The Well

Villagers used to fetch water—and more—from

a big well at the foot of these trees.

After days of staying at home revising a few stories, I woke up one Sunday with an unusual (for me) desire to walk around the village. There isn’t much to see in our Third World neighborhood, so I decided to visit an abandoned well near my old elementary school. The well is no longer in use because large pipes now carry water from springs nearby to large tanks at the center of the village, and a web of small pipes carry the water from the tanks to the houses.

The well is in the boundary of the campus and two or three private lots. It is at least a hundred meters away from the nearest classroom or house, and the area around it is sloping, so it looks as though it’s at the bottom of a basin—a marshy basin filled with weeds, vines, and trees. To get near the water source, I had to try two or three paths. Along the way, bushes or deep mud would block me.

The well is right at the heart of the village. Though the immediate vicinity of the well is not crowded, from above, it would look as though the village was built around the water source. Houses fan out from it. And it was indeed the center of village life. The village didn’t have a plaza. (The barangay hall with covered court was built only in the 1990s.) So the well was where the people normally socialized—while, of course, fetching water, bathing, or doing the laundry. No one could tell how many romances blossomed from the mundane activities the people engaged in at the well.

When I was a kid, I was in awe of this well because it seemed so big.

Coming back 17 years later, I’m surprised that it’s just

approximately the size of a four-foot drum.

I don’t have much memory of the well because my family, in the 1990s, lived far from the center of the village. Our home lot was wide, at least seven hectares maybe, and we had our own private well, though some neighbors would share with it. I remember, though, that the well near the elementary school was regarded as the well. It was the mother of all wells, the well of all wells, the well to end all wells. It was the largest, most accessible, most used, and most modern. While the other wells were made of rocks and soil, it was made of culvert. While the others were not even waist-high, it was deep enough for an adult to drown in it (if he’s drunk or dunked into the well headfirst). The water from it quenched the thirst, cleaned the bodies, and washed the clothes of dozens of people every day. It was a source of life, no less.

OK. I must stop now, before I hail the well the true, hidden location of the Garden of Eden.

Water still flows from the well, turning the place around it into a mini marsh, a sanctuary for common plant life and tiny animals. Mournful cries of crows have replaced the chatter of people. Residents of the village are probably happy that they no longer have to use the well. They no longer have to walk for a hundred meters and carry containers and heavy basins. I’m tempted to be sentimental and feel pity for the well, highly valued once but now forgotten. But I know that the water does not exist for human beings. It will continue to flow. It will continue to nurture whatever life-form wants to benefit from its natural powers.