What Does it Take to Drill a Well?

One dictionary definition of “hangdog” is “downcast, furtive, shamefaced,” and that is the only word I could think of to describe the faces of the water engineer and project manager assigned to drill the well in Njuyu when I first met them. Michael, my husband, had invited them to our guest house in Mzuzu after our arrival to follow up on the progress of the well. The emails we received during the 30 hours we had been en route had not been encouraging. The rented drill rig had made it to northern Malawi—that was the good news. The bad news was that during the preceding national holiday weekend to celebrate Malawi’s independence, the rig’s supervisor had taken a vacation and in his absence mechanical parts and the $1600 USD worth of diesel purchased to get it to the village had vanished. Things did not look good; neither did Michael’s face. He kicked in to his, “I won’t take no for an answer” mode and extracted promises that all that could be done would be done asap. We’d been promised since January that the bore hole would be dug prior to my arrival so pushing hard was certainly reasonable.

Michael got daily updates on his blackberry and most of the news was disappointing. The day we had scheduled to visit the well came and went.Then on Saturday as we sat having a lunch at Mzuzu University with a group of community leaders, Michael received an email saying drilling had just begun. With our schedule, we had to make a quick decision. We could leave right away to drive the two hours up and two hours back on the red dirt road in time to see the drilling and still be back before dark. But Michael couldn’t go, he had a meeting with people who had travelled long distances to attend, and and the minivan we were using would have difficulty on the roads. Gabriel thought quick and offered to take us in Citihope's off-road vehicle. The only problem was that is only had five seats and there were six of us who wanted to see the well. The solution? Squeeze in and get on the road. So that is what Megan, Ilse, Sandra, Mary and I did.

Gabriel volunteered to drive and expertly avoided deep potholes, chickens, goats, cows, road construction, and the incredible numbers of bicyclists and pedestrians carrying water, wood, maize, building materials and babies that line the roads in Malawi.

An hour and an half from Mzuzu, Gabriel thought we were at least half way and soon it was time to make a left turn and travel 13 more kilometers to Njuyu. (Turns out the mission station was started in 1882 by William Koyi—an African who paved the way for formalizing the station in 1902 by Scottish missionaries.)

It was not hard to find the well site in Njuyu. The rig was pounding into the ground and more than 50 meters of pipe were laid out in nearby a pile. The well was situated between the church and the school. The bore hole being drilled that day was to replace a shallower well that had gone dry. It was drilled in a similar location as the previous well as the villagers liked the “sweet” water taste from that spot. Andrew, the water engineer was there. He was much happier than when I first met him. He explained how the process worked and showed me the soil samples from between the surface and the groundwater. We watched until all of the pipe was inserted. Boom, boom, boom, boom. The next step was the gravel but it was still on its way from Mzuzu. (Later on the way down, we saw Jim, the project manager stirring up a cloud of dust as he sped uphill with the truck load of gravel. I talked to him later, too. We all were happy to see the well go in. These good men have very hard jobs. To move heavy equipment across the length of Malawi and up nearly impassable roads to villages that do not have access to spare parts or electricity, is heroic work.

My original desire was to sponsor a bore hole with a play pump—the merry go round style that pumps water as kids play on it—and the location of the new bore hole was not the best for it. But there was a plan. I was shown another working pump near the playground a bit down the hill. Women were washing clothes and when the azungu (white people) showed up, the kids gathered, too. This pump will be refitted with the play pump and pipes laid for a storage tank just outside the primary school. So essentially, I get two pumps in Njuyu. Cool.

I tried my hand at the existing pump and it required more effort that I thought. My admiration for the women and kids went up even higher. The basics of life take energy, skill and practical ingenuity that boggle my mind.

We stayed until the sun started to go down. There are no lights on the roads in Malawi. You have to get off the dirt roads before dark. I squeezed in the back seat and just as we left the main part of the village we passed some men sitting outside of a small brick and tin shop. They shouted, “Thank you for the bore hole.”

On the way down as I watched a beautiful African sunset, I thought to myself, “Yep, jostling down a road in Central Africa after watching a deep hole being dug in the hard dry ground, I am simply as content as I can be.”

The next morning I got an email that said:

On behalf of the CCAP Njuyu Church, Njuyu Primary School and Njuyu Community I want to express my deepest thanks and appreciation to you because of the precious gift of a borehole which has just been drilled at Njuyu Mission Station.

This borehole will assist a population of five hundred people plus school children who live in villages around Njuyu.

May the good Lord bless you and your family.

Yours sincerely,

Rev Allan W. Mwale

Parish Minister

So, my dream is a reality and I got to see it with my very own eyes. God has richly blessed me.