In many Nigerian compounds, the tap does not run to your room. It runs to one central tap, and the morning is a battle. You wake at 5:30 AM to beat the queue. You carry two buckets. You arrive, and someone is already there. They have four buckets. Then another person comes with six. The tap is a trickle. The bucket fills at the speed of a tear drop. You wait. You calculate. If each person has four buckets and there are five people ahead, you will be here until sunrise. The politics are intense. "I came first" is shouted at 5:45 AM in whispers so as not to wake the landlord. "You had water yesterday, let me fetch today." "Your bucket is too big." The tap becomes a diplomatic crisis. The person who tries to jump the queue is silently ostracized for the rest of the week. And the tap itself! It runs for two hours, then dies. If you're number seven in line, you might get nothing. The person before you fills their tenth bucket just as the water coughs, sputters, and stops. You stare at your empty bucket. You stare at them. They avoid eye contact. They know what they've done. This is how millions of Nigerians start their day. Not with coffee. Not with meditation. With a bucket queue and quiet rage. Did you grow up fetching water from a compound tap? And what's the most dramatic water queue fight you've witnessed?
