A LONG TIME AGO former NATION driver Anderson Sobers told me a story that has proved to be true time and time again.
While travelling one day, Sobers and I had one of our usual conversations about life. He said to me: “Tonnie”, as he always referred to me, “you know if a man gives you $100 around payday it has less value and meaning than if he gives you a $25 bottle of gas when your gas runs out and you are broke?”
And each time something happens at the perfect moment I remember Sobers and think, boy, was he bang on.
Sometimes help comes when you need it most from the most unexpected source.
Take the example of a colleague who threatened me if I ever told a soul. I live on the edge, so here I am sharing my story with close to 40 000 newspaper readers and countless others in cyberspace.
Veteran journalist and workmate Heather-Lynn Evanson brought five gallons of water for me on Saturday. And when I brought her bottles back she filled them again and brought another five gallons on Tuesday. Many thanks.
Now let’s be clear; there is absolutely no love lost between us. As she said while giving me the water, “there is only one person I care for in your household”. She and Toriann, my daughter, have a thing going on.
So there and then she confessed it was not about me.
Next week, or the next two weeks “Beres”, as I call her, will pass by my desk and more than likely say nothing to me. She will see me in the car park and turn her head in the opposite direction. She will call my desk when I am doing the paper and tell me off if she has worked past her time. She’ll give me a piece of her mind, simply because she can.
Ours is not a close friendship. But for years we have had mutual respect, mostly because we say what we mean and mean what we say.
Since last week’s article on my water troubles appeared I have had numerous interesting conversations. People have asked how I cope. Some asked if I missed a day from work or Toriann a day of school.
And, no, neither of us has gone a single day without a bath either – for those who love to ask, “Wait, you bathe?” Many said: “Toni, I didn’t realise what you were going through.”
I work in a newsroom with over 50 people and only three (Antoinette, Kendy and Sherrylyn) knew the full extent of my troubles.
I wrote the piece last week for two reasons – for others to know they are not alone and for my community to get some sort of relief.
The power of the pen accomplished both.
Then a few wanted to know if I was comfortable telling my story especially with the picture with the garbage bag of containers (below).
The truth is the truth.
Those who know me well know I don’t do shame and I absolutely never play the victim. There is nothing in life that happens to me that does not happen to someone else.
I have always believed that if you have a voice you should let it be heard. I chose to be the voice of Brevitor Hall South, St Peter, solely because I work in the media.
Others said: “Girl I doan know how you does do it – 13 days?” Well, it is now 20.
I do it because I have no other choice. As with any other challenge, I have learnt I must dig deep down and find the strength to move on even if at times the load bends my back – literally.
I am not easily broken largely because I have had my fair share of rough times. For my entire school life we had no water on mornings in Shop Hill, St Thomas.
Going to the water tanker is something I know well. Bathing at the standpipe in Christie Village I know that too. I know tough times. So, yes, of course this period is hard, especially with Toriann around. But now – more than ever – because of her I cannot allow things to break me.
I have to show her, as mummy showed me, that this is part of life. It is not ideal, it is not perfect, but we cannot allow this to break us.
Like my colleague Danny reminded me Saturday I am going through all this for a reason and he is right. I have learnt valuable lessons in terms of water usage and taking things for granted.
So because of Beres’ kindness and that of so many others I felt the need to pen this last chronicle thanking all who rallied with me and continue to do so.
Thanks to my mum Una Yarde who taught me that in everything I must give thanks.
Thanks to Nation Corp. Chief Executive Officer Anthony Shaw, who when I confessed I was “stealing” water from the company, said: “Toni don’t put it like that. Don’t say stealing. You are taking water”, smiled and walked away.
Thanks to drivers Rajit, Victor and Clyde who never hesitate in helping me lift my load at night when they take me home. Thanks to Carlos, Haydn, David Ashby and David Harding who help me dutifully.
Thanks to Antoinette who would stand up and fill the bottles while my head is down with the paper to meet deadline. Thanks to Sherrylyn who has inquired about my well-being every single day since this started.
A million thanks to Ava who I may very well owe money for her water bill. Thanks to Kathyann for the nice kitchen gadget which is making life much easier.
Thanks to my niece Samiann who always has my back.
Thanks to the crew of ML670 who were patient and humane last Friday. The driver was reading the WEEKEND NATION as we filled up. More love for you, sir.
Thanks to the stranger from Inch Marlow, Christ Church, who saw the article and told me to come and catch pails of water “anytime”.
Thanks to the resident of Workmans, St George, who emailed all of his contact info inviting me to “swing by”. Yup, complete strangers.
Thanks to two male workmates who have continuously offered me portable shower services on condition that they bathe me. Who knows I may be forced to tak them up on that offer some day.
So my water challenges are far from over, but I am in the process of trying to solve them.
In the meantime, (as long as Beres doesn’t follow through on her threat) I will continue to “lift up my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help”. (TTY)
