Tippy Tap

“Don Marco, I need to borrow a machete and shovel.”

Don Marco, the hospital’s maintenance director, gives me a strange look, he looks slightly worried.

“Uh, please, ” I add.

“Who are you going to kill and bury?” he asks.

“Oh don’t be silly, I wouldn’t kill anyone with a machete, that’s just too messy“
  
He should be use to my strange requests by now. Last week I asked to borrow pliers, a lighter and a nail.  This probably sounds strangely masochistic, but I’m not crazy. It’s all the materials I need to build a Tippy Tap, a low-cost hand-washing device for places that don’t have access to running water. I’m creating one for a local elementary school that doesn’t have water. Last week I did a chat on hygiene and told a story of 3 friends and how they changed their habits. Normally these kids are off the wall crazy, but they love stories and so they actually paid attention, much to my delight. This week I’m going back and giving them the necessary tools to actually put into practice what they’ve learned.
 
A Tippy Tap is a very simple contraption; you need a big plastic jug, a rope and 3 sticks. Finding the sticks was surprisingly difficult. I bushwhacked through the forest for about an hour trying to find the right sticks, along the way I was greeted with more strange looks from passersby. I think it’s official, everyone in this town thinks I’m weird.  I could see the burning questions in their eyes: What’s that white girl doing in this area?  Do you think she’s lost? Why is she shuffling through the forest? Is that a machete in her hand? Should we make sure she’s okay?

I even had Shalom worrying about me. Shalom is a local dog that I nicknamed who is always running around happy and smiling. She came up to me and wagged her tail and I patted her on the head. Then she turned her head and looked at me in that inquisitive way dogs do when they’re confused. Regardless of the stares, I managed to get the perfect sticks.

The next day, I finally get my tools and set off to the school carrying 2 plastic bottles, a shovel, a ball of rope and a handful of large sticks. It was a long uphill walk with all that stuff, let me tell ya.
Upon arriving at the school and informing the teacher what I’ll be doing, she looks at me doubtfully and asks if I need any help. “Nah, I think I’ll be okay,” I respond.  As I set to work digging 2 holes, I realize that this is actually a little harder than I thought. The ground is rock hard and dry. A shovel is not the best way to go. After half an hour I’ve dug a hole 4 inches deep and 8 inches wide. No good, that won’t hold my sticks up. These kids will rip those out in less than 2 minutes. I must humbly admit defeat. I tell the teacher that I need to find a pickaxe  but that I’ll be back tomorrow morning to finish the job. I feel like a failure. How hard is it to dig 2 holes?  As I’m walking back to the hospital, dejected, lugging the heavy shovel on my shoulder, I suddenly perk up. It’s actually a good thing I didn’t finish today, it’s an opportunity. Tomorrow I will ask some of the bigger kids to help me dig the hole. This isn’t because I’m lazy, this is Public Health 101. Don’t do for the community what they can do for themselves. The more they are involved and the more they do, the more they feel like they’ve put time and energy into this project and the more likely they will continue the project after you’ve left.  In short, these concepts are called ownership and sustainability, and even kids can do this.

The next morning I see Don Marco and tell him that the shovel was a failure, I need something else, like a pickaxe. This time he just shakes his head and goes inside to find the right tool.

“Be careful,” he says. “Chopped limbs are hard to re-attach.”

And so, once again I set off on the dirt path to the school, a very heavy pickaxe in tow. Even though it’s finals week,  I manage to get a couple kids to help dig deep holes. It may seem like child labor or that I’m not capable to do it myself, but I know the truth. This isn’t about proving that I’m an independent woman or that I have upper arm strength. This is all part of the plan to get these kids to wash their grimy little hands. After the sticks are in place, I get two other kids to help me find some water. We go walking in between the little houses trying to find someone who will donate water, each one of us carrying a decorated plastic jug.

In the end the kids were super excited to finally see what the crazy white girl was working on.  We stood outside as I explained how to use the Tippy Tap and they each got a chance to wash their hands. Although it took longer than I had expected to finish this project, I’m happy that I was able use the shovel failure to learn from my mistakes and auto-correct. That’s what it’s all about right?  

As I was walking back to the hospital, I felt content, fulfilled even. This time the pickaxe didn’t seem nearly as heavy.  

tuna fish, over and out. 

Quote of the day:

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, ‘I’ll try again tomorrow’.”  - Mary Anne Radmacher


Comments

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