Ode to the Water Tank

I usually take a shower. This morning I opted for a bath.

Hmmmm. Maybe not, I thought, when I saw what came out of the tab. Looks familiar? Gosh, who knows how long this has been going on for? Imagine I've been washing my hair in this ... I don't know what, for weeks, maybe even months. I think maybe I’d better get on the roof and clean out that water tank. I’ve done it before (maybe in 1997 or so; there was a dead pigeon floating in it then).

Beirut Cityscape; the water tank

That’s part of living in a city where there’s no pressure on the water system. But why is there no pressure on the system? I have no idea. I never did a story on the water infra-structure of this town, otherwise I might have been able to tell you.

And thus, this is an ode to the watertank, for lack of pressure.

The water tank; they’re part of Beirut’s cityscape. Every roof has a few. The old types are the metal containers, welded into all kinds of different shapes, whatever shape the roof required. The newer ones are the plastic ones; less flexible, but maybe easier to maintain? I don’t know. I’ve got an old metal one with one of those lids that fit over the opening. Makes you wonder how that darn pigeon got in. Or all this yellow sand. Maybe an upset neighbor?

Beirut roofs: one tank for each floor

A roof without a water tank is an empty roof. Finding your own water tank is a bit of an issue. With 12 floors, there’s bound to be 12 tanks. But whose tank is which? Some buildings you see they’ve painted the house number on them. Smart. I distinctly remember from 1996 – or whenever it was that I checked mine – that I had a mighty hard time locating it. Maybe I should call the plumber; he should know. He’s up there about once a year to install a new water pump that is – supposedly – going to last me 10 years. That’s what he says each time. And that’s about right for 9 months, until you’re standing in the shower, and the hot water comes and goes in spurts.

Enough said; I’ve got to get working if I want a clean bath tomorrow morning, I know I shouldn't complain. At least I have water. And hot, most of the times. That's more than many of us can say in this town.