70% Water in Dear Bee

My Dearest Bianca
I whole heartedly believed that today’s letter would not be written and that we would simply just letter pass today.
But I was just in the shower, and I was wondering what on earth I could write about when the water temperature got just right, and the pressure of the droplets reminded me of the best shower I’d ever had in my life.
So I decided that today’s letter would be about that.
When you’re forced to imagine ‘the best shower of your life’ I’m not sure what comes to mind for you. But for me, there a couple that are on that list. My best however is in massive contrast to those.
Some of my favourite showers include Dylan. There’s truly something I enjoy about sharing that moment with another human. When we went away on my birthday trip we both squeezed into the tiny shower and washed each other’s backs before falling into bed with each other. He would wash my hair. So gently. And the soap would flow down my body, between us, swirling at our feet. Then wash my back, and let the sponge caress all the curves and folds of my body. I would in turn, do the same for him.
I like to imagine a life where whomever I end up marrying and I make it a frequent habit to shower together.
But, my favourite shower does not include him.
Some other memorable showers include exotic locations. Exotic meaning not at home. But most of those are usually a shower lamenting the loss of the showerhead you’re most used to. And the layout that you’re most used to. Because I can’t see shit without my glasses and there’s literally nothing worse than having soap in your eye and no idea where the fucking tap is. Most of these exotic showers are terrible memories. But nevertheless they do leave their lasting impression, even if only to make you appreciate how blessed you are at home.
Some of my best showers are when I’ve felt really dirty. Or really tired. Because there’s very few things that feel as good as a shower when you’re both dirty and tired. I remember the first day of university. That day felt like a slice of hell. I’d woken up at 5 AM, turned up at university all alone. Made my way to my first lecture where I got terribly lost, only to find out I had to walk all the way across campus because the venue had been changed due to size. While I had made sure I would have had plenty of time to be on time to this lecture I was now late. The rest of the day was pretty much more of that. And then, there was this super lame science writing work shop I had to take part in. And then, finally in the afternoon I was joining the first session of one of the clubs I had joined because for some fucked up reason I believed I would
a) Be really good at mountain climbing
b) Make friends with these people, and
c) Have time to train 4 days a week.
Spoiler alert: I never went back past this first day.
Then, not having a car or a driver’s license yet, I had to wait for my mom to pick me up and my cellphone battery was dying.
You know what was the absolute worst thing that could have happened at that moment? It was now 8 PM, and my mom called me crying, telling me something was wrong with her.
We later found out that from the stress of me starting university, along with a few other things, she developed a baker’s cyst in her knee. She went into surgery the following week. Now needless to say, when I did finally get home around 10 PM that night, the highlight of that day was most probably that damn shower.
I think there’s something that helps our souls reconnect with the pieces of themselves in a shower. Maybe it’s because we are 70% water or whatever.
In any case. When I think of my best shower, I have a tied first place. And I feel like that’s okay because they’re equally as important for different reasons, but they both occur near the same time of my life – about 3 days apart I think.
The first of the two happened at Afrikaburn. While the second occurred just after. Afrikaburn is South Africa’s regional Burning Man event. I recall you telling me you had not been to Burning Man, but it being on your list of places to go, and things to do. I highly recommend it. But that’s for another letter.
The Karoo is a harsh place. It is our desert. And the only signs of life in the Karoo are small bushes and shrubs. And the very special breed of sheep that inhabit the farms. Karoo sheep make some of the best meat on earth. Apparently the very harsh conditions make soft meat.
As you know, when it comes to Burning Man, you take what you need with you. And you bring everything back. You do not leave Matter Out Of Place. You do not make someone else clean up after your mess. There are no bathrooms at Afrikaburn. There are no showers. However, a team from the ‘Department of Public Works’ at Afrikaburn go to the event several weeks earlier and dig long-drop toilets. You’re allowed to use toilet paper – only 2 sheets, and then you bury your package in the sand with a sprinkle or two of saw dust. Apparently that helps with the smell. Not quite sure about that one after a week spent in the desert.
But yes. Back to the crux of it. There are no showers. Except for the make shift showers people bring from home. Little shacks. Sometimes a special kettle that will heat up the water. And most often that is a contribution to the Afrikaburn community. These people decide to gift showers. And you just have to bring your own water. We planned to do the same.
It was our Virgin Burn, which brings with it a very harsh, and a very stark reality of not knowing what the fuck you’re getting in to. But we had this big metal hoop. And a very useless shower curtain, and a shower bag thing that included an adjustable nozzle. And you were meant to add your water and hang it up, and boom. You’re good to go.
Except we didn’t end up putting this shower up for several days and it was only after we had run out of the baby wipes all 6 of us were using to clean our arm pits each day, that we realised perhaps now was a time to shower.
So we set this damn thing up. It took as hour or two. And the shower curtain was useless. There was truly no point in it. It flapped in the wind. Compared to seasoned ‘gifters’ of showers, no one would be lining up to use it.
My brother showered. Peter showered. Brigitte showered. Somewhere in the middle of her shower the curtain kind of fucked off so we had to run after it. It was torn through and it wouldn’t be much use but we attached it anyway. It was my turn next. And let me tell you, the water took such a long time to heat up, I forgoed that idea, and with Brigitte’s help we stung up that bag of 5 L of cold water.
I stood naked. In the middle of the desert with a girl holding the shower curtain closed for some measure of modesty, and I proceeded to have the best, and the worst shower of my life.
I washed my hair with environmentally friendly shampoo. Then I used the rinsing water to wash my body. And I shivered and it was cold and I just wanted to cry because my body was covered in goosebumps and I could feel that layer of sticky and dust dissolving off of my body. And how would I ever be able to clean myself with only 5 litres of water? And somewhere along the line I know that that shower curtain lifted, and Brigitte couldn’t grab the edge in time, and I was just a naked girl, standing in a makeshift shower, in the middle of the desert – and I never felt more alive.
It’s like a volcano moment. And I now realise that all the best moments of the rest of my life will be compared to summiting that fucking volcano. And it was the best shower of my life. Because it woke up every inch of my body. It made me appreciate the life I had. It was in the very essence of the word, existential.
And when I finally got dressed I cried. And we had a group hug, and we all laughed and said we really should have done that sooner.
And then Afrikaburn ended, and we were on our way to ‘civilisation’ and slowly decompressing. And we stopped at a bed and breakfast. And we slept there that night, and that was the place I had my second first-place shower. Because it was a shower that made me appreciate the journey we had taken. The trip we had just done. The experience I had lived through, and here was this hot water, coming out of an ancient showerhead, and it was hot, and cold, and it bruised my body in all the wrong places but it was a sign that somewhere in the middle of nowhere I had undergone this existential transformation. I had lost and found parts of myself a million times over.
When I finally got home, I think I cried in the shower for over a month.
There are still occasions when I do. Because I am reminded of the blessings that I have in my life. I am also reminded of the very existential experience I had out in the desert. That shower out there in the desert was one of those moments when I truly lived you know?
And I truly believe that having a good life is having a collection of these moments in which you truly live. Volcano moments. Naked in the desert moments.
As always, all of my love
Justyna