About a month ago Carlos and I went to the Zaachila Dog Refuge and there was no water. We had gone by chance mid-week because there was an opportunity for one of the puppies to be adopted. Whenever we arrive, there always seems to be some sort of drama. Either someone left 7 dogs tied to a garden fence with wire, and those 7 dogs were then attacked by the resident dogs and several died, or there was no food for a while, or maybe a dog had a litter of puppies and did not have her own milk so we went out and got milk to feed the little baby puppies with. On this one day a month ago, as wonderful as it was that a little black fluffy puppy was going to be adopted by an adorable girl who loved this little fluff ball as soon as she held him, the other dogs were suffering. There was no water.
We asked Tia Migue if she had a number for a pipa. (A pipa is the water truck that comes to deliver water when there is no water that is pumped by the city directly.) She did not have one, but said if we took this one side road and went to the very end, there we would find a pipa company. We understood that although the city is supposed to deliver water to her, they had not (yet) come. We left her with 150 pesos and said we would arrange for water to be delivered into the two tinacos (holding tanks).
I am a girl of the modern world, and although sometimes this serves me poorly in Oaxaca, my first instinct is to go to Google and ask "pipa Zaachila" and see where that gets me. It got me a number, so while driving through country roads on the outskirts of Zaachila, stopping at a corner store to ask about a pipa, getting another number, not having accurate directions, calling one place that could not deliver the smaller quantity of water we wanted, we did eventually get water delivered. The company called us back to let us know they had delivered it, and of course, the city delivered more water that night.
I live in a priviledge I never thought of. I have a phone, electricity, and 150 pesos (about 10 Canadian, 7 US dollars) is not beyond my reach to pay for water. I can read and write. On that day, I was struck by something I considered to be such a simple thing to take care of seemed insurmountable for Tia Migue. She did not have 150 pesos. She did not have a phone, because she has no electricity to charge one, even if she did.
I managed not to cry, though writting this today I am flooded with such emotion, such gratitude. On that day, it got me to thinking. She has no light. She has no way to charge a phone, which in turn means if she needs help, she has to walk for it. Walking means leaving the refuge, which often means she has no less than 10 dogs walking with her. The pipa is about 5 kilometers away from her house. At least a 2 hour walk and only if she had 150 pesos to start with.
Carlos is an electrical engineer. He and I have often talked about solar power and its possibilities and uses. He has installed panels at his house. We decided to install a solar panel for the dog refuge. We talked back and forth about the costs, different parts, and then as we were headed down to the market we passed a shop that had a kit. For 1226 pesos (about $80 canadian or $65 USD) we got a kit - a solar panel, a converter and battery combo with 3 lights each with a 5 meter cable connector, and one USB charger. Carlos tells me we could have gotten it cheaper by buying the parts separate, but we were there, and some days I give in to an easy option.
I had an old cell phone at the house, so the following Sunday we went out to install the solar panel and the lights, as well as bring Tia Migue the cell phone and we loaded it with 50 pesos (about 2 weeks worth of credit on the pay-as-you-go plans from TelCel). You could see by the look on her face she did not really understand why we would spend money buying this, time installing this. How was this going to impact and help the dogs?
Carlos and I knew. We knew that having lights at night would be safer. We knew that having lights at night MAY mean less people dump dogs at random in front of the gates. We knew that having a phone meant we could call and ask if she needed anything as we were on our way. We knew that a phone meant calling the city to ask about water, maybe even ordering water. We knew. We knew that her having a phone may mean more dogs get adopted quicker, or that a vet could call before going by. We knew.
And on the following Sunday when we went back to clean and fix another casita, Tia Migue knew as well. It was the very first thing she said when we got out of the car. Before we left, she told us that her neighbour had come over asking about these lights, where did these come from? The glow on her face was obvious, The little cell phone she keeps in her bra, away from the dogs who will eat your car keys if you let them.
Last night a lady who works primarily with Spay and Neuter called. The very first thing she said was: you installed the solar panel.
We installed the solar panel, and for 1226 pesos, we changed things. I am eternally grateful that I can give back in ways I never ever knew would be possible. I am filled with gratitude for the people in my life who help me give back. And for dog love, which fills me up and makes me smile.
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