At Long Last, the Pilot Receives Approval

It was approximately four o’clock in the afternoon on March 31 when word finally came: the clean drinking water pilot project had received official approval from Seva Mandir’s Chief Executive. I arrived in Udaipur and began work on the morning of September 14; March 31, then, was my 200th day (if one counts vacation and weekends) with Seva Mandir. Work on the pilot hasn’t yet begun; it is at least another week off, and probably two. Had I been given some premonition of the start date of work on this, my project, upon arrival in Udaipur—a date attached to a fact, shimmering with the light of undeniable truth—I wonder how I would have received it. With surprise, certainly, but a surprise which may have quickly given way to fear. “Am I going to be hospitalized for an extended period?” I might have worried. Or perhaps I would have rationalized: certainly I was fated, in the months ahead, to be diverted for some time in work of more immediate interest to the organization?

But, alas, neither scenario approaches the truth. It has simply taken this long to assess needs, to craft a strategy, to explore the logistical dimensions of that strategy, to create a proposal reflecting those logistical realities, and to have that proposal approved. I’ve written previously on this blog about the incremental nature of development, about how its progress should be measured in generations, but if all development moved at the pace of my little drinking water project, I think we would do better to measure it in centuries.

Four months ago, on December 1, I received the results of bacterial tests conducted on six drinking water sources in Dhala, the pilot village. The previous day I had collected samples from four of the community’s most commonly used wells and two randomly selected households, packed them in ice, and whisked them off to the lab. The results of the tests were startling: None of the samples met the WHO’s minimum standard for levels of coliform (fecal) bacteria—a maximum of 10 organisms/100 milliliters of water. More distressingly, three of the samples—those from the two most commonly used wells in the village and one of the household samples—revealed bacteria counts in excess of 1,800 organisms/100mL.

In all likelihood, nearly everyone in the village was drinking unsafe water, and many were drinking water so contaminated it could give an elephant the runs. The two heavily contaminated wells provide drinking water for eighty-two households—30% of the village. How many others were ingesting hundreds of coliforms—literally—with each sip? And this was the beginning of December; the most dangerous period for drinking water is thought to be from May to August. During the months leading up to monsoon (May and June), many wells run dry and more dangerous sources must be drawn from; when monsoon arrives (July and August), wells are inundated by rainwater and effluent gushing down from the hills, a shit-dimmed tide mingling with the well water. What would tests reveal then?

It would certainly be enlightening to conduct a household health survey in Dhala now. How many cases of typhoid would be reported for the last four months? How many bouts of diarrhea? How many instances of hepatitis? Cholera? How many days of school will have been missed due to waterborne illness? How many days of work? How much income will have been lost? How much discomfort endured? How much misery? Meanwhile, Seva Mandir’s strategy is to deal first with protecting the community’s water supply. Purifying the water will come later, once sufficient momentum has been built within the community for the idea of clean water, the idea that it is something worth investing in. Besides, I am told, people aren’t yet ready to use and maintain a household-level filter, no matter how simple. It’s better to move slowly with these things. Communities must be prepared for changes in thinking and doing; things don’t happen merely because we want them to.

And they’re probably right. Certainly I’ve never implemented a project on the ground in the developing world—not in Africa, nor in India, nor in Rajasthan, nor in Udaipur District, nor in Jhadol Block, and certainly not in Dhala. I must take them at their word; I must trust in their experience, for I haven’t any of it. I make inferences based upon what limited observation I have done here; I calculate probability with a limited set of data. I am not so arrogant as to presume that I know better. Am I?

We will protect wells with walls; we will repair handpumps; we will educate the community. It can’t hurt. Some of it may help, even in the long-term. But I’m afraid that it won’t. Still, after nearly three months of bearing the private indignity of having my ideas undermined and ignored, I am now entirely resigned to the progress of the pilot as currently constituted. After all of this time, it is moving forward, and I am content in that. It is the three months that irks now, the 200 days, the four months elapsed since test results revealed horrific contamination. Certainly this isn’t a case in which torpor is a virtue. Contaminated water continues to be consumed. Volunteers and interns at Seva Mandir are told to scale back their expectations; perhaps Seva Mandir should be meeting us halfway. The notion that change takes time, that development is a painstaking process is a valuable, practical insight—it shouldn’t also be an excuse.