Agua Pura

El Zaite is built into a steep slope that is now cloaked in green. The cement and sheet metal shacks, like the trees that surround them, seem to cling to the wet earth and teeter towards the valley below. Despite the grey clouds, the air is hot and heavy and traps you in your own clothing. The children are dressed in collared shirts and jumpers but run and climb and swing about, uninhibited by the polyester pleats.

The first one I meet has high white socks worn to brown. She is coming to class late and shows me a bandaid on her elbow where she’s just had blood drawn. Carlos tells me she may have parasites. She tells me only that her arm hurts. But she soon forgets and hugs me close, swinging her long dark hair across my hips.

“Sueno con un mundo lleno de paz, armonia y solidaridad,” is painted across the stucco wall beside the mural of a world held by children of all colors. I recognize the faces of our children from the pictures I've seen. They look healthy—much better than the ones in Africa. Their cheeks are round and rosy, and their eyes are bright and alive. Their uniforms, though patched and printed with dust are not in shreds. I am grateful that this center is here, and I wonder what they would be like without it.

It’s snack time—though for some this may be the only meal they have all day. They eat with an eagerness that exposes their hunger. They rip their papusas to pieces and lick their fingers when they finish. They have no water to drink but sip the hot chocolate before it cools and burn their tongues. It's so good they say, too good to wait.

They proudly show off loose teeth, colored drawings, and the way they wash their hands—all in a single shallow bucket using antibacterial gel rather than soap and a shared towel they play tug-of-war with. Then the cook washes the stack of plastic plates with another single bucket, this time of soapy water, throwing a cupped handful on each one. I notice that no one—not the principal nor the staff is drinking water, but they give a small amount to each plant.

Water is a major problem in El Zaite. During heavy rains the streets flood and the uncovered walkway becomes treacherous for little running feet. The crops are drowned by torrential rains. One of the teachers was unable to use the rope pully system to cross the river from her house, so they moved her closer to the center. And all this water is contaminated, by trash and human feces. I’m reminded of some fragment from my childhood—a song or a poem… water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink. The lack of clean water is the underlying cause of most illnesses in this community. Last month, there were 841 reported cases of diarrhea, 671 of parasites, 329 of amoebas and 29 of giardia in children under the age of five in Zaragosa.

In a focus group with eleven mothers, every one had family members who have become sick from drinking contaminated water. Often the illness had spread to other children or even the entire family. One, a woman with 7 children, gets her water from their well without treating it. Her oldest (age 13) recently got sick with amoebas, which quickly spread to the four-year old girl, then the boy, then the mother. She never was tested herself, but the children were, received appropriate medication and are doing fine now. Still, she does nothing to treat the well water and prays that her youngest, a four-month old infant, will not contract a dangerous disease. As one woman tells us, “sin agua, no vida.” No water, no life.

Marta, one of the teachers at the center, is young and beautiful and never stops smiling. She was sick for a full month before doctors realized she had amoebas in her brain that had attacked her central nervous system. She was tired and pale, and it gave her great pain to see light or hear sound. She had a lazy tongue and tremors so bad that at times she thought she might fall over or faint. She got treatment, she's taking vitamins, and the pain has subsided, but she still gets migraines. I'm told that amoebas can lie dormant in the body for 3-5 years without symptoms. With the worst cases, like hers, treatment will kill the adult amoebas but not the "juevitos". Marta will undergo treatment every six months for the rest of her life.

Three other children at the centre have been infected. Alonso, who is three, Marta who is six, and her sister Maritza who is 13 and attends the tutoring program. I can only imagine how many of these children many have them without yet knowing, and how many others are suffering in silence.