A person carries a jerrycan filled with water from a polluted well in Abia village. Photograph: Dan Chung
Another village, another Amref borehole, another round of praise from locals who are thankful to everyone involved in making all this possible. But what amused me as I arrived at Matali, site of the second borehole Amref has dug, was the reaction of the children.
On seeing Amref's Land Cruiser, they fled as though it was a monstrous creature on four legs in an African jungle. They later returned with their mother, saying "opukoyi" - which means "sack" in the local language of Kumam.
Apparently there was once a wave of child sacrificing as shameless men ravaged villages in the area, cutting off children's heads, packing them in opukoyi and disappearing in fast-moving vehicles. To keep kids on the leash, mothers convince them that any strange vehicle is an opukoyi car.
This time, with their mother around, the children stayed but kept a safe distance. As their mother listed all the benefits of using the new borehole, she suddenly had us all laughing.
"With this borehole, there is now peace on the village," she said. "Peace?" I asked. "Yes, peace, because whenever we went for water on the former protected spring, the lines would be so long that the women would end up fighting." "Women fighting?"
This reminded me. The previous day, my guide at Ominit had revealed that his village passed a bylaw against fighting at the borehole.
"Why would any one fight at the borehole?" "A woman can attack a younger girl and accuse her that the younger girl is in love with her husband and then they start fighting. They are always fighting at the water points."
According to another Amref driver I was with, when such a fight erupts there will be no Kofi Annan to separate the warring parties. Instead they cheer and shout. Which makes me wonder, what you would do in your community if you regularly saw women fighting? Would you also cheer and shout?
