My brother Nick was digging around our house last time he was home, and found this picture, which he immediately made copies of and sent to me. It made me laugh out loud to see us crammed in those little buckets, but it also got me thinking about the role of the bucket bath in my life. I lived in India as a little girl, and my earliest memories of bathing look just like this picture. Even when I could no longer fit completely inside the bucket, nick and I learned to bathe ourselves by filling the bucket, lathering up, and using a scooping cup to pour water over our sudsy selves. When I moved to the states at 5 years old, the bucket became all but obsolete. I quickly grew accustomed to sitting in huge bathtubs filled with water, and soon enough learned the pleasures of a nice long shower. Last summer, when I was couch-surfing in Bhalil, Morocco, I found myself face to face with the bucket once more. Irked that I didn’t make it to the Hammam in time for a “proper” bath, I washed my long hair in the bucket, growing more irritated every time I flipped my head over to pour water on the back of my neck. But then it occurred to me, “I grew up bathing in a bucket! When did I become such an arrogant bathing snob?” So I didn’t have a steady hot stream flowing down on me for ten to fifteen minutes (or sadly sometimes, even longer), I had a big bucket full of hot water, which was plenty to get me lathered and rinsed. I was ashamed at my own attitude towards the bucket bath, an activity in which I had once found immense joy. Thinking further on the matter, I was appalled when I thought of how much water I must use weekly in the bath or shower at home, without a second thought to how much energy it must take to heat it all.
Although my family in India have buckets in every bathroom, during my most recent trip (as well as most of my past visits) I opted for the western style shower… until there was a problem with the water heater and was forced back in to the bucket. This time though, I wasn’t so upset about it. Now, back in my Brooklyn apartment, the incessant shower pressure/temperature problems that my super hasn’t gotten around to fixing are enough to drive my roommates crazy and often keep them from bathing altogether. I guess it’s a blessing that I know how to bathe from the bucket, and I’m no longer above it.
