JEDDAH, 11 October 2007 — Ramadan is almost over with Eid just around the corner, yet the city’s water-shortage crisis shows no sign of abating.
Last year, a new system was implemented to make the process at Jeddah’s main water distribution center more orderly, which included giving customers a payment token with a number on it to be matched with the corresponding water truck.
But customers question the need to venture out to acquire water — saying that going to a water center to ensure delivery to a location is cumbersome and should be more automated and hands off.
“Why can’t we have some kind of sub-contract process?” asked Abu Saeed, a Saudi in his early 40s who owns a restaurant in Jeddah’s Corniche area. “Where they have numbers that include our addresses and all other details so that we can just call up the center, order water and, once we’re logged in, they can bill us like they do for electricity?”
Not yet 4 p.m., the sun still scorching, the constant flow of huge water trucks stirs puffs of faint dust mixed with diesel fumes engulfing the men standing in two lines, waiting their turn to get their share of water to take home. It’s another Ramadan day at the water distribution center in Jeddah’s Aziziya District.
Scarce pipeline water has residents of all social classes streaming in from different city districts to the center to arrange for water truck delivery.
Different city districts, according to residents, go without pipeline water for periods ranging from 12 to 20 days.
“Since the beginning of Ramadan, we get tap water every 15 days,” said Hassan Ahmad, a Saudi in his early 30s from the Hera district. “We’re totally dependent on the water we get from the Water Distribution Center, twice if not three times a week.”
“We weren’t getting regular pipeline water supply before Ramadan for weeks — going up to almost 20 days,” said Abu Ziyad, a resident of the Prince Abdulmajeed Model Housing Project commonly known as the Iskan (Arabic for “housing”), south of Jeddah. “The situation is worse now because we’re fasting and with the different Ramadan schedule, time is tight — getting water from the center is really hard whether it’s while you’re fasting during the day or after you break your fast.”
Women of different ages — some with their children — shuffled with dusty abayas between the lines of men and the cement blocks separating the water truck lanes to get their share of water. Umm Iyad and her 17-year-old daughter stood with four children clustered around them, waiting in no particular line for their turn to get water.
“As you see my eldest is my daughter,” said the mother. “Their father, God bless him, is not well enough to come and get us water.”
This is Umm Iyad’s third trip to the water distribution center during Ramadan.
“We don’t have a driver either,” she said. “I rent a cab, then Iyad, my nine-year-old son, rides in the water truck in the passenger seat and follows us back home. What else can we do?”
Umm Saad, an elderly Saudi woman whose age showed in her tilting walk and strained voice, was struggling to settle a dispute that had broken out between her driver and the water truck driver: the latter was refusing to drive the water truck out into the street until the former brought his car into the center’s parking lot.
“I’ve been standing here for almost 15 minutes; neither one is listening to me,” said Umm Saad. “I’m a widow and live alone. My children are all married and live in other houses. I can’t send the housekeeper. Here I am. If someone had told me I would see such a day, I wouldn’t have believed them.”
For fulltime workers, this process of going out to retrieve water for the household is particularly daunting. Fahd Abdullah, a Saudi in his early 30s, is a flight attendant and the only man in his household.
“My household includes my mother, wife, and sisters,” he said. “We don’t have a full-time driver or a building caretaker (haaris). I’ve been coming straight from work to the water center. I’ve been waiting in line today for almost three hours. When I’m not around, my family goes to the houses of relatives and neighbors. Is this any way to live? Where is the minister of water and electricity?”
Saleh Mohammad, a Saudi man in his mid-40s, said that he has to go to the water distribution center himself because his non-Saudi driver has had problems with the delivery.
“Yesterday my driver, who was riding in the passenger seat, was forced out of the water truck by its driver halfway to my house,” said Mohammad. “He drove off with the water I had already paid for. Today I’m sitting in the passenger seat to make sure my house gets its water. Let’s see what happens.”
Dry-mouthed, short-tempered and frustrated, the two lines of men waiting for their turn for a water truck are almost the same but for one detail: one is for Saudis and the other for non-Saudis. The latter is longer than the former.
Non-Saudis can get their water coupons from 6 a.m. to 12 noon. They are then instructed to return later to the center to get their water trucks.
Abid, a Pakistani haaris had gotten his water coupon before noon that day. Last time he was at the center, just three days earlier, he showed up at his building with a water truck at 3 a.m.
Even after obtaining a water coupon the turns for getting your water truck is divided into alternating turns of one hour for Saudis followed by 30 minutes for non-Saudis.
“I’ve been waiting here for over seven hours,” said Ali, a Chadian driver, who pointed at a man in a nondescript khaki uniform who was managing the Saudi/non-Saudi rotation. When Arab News asked the man on what basis was such a rotation implemented, whether it was official policy or not, the man kept silent.
About an hour after Arab News arrived to speak to local residents seeking water for their homes and businesses, a police officer came forward with an official who did not introduce himself. The latter loudly protested, claiming that newspaper reporting on the premises was not allowed without a permit.
“This is a public facility,” answered a nearby customer.
“Show her the official statement saying that she needs a permit to report about the water center,” said another angry customer.
With Maghreb prayer about to call, Ali, the Chadian driver, called out from the passenger seat of a water truck: seven hours and 22 minutes after he first arrived at the center.
“Go sister,” he said to this reporter. “And may Allah give you strength to write whatever you can about Ramadan being almost over, Eid almost here — and us without water!”
