There was nothing remarkable about the scene – until you pause to think. On a recent flight from Cape Town, on one of these unseasonable hot days that are becoming much more frequent, one of the last people to board was the epitome of” hot and bothered”– flustered and overheated as he collapsed into the seat behind me.
When the drinks trolley came through, he asked for water. His card was declined and the airline did not accept cash. For a moment, there was an awkward pause – the increasingly common kind we recognise when a basic human need collides with a system that cannot respond. Then I saw something else – a flicker of desperation in his eyes, not dramatic, not loud – just the realisation that he was now trapped, mid-air for several hours, without access to something as fundamental as water.
I bought him a bottle, fortunately, my card went through. It cost very little, but it could have cost much more.
If you live in a city, water is just a commodity – something priced, packaged and sold like any other product. It comes out of the tap, well perhaps not in Jozi, the waiter produces it when requested, and if you are a bit indulgent it is just an item on your grocery slip.
But physiologically, water is not optional. It is infrastructure for life, and that is where the problem begins. Because increasingly, we are treating access to life-sustaining essentials as market goods, governed by availability, pricing power and the ability to pay – rather than as foundational elements of a functioning public system. I have an issue with this approach, and so did much wiser heads than mine. The Constitution of South Africa explicitly states that “everyone has the right to have access to sufficient food and water”. It concerns me that South Africa is drifting away from that principle.
As climate patterns shift, extreme heat is no longer an occasional inconvenience. It is becoming a predictable stressor on human health. Heat exposure increases the risk of dehydration, kidney injury, cardiovascular events and death – particularly among the elderly and those with chronic conditions.
In public health terms, water is not a lifestyle choice; it is a protective intervention.
And yet, access to it is increasingly mediated by markets.
Urbanisation is concentrating populations into heat islands. Climate change is increasing the frequency and intensity of extreme weather. And water infrastructure – as we all know in South Africa – has been steadily neglected.
Into this gap steps the market. Bottled water replaces public provision. Private supply replaces public systems. Access becomes conditional – not universal.
Because markets allocate goods based on ability to pay, not biological need. And heat does not negotiate. It does not check your bank balance, your medical aid status, or whether your card will be declined at 30 000 feet. It simply raises the baseline risk – quietly, steadily – until small failures become life-threatening.
The uncomfortable implication is this: the price of a bottle of water is not what you pay at the till; it is what you pay when access to water is no longer guaranteed. In extreme heat, that price can be measured in hospital admissions. In vulnerable populations, it can be measured in lives.
So, what should concern us is not the cost of bottled water per se. It is the normalisation of a world in which access to water – in public spaces, transport systems and urban environments – is not assured unless it is purchased.
If we are serious about health then we need to think differently about what must remain non-negotiable. In the same way that we expect functioning emergency services, we should expect access to safe drinking water in high-risk environments: airports, public transport, urban centres, tourist sites. Not as charity. Not as a premium add-on, but as basic infrastructure. Public water fountains have never been a part of our urban design, but that they must.
To any policymaker reading this, the constitution already provides the mandate.
The question is no longer whether we should act. It is why we haven’t.
If any executive from my favourite, on-time, low-cost airline is reading this: time to rethink if bottled water should be a menu item. Because in a heatwave, a bottle of water is no longer a product. It is a test of whether the system still works – or whether it has already failed.
- Dr Wolvaardt is the MD of the Foundation for Professional Development, a higher education institution driving social change through research and the strengthening of health systems.
Visit SW YouTube Channel for our video content
- There was nothing remarkable about the scene – until you pause to think.
- On a recent flight from Cape Town, on one of these unseasonable hot days that are becoming much more frequent, one of the last people to board was the epitome of” hot and bothered”– flustered and overheated as he collapsed into the seat behind me.
- When the drinks trolley came through, he asked for water.
- His card was declined and the airline did not accept cash.
- For a moment, there was an awkward pause – the increasingly common kind we recognise when a basic human need collides with a system that cannot respond.
