Water is heavy. At a school in Uganda.

Until I arrived at the school in Uganda, I thought I understood the value of water.

In the Ugandan countryside, there is a school opened by a Japanese person.
It provides education and meals to children who cannot study due to family circumstances.
It is a system where travelers can stay if they volunteer to take care of the children.

I took buses to get there.
There were many children.

"Could you help fetch some water?"
"Yes."

I thought it would be easy.

"It takes about an hour round trip to the well."
"That long?"
"Yes. Go by bicycle."

A plastic tank was strapped to the bicycle.
A twenty-kilogram tank.
Even empty, it is heavy.

It was a sandy road.
Unpaved. Just a sandy road.
The bicycle wobbled.
The pedals were heavy.

After riding for about thirty minutes, I reached the well.
Local residents were lined up. They draw water in turn.
The plastic tank became heavily weighted.

Twenty kilograms. I strapped it to the bicycle.

The return trip was even heavier.
The bicycle wobbled.
I lost my balance on the sandy road.
I fell.

The plastic tank fell to the ground.
Some water spilled out.

Good grief.

I picked up the bicycle.
I started riding again.
I fell again.
I fell many times.

I was covered in sand. Sweat poured down.
It took over an hour to return to the school.
I was exhausted.

"Good work."

I collapsed.
One hour to fetch water in the scorching African heat.
Carrying twenty kilograms.
That is daily life.

I spent a few days at the school.
I played with the children.
I had them draw pictures.
They drew whatever they liked with crayons.

Houses, trees, animals, the sun.
They were all colorful.
They were a bit different from the pictures drawn by children in India or Bangladesh.
Is this thanks to the education?

On the morning of my departure, the children gathered.
The children began to sing.
The children's voices overlapped and echoed.

A single tear welled up in the corner of my eye.

The children were singing with smiles on their faces.

At the end of the song, I gave money to the owner.
As payment for the pictures the children drew for me.

"Thank you. I will use this for the school."

I got on the bus.
The children were waving.
I waved back.

The bus started moving.
The children became smaller.
The school grew distant.

While being swayed by the bus, I stared blankly out the window.
My physical condition was not good. It was like symptoms of malaria.

Just by turning a faucet, drinking water comes out.
How happy Japan is.

—Ah, once again, a soliloquy in a strange foreign land.