If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down.

The latest craze in Labadi is called H2O. Water? A luxury item? That's right. I too had foolishly thought that the ancient Romans had resolved this problem a long time ago with elaborate waterways and beautiful aqueducts, but here we are in Africa in 2010, back to square one. Turn on the tap... nothing. Not even a drop. I like to think I'm pretty easy going with most things. No electricity, bring out the candles. No Internet, read a book. No chocolate, eat some fruit. No water. I have finally found the one thing that blows my fuse, instantly, and it doesn't go unnoticed. 'Calm down', Abena tells me. 'It's not that bad. I'm sure the water will be back tomorrow.' I admire her optimism. As for me it's all gloom and doom. I have just come home from work and after sitting on the trotro on a hot afternoon I feel like having a shower. No can do. My next urge is to go to the toilet followed by the realisation that I won't be able to flush. Hang on, I think to myself, there should still be water in the cistern for one more flush. Unfortunately I'm not the first one to figure out the mechanics of the toilet. The cistern is empty. Instead of solutions my brain comes up with more problems. The 'I'm thirsty nerve' is next in line and fires off signals that make me head to the kitchen, get out a glass and turn on the tap. Today the only thing coming out of that tap is disappointment. You would think I had figured out by now that turning on the tap isn't going to magically produce water, but it takes my brain surprisingly long to adapt. To its credit my brain is slowly switching to solution mode. How about the milk in the fridge? Great! Great until the milk pores out in lumps, most likely the result of yesterday's power outage. Not to worry, here's another problem to deal with... I'm hungry. I turn to the fridge again and pull out a cold pineapple, get the knife and cut my finger. Back over to the tap to rinse off the blood and clean my dirty hands. Then I realise my hands are dirty because there is NO WATER. With a feeling of resignation and a sense of despair I sink into the chair behind me. Cocos comes in and tells me that Mama informed her that the water had been off since Monday. The reason why we still had water for the last couple of days is our water tank on top of the house. Until now, precisely, and the whole time we had no idea that we were depleting our only reserve. Abena comes in. 'I'm sure it will be back tomorrow', she says. 'Tomorrow!' I throw my arms up in desperation. 'It's been out all week!'. 'No need to panic', she tells me calmly. 'I'm sure it will be back soon. You just need to be a little patient.' 'There's a reason why they call their children Patience here', she adds wisely. 'Well, how about they start calling their kids Fixit or Yeswecan', is all I have to offer. I have learnt to cope with no electricity and for a serious Internet addict like myself I have coped admiringly well with the occasional loss of connectivity and resulting lack of zeros and ones. But water will be a real test of character. Or should I say 'test of survival'. After all there is a reason why there is no life on Mars and that reason is water. And as much as NASA is trying to find water on our little red neighbour I am convinced there would be more value in those boys looking for water in Labadi. That would give us some water and them, after decades of searching for water on Mars, a real sense of achievement.