I spent a chilly morning at the over-air conditioned offices of the National Water Commission offices in an attempt to get my latest bill reviewed.
It was for 22,000 dollars.
It was partly my own fault. Three months in, I noticed our consumption rate had never moved from zero. I had paid each monthly bill, but that was only for the fixed service charge. As a model citizen, I called the Water Commission to alert them to the problem and they promptly came round and changed the water meter. Now, call me stupid, but I didn’t think they’d have the nerve to give me a high estimate for those three months.
OK. I am stupid.
While waiting at the NWC office, we were entertained by a large angry woman in a tight open-backed top. She was more pumped than 50 Cent, although she probably built up her muscles by carrying food, water and children. She was an unstoppable force, striding up and down brandishing her note of final warning and shouting at the security,
Ya cyaah do nutten!
Ya cyaah do nutten!
Ya cyaah do nutten!
Elderly ladies in faded flowery dresses and pillbox hats pushed up their glasses, nodding and muttering,
Is true. Dem tief dem.
I felt I had scored a small victory against the all-powerful utility companies when I walked out two hours later with a new bill … for 319 dollars (US$5).
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