking in the bright afternoon sun with my roommate Gabriela (a rising second year in Cornell's MPA program) and feeling the dust accumulate layer after layer on the sunscreen on my skin, we planned our big event for the evening: the much-anticipated washing of our hair. It had been four or five days since our last shampoo, we couldn't really remember any more, and as we watched dinner simmering on the stove, we asked Mama Shalom for some water for a shower. Staring longingly into the basin containing roughly 2L of water, Gabriela came over and said, "How am I supposed to wash my hair with so little water?" Before dinner we compared water saving techniques and enjoyed the fresh scent of our shampoo in our equally curly, clean locks.

Then it was time for another normal dinner in our house: a cassava-flour-based mashed potato-like dish with sauce of cabbage, beans, and tomatoes topped with fresh avocado. We had all finished eating, and at the time in the evening when our nightly cup of chai tea with fresh milk from the cow usually magically appears, Mama said in Kinyarwanda, "Amazi, oya. Muhazi," trying to communicate the following: no water tonight, we will go to Lake Muhazi for more in the morning. Confusion during dinner conversation is simply a part of our nightly rituals, so Gabriela and I looked at each other in disbelief. No water? What? We offered water from our Nalgene bottles, which she promptly refused many times. At our insistence, the kids finally finished off what we had with us, and Gabriela and I stared at each other in embarrassment and shock.

The Asset Based Community Development (ABCD) model championed by Terry Bergdall at Northwestern  on which Think Impact draws heavily describes the idea of "shared austerity." It is defined as, "being genuinely present in the local situation," with the aim of "building a foundation of trust through empathetic respect." This has been precisely the goal for the two weeks of Immersion of the Innovation Institute. Yet despite our best efforts to attend community events and church, to dress in locally-appropriate attire, and to understand the daily highs and lows of village life, I have never been hungry, my clothes are clean, my sleeping bag is dry, and I know that I have a 20L jug of safe water at whenever I am thirsty. People here have told us more times than we can count that water is a problem, but when you see gorgeous Lake Muhazi in the background all day, it is hard to understand exactly what that means. I think this dinner was the first moment that I realized that our neighbors might be going to bed thirsty. Somehow something had just changed for me, and, all of a sudden, I felt like I knew the village in a different way.

Shalom, Jolie, and Agape (the kids) all had water from our "secret" stash before bed, and I the family supply was replenished at sunrise before breakfast. We are very lucky. My team is already talking about the lessons we will bring back to the States with us, and I hope I never forget this dinner. Water is our most precious resource. We can never take it for granted. I know both Gabriela and I will both think a little differently before we complain about our greasy hair next time. Isn't that what shared austerity is all about?