Tongue-in-cheek etiquette guide for navigating Cape Town's water crisis

SCENARIO 1

You are on a first date, and it’s going well – your new love interest has invited you back to their flat to continue the fun. But nature’s call strikes, and you visit the loo for a wee. When you’re done, you’re faced with the spectacle of a thoroughly unattractive toilet bowl. You desperately want the evidence out of sight, but you also know that flushing away urine is now the moral equivalent of kicking a puppy in the face. What do you do?

Don’t: Suddenly break into loud song in the bathroom to conceal the sound of your vigorous flushing.

Do: Brazen it out. Exit without flushing and murmur sexily: “If it’s yellow, let it mellow, am I right?” 

SCENARIO 2

Your boss invites you to a braai at his place, and breezily mentions that you’re welcome to bring your swimming costume. You arrive at his palatial home, and a hose is spewing drinking water into a brimming pool.  “It’s a scorcher,” he says. “Cool off!” What do you do?

Don’t: Instantly dive in and joyfully cry: “Anyone for Marco Polo?”

Do: Lean in and whisper sinisterly: “It would be a real shame if anyone were to report your high water usage to the City before my upcoming performance appraisal…”

SCENARIO 3

You’re at the gym taking a post-workout shower. While you perform your customary frantic two-minute ablutions, from which you emerge still smeared with soap and shampoo, you notice that a fellow gym-goer has been merrily showering for ten minutes and counting. What do you do?

Don’t: Think: “I mean – if they’re doing it”, and slip back into the shower for an extra five minutes.

Do: Pound on their shower door while screaming: “You know we’re all gonna die, you crazy water-guzzling fool?”

SCENARIO 4

You’ve put your apartment on AirBnB so you can make some cash while you’re in Joburg taking a bath. Your foreign guests arrive and you show them around – but you worry that when you return, your water bill will be more than your bond payment and the City will haul you off to water-jail. What do you do?

Don’t: Lie to them and say that everything will be fine as long as they take two-minute showers and buy bottled water for drinking purposes. This is not enough. First world citizens cannot be trusted.

Do: Insert some charcoal powder into the shower head and give them a friendly warning that perpetuates all their paranoid stereotypes before leaving: “This is Africa, so don’t drink the tap water. If you get sick, the hospital facilities are the worst. And the shower is where we keep the Black Death. Byeeeeeee!”

SCENARIO 5

You’re at the hardware store looking for a massive shovel to dig an organic toilet in your backyard when you overhear Mrs. Jones asking for the parts to an elaborate sprinkler system so that she can water her prize tulips in Constantia. What do you do?

Don’t: Roll your eyes and walk away like a true South African, minding your own business before engaging in some aggressive sub-tweeting.

Do: March over to Mrs. Jones, tell her to stop wasting her time and our water and use the money to buy a one-way ticket to Canada instead. (Australia can’t afford her irrigation habits either.)

SCENARIO 6

You’re taking a Sunday stroll on the Sea Point Promenade after doing your weekly laundry in a tidal pool. While making your way home, you pass a fancy seafood restaurant where a bunch of fancy people have just had 10 jugs of tap water delivered to their table, complete with enough ice cubes to keep an Antarctic polar bear fresh for a year. What do you do?

Don’t: Try and save your entire salary so that you can eat at the same place once a month for a “jug of water” treat as well.

Do: Gatecrash their lunch, take a seat at their table and give your salty clothes an extra rinse from a jug. While doing so, comment: “I just love how this water crisis is bringing strangers together, don’t you?”