Useless Water

It is monsoon season in the Philippines now, which means flood season. There is water everywhere—pouring down on our tin roof and trickling through the cracks down our walls, puffing up the paint as it worms down. Lingering in the air, making chairs mouldy and bags smell damp. Gushing under our feet into tricycles, wetting bums. Overflowing from creeks and tickling toes at 2 am, flushing animal pee and trash out of gutters into homes, destroying karaoke sets and sofas. Water everywhere.

And yet we have water shortage. Nothing coming out of our taps. Laundry left unwashed, greasy dishes piling up, neighbours waiting idly by the gate for water to come. When it does come in trucks, it may be yellow water, good for nothing but for washing the floor and clothes, but we bathe in it still.

So much water, and not enough at all.

Hugot time. 

Like how the world is saturated with information, yet starved for truth. We are constantly rained down on by useless water, rain that is smelly and undrinkable, not even good for washing with. We know this, and we are parched for usable water. We’re sometimes so eager to get it that we run out to the first water truck that comes by, and fill our water drums before we realise it’s all yellow water, false truth. It then takes time to clear our storage, to try to use it up, to dump it out along with all the anger; yellow water makes us angry. If we choose to use it anyway for bathing and washing our dishes, it could make us sick. 

The trick is to make the water truck boys fill up a small white pail first. When tested and found to be clean, we then let them fill up all our water drums. We are told to test every spirit to see if it is from God, for not all water suppliers carry pure water. Not all philosophers tell the truth.