ONE BRICK AT A TIME: WATER BRIGADES IN HONDURAS
By Helen Yu
I can’t help but think about my time in Honduras every time I take a drink of water from my kitchen faucet. Even the tap water here, what many deem as impure, flows much cleaner than the debris- and bacteria-contaminated water that reaches the homes of rural Honduras. Many are stricken with intestinal parasites due to this issue. The problems surrounding water in this developing country, where 51% of the people live below the national poverty line, lie not only in its sanitation, but also in its accessibility. Where the average American uses almost 100 gallons of water per day1, the average family in Honduras however uses less than six.
Last May, I helped lead a group of student volunteers on a week-long trip to Honduras through the Global Water Brigades program at UC Berkeley. Armed with countless pages of reading and models our classes had taught us about development and building infrastructure in developing countries, we felt ready to bring clean water to Honduras. We would find that despite our preparation, our work would call for much more. Unsure of what our week would entail, as the water project is tailored to the needs of each village, our goals were hazy, our expectations, lofty. We soon learned that we would be building pillas, water storage devices, out of mud and brick for five families. These pillas allow them to reserve enough water to cook, bathe, and wash clothing when the water line for their side of the mountain has to be turned off to divert water to the other side for the rest of the day.
For the next three days, we delved into our work: mixing cement, sifting sand, laying bricks, and stopping every so often to take in the view of the majestic tree-lined mountains that stood above us. I left each day feeling as if I had been taught nothing in school since our mason knew exactly how much cement needed to be mixed with water and sand, how each brick needed to be laid to ensure an even structure, and the way the wrist flicks to fling cement to cover exposed brick. To be fair, this was only an initial and ephemeral reaction. I do value all that I have learned in school. Having left with an understanding that skill to do really comes by doing, a college degree does not preclude wielding specialized knowledge and talent.
On our final day there, the mother of the household thanked us. While building this pilla hardly seemed to hold a candle to the grand sweeping changes we normally summon in our minds when we think of making an impact on the world around us, these efforts have allowed me to realize the ability in these smaller endeavors to generate sizable differences. To this family, the fact that they can access clean water throughout the week rather than having to hike up steep slopes each day to obtain some–-this has changed their lives.
Participating in this Water Brigade has granted me a greater appreciation for development as a process that requires both diligence and patience. While we did not bring clean water to Honduras, we have at least done so for one family. Yet even so, I feel as if the people we encountered taught me far more than I could repay them for through the “service” I brought to them. My experience here has challenged my notion of what it means to “help people,” that our efforts are neither noble nor just, but a nod to our commonalities as human beings. Despite language and cultural barriers, our most intrinsic and basic needs for food, clothing, shelter and love remain universal. With or without our presence, these people have shown me that they are not only surviving but thriving, a testament to the tenacity of the human spirit across all borders.
