Where Has All of the Hot Water Gone?

So I had come to assume that the Kupembona house had no hot water. The assumption was due to the fact that every night for weeks, when I went to take my bath, no matter how far I turned the hot water nozzle, all I would get was cold water. Wishful thinking was apparently not enough to warm it up. I began to feel that having a separate hot water nozzle was merely a cruel joke.

The typical bath compromised of me filling up the tub about an inch or two, kneeling down in the center and hunching over in a fetal-like position, and using a wash cloth and the splashing method to do the majority of the cleaning. It was really a sight to see as I would contort my body into all sorts of positions (some might have even been yoga postures) in an attempt to avoid prolonged contact with the cold water. Depending on the day and how exhausted I was, I would also consider using the hand sprayer. But I was typically too tired, so there were rarely any times when I would willingly spray the cold water all over my body. At the end of the few minutes it took to clean myself, I would usually be kneeling down in a puddle of murky brown water.

I finally started to accept and adjust to this new way of life until one fateful afternoon. I had decided to take my bath earlier than usual so I could go to bed at a decent time. It just so happens that I went into the bathroom right after Marina finished bathing. I could instantly tell that something was different. The room was practically a sauna. The temperature was many degrees higher than the rest of the house and probably most of Africa. I felt like I could hardly see through all of the steam and was practically choking on the air it was so heavy and humid. The mirrors were fogged and dripping with condensation. All of this and the window was open, which means a good amount of heat and moisture had even escaped.

After that night, everyday was a race to beat Marina to the bathroom (literally, we would get up from the dinner table and run to our rooms to get our things first). Although many a time was I defeated by my opponent, the clever little one started taking baths in the early afternoon, sometimes before I even came home from training. She would walk out of the bathroom with a huge smile on her face (and I swear, slightly short of breath as well from the minor heat exhaustion). I would stare right at her, knowing exactly what had just taken place in there, imagining gallon after gallon of the scarce hot water filling up the bathtub until there was none left. Then in my mind I could picture her playing around in it, splashing, swimming, spitting out water like those fish fountains. And in each little mental scenario she turns to me cackling and laughing away to mock me and my cold, muddy puddle.

You may have won this one little girl, so enjoy the water while you can…but know this, you will rue the day that you crossed me…