For Happier Endings

I often have exciting stories to share. Happy stories. Water coming from taps for the first time. Lives changing. Suffering turning to joy. So many stories of hearts opening to a new hope, sprouting, taking root and, with hard work, those hopes being realized as dreams are fulfilled.

I shared some of these on my birthday this year, finding myself perfectly between two worlds on my birthday - having just left a celebration with the community of Parrequena, home to 141 families who had just turned on taps a few weeks prior, and on my way to a new village called Talaxcoc, a land with no water.


We were welcomed in by the village and gathered with some of the 190 families under a tree. We asked if they might be willing to share some of their stories with us. A little lady named Dominga stood up. She had walked some 8km through the mountains from her home to come and tell us her story, the story of most families in the community: she walks some 2.5 hours round trip a few times a day down the mountain to the small river in the valley bed. Animals and families alike share the water for drinking, bathing, laundry - meaning there is a lot of muck and germs in the water. It's been getting worse in the recent generations as population growth in the closest town has meant more contamination from upstream sewage that feeds into the river. Her husband died many years ago, leaving her as a single mother with her two sons. Her sons have since started their own families, but need to leave their families for about 6 months of each year to work like slaves on sugarcane plantations to earn some meagre income. She is left with her daughters-in-law and grandchildren, who suffer and struggle to survive each day without water. 

But she is a tenacious one. (I should mention that she spoke in Spanish, which is very rare for indigenous women in rural areas. I was so used to needing a translation from K'iche', the local language, to Spanish, before translating into English for the rest of our group, that I looked expectantly at one of the men for a translation before one of the local staff whispered, uh... she spoke in Spanish. Oh right!). She hustles and bustles and makes the trek to get water for her family each day, multiple times. I woke up another morning at 5:30am and peeked into the mud-brick home where some women had gathered to make breakfast for us visitors, and there she was (again, 8km from her home), smiling and clapping out tortillas between her hands.

She invited us to her home and (not knowing then that it would be an 8km hike up and down through the mountains), we accepted her warm invitation (barely made it back before dark). She offered us what she could - a drink of boiled oats called mosh. She thanked us for visiting her humble home and showed us a little flat rock where she washed clothes and dishes with water she collected in jugs. She showed a little patch, maybe 2m x 2m, where she grew cilantro, herbs, and lettuces. She used the precious water she carried up from the river carefully, not wasting a drop, and used grey water from cooking or washing to water her garden. We promised that we would do everything we could to try to help her village to build a clean water system as soon as possible, by sharing her story and inviting all of our friends and family to give what they can to help buy all the cement, pipes, and materials they need. We hoped that soon, this 'washing station' would be complete with what she really needed most: water.

Dominga, her daughter-in-law, and grandson

Boiled oats drink... we all washed it down with a pepto bismol just in case

Dominga and her flourishing little garden of greens

We left with a promise to do everything we can do help her family get water soon

I received the very sad news this morning.... that Dominga passed away. According to the community leaders, she died after excessive diarrhea and vomiting. She wasn't able to get to a health clinic quickly due to the long distance to get there, and by the time she could, unfortunately, it was too late. Her diarrhea and vomiting was likely due to contaminated water.

I share in the sadness of the community to lose such a vibrant and hardworking friend, neighbour, mother, and grandmother. I feel so sad especially as she has fought so hard and so long to 'make it' as a single mother/grandmother for so many years. Though each day was difficult and exhausting, she had been doing so well given the circumstances. Water would have so soon reached her village, and it was just not soon enough to avoid this tragedy.

I am thankful for some of these photos, through which we can continue to treasure Dominga's warmth, her smile, her bravery and courage to speak about her suffering on behalf of all the women in her community, and her strength, resourcefulness, and perseverance in the midst of suffering to work hard and provide for her family.

Dominga and her namesake granddaughter, Dominga

We are, sadly, too late for Dominga.

But it reminds me again of the reality of why we do this - visiting these communities; organizing runs around the block; speaking to churches, schools, friends, family - whoever might have a listening ear and an open heart; speaking of not only compassion but justice in a world where we see people suffering and systematically caught in poverty in an age of economic abundance; speaking of doing 'right' starting with seeing people as they truly are... people of value, worthy of a life of dignity, people who are each really, very incredible people.

The Run is "for H2O"... but really it is for people. People like Dominga, whose joyful, courageous demeanor would not have given away the depths of the suffering and sorrows she shared about in words; whose life we knew had been marked by daily struggle but whose vulnerability we could not really fathom until her death shakes us to her true reality; who we wish could have experienced a life as hopeful, refreshing, and vibrant as her character.

This is why we do what we do...

When I left Dominga's village, I said, we have to go back to our homes, but this is not 'goodbye'. It is 'until we see you again to celebrate having clean, running water in your homes, we are together with you in this struggle, and we hope that day is coming soon'. 

There are still 190 families in the village of Talaxcoc.

I ask you to join me, in giving and fundraising, however you can, so that the stories of many others may have happier endings - in Talaxcoc, and also in the many other villages where there are Domingas, equally and uniquely precious, that we haven't yet met.

Join us for these happier endings...
- run/walk 5K or 10K the Run For H2O on Saturday June 16, 2018 in south Vancouver, the distance that Dominga hiked every day to get water
- donate: my.hope-international.com/rainbow2018  - each $100 will help 1 person (or $600 per family) get clean water for life, by adding it together with others' gifts to build a spring-fed gravity water system to serve the whole community
- join my fundraising team: my.hope-international.com/teampipes2018
- share this story and ask others to get involved

(all photos except the one under the tree, and Dominga making a tortilla, gratefully received courtesy of Michele Mateus Photography)