Sunday, May 28, 2017

The weight of the water

It was a pleasant Sunday evening. I was sitting at the kitchen table, having tea and conversation with my wife. I was relaxed and feeling good about nothing in particular. That is, until I got up to rinse my cup at the sink and found there was no water in the tap.

I panicked. “There’s no water!” Mentally, I said to myself, we’ve had it.

My wife said, “Maybe, the watchman shut off the main. I’m sure it’ll be back soon.”

Then I ruined the rest of the evening. For the next half hour or so, I checked the tap several times to see if water had started flowing again. It hadn’t. I rushed down and confronted the watchman.

“There’s no water in the kitchen tap for more than half an hour. Did you shut off the main valve?”

“Yes, I did.”


He pointed to a door on the first floor. “They asked me to, for about five minutes, said the plumber was fixing something in their house. I have already reopened the valve.”

“Oh, good,” I said, and went home. “It’s back,” I told the family, relieved that all was going to be well.

Only it wasn’t. Everyone in the building, except us, seemed to be getting water, even the people who had carried out the plumbing work. I smelled a conspiracy. We had been singled out.

I left the tap on in the hope that water would reappear magically. Minutes ticked by, a whole hour passed, and still no sign of water, not even a drop. I grew more restless. “We’re the only ones who are not getting water. This happens every time those idiots shut off and reopen the valve. Maybe there’s silt in the pipes or an air bubble. What are we going to do?” I muttered aloud, already worrying about Monday morning and the race to get out of the house. It wasn't as if I bathed in the sink.

My wife calmly picked up the phone and called the plumber, who came at once and annoyed me even more with his opening line. “If everyone’s getting water, then so should you. But, don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

The hell we should, I thought.

Then he did exactly what he had done on previous visits. He proceeded to open the faucet and clean it. No sooner he unscrewed the regulator and the cap at the mouth of the swivel tap, there was a sudden discharge of water into the sink and a sudden spring in my step. Few things in life make me happier than the sight of the Niagara flowing through our taps.

The plumber washed off the dirt that had collected in the regulator and the cap, and screwed them back on. “See, all you had to do was open the cap and clean it just like I did.” I nodded dumbly.

After he left, my wife gently rubbed it in: “That’s the first thing my dad would have done.

I wasn’t too happy to hear that either. But it was only because I had failed to figure out the problem myself. I probably would’ve if I hadn’t overreacted and instead thought it out calmly over a second cup of tea. If the problem was in front of me, so was the solution. I didn’t see it because I was blinded by my adrenaline-charged, nerve-wracking, stress-induced response to what was actually a no-issue.

We often act impulsively out of fear and nervousness because we believe it eases the situation, and also because we’re in denial about the reality of life, that sometimes things can go wrong. But they can also be set right with patience and fortitude, and a little thought for others. There’s no call for turning every event into a life-challenging moment and pretend as if it’s the end of the world.

The next time someone cuts off the water, I’m going to think twice before reacting and not allow the weight of the water to pull me down.

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