Ammi Midstokke: The apology of water
The water cannot speak for itself. I believe if it could, it would apologize.
I am sorry, it would say, I am only doing what water does.
Traveling, that is. Between sky and soil, over oceans and fields, bumping lazily into mountains, trickling down streams, exploding into waterfalls. It spreads into lakes and seas, seeps beneath the rock and soil to form mysterious underground waterways, and carries with it always the mineral memories of where it has been.
I imagine those memories came on spring rivers that rushed crystalline with the stories of alpine winter. Aquifers that boasted about wildfire blazes from seasons past. Myths of ice age flora and fauna melting their way back to the oceans.
There was a time when the only pollution we added to those traveling stories was biological: cholera, dysentery, polio. The water would have worried for our sake. You’re living too close together, it might have warned us. Then it diluted our diseases with rains, rinsing us of everything but our ignorance, and doing just what water does. Traveling and passively carrying the stories.
Water doesn’t ask questions or argue, and as Lao Tzu said, it is yielding. Our waters have yielded to farmers who wanted square fields, to developers who wanted solid foundations, to factories that wanted disposal. Still, poke a hole in your yard, and it rushes forth without complaint to water your garden, sustain your family, make ice cubes for your cocktails.
When the water of Spokane’s West Plains was polluted by the use of firefighting foam at the Air Force base, the evidence of the dangers of PFAS (per- and polyflouroalkyl substances) was already mounting. Nearly 80,000 gallons of material containing high amounts of PFAS seeped into the West Plains groundwater. And then the water merely did as water does.
Our shortsightedness about harmful substances can be baffling, as though we imagine they have somewhere else to go once used, as if the soil, water, and air themselves are renewable resources. What exactly do we plan to do when the planet is used up?
PFAS are known for their enduring nature. They do not break down easily and are found in many of our every day items like nonstick pans, outdoor gear, mascara, dental floss, and now, our contaminated water. When we consume or absorb them, they build up in our bodies. The water passes through us, abandoning its chemical passengers and leaving an imagined apology. Meanwhile, we function as biological filters, like swollen and discarded Brita cartridges.
Those residents whose homes, yards, gardens, farms source their water from wells in the West Plains: They have dangerously high levels of PFAS in their bodies. In the vague world of correlation that precedes evidence of causation, of scientists working to prove the latter, some PFAS are already known to be directly linked to kidney and testicular cancers, fertility and prenatal disorders, fetal development, thyroid and liver disease, and increased cholesterol levels. The list of correlating conditions is far longer and growing.
It is a well-established (though arguably insane) reality that in order for anything to have a measure of importance or autonomy, for it to have rights or protections, it must have personhood. For rivers to have freedom or hold polluters accountable, for forests to remain autonomous in their complex ecologies, for aquifers to remain pure and plentiful, we humans must anthropomorphize them into significance. Until then, we’ll use them up, render them impotent.
When a court is necessary to determine the validity of a river’s claim to cleanliness, I am convinced the arrogance (and foolishness) of the human race knows no limits. For the humans who have fallen ill or are at significant risk for doing so, they must follow the water to its source in search of answers and “justice” in forms that cannot compensate for the loss of health. No one knows the exchange rate of dollars to vitality.
All of this is necessitated by a world in which attaching accountability is like trying to grab a handful of smoke to throw at someone. And now, it is almost too late for accountability, for we must make nice to find solutions. In West Plains, that means focusing on resolving the problem and addressing the present danger: Educating the public, testing wells, filtering water, mitigating excessive exposure. The question of who should pay is less acute, because every day of accumulating PFAS is dangerous and irreversible. Waiting for someone to foot the bill is not an option.
Like the suffering contained in Pandora’s Box, these materials cannot be coaxed or cajoled back in. Our rain jackets, our flossed teeth, our take-out containers all belie a dependency on these chemicals in the name of convenience or technology or even health. Although I am certain Teflon never made an egg taste better or stick less than hot butter on a cast-iron skillet.
There is a propensity to limit our concern to the thousands of thirsty residents who would like to drink a safe glass of water or eat a carrot that does not remind them of Chernobyl. These are things we take for granted until our own lakes are toxic, our own fish dead, our own wells and gardens poisoned. We could wait to take action until we feel directly impacted – for that is inevitable. The water will flow downstream and contaminate the rivers and lakes and seas. Companies will continue to produce and disperse harmful products. We’ll be too busy trying to pay off medical bills or surviving chemo to join the movement for change.
We’re not powerless yet. We are the demand that drives the economy. We can ask for products free of PFAS and other harmful substances. Yes, this can often turn into an informative conversation that greatly extends the time it takes to buy a new pair of boots. We can support companies committed to using safer products. We can help educate our neighbors and friends. And we can collaborate in community activism to raise our collective voice.
What we cannot do is nothing. What we cannot do is continue absorbing these chemicals without consequence. We cannot allow our bodies to be the next innocent carriers of toxic waste. For in our deaths, we will be the contaminant and when we return to the soil, water will do as water does.
Ammi Midstokke can be contacted at ammim@spokesman.com