The Glass Half-Full With Sediment

Bending down until level with the counter, I compare the two glasses of water. It is not difficult to determine which contains tap water and which bottled water. A thin layer of brown sediment coats the bottom of one. A hazy mist of other particles, not yet content to join their brethren, continue moving Brownian-style throughout the glass. I am reminded of one of my co-workers: she was treated for kidney stones earlier this summer and now drinks exclusively bottled water. Based on the growing stockpiles of bottled water in the corner stores, I assume she is not alone.

The problem is more than just the sediment. Every day since I returned to Morocco last week the water runs only a few hours a day. In the morning around 9 AM, I hear the telltale splash of our hot water heater beginning to refill. By noon the water is off. To shower or wash dishes or wash my hands, I must use 5-liter bottles I have filled. In the evening the water returns for a few more hours, usually off again by the time the canon goes off to announce the evening prayer. A practicing Muslim in Meknes has no running water during the only hours he or she is actually allowed to drink water.

This is not a Morocco-wide phenomenon. To the best of my knowledge, Meknes is alone among Moroccan cities facing this problem. Nor is it a new phenomenon, a 30-year old Moroccan friend tells me. When he was growing up there were no public water cut-offs in Meknes. This is just another case of bureaucratic mismanagement, he says. The cut-offs appear to be related to rain. The infrastructure has not been kept up, and so the system cannot handle an influx of water after the rains. During the three months of winter rains, the water was consistently off. But this is the summer, and it has been over a week since the last rains.