Six and a half years ago, I conscientiously replanted my garden with indigenous and water-wise vegetation. "Should I put in rain tanks?" I asked the landscaper who helped me. "Don't bother," he said. "Two days of irrigation in a hot summer, and they'll be empty."
What clueless days those were, when "drought" was a passing concept, and "irrigation" a daily indulgence.
I live in a particularly hot, dry region of the country, where our town and many surrounding farms and settlements of various sizes are supplied solely by one dam. We're no stranger to water shortages here - in the drought period of 2003-2004, our dam level dropped so low that the water coming out of our taps smelt foul. The relevant authorities told us it was safe to drink; we didn't believe them. Everyone began making their own contingency plans. Some people put in rain tanks; others sank boreholes.At that stage, I didn't own the house I lived in, so I arranged with a nearby farmer to take bottles to a spring on his property every morning and fill them with drinking water.
That drought passed, like so many others, and while those who'd put in wells and tanks probably continued to use them, I, like many other South Africans, returned very quickly to my state of temporary amnesia about our country's limited water resources.While I've never left the tap running while I brush my teeth, I certainly didn't think twice, when I bought a house, about installing a full garden-irrigation system linked to the municipal supply, and using it every day in our long, very hot and dry summers.
Then came the El Niño event of 2014, which intensified into 2015, then held us in its desiccating grip for yet another year, only finally dissipating halfway through 2016. It was one of the strongest on record and its effects brought widespread drought to Southern Africa, devastating livestock and crops.
Those of us with gardens in our small town watched them shrivel and die in the relentless shimmering heat. It goes without saying that I haven't used my irrigation system, or even a hosepipe, in two years, and it's also been that long since I washed my car.
Never has it been more important for South Africans - who, collectively, have not risen particularly well to the challenge of water-saving targets - to be water-wise.
And this goes way beyond getting a cover for your pool, watering your garden only a couple of evenings a week, putting buckets in your shower, and shouting at your neighbour when he sprays down his driveway with a hose. It's also not about sinking a borehole, even if you can afford it - our groundwater supplies are also limited, and boreholes have become a shortsighted and elitist solution.
Coping with the tough times that lie ahead is all about making real and lasting changes to your relationship with water. It's about being aware of every single drop of water you use, what you use it for, and how you use it...