Is Lesotho in the Goldilocks Zone?

We all know how important water is. Hamma, the original blood bender from the Southern Water Tribe in the Avatar Universe, once said, “Where there is life, there is water.”

Physicists understand the importance of water in what is known as the Goldilocks zone when looking for hospitable planets. If the Exoplanet is too far from or too close to the parent star, liquid water won't exist. At the moment, liquid water is something that does not exist in my village, and many places in Lesotho. 

In this post, I will compare how we use water in Lesotho and the US. There are 4 categories that will be discussed: Showers, Dishes, Clothes, and Toilets.

Showers:

How long is your average shower?

I know mine was about 40 minutes. I wouldn’t even use soap. I would just stand there, thinking about how I would get to space, why I don’t have super powers, or even where I should eat. That was about 88 gallons per shower. I know...I was wasteful, and not even that clean, but lets look beyond that. Side note...I drove a prius. Continuing....

In the United States, showerheads are limited to 2.2 Gallons per minute. The average shower time in the states is 10 minutes for a male, and 18 minutes for a female. Therefore the average person uses 31 Gallons of water per shower.

To get ready in Lesotho, we bucket bathe. I heat up 1 scoop of water and mix it with 2 scoops of cold water to get that perfect temperature. The scoop that most Basotho and I use is 1.5L. Therefore my bucket baths amount to 4.5L or 1.2 Gallons.

To summarize, a typical American will get ready with 31 Gallons of water, and a typical Mosotho will get ready with 1.2 Gallons.

Basotho use 96.1% less water to bathe than Americans.

Dishes:

The average dishwasher in The States uses 45 gallons per load.

To wash the same amount of dishes, I use 4 scoops of water, which is 6L or 1.55 Gallons.

Basotho use 96.6% less water to wash the same amount of dishes as Americans.

Clothes:

A typical top-loading dishwasher uses about 40 gallons per load.

For the same amount of laundry, My ‘M’eighbor (She is my ‘M’e and my neighbor) uses about 40L or 10.3 Gallons.

Basotho use 74.3% less water to wash the same amount of clothes as Americans. 

Toilets:

The average American flush of the glorious porcelain throne is about 1.6 Gallons per flush. The average person visits the toilet about 7 times a day for his or her diverse excretory needs. That’s a total of 11.2 gallons in a day.

In the remote villages of Lesotho, we do not use water for our business. Instead we have outdoor pit latrines. For those 7 times the average Basotho and I use the latrine, we use zero water. We also have convenient indoor “pee” buckets designed for that nighttime urgent awakening.

Basotho use 100% less water than Americans to relieve themselves.

Lets calculate:

Here is a math problem.

If Joe Americano and Abuti Tebatso (my Sesotho name) have a typical day, as in they use the bathroom 7 times in the day, they each wash one load of laundry, they each wash the same amount of dishes, and they each get ready in the morning by either showering or bucket bathing, how much less water does Abuti Tebatso use?

Joe Americano will use 127.2 Gallons. (Average American) 

Abuti Tebatso will use 13.1 Gallons. (Average Mosotho)

Basotho use 89.7% less water than Americans.

Take Away

Right now in Fobane, and many places in Lesotho there is a water shortage. The country has been rampaged by a drought for many years now, and it has had its toll. Crops are not as bountiful, rivers are drying out, and dust storms are becoming the norm. I use less than one bucket a week, which is 20L. And that is without trying to conserve. I feel like a water bender in the middle of the desert. Without water, I am wary to bathe. I am wary of cooking pasta or accumulating dishes. I am wary to wear fresh clothes because that means I need to wash more. There is a lot more to worry about than whether the new Hunger Games Movie will be sold out. Therefore if you are reading this, I urge you to try your best to be less wasteful with the most precious of resources in life. 

I am very fortunate to be living in Fobane though. My fellow neighbors, teachers, and principal ask me how I am, and are also concerned if I have enough water. Even students offer to fetch water for me from far away sources. 

Pula, Pula, ska tsamaea. 

Rain, rain, don't go away. 

The Good. The Bad. The Rat. The Ntate.

The Conversation

On the way back from TY, when I land at my stop I have a pleasant 45 minute walk to my house. Now usually I enjoy listening to my epic, relaxing music while whistling to myself but a ‘M’e who got off the taxi with me was in an awfully chatty mood which got me talking too. I was expecting the typical conversation, which is:

“Hello. How are you?”
“I am good and you?”
“I am well. Where are you from?” “Ntate Ntate Ntate”

This may be a grandiose fantasizing about the exchange, but it went more like this:

“Abuti, when you first came here, you were weak and scared.”
“Oh, yes ‘M’e”
“But now, you are strong, you are a man. You speak Sesotho. You know how to walk to TY. You are not scared. You are no longer the boy we saw last year.”
“Thank you ‘M’e.”
“You know Fobane. You are Mosotho. Now you are Ntate.”

This woman, in just a few sentences, encouraged me so intensely, during an especially offsetting time. She was right, she witnessed my transformation. I am not saying I have changed in personality, but my confidence at least within Lesotho and in travelling has transcended my original expectations.

And perhaps the following little, terrible annoyances and unfortunate hilarities that have recently plagued me can attest and validate the transformation this woman has seen in me.

The Rat

One day I had to poop. It was a bright, beautiful morning and I made my way for the outdoor latrine. Recently my father visited and encouraged me to buy a real toilet seat, and my latrine is pretty much brand new. I always consider my latrine situation to be pretty much 2nd world, which is all I ask and aim for. While sitting and doing my business (which usually I am mighty quick) a gigantic field rat scurried under my latrine door. I freaked out pants at my ankles rushing to try and open my door to exit. The rat jumped on my left ran around the seat approached me from the right and ran back out the door. I gave myself a quick wipe and pulled my pants back up and ran. I haven’t visited my latrine since.

The Flying Solar 

While working in my house with a few students on some maths (yes we say maths) problems on a windy day, my solar just leapt from the ground still attached to the car battery. It was as if there was a very small dense boxy child playing with a very heavy expensive rectangular kite. Then as I ran to attend the issue and bring in my “precious” the wires ripped off and the solar darted down towards the primary school. Luckily the wind died down and I was able to retrieve it and tend to its wounds.

The Taxi Door

While on my way back from TY, a motor commute of just about 15 minutes, the sliding door of the taxi (American large minivan) flew off while we were driving. We went back for it and quickly expunged the issue, but it was still quite an unexpected event.

Software Update

The ios7 update recently came out for the iPad and iPhone. Internet in town is generally good enough for things, but these updates are insanely big and blunderingly slow to download. While working on some kindle issues, my iPad update got all the way to 99%, and said processing. I was getting a bit excited, and suddenly the power goes out. When the power goes out, the modem and router go out. And that means the Internet. Which means, iTunes forces a re-download from scratch. I’ll update soon enough, and then learn what the real world is like!

The Haircut

The other day, I decided it was time to end my days as Rubeus Hagrid, and get back to my number 3 clean cut style that has permeated my being since senior year of high school. My hair wasn’t exactly terribly long, but it was long enough to the point where my students were confused as to why it was sticking out from all sides. They don’t exactly experience bed head, because they are forced to have a clean shaved head for school. So when one day I had to explain what bed head was, I realized that meant that my students now know that I do not bucket bathe every morning, even though I smelled tolerable in comparison to their constant quinching (farting).

In Hlotse (my camp town) I went to some random street barber, and although I have come across difficulties where the barbers usually don’t know how to cut lahooa (white person) hair, I figured most people would eventually figure it out. My haircut took a grand total two hours to complete. The barber was amazingly perplexed by what sat in front of him, and his clippers were so dull that they only tugged at the hair on my scalp. He could barely make a dent in my luscious locks when he took out an afro pick and sat my hair atop it and tried to shave off parts of my individual hairs that way. To his surprise this method proved fruitless. I knew it was just his clipper, and I kept telling him it was broken, but he disregarded my concern and tried for about 1.5 hours. I eventually paid him off 5 Rand for his dedicated service and ran to another barber. At this moment my hair was patchy on the top of my head and the sides were completely untouched. I had an elderly grandpa style hair cut, except instead of a nice smooth bald top, it was patchy and misshapen. I found a new barber, and told him if he can finish my haircut in 5 minutes I would pay him an extra 5 rand. He annihilated my originally invincible hair and gave me a perfect number 2 cut. He even adjusted my glorious widow’s peak. This man was a true hero.

These things have been quite fetter-some, but Peace Corps Volunteers prevail in the face of unworldly non-compliance, and now so do I.