The Dry

Sitting on the train from Arua, with his eyes closed, Kato replayed his last conversation with Juma in his mind. The silent hum of the train, the gentle swaying, the scent of filtered dry air coming from the ventilation system and the chatter of the people around were muffled away. His attention was focused inwards and the world was tuned out.

“Have I failed you?” Kato hesitantly asked his longtime mentor.

“My dear boy,” Juma said, holding Kato’s head, their foreheads touching. Kato was acutely aware he referred to him as “boy”, a term he often disdained as it portrayed him as young and immature, but now he felt it was a sign of endearment, or maybe he just felt young and immature. Maybe he needed that fatherly embrace.

“Life is what it is, we fight for the things we can change and learn to accept what we cannot,” Juma said while distancing his head a bit to look into Kato’s eyes with a kind, understanding smile.

Kato chuckled and Juma’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “ I thought you don’t want me to fight,” he said and it made Juma laugh as well.

“Fighting,“ Juma admitted, “is sometimes necessary but it is the maturity to know what is worth fighting for. And you fought with all your might, my dear boy. You fought like a lion and if there’s anything I wish you’d take with you it would be my admiration.”

They embraced one last time.

*

It had been ten years since Kato joined MAF. He visited his birthplace several times since but this time was different. He was on an official mission. It felt different. As if it was an opportunity to prove his leaving was justified (although no one ever questioned it to his face). Perhaps it was a sense of responsibility to look after those who raised you in reciprocation. Or perhaps it was a different identity, a “mask” as his sister used to describe it, him in his professional role, and taking it very seriously.

As he helped his fellow MAFexi unload the crates from the train they arrived in, he couldn’t help but notice how dry it all looked. The colors seemed to have washed away from Arua, leaving it dusty and smoldering. Everyone was crowding under the streets’ canopy that provided light breeze and protection from the scorching sun. With more than forty degrees Celsius outside, the canopy made a remarkable difference. Kato wondered if Juma, now in his sixties, was still digging waterbunds in this heat every day. He cast the thought aside, promising he would ask later as he should now focus on not having his fingers caught under the heavy crates.

The drought that plagued Central Africa for the past 25 years had become relentless in the last three years. Much effort was thwarted in trying to halt the Sahara’s relentless expansion, but it became increasingly more difficult, the heat making it even more challenging. Life at Arua in particular was threatened as the Enyau river – its main water source was running dangerously low.

Once all the crates were unloaded from the train and taken to the assembly hall, Kato informed Naomi he’s taking a short break to say hello to family and friends before they get offended he’s ignoring them. They would understand, of course, he’s busy, but they’ll be heartbroken nonetheless. Walking into his old bolo’s phalanstère while wearing the MAF uniform, he felt the stark difference for the first time. The sense of urgency that is entrenched in the MAF lifestyle made him feel like the world around him moved in slow motion. There was an ease in the air. People were leisuring themselves in the shaded solar, chatting, snacking, and mending clothes. The kids were playing, dancing or singing to themselves. Some of the grown-ups joined in. Yes, he grew up here but after ten years in MAF, he found the contrast mind-blowing. They don’t “work”, they’re not “busy”, and it was absolutely acceptable that this is how they go about their business. It was even ok for him. He looked at them in jealousy, knowing that he never had that serenity, even when he lived there.

It was his childhood home, but it changed. Very subtly, almost imperceptible, but he could notice the changes. The woodcraft workshop was stuffed with equipment he could identify as a water-filtration system and the old shed was now used for seed-drying.

And then they saw him. It started with a glance, that became transfixed, dilation of the pupils, a look of surprise, an exclamation, more eyes, faces and before he knew it, he was surrounded with arms and embraces. Love. They all came to greet him, even children who were born after he left and he met only briefly in his infrequent visits.

“How long will you be staying?” asked Neelai. She was a bit older than him, and although not as fit as a MAFex, he could not help but notice how strong she looked. He wondered about the mentality instilled in him after ten years in MAF about serving and helping the general population. Neelai didn’t look like someone who needed help.

“I just came to say hello and see how everyone’s doing, I should get back to my tasks soon… is Juma around?” he asked, excusing himself. He would have loved to stay and chat with each of his bolo members, they were like his brothers and sisters but he knew he should get back to Naomi soon. She won’t berate him but it felt irresponsible to him nevertheless.

“Juma should be back soon. We usually start working earlier to avoid the heat”, Neelai answered. “But how long will you be in Arua?”, she insisted. She always knew how to get what she wanted, Kato remembered. It was admirable and intimidating at the same time.

“We brought parts to upgrade a thousand washing machines to be water-free; we estimated it should take us two weeks. I’ll be busy most of this time but I’m sure I’ll find time to at least say hello”, he smiled. The children were tugging him to join their game and he was torn between his duty and wanting to just stay with them for a bit longer.

It was Juma that solved his dilemma. “Leave the man alone, he has kene to do!”, he nudged people away. Kato felt a pinch of pride hearing Juma refer to him as “man”. He wasn’t sure about the “kene” as he loved what he was doing. It gave him purpose and a sense of identity, but he knew it was easier to dissuade the children that way. It was considered rude to discourage or prevent people from doing their kene.

“How are you, mu’alem?” Kato asked Juma when he finally released him from the bone-crushing hug. Juma definitely shrunk a bit since the last time they met but Kato also grew considerably bigger. Juma answered in his usual nonchalant “growing old really makes you appreciate being young.” They smiled in understanding.

There were a few cultural shifts that altered the attitude towards age – whether it was prioritizing mental health over superficial beauty or the disintegration of commercialized sports or merely the decline in pressure to follow a one-size-fits-all life path. Scrutiny over one’s age, rather than one’s objective merits was a thing of the past.

“Come, I want to show you something”, Juma said as he took Kato by the arm and started walking outside. Kato quickly said goodbye to the rest of his extended family and promised to come back the next day. They used a pair of bikes Juma arranged and cycled to Enyau. Or at least, where the river used to flow.

A river that used to be ten meters wide at the point Juma took him, teeming with life, was now narrow enough that he could jump from one bank to the other. A wooden pole stood in the middle of the stream, marking the old water level, a couple of meters higher than its current level. A few wild animals stood nearby and drank the water calmly, unthreatened by the two men inspecting the river.

“This truly breaks my heart”, said Kato with tears in his eyes. He used to swim here when he was young, playing with his friends and cool off on hot summer days.

“I heard you came here to install water-free laundry machines…”

“Yes, we’re hoping to install a thousand machines in the next two weeks”

“I see. We have dala tomorrow with the people of the neighboring towns. We’ll assess the future of Arua. I think you should come”, Juma said in a grievous tone.

Kato wanted to protest and said he could not forego his responsibilities but looking into Juma’s glossy eyes he stopped himself. “I’ll try to find time”, he promised.

*

“I like technology, I think it’s great”, Juma said in a rather sarcastic voice as the two of them walked to the train station.

The heat was burdening Kato. It exhausted him. He felt inflated and defeated.

“No, you’re afraid of change. You’re a traditionalist, being peer-pressured by people long gone”, Kato rebuked him. “Tradition is great, it will get you this far, but you always must ask how well it serves you…”

Despite the shift in the technological race that took place once money was out of the equation, innovation still happened with the aim to improve quality of life and sustainability. However, as planned obsolescence was denounced, the product-replacement-churn  was reduced drastically, making it more challenging for new technologies to take hold unless they offered a considerable improvement. And yet, it was still the young folk who were happy to adopt new technologies while older people always seemed more skeptical and holding onto their fifty-year-old machinery that albeit being less efficient, still worked almost as if it were brand new.

“Well, technology is a nice story, a ‘what if’ story…”, Juma answered hazily. The heat was affecting him and Kato worried the old man was having a heatstroke . “But stories tell a certain narrative and completely ignore anything that doesn’t fit it. Take the car, for example”. Cars are considerably less common than in the past but Kato was aware of their history. “Cars told the nice story of ‘what if people could drive anywhere they wanted to’, which is a nice story, but it came at an insatiable cost of lives and to the environment, let alone social structures”. Yes, Kato heard that story countless times before.

Kato sighed. He heard this argument before. And he always had an issue with it. Storytellers can be honest and balanced, for once. And innovation wasn’t just a shiny promise for improved quality of life. It was Juma himself that told him when he was young how so many things we all take for granted, such as ploughing a field or stone houses, were once considered innovative.

“It’s impossible to evaluate the worthiness of technology if you don’t actually try it,” he exclaimed.

“You’re right. But what technological solution is available to us now?” Juma asked the disheartened Kato.

The water-free washing machines could’ve made significant difference, if it wasn’t for the already existing water-saving policies in place, limiting the number of washes each household could do per week. Sure, the people were exhilarated by the idea of being able to wash their clothes more often, but ultimately, the water saved by this upgrade wasn’t enough to make the necessary change they needed.

Another idea suggested at the dala was the use of rainmakers. The technology was available for quite some time but as latest research questioned its overall impact on the environment, the use of it has dropped considerably. Additionally, it wasn’t reliable enough and the estimated rain it would’ve produced was still not enough for a sustainable solution. The hope was that in a generation or two mankind would be able to harness the technology properly but this was too long of a wait for the people who needed a solution for the upcoming month.

*

From the outside, the dalagano looked like a half-buried clay pot. Inside, it was a massive room, capable of housing more than five thousand people. Its terracotta walls gave it warmth and a feel of a cozy cave despite its grandeur. A big open skylight that flooded the room with light was now covered with a black mesh, preventing the harsh sun from blasting the center of the room with its full power. It was surprisingly cooler than one  might imagine as the hot air simply went out through the roof. Buildings were very rarely cooled down using electricity as proper design allowed air flow that helped keep them cool.

“The drought and the water crisis are no surprise to anyone, but it feels to me as if we’re taking the water for granted, acting as if there’ll always be enough”. Amara said to the attendees. She had a very slight impediment caused by her deafness, but nobody ever teased for it. She was a brilliant strategist and mocking her for something so trivial would have been inappropriate. She continued, “For our communities to survive, we must find better ways to use our gray and drinking water.

Sitting next to the wall, Kato ran his hand over its porous uneven surface. The bubbly texture was designed to eliminate the echo. He looked at the carvings and subtle sculptures embedded in the walls. They were painted very sparingly, barely noticeable, but if the walls looked like blank canvas when one enters, staring at the walls reveals a plethora of stories, telling about different times.

Juma answered her in his raspy dry voice. “Recycling water isn’t enough. All the water we have at the moment, coming in and going out, might be enough for our communities…” He paused to take a breath. Maybe it was the incredible acoustics in the room; perhaps it was Kato’s imagination filling in the blanks after knowing him for so many years, but he was sure he heard a shudder in the old man’s inhale. His own heart ached for his dear mentor. “But it sure isn’t enough for the nature and wild life around us. This must be also taken into account”. Murmurs of agreements came from every corner of the room.

“We can import whatever we need instead of growing it ourselves, essentially importing the water indirectly, but at what cost?’ Juma asked. Such imports might have made a significant difference in the past when the common diet relied heavily on meat. Growing a cow would take thousands of liters of water per day. The meat industry, especially when seen as an “industry”, had an unimaginable impact on the environment. Fortunately, the practice was brought to a halt with the introduction of taxes to offset its pollution. Nowadays there was considerably less livestock and these were considered part of nature, rather than an industry.

Kato’s eyes drifted on the stories the walls told. He had seen them countless times before, but they felt different every time, depending on the sun location and shadows cast from the sculptures. It was intentional, a true craftsmanship. They told the story of the earth and the rise of man, the agriculture revolution, the industrial and the electronic revolution. Each part of the story was  brought into light during different parts of the day from dawn until dusk. It seems like the story ended with the destruction of earth and the death of its inhabitants, but Kato knew it was true. The moonlight provides enough illumination to see the next part where the earth prevailed, as long as there’s someone to light the center pyre at night, man’s story continues as well. In the last diorama man finds peace within nature.

Amara’s voice brought Kato back to the present. “You are right”, she answered Juma, who looked tired,  a worn-out and depleted version of the man Kato once knew. “Nature can survive whether there’s a human settlement here or not, but we cannot survive without the nature around us.” Slowly, as it seemed she understood what Juma was getting at, it dawned on Kato as well. The cold reality was devastating, unimaginable. “We should carefully consider whether our region has enough water to sustain Arua and the repercussions it will have on our community.”

Mankind has migrated many times in the past, but it has always been a painful, deadly process and even though this has been mitigated and was handled as humanely as possible, the experience by its nature was never positive.

*

Naomi spoke as the representative of MAF. They didn’t have a vote in the discussion, but they were welcome to give technical suggestions and advice. For over a month MAF’s best engineers and strategists had compiled and reduced a list of scenarios and possibilities. She had Kato read her notes the night before and it certainly wasn’t an easy conversation. Kato felt that MAF ought to do more, to offer more, to fight more. Naomi was as compassionate as possible but ultimately this was the best MAF had to offer.

“Addressing the suggestion to import enough water to sustain the community of Arua, MAF offers its logistic, administrative and technical support in building a pipeline from lake Mwitanzige.” Kato read from her notes as they sat in her cool room. She was sitting on her bunk while Kato sat on the floor in front of her, his back to the wall. “However MAF warns that according to our estimations, the operation will take nearly a decade.” He paused and looked at her for understanding. He himself was hoping for such a solution, not realizing the difficulties it would entail. Despite being the trustworthy opinion of MAF’s expert, Kato found it difficult to stomach.

“What about other sources? How about the White Nile? That’s half the distance…” Kato asked.

“We have considered other water sources but unfortunately their unreliability poses a risk that the effort we’ll put in will be in vain.” Naomi replied patiently. Lake Mwitanzige (or “Lake Albert” in its colonialist name) was 100 kilometers away and 600 meters lower than Arua, and yet MAF concluded that was the safest bet. “In order to import water from the White Nile we’ll need to increase its capacity, thus flooding the fertile riverbanks next to it, the environmental impact would be catastrophic.”

“But why a decade? We’re not going to survive a decade”, he asked in frustration. He became conscious as he said it that he had said ‘we’ and not ‘they‘. It was still his family, he still felt an inseparable part of it. “Yes, a decade is a very long time,” Naomi agreed with him. “We only did a preliminary environmental risk assessment. The report, covering the whole 100-kilometer pipe, will be far more extensive and will take at least a few years to complete. We don’t need to wait for it to be completely finished but it certainly causes a delay. We cannot risk creating damage that would hurt the community while we’re trying to save it.”

“The next issue,” she continued, “is to source all the material and the manpower for the job, let alone the logistics to house and feed all these people….”. Kato envisioned all the people of Arua working for a few days and getting it done within a week but he now realized this was childishly naive. “Obtaining the stone and metal, even as urgently as we need them cannot be done overnight. We can scrape whatever is already available. It’s tedious and time-consuming; or we can mine for new materials. There’s not a lot of mining going on due to its disastrous impact on the environment so that’s going to be an additional challenge. I’m sorry, Kato.”

Kato was heartbroken and at a loss for any solution that could save his childhood home. He came up with more ideas, but they were turned down for being naive and costly in ways he hadn’t considered.

*

“It feels a bit futile to install washing machines on the day they decide to abandon Arua”, Kato told Naomi. They were working in a big cool shed along with the rest of their team while the dala was in its final days. Excited as it was, the team decided to make a last-minute effort to finish the installation by the end of the day as they were working around the clock.

“I know,” Naomi said compassionately, “but as we discussed, even if the decision falls on migration, it’s not going to be tomorrow. They will still need washing machines.” Kato sighed, knowing she was right. “Also, the water-free mechanism that they will take with them, should they decide to leave…” she said and Kato reiterated, cutting her off “if they decide to leave.”

“Yes, the water-free mechanism is much lighter and durable compared to the old one. They’ll need these regardless.” She finished her sentence and noticed that Juma had entered the shed. They all stopped working and stared at him, anxious to hear the news.

“We have decided…” Juma began and Kato already knew the rest of it from the tone of his voice. He didn’t pay much attention to the “we”, as opposed to the anonymous “a decision has been made”. It took a lot of time to reach decisions as the solution always needed to fit everyone and everyone owned it. “…that the community must be vacated in order to give the surrounding nature a fighting chance against the drought.” This was another telltale that Juma wasn’t happy with this decision. He may have accepted it, but his need to explain the rationale for it was a clear indication he hoped things would’ve been different.

Kato stopped his work and came to hug him. The old man didn’t shy away and embraced the boy in return. Naomi soon joined them and shortly after most of the team, all understanding the gravity of the moment. They may have not been local, they all left their homes to join MAF, but they could very easily imagine the pain of being uprooted against one’s wishes.

“The amount of water currently consumed by Arua should be sufficient for most of the natural processes and flows. The humidity collectors that we’re leaving behind with some minimal maintenance crew should also help balance the numbers,” Juma further explained in his dry raspy voice.

“What about the synans?” Naomi asked worriedly. Synans won’t be able to survive without human intervention and simply abandoning them would be cruel. Some synans, such as orphan elephants or rhinos were considered as close as family to their carer. While other synans such as pigeons and rats that in the past might have been dismissed as vermin and pests, it was now commonly acknowledged that man shares some level of responsibility to their nature and they have rights as well.

“Most will migrate with us, either actively supported or as a tag-along. Someone will stay to make sure everyone is accounted for,” Juma replied. “It was taken under consideration and we believe it’s feasible.” After giving it some thought he added “Obviously they won’t be happy about it. I don’t think anyone would be, but I suspect that most of them would choose to be with their family rather than sticking to a piece of land.”

*

Once again they stood embraced at the train station. Once again Kato was leaving and Juma was staying. All the washing machines had been upgraded. The old engines disassembled into useful components were boxed and loaded on the train. They will be taken to Mombasa where they’ll be redistributed to wherever they can be of use.

It’s only been two days since the dala made its decision. The additional load of people leaving Arua on the train was barely noticeable, but Kato knew that in a week or two there’ll be an increase in departing trains.

“What will you do now?” Kato asked his old mentor. He looked at Juma’s face, the dry weary skin. The wrinkles that show Juma smiles more often than not. Juma was always positive, even when things were not easy. Kato admired him for it. Kato didn’t remember Juma giving up on anything in his life.

“I think I’ll stay here, at least for a while,” Juma said in his tired, determined voice. There was acceptance in his tone. He knew it was silly. He knew that life without a big social network around him can be challenging. But he believed it was the right thing to do. No one would force him to leave. At most, he would stop getting imported supplies and would have to manage on his own. That’s the risk he decided to undertake. “We’ll keep digging our waterbunds, take care of our environment, the pets and ourselves and when the plans for the canal are finalized, we’ll start digging from this side.”

A thought crossed Kato’s mind that he hadn’t heard Juma’s rolling laughter in a long while. He was always a positive person, even now. He always saw the best in people and in any situation. But it’s been a long while since he was overflowing with happiness. It was understandable, given all that was happening, but it still pinched Kato’s heart.

“Would you reconsider going for your bolo? You can always come back…” Kato asked cautiously. He respected the old man’s decisions, but at the same time felt the question might leave a door open to be explored later on.

“I considered that and I’m sure that I can change my mind and it’ll be ok, but right now I can’t see myself leaving,” Juma replied to the disheartened young man in front of him. “This is my home, my identity. I don’t want to leave it just yet.”

Kato wished he could offer some hope to Juma and a few other ibus who decided to stay behind while the thousands of people of Arua migrated southwards towards safe water sources.

“I’ll come back to help you dig the canal”, he promised.

“I know you will”, Juma smiled back at him.