Unsung Heroes: Mai Ruwa
Due to a failure of government to meet basic infrastructural necessities like constant power supply, running water, good health care and quality education for its citizens, many people are constantly having to provide these necessities for themselves. In fact, it has become quite normal for households to provide their own water and electricity and pay exorbitant fees for quality education and healthcare for themselves and their families. Personally, I can’t remember when we had water flowing from the tap from the water board. If I could put a time to it, I would have to say when I was an early teen. I remember this because for the longest time, we used to fetch water at our neighbors’ wells to fill the big drums that most big families had. And when these neighbors didn’t have water or there was short supply during the dry season, we were always prevented from fetching water. This continued until we dug our own well and became kings. Soon enough, many families started to bore holes in their houses and rig a system that stores and distributes water to them. It has become common place to see each house with its own ‘GP Tank’; typical case of a brand name replacing the generic name. As it is right now, the skyline of many houses are dotted with these water storage tanks. Drilling boreholes is not cheap. It costs anywhere from ₦150,000 to ₦2 million. In a country where 64% of the populace lives below the poverty line and is expected to take over from India as the poverty capital capital of the world (United Nations: Nigeria’s Common Country Analysis, 2016), where general unemployment rate is at a whopping 18.8% (Nigeria Bureau of Statistics, 2017 Q3 Report) and where the average person struggles daily, access to clean, safe water is an ever-constant issue. This means that though all households need water, not all families can afford to have boreholes installed in their homes. ‘GP Tanks’ for storing water pumped from a borehole. Image: Premium Times Nigeria This is where the Mai Ruwa comes in. The Mai Ruwa is a Hausa term which translates to ‘water seller’. The term can be used for a person who has a borehole and sells water to people who go to them to fetch or to one who takes water in 20-litre jerrycans to people’s houses to sell. In most cases, it refers to the latter. A typical Mai Ruwa starter pack is a trolley (or truck as they are popularly called), 12 to 14 jerrycans and an able bodied man with the simplest of clothes and worn out shoes. Unfortunately, I haven’t ever seen a female Mai Ruwa. Or should I say, fortunately. So this is one of those jobs that is strictly an all men affair. The job requires pushing a truck carrying around 300 litres of water from street to street calling out people to buy. In poorer neighborhood, they don’t need to scream as much; there will always be people willing to buy. But in richer neighborhoods – and by richer I mean middle class neighborhoods because no one in the upper class bothers about these kinds of problems – it is an uphill task selling water there. Most people in these types of neighborhood only buy water when they have gone days or even weeks without power supply to pump water. Or, if the pumping machine for the boreholes are bad. Which was what happened to me last me last week. I recently moved from a core ghetto to a slightly better neighborhood. The house was still getting some work done so there was barely any water in house. I knew I had to get a Mai Ruwa to supply me water until the problem was fixed. When I was in the ghetto, all I needed to do was walk out of my gate and find someone selling water. But in this new neighborhood, that wasn’t the case. Everyone in the neighborhood had their own boreholes and didn’t need the services of a Mai Ruwa. I had to walk a long distance to find out. By this time, I was already tired and sweating profusely. But I found one! When I told him where we were going, he said each jerrycan cost ₦30. I told him I only wanted 7. He agreed and we set off for the long journey to my house. Mai Ruwa pushing his truck down a hill. Unlike my Mai Ruwa, this seems much easier even though it is still a lot of work. Image: Wikimedia Commons Now here is what I didn’t tell you. My house is atop a small hill and the entire road leading to the house is rugged, uneven and bumpy. Walking up the hill is a chore. Now imagine what pushing a truck with 300-litres of water means. As the Mai Ruwa started climbing the hill, I knew it was going to be an uphill task. (You know I did that on purpose, right?). He pushed the truck in one direction and was shocked when the truck rolled back and nearly toppled over. He used all his strength to keep the truck aright and paused to assess the road. I could see the wheels of his mind working as he considered what path to take that would offer the least resistance. He took off his shoes and started again. The truck kept swerving and the contents nearly spilling. He had done this like five or seven times when I saw he was almost quitting. I knew I had to do something. If he quit, it meant I wouldn’t get any water. If I was to get water, I had to help out. So I offered. Again, I could see him contemplating. I can almost swear he was wondering what kind of help I could offer since I am a woman. But he was already sweating and puffing. You could tell that the work had taken a toll on him.
