going home to apalit when i was a kid included playing with this water pump. i particularly enjoyed the sounds it made. it sounded like a goat being guillotined as water is forced out of its spout.
and amazingly, it still works. rickety and pining its last few years, it still gave that amusing throaty goaty wail.
anton on my toy wella huge earthen jar that was mysteriously pit black inside used to catch the water.
my sister and i enjoyed bathing together with the cool refreshing water from that jar. and, occasionally, the fight over the "tabo" got bad when soap entered the eyes and the "tabo" was with her. mama would come in to stop the fight, sometimes. most of the time, i relented, i think. (but that is selective memory. she has a different version, i am sure).
this photo of my toy well comes aptly. it reaffirms ... that in spite of age, one springs nourishment so long as it remains deeply rooted. and, oftentimes, the deeper it goes, the better the taste. and i hope it never turns bitter nor dry.
