45
to safely managed water is limited. Finally, I conclude the chapter with a set of propositions that guided data analysis in the study.
46
supply. This experience was further heightened during the 2015-2017 drought that plagued South Africa. During that period, even those rural communities that received communal piped water were disconnected from water services and had to find alternative water sources (Achore, Bisung & Kuusaana, 2020; Fielmua, 2020; Fielmua & Dongzagla, 2020). To make matters worse, water trucks/tankers, which were meant to support communities’ access to safe water, became an unreliable source because they only brought water once every two or three weeks.
A report in The Mercury newspaper highlighted the plight of rural communities during the drought period (Nxumalo, 2019). For example, the article noted how community members in the Nkangala rural community in KZN lamented their difficulties in accessing water from water tankers that came infrequently. One striking comment that was made by an elderly member of the community asserted that:
Some of us are old and we can’t be running after the water tanker to get water. The tankers do come, but sometimes they come after [many] days. Some were given JoJo tanks25, but the water is often not clean and makes children sick” (Nxumalo, 2019, 1).
This period also revealed the presence of nepotism and political influence in service delivery in my community as well as other neighbouring areas. Although there are no media reports available, from a personal standpoint, the water truck only delivered water to households and families that were affiliated with the governing political party; this to the neglect of those families that were not active in politics. In some instances, because my community was under the authority of a traditional leader (i.e., a chief), the water truck would first deliver water to his house. If there was any water remaining, it would then distribute the rest among the community. These experiences are not unique to the community I lived in. For example, researchers report similar experiences in other South African provinces such as the Western Cape (Gagné-Acoulon, 2020). Gagné-Acoulon (2020) reported that political corruption, bribery, and nepotism influenced which communities and households received safe water during the drought.
Moreover, given the prevalence of gender inequality in rural communities, there has also been a notable gender divide in terms of access and use of water in my community (see also, Bidwell, 2020; Kyei, 2019). Often, women stand one behind the other with buckets, drums, and water
25 In South Africa, Jojo tanks are large plastic containers that are installed and placed outside a household. The tanks are used to harvest and store rain water. Since the 2015-2017 drought, Jojo tanks have become an important resource, and a common feature, for low-income households as well as for resource-poor communities (Lebek, Twomey & Krueger, 2020).
47
containers to collect water. This is true even for the delivery of water by water trucks. For example, in my experience, the truck would often pass me without notice when I stood on the sidewalk to collect water. However, it always stopped for the men in my household, including my younger brother. For me, this experience painted a stark picture of the gender discrimination that is inherent in resource-poor rural communities, a form of discrimination that often goes unchallenged (Dutta, 2020; Prakash et al., 2020).
At a personal level, growing up and living in a water-insecure rural community, where water was often collected from unsafe sources, compromised many aspects of my livelihood. For example, in my household, we were commanded to use water sparingly. Using water sparingly limited personal and household hygiene, which compromised our health. To illustrate, since the frequency of baths I could take was limited, and the amount of water used for bathing and cooking restricted, children in my household developed skin rashes in reaction to the reduced quality of the water we used. Literature highlights that both reduced quality and quantity of water have implications for individual and community health (Usman, Gerber & von Braun, 2019; WHO, 2019b). Indeed, many of us at home had episodes of water-related diarrhoea, among other illnesses. It was through these experiences that my interest was ignited for hearing from individuals from resource-poor rural contexts, who also experience daily life without a reliable and safe source of daily water.
Philosophically, the methodology and design in this study were framed within the broader paradigm of humanistic geography (discussed in Chapter Four). Humanistic geography as a paradigm studies human experiences, their feelings, and emotions in the context of the geographical spaces they occupy (i.e., resource-poor rural areas) (Aitken & Valentine, 2006).
Researchers who adopt this paradigm use ‘standpoint’ epistemologies positioned in the experiences, values, and interests of groups that are often marginalised, including rural communities who are excluded from receiving essential water services (McDowell & Sharp, 2014). Moreover, this paradigm is rooted in participatory research that is culturally sensitive and considers research participants as ‘knowers and actors’ in their environment (Abma et al., 2017; Bastian et al., 2016; Chawar et al., 2018). For this reason, I located this study within humanistic geography to help understand the challenges and broader experiences of adults living in a marginalised resource-poor rural community in the context of having limited access to safely managed water. Located within this understanding and drawing from my positionality,
48
the study's data analysis was informed by two theoretical perspectives: the entitlement theory and the gender socialization framework.