The water problem

In regards to drinking water, a wise man once said, “If it’s brown, drink it down. If it’s black, send it back”. For years I have used the words of this sage as a signpost to guide me towards a more righteous existence, a means of obtaining a feeling of centeredness during times of flux or peril, and as religious doctrine. Though an ally at-a-distance, he has always led me to truth, until now. So it is that I currently find myself in a most befuddled state. For the first time since our acquaintance I have had to outwardly defy the wisdom of Homer J. Simpson.

The brown is never taken down. In fact, strategic methods are in place so that all potentially consumable brown undergoes the necessary transformation to become clear. The teachers’ lounge and the teachers’ homes are never without the hypnotic hum of distillation that provides relief from the sediment and who-knows-what-laden liquid. For those who drink from the well, there is presumably no other path as boiling water is a wasteful, conscious, and time consuming endeavor.

However, not all drink from the well. A handful of the locals do not possess the power to distill, and instead collect the water that falls from the sky. Buckets found beneath gutter spouts are used to collect rain during the unfrozen months while the melting of snow provides the winter’s hydration.

For this reason and others, I have often viewed my duty here as one that would ultimately lead to exodus, operating under the assumption that to remain in this state would be unacceptable. However, all evidence points to the contrary. At the pre-gathering of a recent village meeting I stumbled upon drawn out plans for a water system, new homes, and a new airport. I queried a few of the members loitering about and found that the drawings were just as foreign to them. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Dora (the school secretary and mother to Kobe Bryant) informed me that efforts were underway to further develop Chefornak in the anticipation of growth. At this moment I awoke to the reality of the situation and accepted the fact that I was out of touch and that my assumptions were indeed, ill-conceived. I then began to wonder about many things regarding this issue.

The first addressed the water supply. Prompted by my question regarding the matter, Dora informed me that various water specialists had come out numerous times over the past 3 years in an attempt to find a suitable location to drill for water. All attempts produced definitive conclusions that FRESH WATER COULD NOT BE FOUND. As for the current supply, I do not know, but it stands without doubt that the situation is indeed precarious for the living.

I then inquired, “So what will be done if no water is found”?

Dora responded, “We don’t know”.

So at this point it is safe to say that the future of water consumption in Chefornak is as yet, uncertain. Maybe fresh water will be found, maybe a great distiller will be constructed, larger buckets purchased or perhaps the time has come for the citizens of Chefornak to open their minds and their hearts to the words of Homer J.