Introduction

I wasn't entirely sure how to go about starting this blog, but it seemed like a reasonably good idea to begin by outlining the importance of research into water and development in Africa and to exemplify why the study of gender's intersection is so important. 

Binyavanga Wainaina’s (2005) article How to Write About Africa critically satirises writing about Africa that is inattentive to difference, often characterises the continent as one 'primitive', monolithic country, fetishises suffering, and wilfully ignores brilliance or more quotidian moments of duty and joy. Though not explicitly about any of the three constituent parts of this blog (water, development or gender), the article makes numerous references to gendered stereotypes, alludes to feminist research paradigms and its essence can be distilled in ways that aid research and practice around water and development. For this reason, I decided to use it as a jumping off point for this blog, and to elucidate a few examples of the gendered aspects of water and development in Africa.

I've made an effort to include a picture that doesn't fall into any of tropes Wainaina outlines and the idea that the provision of water is in our hands but requires coordination, empathy and support is encapsulated here. (Source)

The article was an important reminder that paying close attention to the multitude of geographies in any research is important from the standpoint of representation and shrugging off the colonial proclivity for lumping all that is different together. However, it also has important implications for research that participatory, postcolonial and feminist approaches have long championed. Attention to nuanced and embodied experiences and 'provincialising' eurocentric modes of knowledge creation often yield place specific solutions that are more appropriate and therefore more effective (Boonyabancha and Kerr, 2015). This is particularly important where gender is concerned because it is a significant determinant of unequal access to water resources (Abubakar, 2019). 

In Wainaina's satire "ordinary domestic scenes" feature in a list of "taboo subjects" and a later paragraph 'suggests' that "broad brushstrokes throughout are good. Avoid having the African characters laugh, or struggle to educate their kids, or just make do in mundane circumstances". Recycled stereotypes of characters are outlined throughout, from the "warm and motherly woman who has a rolling laugh" to the male hero who teaches, bathes, feeds, "carries lots of babies and has seen Death". These quotes are significant because they highlight the way that 'ordinary' experiences, especially those of women, have been overlooked and undervalued by the development discourse. This phenomenon is global but its manifestations must be considered carefully in the context of water and development because conventional understandings of water access suggest that everyone in a single region faces the same level of security or insecurity. The reality is that issues of water, sanitation and hygiene affect women and girls disproportionately and in different ways (Wateraid, WSSC and Unilever Domestos, 2013).  

For example, the burden of water collection (for journeys of more than half an hour in 24 Sub Saharan African countries) often falls on adult females. Not only does the exertion of carrying water have adverse effects on their health, but the activity itself increases their risk of contracting a water borne disease and the psychosocial stress of being responsible for its provision can increase systolic and diastolic blood pressure (Graham et al, 2016; Brudis et al, 2019). The sheer amount of time committed to collecting water also presents the issue of opportunity cost. With an improvement in the provision of water and sanitation could this time be otherwise used to rest (a pastime often dedicated to social interaction that is under-researched and undervalued), take care of personal hygiene or attend literacy classes, for example (Cairncross and Cuff, 1987)?

One study shows that water insecurity is more acute for pregnant and postpartum women in Western Kenya, likely because of the physical demands of collection. Arguably though, the more interesting finding is that closer attention must be paid to how this might impact less conventional indicators like maternal and infant psychosocial health, physical health, nutrition and economic well-being (Collins et al, 2019).

Another piece of research based in the urban township of Khayelitsha, South Africa, shows that a lack of indoor sanitation facilities means that women are at increased risk of sexual violence as well as having less than ideal sanitation facilities. It also points out that the cost of investing in and maintaining extra facilities would be offset by the reduction in costs to society incurred through sexual assault (Gonsalves et al, 2015). It's problematic and an unfortunate reflection on some of the realities of our world that an economic argument needs to be made for protecting women from sexual assault but this article still throws light on a gendered aspect of water and sanitation.

Each of the above examples echoes Wainaina's call to pay closer attention and attempt to truly understand the quotidian experience of those living across the socially, culturally, climatically, geologically and hydrologically diverse continent that is Africa. This is symptomatic of a movement towards participatory practices, intersectional approaches and the inclusion of indigenous knowledge in more recent development strategies.

In the coming months I hope to use individual blog post to to expand on these brief encounters with the gendered aspects of water and development in Africa.