In late January of this year, I landed in Cape Town, South Africa, for a family holiday. Having left Poland layered like an onion with snow boots, we arrived not just at the height of the summer season but also the worst water crisis to face the city in living memory. Huge posters greeted us in passport control, counting down to the apocalyptic-sounding Day Zero, when the taps would be turned off and water only available from municipal collection points, establishing the main focus of conversation during our time there. Drought is of course sadly all too common in Africa but this was shaping up to be the first time a modern city had literally run dry. 

The tourism industry took a hard hit with agriculture, the famous wine lands and restaurants and hotels all affected. Amid the heat, water pressure decreased while racial tensions increased over who was more wasteful, who suffered more due to the restrictions or who would get away with not paying the steep fines for noncompliance. Although the deadline has now been postponed, the city government was heavily criticised over its lack of preparedness and slow speed of reaction. Only in May 2018, in a city with rapid population growth, surrounded by two of the world’s oceans, was a comprehensive desalination project finally put into action, to supplement supply on a long-term basis.

It would have been difficult to have left Cape Town without a new appreciation for water conservation. However, as eye-opening as our experience was, the brevity of our stay had lent a certain sense of novelty to the challenge of keeping within the allocated 50 litre daily ration. Military-style showers with a bucket to collect water for the toilet, whipping up homemade fabric refreshers instead of using the washing machine, the ever present whiff of hand sanitiser – bearable for a fortnight but unlikely to be integrated into daily life back home.

Fast forward six months and I was admiring the flowers in my friend’s garden in Poland, bright and pristine  despite the heatwave, all thanks to her newly-installed sprinkler system. She was shocked when I mentioned that this wouldn’t be possible in Belfast because of the hose pipe ban in place. “But it’s an island! You’re famous for rain!” Explaining to my dubious audience how the speed of treatment couldn’t contend with both unprecedented usage and temperatures, I was reminded that water supply is rarely even acknowledged until threatened.

For now, the ban has been lifted, supply and demand stabilised (our famous rain is back!) and my mother’s front garden escaped relatively unscathed. Northern Ireland Water revealed that other than verbally engaging with people reported for flouting the ban, no further action was necessary. Testament to the community effort and to the fact that it was fairly toothless anyway, with the legal authority of NI Water to impose fines questioned last week. Once again, the lack of a functioning executive has led to obscurity while highlighting our state of limbo. At least in South Africa, there was a government in place to direct criticism against. What would the placards here say, ‘If anyone is listening, for the love of God, please sit down and have a chat with each other, there is MUCH to discuss’?

The crippling inefficiency almost makes me want to move to Idaho and become a doomsday libertarian. Almost. Another fairly recent water crisis here during the winter of 2010/11, had already revealed the shortcomings in our system. Unusually low temperatures with quick freezing and thawing resulted in burst pipes and around 40,000 people without running water in their homes, some for up to 12 days. With the BBC reporting that even sandwiches will be affected by Brexit, it would be prudent to get something as fundamental as water supply firmly under control as fast as possible as our country looks set to take the biggest economic hit from withdrawal.

Protests in Dublin led to domestic water charges, which had been introduced as an austerity measure in the Republic, being rescinded in 2017 though there are plans to impose levies on excess use as of next year. In Northern Ireland, it would appear that water is in fact thicker than blood, with opposition to household payments being one of the few issues on which the DUP and Sinn Féin have consistently agreed. Access to clean drinking water and sanitation are indeed explicitly recognised by the United Nations under Resolution 64/292 but it must be recognised that our most precious resource is finite with only one-hundredth of 1 percent of the world’s water readily available for human use.

Despite an almost £2 billion investment in water infrastructure over the past ten years, I fear that this stubborn refusal to properly investigate alternatives is nothing but short-sighted populism. Decades of neglect, Victorian-era sewerage systems and many areas prone to flooding require a sustainable solution. Yes, Northern Ireland is the lowest tax-paying area of the United Kingdom but if our foundations are not fit for purpose, that isn’t exactly something to be proud of. Now, even as an unabashed leftie, ‘love’ would still be a strong word to associate with an extra tax, but needs must and we need to raise revenue to ensure adequate access while protecting our environment. Water charges would at least offer a greater level of personal control and transparency than the current rates system.

Alliance and the Greens are the only parties to have ever expressed support for charges. Steven Agnew, outgoing leader of the Green Party, outlined his proposal for dealing with the matter: “The Green Party supports a free allowance of 90L per person per day for health and hygiene but would introduce charges for above that level. We would also mutualise NI Water to allow it to raise capital from issuing bonds. This is similar to how Welsh Water now operates.”

Transforming it into a cooperative of sorts, run as a not-for-profit company, would provide reassurance of self-financing and ensure greater consumer participation and accountability. Given that NI Water contractors were actually threatened and intimidated when carrying out maintenance work in 2014, as members of the public thought meters were being installed, I appreciate that this is a hard sell.

However, creating a separate water bill, removing it from the rates charge, would put paid to the common ‘paying twice’ argument. The tax would be progressive with those on the lowest-incomes protected and provide an impetus for personal and civic examination of wastefulness. With the health and education services under major strain and heat waves predicted to become more frequent, the £270 million subsidising of NI Water by the Department of Infrastructure could surely be put to better use.