The Pool
p. 60 · Read in the full issue
By “South Seas”
THIS is a story for city-dwellers, who, when they want water, turn on a tap.
There had been a long drought, and the Island consisted entirely of up thrown coral rock, with practically no water anywhere. What little there was came from drips in the numerous lime stone caves. Even the Government tanks were empty, and only the most difficult pools remained.
Of these natural pools, or wells, there was one near the native village, sur rounded by a low wall, as it was very deep, although the opening was not more than a foot square. The fall was not straight, and a stone could be heard bounding from ledge to ledge before it (splashed into the depths. Nothing lar ger than a one-pound meat-tin could be made to negotiate the long, uneven open ing; to raise a bucket of water was a long, long job.
The second pool was too far off for the average native to bother with it: he (or she) preferred the meat tin on a string, and the gossip that went on as the dribbles of water came up.
But Mama was made of sterner stuff.
Each day, she and her little girl trotted off towards the middle of the Island, until they came to a cave about five miles from the village. Here was their laundry and cold drink bar combined, and they showed it with pride to the hos pital Matron.
The first large cave led into a much smaller one, with an entrance so nar row that it was only possible to crawl along the passage to it on hands and knees, pushing a torch ahead. There was no chance to turn, and it was a case of going into reverse on the way out.
In this dark inner cavern was the water supply, cold and clear, in tiny pools formed by drips from the low roof.
The native woman, sitting out in the sun doing her “wash,” was dependant on her small daughter for every drop of (water she used. The child crawled into the inner cave, in darkness, pushing a small bucket before her, then laboriously backing out. Journey after journey the little one made to fill her mother’s lar ger bucket; yet neither felt they had done anything unusual.
As the Matron straightened after her crawl into the cave, the mother smiled up happily: “One week ahead of all the other women!” she exclaimed proudly, and pushed the child off towards the cavern for another bucketful.