When the Rain Stopped
Conserving water one shower at a time
By Emmalee Miller
This article originally appeared in Glimpse.org, an online community where global explorers share their stories from abroad.
“You shouldn’t take such long showers,” my new Aussie roommate, Sarah, told me. “It’s wasteful.”
I had never considered my five-minute showers an indulgence. Water had always been plentiful, at least in my eyes, and my showers were often much shorter than those of my friends back home. However, as Sarah and I wove through the roads that would take us outside of Sydney and into Canberra that March weekend, I realized the toll the seven-year drought had taken on this region of Australia.
The hillsides were barren and the cracks in the soil made the land look like jagged puzzle pieces. Ribs poked out of the sides of cows because there was little grass left to eat. Even the trees hunched over and appeared ready to break at any moment.
“That used to be Lake George,” Sarah said as she pointed to a huge dusty hole a few meters deep. “I used to go swimming there.”
Inside Sydney it was hard to imagine there even was a drought. The grass and trees were still green. Water flowed plentifully. Aside from a few signs to save water, there were hardly any reminders of the plague that was sweeping through the rest of Australia. It took leaving the international hub to see the real country.
As politicians debated over water rights and whether to reuse sewer water, the drought affected families living in the country. Homeowners could not fill up pools and, during the worst drought periods, could only water their grass and plants with a hose one day or one night every other weekend. There was a $200 fine if you were seen using a hose outside of the prescribed hours or if you were found washing a car.
Hay prices skyrocketed from $3 to $15 per bale. Sheep were sold for $1 each as people tried to get rid of them because they could no longer feed them. Cows became so skinny they stopped producing milk, causing milk prices to soar. People used buckets to catch the excess water from their minute-long showers, and no fires were allowed—which also meant no Aussie BBQs.
Sarah, who is from Bungendore, a town 60 kilometers outside of Australia’s capital city Canberra, continued to describe the worsening conditions in which she had been living over the past few years.
“My township was lucky and still had running water,” she said. “But people 10 to 15 kilos outside of town didn’t and they would be delivered water only once a week by a truck.”
“What if they ran out of the water?” I asked.
“They would need to boil bottled water to take baths or come into town and ask for water from other people,” she replied.
I listened in shock, embarrassed by my wastefulness, but Sarah’s next words stung even more.
“You Americans don’t really conserve because you’ve never had to, but now it’s a mindset for Australians and we don’t take water for granted,” she said.
The following June and July of 2007 Australia received many heavy rainfalls. While American study abroad students lamented over the rainy days because it shortened beach time, Australians couldn’t stop commenting on the lovely weather. Farmers finally had enough water for their livestock and families.
And two-minute showers weren’t a big deal to me anymore.
“So is the drought over now?” I asked Sarah, as the rain poured outside.
“In terms of rainfall I guess you can say it’s over,” she replied. “But the effects aren’t gone, and who knows when the rain will stop again.”
Emmalee Miller, a journalism major at Northwestern University, studied at the University of Sydney in 2007.