Actually, we had been given hope through out June, July and August that we would have a swimming pool to enjoy when the weather turned from cold to hot. Unfortunately, we were snookered by the famous Zambian custom of giving hope (false hope, that is.)
After all the effort to get the pool emptied, scrubbed cleaned and refilled it was discovered that not only was the pump out of order, there wasn't even electricity to the pool. (in June)
The result is more loosed ceiling access inside the house, filthy foot and hand prints on those access areas, electricity restored to the pool, and a new pump. (in August)
Then the waiting game began. Final verdict .. we aren't high enough up on the feeding chain to "deserve" pool maintenance. And so, in the meantime the organics blowing into the pool continued to accumulate. (first of September)
Mary and I were back in the US, and because Tom's work schedule is long days, and very little time off on the weekends, there was nobody to keep it cleaned, nor to direct domestic help to do so.
And so, returning to find out KCM would not take care of it, and after turning down the generous offer from the local pool company to take care of it (generous only to them, btw) we opted to try to treat the water ourselves.
The "pool maid" cleaner was pulling up a lot, but the water was so murky we did not realize how much had actually settled on the bottom. Tom made the executive decision that if we wanted any chance to get it ready we would need to drain the pool.
So, we reversed the pump, which managed to pull out only 12" of depth. Then the undersized pump could overcome the head required, and we went switched to siphoning with garden hoses. They are now at the maximum. Next step is to pay our night guard to get it bailed out, and the organics scooped.
Then, time to refill with city water, and learn how to get the water safe to swim in. Less than 50 days until Mary and I return to the States. Maybe we'll get in a few weekends of swimming, or maybe not. There isn't much to keep us occupied here beyond school work.
I used to say our years in Austin, Nevada served as purgatory. Was I ever wrong.